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As she climbed the stairs to her room, Georgiana felt something shift within her.

Her fingers, which had been twisting her handkerchief all evening, finally stilled.

Perhaps it was time to stop being the sister who needed protection.

For once, her brother needed her to be strong - not just for his sake, but for Elizabeth’s as well.

* * *

Tuesday, 26 February 1812

Longbourn - Jane

The February mist clung to the windowpanes of Jane’s room, turning the familiar grounds of Longbourn into a dreamlike landscape. Through this grey veil, she caught sight of a figure on horseback emerging from the fog - the rich blue of his coat unmistakable even at this distance. Mr Bingley.

Her heart quickened, though whether from joy or anxiety she could not quite tell. These days, each of his visits carried a weight of expectation that left her both hopeful and uneasy. Setting aside her barely-touched book, she rose just as her mother’s voice rang through the house:

“Jane! Come down at once - Mr Bingley approaches!”

Pausing on the landing, Jane glanced at her father’s closed door.

Through the heavy oak, she could picture Lizzy sitting beside his bed as she had done every morning this week, though Sarah had whispered that their father was still sleeping.

Lizzy seemed convinced that if she left his side even for a moment, he might slip away without her there to anchor him.

The thought brought a familiar ache to Jane’s chest. Their father’s obvious preference for Lizzy had stung when they were children, but as she’d grown older, Jane had come to understand it.

Though different in temperament, father and daughter shared the same quick wit, the same sharp intelligence that set them apart from the rest of the family.

Lizzy was, in many ways, the son Mr Bennet had never had - his intellectual heir if not his legal one.

When the inevitable happened, Jane knew Lizzy would feel the loss most keenly of all of them.

Even now, Jane could picture Lizzy riding out with their father to visit the tenants, while she remained behind to soothe Mama’s nerves and mind the younger girls.

She had never envied those early morning rides - she had always preferred the genteel pursuits of the house to tramping about the estate.

Yet watching Lizzy become their father’s trusted confidante, his partner in managing Longbourn, had filled her with quiet pride in her sister’s capabilities.

“Jane! Whatever can be keeping you?”

“Coming, Mama!” she called down, though her feet remained rooted to the spot.

The morning mist, so like another grey day years ago, brought back a memory that still made her heart clench.

Lizzy had been twelve, and it had been just such a grey morning when she and Papa had ridden out to check on a tenant’s failing crop.

Jane could still see them disappearing into the fog, still feel little Kitty clinging to her skirts while Lydia wailed in the nursery.

She had thought nothing more of the weather then.

But an hour later, everything changed. The thunder of hooves, a manservant rushing past shouting for the doctor.

Then Papa, his face grey as the mist, carrying Lizzy’s limp form.

Jane had never seen such terror in her father’s eyes, never seen him move so quickly.

The blood - there had been so much blood, staining Lizzy’s pale dress crimson.

That was the day Lizzy’s love of riding died, though she had survived the fall that nearly claimed her life.

Shaking off the dark memory, Jane forced herself to descend the stairs. On the landing, she met Hill carrying a small silver tray with letters.

“For the master and Miss Elizabeth,” Hill explained, gesturing to the correspondence.

“Papa is sleeping,” Jane said softly. “Best put his letters in the study for now. You can give Lizzy hers when she comes out.” The memory of that long-ago accident made Jane particularly grateful for her sister’s presence in their father’s room today, though for very different reasons.

Composing herself, Jane entered the drawing room. Mr Bingley sprang to his feet the moment she appeared, his eager movement drawing a pleased smile from her mother. Mary barely glanced up from her book in the corner, but Jane could feel her younger sister’s quiet attention.

“Ah, there you are at last, my dear!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, beaming. “Mr Bingley and I were just wondering what could have delayed you.” Her mother’s meaningful look spoke volumes about her hopes for this visit.

Jane curtsied to Mr Bingley, conscious of her mother’s watchful gaze. As she settled beside Mary, she noticed his usual cheerful manner seemed overlaid with an unusual nervousness.

“Miss Bennet,” he began, fidgeting slightly with his gloves, “I have some news that I hope will please you.” He paused, his earnest expression making Jane’s heart flutter. “That is to say, I very much hope you will find it agreeable.”

She offered him an encouraging smile, though her own nerves were beginning to stir at his manner. Could this be…?

“I received a letter this morning,” he continued, his face brightening. “My sister Caroline is returning to Netherfield.”

“That pleases me very much,” Jane replied warmly, pushing aside her momentary disappointment.

“We saw far too little of Miss Bingley in town.” Though Lizzy had her doubts about Caroline, Jane genuinely enjoyed her company.

Moreover, her presence at Netherfield would allow Mr Bingley to entertain more freely - a thought that brought a slight flush to Jane’s cheeks.

“And Miss Darcy will be joining us as well,” Mr Bingley added, his eyes fixed on Jane’s face. “She’s quite looking forward to exploring the countryside.”

“Miss Darcy?” Mrs Bennet straightened in her chair. “How delightful! Will Mr Darcy be accompanying his sister?” The barely concealed hope that he would not coloured her tone.

“No, ma’am,” Mr Bingley replied, glancing briefly at Jane. “My friend has pressing business in town. I don’t expect we’ll see him in Hertfordshire for some time.”

“What a pity,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, her bright tone belying her words. Jane noticed Mary’s slight frown at their mother’s transparent relief.

As the conversation turned to plans for entertaining their expected guests, Jane found her thoughts drifting to her sister upstairs.

Perhaps Miss Darcy’s arrival would bring some comfort to Lizzy - the young lady’s genuine warmth might pierce through the shell of quiet resignation her sister had built around herself.

And if Miss Darcy was coming to Hertfordshire…

Jane couldn’t help but wonder if her brother’s “pressing business in town” would truly keep him away for long.

Later that morning, after Mr Bingley had taken his leave, Jane carried the letters Hill had brought up to her father’s study. As she sorted through the correspondence, she studied the unfamiliar handwriting on Lizzy’s letter more carefully.

Once she had attended to her father’s affairs, Jane went in search of her sister, letter in hand. She found Lizzy in their room, curled in the window seat with a book forgotten in her lap, staring out at the misty grounds with that new, distant look that made Jane’s heart ache.

“Lizzy?” she ventured softly from the doorway.

Lizzy startled slightly, as if pulled from deep thoughts. “Jane - come in, of course. ”

“How is Papa this morning?”

“A little better. He’s washing now.” Lizzy’s fingers twisted in her skirts, a habit Jane had noticed developing since their father’s decline began.

Jane settled beside her sister on the window seat. “A letter came for you.” She held it out, studying Lizzy’s face carefully. “I didn’t recognise the hand.”

Lizzy’s pale face flushed as she took the letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she broke the seal. A moment later, she released a breath Jane hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“It’s from Miss Darcy,” Lizzy explained, though her colour remained high. “Though not her hand on the address. I thought perhaps…” She trailed off, but Jane understood perfectly whose writing her sister had feared - or hoped - to see. “How strange.”

“She’ll be joining us soon,” Jane said gently. “Mr Bingley mentioned this morning that both she and Caroline are coming to Netherfield.” She paused, watching her sister’s face. “It will be pleasant to have ladies in the house again. Mr Bingley has seemed rather lonely these past weeks.”

Lizzy made a soft sound of agreement, but her attention had already turned to the letter’s contents. Jane rose quietly, recognising her sister’s need for privacy. Whatever the letter contained, she hoped it might bring some small comfort to Lizzy’s troubled heart.

* * *

Longbourn - Elizabeth

After Jane left, Elizabeth studied the letter more carefully.

The address, which she had initially assumed would be in Charlotte’s, her Aunt Gardner’s or Miss Darcy’s hand, made her heart stop - it was unmistakably Mr Darcy’s bold, elegant script.

Her fingers trembled as she turned the letter over.

What could he mean by this? It was against every rule of propriety for a gentleman to write to a lady who was neither his betrothed nor his relation.

The note he had slipped her in London had been dangerous enough, but this…

Relief flooded through her when she opened it to find Miss Darcy’s familiar hand on the first page. She recognised the young lady’s careful penmanship from their previous correspondence.

The sound of Jane’s departure barely registered as Elizabeth bent over the pages.