Page 43

Longbourn - Elizabeth

E lizabeth stood before the mirror, struggling with the ties of her dress.

Her usually quick mind felt sluggish, and she blinked, realising she’d been staring at her reflection for several minutes.

The face that looked back at her seemed changed somehow - her eyes, once lively, now held a weariness she couldn’t quite disguise.

Jane moved behind her, deftly taking over the stubborn laces. “It will be nice to see Charlotte again,” she said softly. “And to hear about her captain.”

Elizabeth’s fingers found her engagement ring, twisting it absently. The thought of Charlotte’s happiness made her own situation feel all the more stark. She caught herself and stilled her hands, but not before Jane noticed.

“Lizzy?” Jane’s gentle voice carried a note of concern .

“I was just wondering if Miss Darcy might attend tonight,” Elizabeth said quickly, reaching for her hairbrush. “After such a long journey…” She trailed off, Mr Darcy’s words from his letter echoing in her mind.

“Lizzy, your hair!” Jane exclaimed, gently taking the brush from her sister’s hand. Looking down, Elizabeth realised she’d been mindlessly brushing the same section.

As Jane styled her hair, Elizabeth closed her eyes, willing herself to focus on the evening ahead.

She pictured Charlotte’s smile, imagined lively conversations.

Yet beneath it all, like a persistent undercurrent, were thoughts of Mr Darcy - his letter, his absence, and the unresolved feelings she fought to suppress.

“There,” Jane said at last, placing the final pin. “You look lovely.”

Elizabeth studied her reflection. She looked the same as always, yet felt fundamentally changed. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. “Thank you, Jane. Shall we go down? I believe I hear Mama calling.”

The cheerful atmosphere at Lucas Lodge jarred against Elizabeth’s inner turmoil. Charlotte greeted them warmly, her face glowing as she drew them aside to meet a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman in a naval uniform.

“Captain Northam, may I present my dearest friends - Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

The captain’s manner was direct but pleasant, his weather-beaten face creasing into a genuine smile as he bowed.

Elizabeth couldn’t help noticing how naturally Charlotte and the captain seemed together, how her friend’s usual pragmatism had given way to something warmer, more alive.

The sight made Elizabeth’s own engagement ring feel heavier on her finger.

“I understand from Miss Lucas that Hertfordshire has some excellent walking paths,” the captain said, addressing them both, though his eyes kept returning to Charlotte. “After months at sea, I find myself missing the simple pleasure of a country ramble.”

“My sister knows every trail within ten miles,” Jane offered warmly, drawing Elizabeth into the conversation.

Elizabeth forced herself to focus on the discussion of local paths, though she couldn’t quite ignore the contrast between Charlotte’s obvious happiness and her own carefully maintained composure.

“Miss Elizabeth, what a pleasure to find you here.” The words were honeyed, but Elizabeth heard the underlying calculation in them.

Elizabeth turned slowly, steeling herself before facing Mr Wickham. His smile, once so charming to her, now seemed like a carefully crafted mask. How had she not seen before the calculation that lurked behind those pleasant features?

“Mr Wickham,” she replied, her tone coolly polite. Her fingers tightened around her fan as she added, “I trust you’re enjoying the evening?”

“Indeed I am,” he said, taking a deliberate step closer. “Though it’s improved considerably now.”

Elizabeth held her ground, though every instinct urged her to step away. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort. “I understand you’ve been quite busy with your militia duties,” she observed, her tone making it clear she had no interest in his flirtation.

Wickham’s eyes took on a predatory gleam. “I have, but I couldn’t help but notice that Mr Darcy seems to have left the neighbourhood rather abruptly.” He paused deliberately before adding, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Elizabeth met his gaze steadily, though her heart quickened at this dangerous turn. “I believe Mr Darcy has his reasons,” she replied with quiet authority, “though they are hardly our concern, Mr Wickham. ”

Elizabeth’s mind raced behind her calm exterior. Wickham was fishing for something - but what? Did he suspect the true nature of her interactions with Mr Darcy, or was he simply trying to cause mischief?

“Ah, yes. Always business with Darcy,” Wickham drawled, his smile widening though his eyes remained cold. “It’s curious, though, isn’t it? How did he arrive so suddenly and leave just as quickly? Almost as if something - or someone - had driven him away.”

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on her fan, even as she kept her expression neutral.

Every word was a trap now; she must tread carefully.

“I am sure Mr Darcy has his reasons,” she replied, her tone carrying just enough edge to warn him off, “though they are hardly our concern, Mr Wickham.”

“Come now, Miss Elizabeth.” His voice dropped lower, taking on an intimate tone that made her skin crawl.

“Surely you must have some insight. After all, you seemed quite… comfortable in Mr Darcy’s company when I happened upon you two in the woods not long ago.

” The insinuation in his words was unmistakable.

Elizabeth felt ice flood her veins at his words, though years of social training kept her expression composed. Her grip tightened on her fan until her knuckles whitened, but she refused to let him see how his insinuation had shaken her.

Indignation rose like a tide within her, washing away the momentary fear. How dare he attempt to tarnish something he couldn’t possibly understand? The memory of Mr Darcy’s honourable conduct stood in stark contrast to Wickham’s base implications.

“Mr Wickham,” she said, her voice pitched low enough that only he could hear, but carrying steel beneath its quiet tone, “I would advise you to be very careful about what you’re suggesting. Your imagination does you no credit.”

Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height, meeting his gaze with quiet dignity. Let him make what insinuations he would - she knew the truth of both his character and Mr Darcy’s now. No amount of charm or manipulation could shake that certainty.

The tension between them stretched taut as a bowstring - but before Elizabeth could deliver the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue, Charlotte’s voice cut through the crowd. “Lizzy? Where have you gone off to?”

Though Elizabeth welcomed the interruption, she refused to show her relief. She would not give Wickham the satisfaction of knowing she’d been rescued.

“I am here, Charlotte,” she called, her tone deliberately light as she turned away from him with practised grace.

Elizabeth watched as her sister and friend took in the scene before them. Jane’s serene smile faltered for just a moment - a change so subtle only those who knew her best would notice - while Charlotte’s sharp eyes assessed the situation with swift understanding.

“Mr Wickham.” Jane’s greeting was perfectly proper, though Elizabeth caught the slight edge beneath her sister’s usual gentleness. Charlotte said nothing at all, but moved with deliberate casualness to stand at Elizabeth’s side.

“I believe my father was looking for you earlier,” Charlotte said, her tone artificially bright. “Something about introducing you to Captain Northam?”

Wickham executed a shallow bow, his practised charm never wavering. “Then I should seek him out. Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.”

His gaze lingered on Elizabeth a moment too long - a final, subtle attempt at intimidation - before he melted into the crowd. Elizabeth remained perfectly still until he was out of sight, refusing to show even a hint of relief.

As soon as Wickham was safely lost in the crowd, Charlotte turned to Elizabeth, dropping her artificial brightness. “Lizzy?” Her tone carried both concern and curiosity.

Elizabeth met her friend’s worried gaze, aware that both Charlotte and Jane were studying her closely. The encounter had left her shaken, not from fear of Wickham himself, but from the stark reminder of how thoroughly she had once misjudged both his character and Mr Darcy’s.

Elizabeth smoothed her skirts, using the familiar gesture to gather her composure. “I am perfectly well,” she assured them with a genuine, if slight, smile. “Though I believe Mary is about to play. Shall we find seats?”

Jane’s hand found Elizabeth’s arm as they made their way across the room - a gesture so natural that only Elizabeth recognised it for the support it was. She allowed herself to draw strength from her sister’s quiet presence, even as she held her head high.

The evening seemed to settle into its usual pattern of music and conversation, though Elizabeth found her thoughts returning to Mr Darcy’s letter, safely hidden in her room at home.

How different everything looked now that she understood both men’s true natures.

The irony of it all brought a flush to her cheeks - she who had prided herself on her discernment had been so thoroughly deceived by a pleasant manner and ready smile.

A stir near the entrance drew her attention from these uncomfortable reflections.

Sir William’s effusive greeting rang out across the room as he welcomed the Netherfield party.

Elizabeth’s heart quickened at the sight of Miss Darcy’s slight figure behind Caroline Bingley.

Though the young lady looked pale, she held herself with quiet determination, staying close to Mrs Annesley.

Behind them stood a gentleman Elizabeth didn’t recognise - he must be Doctor Russell, whom Mr Darcy had mentioned in his letter.

“Sir William,” Mr Bingley stepped forward, making the introductions, “allow me to present Doctor Russell.” He gestured toward the Bennet sisters with a warm smile. “Though of course Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are already acquainted with Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley from their time in London.”

Elizabeth’s earlier encounter with Wickham took on new urgency. With a quick glance at Jane, who immediately understood, she stepped forward.

“Miss Darcy, the winter garden here is particularly lovely. Might I show you the camellias?” Elizabeth kept her tone light, though her meaning was clear to her sister, who smoothly engaged Miss Bingley in conversation about London fashions.

As they moved toward a quieter corner, Elizabeth noticed Doctor Russell’s keen gaze following their progress, though he appeared absorbed in conversation with Mr Bingley.

The winter garden was really little more than an alcove filled with potted plants, but it offered relative privacy behind a large fern. Elizabeth positioned herself so she could see anyone approaching while keeping Miss Darcy somewhat shielded.

“Miss Darcy,” she began gently, “I must tell you something that will cause you distress, but you need to know. Mr Wickham is here tonight.”

She watched as all colour drained from the young lady’s face. Miss Darcy’s fingers twisted in her skirts, but she lifted her chin slightly. “I… I knew he might be. My brother warned me before…” She swallowed hard. “Before allowing me to come.”

Elizabeth felt a surge of admiration for both siblings - Georgiana’s courage in coming despite knowing she might encounter Wickham, and her brother’s trust in letting her face this challenge.

“We’ll ensure you’re never left alone,” she assured her quietly.

“Jane and I, Mrs Annesley, your brother’s friend Doctor Russell… ”

“Fitzwilliam trusts him completely,” Miss Darcy said softly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she glanced toward where the doctor stood conversing with Mr Bingley.

“I would not have mentioned it,” Elizabeth continued carefully, “but I had an… unpleasant encounter with him earlier this evening. He seems in a mood to cause mischief.”

Miss Darcy’s hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Did he… did he speak of me?”

“No,” Elizabeth assured her quickly. “Though he did make some implications about your brother.” She hesitated, then added softly, “Miss Darcy, please do not think I am prying, but your brother explained to me about Ramsgate. I want you to know that my understanding of both men’s characters has changed completely. ”

“You must think me very foolish,” Miss Darcy whispered, her eyes fixed on her hands.

“Not at all,” Elizabeth replied, thinking of her own engagement ring. “Sometimes our choices are influenced by circumstances we cannot control. The true measure is how we face the consequences.”