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What have I done?

She barely breathed as the implications sank in. Wickham was his greatest enemy, and now—oh God—Darcy must think she had obtained intelligence from him. And in a few days’ time, she would see him again. The thought filled her with dread.

On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place.

Miss Bingley’s civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former.

Elizabeth tried to take her leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits.

Yet, as she glanced about the room for the last time, her heart sank.

Mr. Darcy was nowhere to be seen. He had not troubled himself to bid them farewell.

She knew why. Their last conversation had left him suspicious—convinced, perhaps, that she was in league with his worst enemy.

Would it be better to confess the truth?

To be thought mad rather than deceitful?

But when and how could she speak to him again?

A meeting was inevitable, and she feared what would come of it .

She forced herself to smile as Mr. Bingley escorted Jane to the carriage, his attentions so marked that even Jane could not mistake them.

His solicitous concern over her comfort, the warmth in his manner—it should have been cause for delight, and yet Elizabeth could scarcely attend to it.

She felt herself already slipping into the shadow of what was to come.

Miss Bingley, preening in triumph, was all politeness, but Elizabeth took no notice. She climbed into the carriage beside Jane, and as they pulled away from Netherfield, she held her breath, willing herself to keep composed.

Their return to Longbourn was met with no great display of warmth.

Mrs. Bennet, upon seeing her daughters, exclaimed in astonishment rather than delight.

"Well! What a piece of nonsense this is! To return so soon! I am sure it was very ill-judged of you both, especially you, Jane. You have scarce had time to secure Mr. Bingley’s affections before running off again.

What trouble you have given, and all for nothing!

I declare, you are both very foolish, indeed.

And I should not wonder if you have quite ruined everything. "

Jane bore the rebuke in silence, though a flicker of disappointment passed over her countenance. Elizabeth, however, felt her temper rise. Their mother had no true concern for Jane’s health, nor any gratitude that she had recovered; it was only the lost opportunity that occupied her mind.

Mr. Bennet, though never one to waste excessive sentiment on comings and goings, looked up from his book with something like genuine pleasure.

"Ah, so you have returned. The house has been uncommonly dull without you.

I was forced to endure your sisters' conversation without the benefit of your wit to soften the ordeal.

Welcome home, Lizzy. Jane, my dear, I trust you have not caught another chill on the journey? "

"No, Papa," Jane said gently, "I am quite well, thank you."

"Well, that is something, at least. Your mother might never forgive you otherwise."

Elizabeth might have laughed on another day, but now, everything within her felt taut as a wire.

She had neither patience nor amusement for his indifference.

How lightly he took everything! How willingly he ignored all that was uncomfortable so long as he might retreat into his study!

If only he would act—if only he would exert himself to temper her mother’s foolishness and guide their family with sense!

The evening passed in the usual way, though Elizabeth scarcely heard the idle talk of her younger sisters.

Lydia chattered endlessly of officers, Kitty echoed her sentiments, and Mary made solemn pronouncements upon the virtues of moral refinement, to which nobody listened.

Mrs. Bennet’s complaints about their early return were plentiful, and Mr. Bennet, as was his habit, responded with dry remarks that pleased only himself.

Elizabeth could not bear it. She set down her tea with a clatter and rose abruptly to her feet.

"You may think it nothing, but this—this—is what will ruin us all!

" The room fell silent. "You fret over Jane returning home too soon, Mama, as if a day or two would make any difference, but it is your very scheming that will drive Mr. Bingley away.

And you, Papa—do you think yourself blameless?

You who sit by and laugh, content to let matters fall as they will, without lifting a finger to prevent disaster? "

"Lizzy!" Jane gasped.

Mr. Bennet blinked at her, momentarily taken aback. Then, in his usual indolent way, he sighed. "I suppose I ought to take offense at such a tirade, but it is rather amusing to see you in such a passion. Tell me, my dear, what great calamity do you foresee?"

Elizabeth’s hands clenched at her sides. She could not tell him. She could not tell anyone. She could only watch, helpless, as the future unfolded just as it had before. Her mother’s folly. Her father’s neglect. And her own mistake—one that had already set Mr. Darcy against her.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to shed them here, not before them. Without another word, she turned on her heel and fled up the stairs, the sound of her mother’s indignant exclamations ringing behind her.

She barely reached the safety of her chamber before the storm broke.

Sinking onto her bed, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears fall at last. She had ruined everything.

Mr. Darcy thought her allied with his greatest enemy.

And in two days, that very man would appear before her, confirming every suspicion.

How could she fix it? How could she undo the damage she had wrought?

Her sobs echoed in the stillness of the room. Two days. That was all the time she had left before everything would unravel.