Page 51

Elizabeth listened, fascinated by this articulate explanation from her normally reticent sister. Jane’s cheeks had grown pink with animation, her eyes bright with feeling as she continued.

“During those difficult days when we were searching for Lydia, Colonel Fitzwilliam showed such steadiness, such principled compassion without judgment. He treated me as a partner in our concerns, not as a delicate creature to be shielded from unpleasantness. And when he speaks of his plans for Brackenton Hall, he asks what I would recommend, how I would arrange things... as though my thoughts on the matter were not merely welcome but valuable.”

“He sounds quite smitten with you,” Elizabeth observed with a smile.

“I believe he may be,” Jane acknowledged, a becoming blush suffusing her features. “And I with him, though we have not spoken directly of our feelings. There has been a... an understanding growing between us.”

“Has he made his intentions clear?” Elizabeth asked.

“Not explicitly. But I believe he may do so soon.” Jane hesitated, twisting her fingers in her lap in a rare gesture of uncertainty. “Which brings me to a particular question I wished to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“How does one politely refuse a proposal of marriage?” Jane asked, her expression troubled.

“If Mr. Bingley should indeed make an offer, as Mama seems convinced he will, I would wish to spare his feelings as much as possible while being honest about my own, and… you are the only person I know who has ever refused a proposal, not once but twice!”

Elizabeth could not suppress a laugh at this question.

“I fear I cannot claim to have managed either rejection with particular grace. Mr. Collins received what might generously be called a firm refusal, while Mr. Darcy...” She trailed off, remembering the fiery exchange that had marked his first proposal.

“Well, let us just say my rejection of Mr. Darcy was neither polite nor particularly kind.”

“Yet he married you anyway,” Jane pointed out, her eyes twinkling with gentle humour.

“A testament to his remarkable powers of forgiveness rather than to my skills in gentle refusal,” Elizabeth replied. “I believe I called him the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh, Lizzy, you did not!”

“I most certainly did. Along with several other choice observations about his character, none of which I would recommend including in your response to Mr. Bingley, should he propose.”

They both laughed then, the shared mirth lightening the seriousness of their discussion. As their chuckles subsided, Jane’s expression grew thoughtful once more.

“In all seriousness, Lizzy, I would not hurt Mr. Bingley for the world. He has been nothing but kindness itself to me.”

“Kindness alone is not sufficient foundation for marriage,” Elizabeth reminded her gently. “And Mr. Bingley, for all his amiable qualities, deserves a wife whose whole heart is his.”

“That is what the colonel said as well,” Jane admitted. “When we spoke of Mr. Bingley’s attentions, he said he would step aside if my feelings favoured Bingley, as he believed a marriage should be built on genuine mutual attachment, not merely convenience or prior expectation.”

“The colonel is a wise man,” Elizabeth observed. “And speaking of Mr. Bingley, I believe you might be surprised by his resilience. He is not, perhaps, as easily led or as superficial in his emotions as we once believed.”

Jane tilted her head curiously. “Has he spoken to you about his feelings?”

“Not directly,” Elizabeth said, carefully avoiding any mention of the overheard conversation. “But I have observed a certain... steadiness in him lately. A quiet dignity that suggests he would indeed bear disappointment with grace.”

“I hope you are right,” Jane said softly. “I would hate to think that my choice might cause lasting unhappiness to such a good-hearted man.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” Elizabeth said simply. “None of us can determine the direction of our deepest affections, only whether we choose to be honest about them.”

Jane nodded, reaching to take Elizabeth’s hand in her own. “Thank you, Lizzy. For understanding. For supporting my choice even though it may not be what everyone expected.”

“All I have ever wanted is your happiness,” Elizabeth assured her. “And if Colonel Fitzwilliam brings you joy, then I am thoroughly delighted for you both. He will make an excellent brother.”

“He speaks very highly of you, you know,” Jane said with a smile. “He says your influence has wrought remarkable changes in Mr. Darcy.”

“The influence has been mutual,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “But tell me more of the colonel’s intentions. Has he given any indication of when he might speak to Father?”

As Jane began to recount the subtle hints Colonel Fitzwilliam had dropped about his plans for their future, Elizabeth watched her sister’s face illuminate with quiet happiness.

This was not the desperate anxiety their mother might have instilled, nor the passive acceptance that had sometimes characterised Jane’s approach to life’s decisions.

This was a woman who knew her own mind and heart, making a choice based on genuine affection and compatibility.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was indeed a fortunate man, Elizabeth reflected. And Jane, after weathering disappointment with her characteristic grace, had found her way to a deeper, more sustainable happiness than might have been possible had events unfolded differently last year.

Sometimes life’s unexpected detours led to destinations far better than those initially sought. Elizabeth, who had once declared Darcy the last man she could ever marry, knew this truth more intimately than most.