Page 41 of A Quiet Affection

Jane said lightly, “Hello, Fitzwilliam. I am glad to see you. Oh, I must believe it will be better for Mr. Darcy now that you are here. But how do you do?”

A long silence.

Then Fitzwilliam said in a tight voice. “My apologies. Georgiana, Lizzy, I must immediately set off for Matlock. I...goodbye. Until we meet again.”

He then walked off with quick, heavy footsteps.

Chapter Twelve

The following week left Elizabeth a great amount of time to think and contemplate.

Georgiana was kept in her lessons all the day by Miss Wilson, and except for when they sang and practiced the piano together, there was no cause for Elizabeth to be present. Jane was the last person whom Elizabeth wished to speak to.

The weather stayed fair, as it had on the day that Fitzwilliam returned, and Elizabeth spent a great deal of her time out of doors, letting the autumnal sun warm her face, while the autumnal breezes rustled through the leaves.

She loved Pemberley, and she would miss it dearly.

When she tried to remember what Longbourn had been like, Elizabeth could not remember with any clarity. A red brick façade. Two stories. The shape of the hallway. But try as she might, she could not recall if it had been Mama and Papa’s bedrooms to the left of the upper floor, or the nursery and Jane’s room.

She did not wish to live in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Wickham.

Elizabeth had thought about asking Uncle Gardiner if she could come to live with him as soon as Jane had told her that she was to live with them, instead of in the big house. But at the time Elizabeth had been unable to do it.

Georgiana would need her.

But Elizabeth had not changed her mind about facing life in the same house as Wickham when Mr. Darcy announced that Georgiana would be sent away.

She knew why now.

She hadn’t wanted to go away from Fitzwilliam’s home. She had been longing for the time when he would be back here, and she would be able to hear his voice every day, enter conversation with him about books and friends and his duties about the estate. She had meant to be there if he needed her when Mr. Darcy died.

But Fitzwilliam did not need her.

She liked to tell herself that he did, but it was a silly girlish thing. It was not the truth. She was only a small scarred blind girl with only a little fortune, and a tendency to run about in a way that shocked everyone.

They were friends. Dear friends. But they would never be anything else.

Elizabeth could see it easily enough.

It was a pity that this first time that she fancied herself in love would end in such unhappiness.

When Fitzwilliam returned, he would be free. He would not marry Jane. She couldhope. She could try to engage his attention. She could try to make him love her. She could always be there for him, letting him cry on those rare occasions when he let himself cry.

Always hoping.

Such people appeared in stories—not only those in books, but also the stories she heard in gossip among the servants. Women who stayed near a man, always waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting…often when the man married or died, they kept waiting.

Long ago, when Papa was still alive, Elizabeth had read a story about a poor woman who loved a man from afar for her entire life, just saving the money she earned as a washer woman, andwatching as this man, who was a tradesman, became married, had children and lived his life. And then when that woman died, she gave the man all of the money she had saved through years of this closed and small life.

The writer of the essay had thought the woman had been a good woman, and this was an example of what it meant to truly love. To expect nothing in return for endless devotion.

Elizabeth could imagine little more awful and horrible.

Life in London promised more of interest, stimulation, and usefulness than remaining in Pemberley.

Once she made that decision, she went upstairs to write a letter to Mr. Gardiner. She kept wondering if this would make her a fool. Perhaps Fitzwilliam would decide to turn to her for comfort after Jane was married, and he would see in her everything he wanted in a wife.

Utter nonsense.