Page 47 of Near Pemberley

Elizabeth gave a short, pained laugh utterly unlike her usual manner. “Then I envy your confidence more than I can say.”

The severity of the speech shocked even herself after it was uttered. Jane turned away slightly, struggling to master her emotion.

For one terrible moment, Elizabeth saw not merely her sister’s sorrow, but the deeper wound beneath it.

Mr. Bingley.

Jane, who had already once lost happiness quietly and without complaint, still could not persuade herself entirely to relinquish hope in human goodness even now.

And Elizabeth, in her misery, had wounded her for it.

The anger went out of her. “Oh, Jane…”

She crossed the room quickly.

“I do not mean… Forgive me. I am miserable and unjust and tired beyond bearing.”

Jane shook her head faintly. “No. You only speak more plainly than I can.”

Elizabeth took her sister’s hand. “I cannot endure seeing you still attempt to think well of everything when nothing deserves it.”

Jane’s lips trembled slightly. “Perhaps I must try because if I cease believing people may still be better than they appear, I do not know what would remain.”

The gentleness of the words pierced Elizabeth far more painfully than reproach could have done.

Elizabeth sank slowly into the chair beside her.

For some moments, neither spoke again.

At last, Jane said gently, “You think very ill of the future now.”

Elizabeth looked down. “Yes.”

“And of yourself, too.”

That struck too close to the truth for denial.

Jane hesitated before continuing.

“This will alter many things. I know it must. But I cannot believe it destroys everything forever.”

Elizabeth looked away at once because she had once begun – only begun – to hope precisely that.

Darcy’s face rose before her with painful vividness: his altered expression, his humility, his attentiveness at Lambton, the warmth in his eyes when he spoke to her at parting.

I am glad that we met today.

She closed her eyes briefly.

Jane observed her silently. Then, very gently, “You are thinking of someone.”

Elizabeth started at once. “No.”

But the denial came too quickly.

Jane did not press her further.

And Elizabeth, abruptly unable to bear either confession or concealment, turned away towards the darkened window where nothing could now be seen beyond their own faint reflection in the glass.