Page 103 of Dear Friend

Neither had Elizabeth when Caroline first told her. She gave Jane an abbreviated account of what she had discovered at the ball, from Darcy's stay at Willowbrook to the letters he had admitted reading and his knowledge of her identity before Sir William ever introduced them at the assembly. By the time she finished, Jane's mouth was agape.

“He tried to explain,” Elizabeth said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice, “but I could not bring myself to hear him.”

Jane's fingers tightened around hers. “Perhaps you should have.”

Elizabeth pulled her hand free and rose. “Jane!”

“I do not mean that what he did was right.”

“He knew me before I knew him.” Elizabeth turned upon her, the words coming more quickly now that she had begun. “At the assembly, when I believed Sir William was introducing two strangers, Mr. Darcy already knew who I was. He knew of Julia, he knew things about our family, and he had read thoughts I never intended anyone but Julia to see. Then he stood before me and behaved as though none of it had happened. An omission may deceive as thoroughly as a lie when one knows the truth is being deliberately withheld.”

Jane's expression had grown troubled, but Elizabeth could no longer stop. “And then he courted me. He allowed me to tell him things he already knew and let me believe every confidence was being freely given for the first time. All those moments when I thought he understood me so remarkably well...” Her voice weakened, and she looked away. “He must have taken me for a fool.”

“Oh, Lizzy. I cannot believe he thought you foolish.”

“I do not know what he thought.” Elizabeth pressed her lips together, fighting the tears already threatening her. “And the worst of it is that I still...”

Jane came to her, and this time Elizabeth did not move away. “You still love him.”

Elizabeth's eyes closed. “Yes.”

Jane's arms went around her, and the embrace destroyed what remained of Elizabeth's composure. She pressed her face against Jane's shoulder, angry at the tears which came almost immediately and more angry still that Darcy remained capable of causing them.

“I wish I did not,” she said when she could speak again. “It would be so much easier if discovering what he had done had simply ended everything I felt for him. I was furious with him, Jane. I still am. Yet the moment you said he had left Netherfield, all I could think was that he was gone.”

Jane stroked her back. “Love does not disappear merely because one has been hurt.”

“Then it is a remarkably inconvenient emotion.”

The observation drew the smallest laugh from Jane, and Elizabeth managed one of her own before drawing away and wiping her cheeks.

“Did you end the courtship?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I told him not to come to Longbourn again.”

Jane was quiet long enough for Elizabeth to narrow her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You have never in your life said ‘nothing’ while meaning it so obviously.”

Jane hesitated. “I only wonder whether you meant never.”

Elizabeth looked towards the window again. On Saturday night she had meant it, or at least she had believed she did. She remembered Darcy standing before her, his face growing paler as the truth emerged, and the moment he finally ceased trying to explain himself. More than anything, she had wanted him away from her.

Now he had given her precisely what she asked for.

“I do not know what I meant,” Elizabeth admitted.

Jane took her hand again, and this time Elizabeth held it. Beyond the window, the road leading past Longbourn remained empty, and Elizabeth watched it for several moments before forcing herself to look away. She had asked Darcy to leave her alone, and he had obeyed her. She had simply never considered how much his absence would hurt.

Chapter Thirty-Five

28th November 1811

London

Darcy