Page 59 of The Servants’ Matchmaking

The word had followed her home from the orangery like something warm tucked inside her sleeve. Darcy had given it to her without demanding anything back. He had not made his feeling into a debt she now owed him. That kind of generosity, she was discovering, made the question harder to answer honestly, not easier.

"I know that I wait for him to enter a room," Elizabeth said. "I know his opinion matters to me even when I mean to reject it outright. I know that tonight, before I understood what he would do, I trusted him anyway."

"That is a great deal to know."

"It is not the word."

"No." Jane's smile was soft in the candlelight. "But it may well be the road to it."

Elizabeth looked down at the blue silk repair, the new thread bright against the old wool. Sarah had said once that a mend should not pretend nothing had happened. Darcy's pride had not vanished. Her own prejudice had not vanished either. But both had been named and tested, and made a good deal less likely, she thought, to tear in the same place twice.

"I will not answer because he has waited," she said. "I will answer when it is true."

"He asked for no answer tonight."

"That is precisely why I may be able to give one later."

Bingley arrived before noon. Darcy arrived shortly after noon, as though he had timed the walk from the drive to the door and refused to be early.

Mrs. Bennet had placed Jane in the best light and moved Elizabeth twice. After a great deal of deliberation that fooled no one, she decided that Elizabeth had looked well enough where she had started. Mr. Bennet opened the library door the instant the gentlemen were announced.

"Mr. Bingley may remain with the ladies," he said. "Mr. Darcy, I would speak with you."

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth. She had told her father about the courtship after breakfast, in the calmest voice she could produce. Now she gave him a nod meant to be reassuring, though she possessed no actual reassurance to spare. The library door closed behind them with a small, final click.

Bingley stood before Jane with none of his usual ease. "I promised you an explanation."

Mrs. Bennet's ears, tuned as ever to any sentence not meant for her, caught it at once. "An explanation of what?"

"A family disagreement after the ball," Bingley said.

"Caroline was unwell. I knew it the moment I saw her colour. London constitutions are very deceptive."

"Mamma," Elizabeth said, "Lydia has brought mud into the breakfast room."

Mrs. Bennet turned like a ship coming about. Lydia denied the charge on principle. Kitty confirmed it with relish. Mary recommended immediate cleaning on both moral and practical grounds, and the resulting dispute drew the three of them toward the far window, arguing all the way.

Bingley lowered his voice. "Caroline was not ill. She tried to place Darcy in a compromising situation. Elizabeth's shawl was part of it."

Jane's colour drained clean away. "Why?"

"She believed he would be forced to marry her. She meant for others to think Elizabeth had asked him to meet privately — then meant to claim the whole thing had deceived her too."

"And your sister Louisa?"

"Knew enough to bring witnesses. She did not know Darcy had already told me."

Jane looked across the room at Elizabeth. "You were used, and you did not even know it."

"Not for long," Elizabeth said. "Sarah told me the moment the shawl disappeared."

Bingley's hands closed at his sides. "I sent Caroline away this morning. Louisa and Hurst went with her. I have not announced what happened, and I do not intend to."

"You protected her reputation," Jane said.

"She is my sister."

"You also protected Elizabeth's."