Page 20 of A Quiet Affection

Elizabeth was dreadfully sleepy when she finished writing, and she folded the papers together and wrote the address on the outside, once she’d felt for the center of the page. She did not seal it, as her inability to see either the wax or the candle made it dangerous to do so.

When she woke the next morning Elizabeth immediately noticed that it seemed brighter than usual in the morning. A few minutes thought convinced her that she did not wish to send that letter to Fitzwilliam. It was too embarrassing, and it described her behaving in a terribly childish manner, and she refused to be such a child. At least not in front of Fitzwilliam.

He would rightfully think ill of her if he read it.

However, when Elizabeth walked to the desk, she found that the paper was impossible to discover. It was gone. A surge of anxiety went through her.

When Elizabeth went out to breakfast, holding the banister as she went down the stairs, she found that she had in fact missed the main breakfast and been allowed to sleep quite late. They were all finishing eating, and Georgiana explained that she had convinced Miss Wilson to let Elizabeth sleep as late as she might, this one time.

When Elizabeth made inquiry about the letter, Georgiana said that she’d taken it down to be mailed, and that the footman had taken it off with the rest of the morning post, and that Elizabeth did not need to worry, it would be delivered to Fitzwilliam at the nearest chance.

This did worry Elizabeth greatly, but she did not say that.

For the rest of the day Elizabeth dreaded when she would be in the room with Jane again. For the whole day Jane was with the dancing master, so Elizabeth saw nothing of her in the school room during their lessons.

That evening Jane did not appear in the drawing room, having sent down news that she felt quite sick with a headache.

The next morning at breakfast Jane entered late. Mr. Darcy asked her if she was well, and Jane said that she now was.Elizabeth tried to say a cheerful ‘hello’ or a similar greeting to her sister, but she found that there was a lump in her throat. It would seem wholly artificial.

Elizabeth barely ate anything herself over the course of the day. She needed to make herself speak to Jane, but no favorable opportunity arose. Yet, Elizabeth knew that the chief reason she could not find an opportunity was that she also desperately wished to avoid speaking to Jane.

It seemed to her that Jane was avoiding her.

The next afternoon while they all were in the drawing room paying attendance on Mr. Darcy, a letter arrived for Elizabeth from Fitzwilliam.

This was the letter that she had dreaded. Of course, Mr. Darcy was the one to pick it up so that he could read it to Elizabeth.

The letter began in the ordinary manner of Fitzwilliam’s letters to her—descriptions of what he’d studied, the weather and the arguments that currently absorbed him. It was clear to Elizabeth that he had written this before he had received her letter.

But at the end there were these lines:Lizzy, I was as always pleased to receive your most recent letter this morning, and I am honored that you would ask for my advice in such a matter. The feelings you expressed on the subject are natural, though I do not think them wholly just. You do not need my advice. There is a reason that I always have the highest confidence in you and in your character. You know what you must do, and I know that you will act as your duty and your conscience demand.

Your devoted friend,

F. Darcy

When Mr. Darcy finished reading, there was a pause of some seconds. Elizabeth heard the soft rustle of the paper as he set theletter down, “And what matter did you ask for my son’s advice upon?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks felt flushed and hot. “It is a childish thing. I made a mistake. A childish thing. That is.”

“That is what?”

Elizabeth had no answer to her guardian’s question. She rather feared being made to answer, as she did not know what she would say. It was not a matter that she wished for him, or for anyone else in the room, to know anything about. The whole time that she waited to hear what Mr. Darcy would say next, Elizabeth was keenly aware of that spot in the room where Jane’s voice had come from last. She dearly hoped that her sister was not keen enough to guess it related to her.

After a while Mr. Darcy said, “I see. I shall leave this then to you both. I have confidence in Fitzwilliam that if it was a matter which he should direct to my attention, that he would. But I also trust that youwilldo as my son advised, and that you will act as your duty and your conscience demand.”

“Yes, sir,” Elizabeth agreed.

“To do otherwise would be beneath you. Remember, in your condition you must always be grateful to those who support you, and especially to your sister. You shall always be a severe burden upon her. You could not expect her to be happy if you ignored matters of conscience and duty. You owe those around you to do the utmost that you can do.”

“Yes, sir.”

This speech had brought to Elizabeth that familiar surge of resentment towards Jane. It somewhat undercut the strange, almost giddy feeling, that she had at Fitzwilliam writing that he had the utmost confidence in her.

What he wrote had been undeserved. Elizabeth knew that. She had half decided to pretend nothing had happened.

But if Fitzwilliam believed in her, shewoulddo what her conscience demanded, no matter how much she hated doing so.

That evening Elizabeth knocked on Jane’s door and entered without waiting for a reply.