Page 205 of What Change Entails

Darcy remained motionless as he read.

Somewhere behind him, Georgiana sniffed loudly and muttered, “Wretched woman,” though whether she meant Miss Bingley, fate, or the rain, he could not tell.

Elizabeth’s letter stayed open in his hands.

You have more than hope.

Joy struck first, fierce enough to blur the words for one unguarded instant. She had written it. She had trusted him with it. Elizabeth, who had every reason to guard herself against his pride, had laid her heart before him in ink and sent him not a polite farewell, not a retreat, but a summons.

Then came the rest.

Miss Bingley had spoken with her.

Elizabeth had dismissed much of it. He saw that. He knew her well enough now to hear the defiance beneath the restraint. But she had still been forced to sit alone with old fears stirred by a woman whose resentment should never have reached her. She had been made to measure herself against objections he had once been arrogant enough to speak aloud. She had spent the hours before her departure writing to release him from a future he had wanted more with every day.

Because he had not been there.

He had left for one day.

Less than one day.

It had been long enough.

“Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana said.

Darcy folded the letter with hands that obeyed because years of discipline compelled them. He placed it inside his coat, against his chest.

“When did Miss Bingley speak to her?”

“This afternoon,” Georgiana answered. “After you left. She asked Lizzy to speak privately, and when Lizzy came back, she was strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Too still.” Georgiana’s brow furrowed as she struggled for precision. “Lydia said Elizabeth is better when she is angry. This was worse. She was painfully polite, and Lydia says a polite Lizzy is a bad sign when no one has died.”

Bingley made a rough sound that might have been a laugh under better circumstances.

Darcy shot a questioning look at Georgiana.

“Elizabeth did not confide in me,” Georgiana said. “She told Mrs. Gardiner more, I suspect. But Lydia overheard and she said Miss Bingley had spoken of society and consequences. She tried to dismiss it. Truly, she did. Then the express came, and there was such confusion, and she had no time to speak to you. She had to leave the letter instead.”

“And Miss Bingley?” Darcy asked.

Mrs. Hurst shifted near the fire but did not speak.

Bingley answered, his voice grim. “In her room. She has remained there since the Gardiners left.”

Georgiana gave a scornful little sound. “Because she is a coward.”

“Dearest!” Darcy frowned at his sister. When had she become so bold?

“She is.”

Darcy did not correct her.

Bingley dragged one hand over his mouth, then dropped it. “Darcy, I am sorry.”

“You did not speak to Elizabeth.”