Chapter 13

Thirteen

In desperate want of someone to confide in after Mr. Darcy's sudden leave-taking, Elizabeth made her way swiftly to the parsonage. The thought of returning to Rosings in such a state of mind was untenable.

She shared with Charlotte what must certainly be happy news for so many that Mr. Darcy had recovered his lost memories. With less enthusiasm, Elizabeth explained that said recovery had led to his decision to return to London at once.

"He is no doubt leaving as we speak," Elizabeth said.

"While Mr. Darcy's recovery is certainly a cause for joy, I cannot imagine his Rosings relations are eager to see him go," said Charlotte. She looked at her friend questioningly. "How does his leaving affect your immediate plans? Do you intend to return here to stay at the parsonage for the rest of your time in Kent?"

"I confess, I have asked myself that very question and pondered how I might extricate myself from the situation at Rosings."

"I know that the primary reason for your being there was to aid in the recovery of Mr. Darcy's memory."

Elizabeth nodded. "However, for all Lady Catherine knew, I was there as her daughter's particular friend. What excuse might I give for returning to the parsonage? I feel it is far better to take my leave from Kent. The only question is how much longer I should remain there for the sake of propriety so as not to give her ladyship cause to believe I had ulterior motives involving her nephew's presence at Rosings as my reason for being there."

"Well, you have been away from Hertfordshire for a while. You might always use the excuse of receiving a letter from your mother asking you to return."

"I can well imagine the grand lady dismissing such an excuse, citing my mother could certainly spare me for another fortnight."

"Owe it to your father, then. Give the reason that he wrote last week to hurry your return."

"I imagine I shall, for I believe leaving this part of the country is for the best. Jane has long since returned to Longbourn from town and without having seen Mr. Bingley, even in passing. From reading her letters, I am persuaded she is just as heartbroken as ever."

Thoughts of Jane's sorrows naturally led to thoughts of Mr. Darcy and his role in separating her from his friend. His testimony silently echoed in her busy mind: "I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Toward him I have been kinder than toward myself."

Such had been his excuse for his behavior. Even now, Elizabeth could not discern if Mr. Darcy had changed his severe stance, forcing another section of his letter to come to mind: "There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with satisfaction, it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence is perhaps probable, but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger.

"Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. It is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject, I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them."

These reflections caused her to consider how, despite all these objections to a possible alliance with his friend, Mr. Darcy had cast them aside when it came to his desire to make Elizabeth his wife. Though his words struck her as insulting at the time, they now took on a new meaning . At that time, Mr. Darcy really did love me in his own way... His justification, though harsh, had revealed a man torn between loyalty to his friend and his own imperfect understanding of love.

Realizing she had been silent for too long, Elizabeth regarded Charlotte intently. "My sister needs me," she said. Not only that, but I need her too, Elizabeth silently reflected. Especially after my own ordeal here in Kent.

"After all that has happened, I can imagine how disappointed you must be," Charlotte said, pouring the tea.

In fact, Elizabeth had secretly begun to teach herself that the accident was fate's way of giving her and Mr. Darcy a second chance. She could not deny she was beginning to enjoy his company—to look forward to it. How else was she to explain the ache inside her ... the longing for what might have been had they not been interrupted the day before ... had they kissed.

As Elizabeth recalled the near-kiss with Mr. Darcy, a wave of heat rushed through her, her pulse quickening as if reliving the moment. Her hand instinctively rose to her lips, the memory of his nearness sending a shiver down her spine. The ache in her chest deepened, a mix of regret and longing swirling within her. She had never expected to feel so attracted to him, yet the tenderness in his eyes and the intensity of their almost-shared moment lingered. She pressed her hand to her heart, trying to calm its erratic beats, but the memory of Mr. Darcy's touch, his presence, was not so easily forgotten.

Charlotte had always prided herself on being a keen observer, especially in matters of the heart. She knew Elizabeth's spirited nature better than anyone, their shared history giving her unique insight into her friend's character. Over the years, Charlotte had seen Elizabeth's sharp wit and quick judgments fashion strong opinions about those around her. But watching her now, something had clearly changed. The Elizabeth who sat across from her was visibly conflicted.

In quiet moments, Charlotte had studied the two of them at Rosings. She had seen the way Mr. Darcy's demeanor softened in Elizabeth's presence. His eyes were full of admiration and a longing to understand her better. And when Elizabeth conversed with the injured gentleman, her voice held genuine warmth—a noticeable shift from her prior icy civility toward him. She could not help but wonder how Elizabeth felt about these changes. It was clear Mr. Darcy had affected her deeply, but Elizabeth was not one to confess such things easily, especially when she herself might not yet understand the full extent of her sentiments.

Sensing the undercurrent of tension in her friend's quiet sighs and distracted glances, Charlotte spoke carefully, hoping to coax Elizabeth into revealing more than she might otherwise admit. "No doubt you and Mr. Darcy have grown close these past weeks."

Elizabeth colored a little, avoiding her friend's questioning eyes. "Yes, I confess since the accident, I have seen a different side of Mr. Darcy."

Charlotte arched a brow, her curiosity evident. "Different how? You once described him as proud, even insufferable."

Elizabeth hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup absent-mindedly, as if trying to stall. "I have come to realize he is not the man I thought him to be," she said quietly. "I have witnessed his attentiveness, his humility, his compassion. He is... kinder than I imagined, and at times—" she paused, searching for the right words, "at times, the warmth in his eyes almost startled me. It was as if I had misunderstood him entirely."

Charlotte's lips curved into a knowing smile, though she kept her tone gentle. "Perhaps he was always that way, and you simply did not allow yourself to see it."

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed slightly. "Perhaps," she admitted. "Which makes his hasty leave-taking even more... disheartening."

Charlotte nodded thoughtfully. "You say his leaving is disheartening, but I wonder..." She glanced at Elizabeth, her voice softening. "Could it be that his departure has aroused something deeper within you, more than mere disappointment?"

As Charlotte's words sank in, a fresh wave of heartache washed over Elizabeth. The uncertainty that had lingered since the previous day resurfaced with full force. What if the accident had truly been fate's subtle nudge? A chance for them to begin again.

And yet, now that chance seemed to have slipped away for good. She could not deny the longing inside her, the lingering disappointment over their interrupted moment. How else was she to explain the way her heart had raced at the thought of his lips nearly meeting hers?

Her hand trembled slightly as she placed her teacup back on its saucer, the sound of porcelain against porcelain a faint reminder of her unrest. The memory of that near-kiss sent another wave of heat rushing through her, and she felt her pulse quicken again, betraying the storm of emotions she was trying so hard to conceal.

"Charlotte," she said tentatively, glancing down at her hands. "I... I had not expected any of this. I had not expected to feel so—" She stopped, unable to find the words to express the tumult in her heart.

Her friend's gaze softened. "You need not say more if you are not ready," Charlotte said, though she could not help but persist. "Perhaps what is disheartening is not simply his leaving, but the possibility of losing him altogether."

Elizabeth's pulse sped up at hearing her friend's supposition. Charlotte was not wrong. It was not simply Mr. Darcy's departure that troubled her, but the fear that, in leaving, he was taking with him any possibility of something meaningful between them.

Once again, she recalled their near-kiss—the moment that might have changed everything.

Elizabeth swallowed, feeling the tightening of her throat as emotions she had been trying to suppress rose to the surface. "It is more complicated than that," she murmured, but even as she spoke, she knew the truth. It was not merely a question of opinion anymore. There was something deeper, something she had never admitted, even to herself.

Charlotte leaned forward, her voice tender yet probing. "Pray, tell me, Eliza... Are you in love with Mr. Darcy?"