I posted a chapter earlier today, in case you missed it.
Chapter 40
Elizabeth Bennet fled the house in a flurry of emotions, though anger was one of them it was hardly alone. She felt hurt, she felt a fool for trusting him, she felt the pain of him leaving so swiftly without answering her questions. It was as good a confession of guilt. She felt he owed it to her, an explanation that would make her not such a fool for seeing the good in him, for finding herself looking forward to him.
She had not yet fully recognized her feelings for him even in her flight and certainly not when he had proposed that morning. Marriage to him had not yet crossed her mind. He had shocked and appalled her as a result of Bingley's revelations. Everything in her revolted at the thought of being joined to someone so untrustworthy.
She was just beginning to recognize her appreciation of him. She had just begun to notice she enjoyed his company, that she looked forward to him, that they could speak so freely, that they could be true partners in their endeavors (like saving Lydia from Wickham), that he could make her laugh and she could make him smile (even in spite of himself), that she valued the way her opinion was so esteemed by him that he would endeavor to make such significant changes. She felt for him that day in the garden. Showing so much humility must have cost him his cherished pride, yet he had done it, to earn her good opinion.
What was this business with Jane and Bingley? Had he believed there was truth in what he had told Bingley? She couldn't be brought to believe it; that he believed the lies he told. She had shared Jane's good nature with him. Who could think Jane would string Bingley along without a care for his feelings? Only someone who had judged her without troubling themselves to know her.
Elizabeth had shared such intimate knowledge about her cherished sister only in order to ease the worries he had for his. She would have hardly spoken otherwise. His sharing his concerns spawned compassion and it was the first time she had felt anything for him other than contempt. It caused her to see his humanity, to see behind the mask a real man that felt pain for a loved one just as she would - and he had stabbed her in the back with the very words she had used to give him hope and comfort. He had hurt her sister with the words she used to help his sister. It was too much, it was a betrayal of the first order. How could she ever trust him with anything? Her thoughts, her feelings, her family, were not safe in his hands. She could not regret her refusal, she could only regret beginning to feel for him, he was hardly deserving of such trust.
Had she judged anything correctly? She had come to realize her first estimation of him was not correct but was it more accurate than her second sketch of his character? Was she merely basing her estimations on how agreeable a person made themselves to her? Manners were not morals, that much was clear. Was there truth to Wickham's words and his? She was less willing to trust that he was not guilty, but nor did she trust Wickham. They were starting to seem two sides of the same coin, both willing to harm others when it aligned with their own agendas. It felt increasingly likely that neither was to be trusted.
Elizabeth was in agony and knew if she returned home that she would find no reprieve. Longbourn was likely in an uproar. Her mother would have no compassion on her, nor would Elizabeth share such things with her. So she sat down, and let the emotions wash over her, tired of thinking; she gave herself fully over to her feelings of anger, hurt, betrayal, and shame at trusting him.
What are your thoughts on Elizabeth's feelings?