Elizabeth staggered into the flat, her mind having been firmly fixated on bed and sleep for the past several hours. Mondays were the worst and a Monday after spending the evening before in the odious company of one Mr. Darcy was doubly so.
As fogged as she was from lack of sleep and a particularly trying night at work, Elizabeth didn't at first realize that there were lights on in the house or that this was an oddity at the ungodly hour of one hour past midnight. As she kicked off her shoes, realization sank in and a frown spread across her face.
"Jane?" she called softly, when a quick glance of the living room and kitchen turned up no visible signs of her sister. There was no reply and Elizabeth shrugged, killing the lights with a flick of the switch. It wasn't like Jane to leave them on and go to bed, but there was nothing else obviously amiss. She must have forgotten; perhaps she had worked late and was equally weary from the exertions of the night before.
"Because making eyes at Charlie is so taxing," Elizabeth muttered to herself and laughed quietly at her own observation. Rubbing a hand over her eyes she sighed and started to shuffle down the hallway to the bedrooms. "Talking to yourself and laughing at your own jokes? You need sleep, Little Bean."
Grimacing at the continued ridiculous nature of her conversation with herself, Elizabeth almost didn't notice that there was yet another light left burning in the flat. It shone faintly from under Jane's closed bedroom door, not bright enough to be cast by the main overhead light. She stared at the thin strip of carpet the light exposed, frowning.
This was very unlike Jane, indeed. A light sleeper, she would have to be very ill to be actually sleeping in anything less than perfect darkness.
Elizabeth groped for the doorknob, roused enough from her own exhausted state to feel a stab of alarm that Jane might be unwell. Just as she began to quietly turn the handle, a soft sound from inside Jane's room made her abruptly stop. It had been a low sound, somehow intimate. Not a murmur or a sigh, but a throaty sort of gasp.
"Charlie?" Elizabeth mouthed the question, wanting to instantly dismiss the very idea. Jane would not be so indiscreet or so reckless.
Impelled by curiosity, Elizabeth soon found herself with her ear pressed hard against Jane's door, listening for all she was worth. For several long minutes, there was nothing to hear. Chewing absentmindedly on her lower lip, Elizabeth debated the merits of knocking or simply leaving well enough alone.
If Jane were in there with Charlie, all of them would be too mortified to face each other the next day should Elizabeth go barging in and witness something so private. On the other hand, it was quite unthinkable that Jane would be taking a man to her bed before marriage. The scandal of such an act would taint their whole family irretrievably if it were ever discovered and Jane was too good to contemplate such a disastrous course of action.
On the other hand, if Jane were ill, sleeping fitfully and burning with fever, Elizabeth could never forgive herself for not doing everything she might to help her sister.
Drawing back, she raised a hand and rapped firmly on the door. "Jane?" she called, pitching her voice to be heard easily through the door. "Jane, I'm coming in."
There was a sound of rustling and a smothered gasp from the other side of the door and Elizabeth felt her face settle into grim lines. Counting to ten so as to attempt to spare herself any potentially indelicate sights, she breathed deeply and then pushed the door open.
Despite herself, her eyes flew immediately to the bed. Jane was huddled there, quite alone, her face red and puffy from crying. Telltale streaks of moisture down her sister's fair cheeks bore more than adequate testimony that this had been going on quite recently.
"Jane!" Elizabeth cried, rushing across the small space to sit next to her sister on the bed. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Jane opened her mouth as though about to reply but all that came out was a sob.
"It will be alright, Dearest," Elizabeth soothed, pulling her sister into an embrace and smoothing down her hair. She continued to murmur words of gentle comfort, feeling both deep concern for her sister's welfare and nearly as deep a curiosity mingled with dread as to what had happened to cause her normally serene sister to become so overwrought.
Both emotions mounted over the next several minutes as Jane continued to sob softly in her arms. "Hush," Elizabeth murmured, stroking Jane's hair. "Shh. It'll be alright, Jane. Whatever it is. You can tell me."
"It's Charlie," Jane wailed.
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. "What about him, Dearest? Is he sick? I'm sure it will pass."
"N- no." Elizabeth let go as Jane at last stirred herself to sit up. The older woman groped for a handkerchief, which Elizabeth provided before settling back against the headboard to listen.
Jane dabbed at her eyes and nose before finally composing herself enough to speak. She looked up with reddened eyes, her face blotchy but still somehow not anything less than beautiful. "He left me," Jane said, her voice wobbling a bit despite her obvious efforts to keep it steady.
"Left you?" Elizabeth cried, instantly indignant and baffled. "Why? What's wrong with him?"
Jane looked down at her hands, twisting the handkerchief between them in an agitated fashion. "I don't understand it," she confessed. "He said that he had enjoyed our time together. And that he hoped I would be happy."
"Yes, but why did he leave?" Elizabeth demanded, dismissing Charlie's empty words with an irritated wave of her hand. "Surely he gave some reason?"
"He said he didn't want to be used to get at his friends," Jane replied, voice hitching in a sob on the word used.
"What? That makes no sense."
"I know," Jane cried. "I - I tried to ask him what he meant." She took several deep, shuddering breaths. "But h- he was so cold! And then he was just... gone."
Muttering a choice few words under her breath, Elizabeth gathered Jane in more snugly, half-rocking her as though she were a child in need of soothing.
As she spoke occasional phrases meant to sooth something that could not be easily mended, Elizabeth found her mind fixed on what Charles had said to Jane. There could really only be one friend he might mean. That damnable Mr. Darcy must have said something to set Mr. Bingley off. Had it been a warning? A complaint about being forced to go along on a double date with her?
With a fire of hatred beginning to grow bright in her heart, Elizabeth sat dry-eyed and seething through the hours spent watching her sister suffer, vowing that Mr. Darcy would someday know the full extent of her wrath.
A/N: Hello there. If anyone is still reading, I appreciate it! I've had a very busy few months (new job!) and am now settling into a comfortable routine. The new job leaves me all sorts of downtime to do whatever I wish, so I hope to be writing more and posting more faithfully. To help in that endeavor, I've decided to go ahead and start posting shorter chapters. It's easier to crank out 1-2k words than it is to aim for 4-5k, because I rarely have the focus or the time to do longer segments and then my writing time is eaten into by re-reads and wondering "where was I going with this?" Thanks for reading!