Elizabeth was eager to return to the bosom of her family, especially her dear sister, Jane. Though, when at last they were reunited – and in the privacy of Jane's bedchambers, locked away from her youngest sisters' wagging tongues – she found it impossible to know where to begin. She finally settled on the most believable part of the tale.
"Mr. Darcy proposed?" Jane asked incredulously. Surprise made her eyes grow wide before she regained control of herself. "Not that anyone's marrying you should be astonishing…" she hastened to add.
Oh, dear, Elizabeth thought. If she finds that part unbelievable, it does not bode well for the rest…
"Poor Mr. Darcy," Jane mused aloud. She seemed unable to wrap her mind around the idea that the man in question could have disguised such powerful feelings for so great a length of time.
Elizabeth blinked. "You do not blame me for refusing him?" Not knowing, as Elizabeth did, what manner of… man Mr. Darcy was, she worried Jane must be disappointed that she had not agreed, for the sake of their sisters. They, she suspected, would have felt differently indeed. For, as their mother was on more than one occasion heard to say, a marriage of that nature would have thrown the girls into the path of other rich men.
Mama…
Their mother would have much to say on the matter. She would, without any doubt, blame Elizabeth. Had she shared news of Mr. Darcy's proposal with her mother, the wedding would have been half-planned before Elizabeth could point out that she had refused.
But Jane was neither her mother nor her sisters. She was all astonishment at the suggestion.
"No, of course not!" she insisted at once, as if the thought had not crossed her mind. Knowing Jane's sweet disposition, it probably had not. Yet...
How could it not have crossed Jane's mind? The thought had not only crossed Elizabeth's mind but had run circles 'around it since the offer was made – tripping often over the slow, lingering terror of what might have become of her if she had not fought off Mr. Darcy's savage bite.
At the same time, a strange, unfamiliar longing nipped at both their heels – one she could neither explain nor control. Questions of where Mr. Darcy was at that very moment, if he still thought of her, and if their paths would ever cross again incessantly demanded attention Elizabeth could scarce spare.
She had recovered well enough physically from the... incident at Rosings. The rest of her – notably her foolish heart – was slower to heal. A dull ache seemed to have taken up residency behind that poor organ as a constant reminder of that fateful day.
Oh, but she was confused. Confused and frustrated. Why should she dwell so much on a man who had both insulted and attacked her?
Who had kissed her so thoroughly that he had awoken in her a lifetime's worth of passion she hadn't known laid buried within...
"Lizzy?" Jane's voice interrupted her troubled thoughts. "Do you regret refusing ?"
"No, of course not! I..." the denial rose quickly to her lips but failed to linger. She gave Jane a wry smile.
Her sister was wise, wiser than her serene countenance and kind heart led many to believe. As always, Jane had seen through Elizabeth's doubts and half-truths. No one knew her so well as her sister. Better, at times such as those, than Elizabeth knew herself.
"I meant every word when I said it," Elizabeth confessed. Hot spots of shame rose to her cheeks as she recounted the horrendous things she had said to her would-be suitor. To her credit, Jane listened without passing judgement.
Nerves made Elizabeth fumble with the letter in her lap. "But things have since been brought to my attention that have... swayed my feelings." Some for the better, others for the worse. None of which did anything to lessen her inner turmoil.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, uncertain how much to say – and in what way it could be said that would not make her sound as if she were a raving bedlamite. She stared at the letter in her hands. Perhaps it would be for the best if she simply allowed Jane to read it... It was all there, in the man's own words.
Yet Elizabeth hesitated. She had given Mr. Darcy a promise, had sworn herself to secrecy. There had been no caveat of silence but for her sister. Sharing Mr. Darcy's secret felt like a horrible violation...
Worse a violation than robbing someone of their blood?
And it was only Jane, after all, her dearest sister and closest confidant. Jane was the soul of discretion. If Elizabeth were to tell Jane she was in love with the devil himself, she could trust her sister not to tell a soul.
In love with? Where had that thought come from? True that her feelings for Mr. Darcy were confused… and there was an undeniable desire that sprang to life when thoughts of his kiss resurfaced… but did any of that equate to love?
Jane saved Elizabeth from her tortured deliberations by reaching across the bed to place a hand over hers. She released a gentle sigh before speaking.
"Tell me, dear Lizzy," she said in a voice low enough that it would not travel, "do any of those things have aught to do with the fact that Mr. Darcy is a vampire?"