Elizabeth rushed to her room and threw herself onto her bed in a flurry of confusion and misery. Bitter tears stained her cheeks but had ceased falling, only to be replaced by astonishment and surprise at her newly discovered emotions. You fool, she thought, must you be so fickle that you can only appreciate that which you cannot have! The next half hour was spent trying to gain insight into when and how she could ever have allowed herself to stop hating the offensive man. Was it as early as her first unfortunate meeting with him at the assembly, where she quietly admired his fine figure before learning of his disapproval? Was it when he confessed his misjudgment and gave a brief - but now treasured - glimpse into his heart? Could it be that her feelings of admiration were only as fresh as the pain she experienced when he took his leave of her yesterday?
Yesterday? Can it truly only have been one day? Surely a thousand lifetimes have passed since we last met. Elizabeth recollected their final conversation - how she was surprised and delighted by the ease and the comfort as they discussed novels and poetry and passions - and she instantly understood. Mr. Darcy perceived her growing affection and sought to distance himself. Oh, that he should know her heart before she understood herself. Whether he shared her newly discovered feelings, she did not know. Elizabeth concluded that he must be trying to protect himself, and possible her, from an attachment that could never be anything more than a dream. Grief again overcame her as she recognized that she could not think less of him for it.
Her absence did not go unnoticed by her family and eventually Jane was rapping softly on the door and furtively stepping to her sister's side. "Lizzy, you look pale. Are you unwell?" Gently pushing aside a mass of dark curls she placed the back of her hand to her sister's forehead.
"I am well, Jane. I am only recently beginning to understand the changes that a new set of neighbors must bring. You love Mr. Bingley, Jane?" A sweet smile spread upon Jane's face and her cheeks were overspread with the deepest blush. It was all Elizabeth needed to continue, "and do you expect that he will make an offer soon?"
Jane paused and with hesitation replied, "I believe that he is may be waiting for an opportunity to speak with our father."
"Do you believe it, Jane, or do you know it?" Elizabeth accused, a twinkle in her eye as she teased her sister. Her spirit could not help but be lifted by her sister's joy, and she began giggling. Jane fought to keep her countenance and stoically address such a serious topic with grace, but soon she, too, was folded over in laughter alongside her sister, mirth overflowing as she contemplated her future happiness.
"Oh, Lizzy, I only wish you could know the joy that I feel, but I cannot find the words to do it justice. You, dear sister, would surely be able to find the expression and the tone to capture the emotion. When you find love as I have, you will not be at a loss for words."
The moment of levity ended as abruptly as it began as Elizabeth closed her eyes and turned her head, fighting back the tears that threatened to reappear. "My dear sister, do not lose hope. Things cannot remain as they always have, no matter how happy we have been. Depend upon it - one day it will be your turn -though I cannot say when."
Lizzy could not conceal the hint of sadness in her voice "Nobody ever feels or acts, suffers or enjoys, as one expects. I shall turn my mind to those things upon which I can depend - my dear sisters and friends, our meddlesome neighbors and an affectionate mother and father."
The family was entertained by Mr. Bingley and Mr. Collins so well that afternoon that no notice was given at all to Elizabeth's withdrawn temper and her unusual quiet. It was not until late that evening that any outside of her sister turned the conversation in her direction.
"And so Lizzy, what is this I hear of Mr. Darcy going to town?" Mrs. Bennet accused.
"I believe you know as much as I do. Were not we both sitting in this room when Mr. Bingley told us that he left this morning," Elizabeth replied cooly.
"But surely you must know more," her mother pleaded, searching for some insight into the terms upon which her daughter and the gentleman parted. "Mr. Darcy must have given you some idea of his intentions."
"I assure you that he did not, Mama. Does Mr. Darcy strike you as the sort of man who asks for permission or gives excuses for his behavior?" Elizabeth asked flatly before excusing herself for the night.
Jane leaped to the defense of the gentleman in question. "Mama, Mr. Bingley did say that he hoped Mr. Darcy would return in time for the Netherfield Ball."
"Yes, yes, Jane. But why should he leave in the first place, is he to be always running this way and that way and never staying in one place!"
"But his sister is in London," Jane soothed, sincerely believing that any attentions towards a beloved sister must excuse his behavior. "And I'm sure there is business that a man in his station must take care attending to; a man as rich as he is must spend a great deal of time keeping his affairs in order. There are always papers that need to be drawn up, and matters to be sorted before a gentleman enters into any significant agreement. Isn't that correct, Papa?"
Mr. Bennett looked up from his book and absently agreed with his eldest daughter. Mr. Collins, though not catching the meaning of her words, lent credibility to the seeds of hope planted in her mother's head. He declared how correct Miss Bennett was and proceeded to enlighten the party on the great number of activities that a man such as Mr. Darcy must attend to, and the great condescension that he offered to their neighborhood with his presence up to that point. His looks and words turned to his youngest cousin as he digressed from the incredible manners of the gentleman to that of his noble aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, going over in great detail the many honors bestowed by virtue of her patronage.
Later that week Elizabeth finally had the opportunity to meet the charming Mr. Wickham, who, after only one week in Meryton, had every young lady within a mile of Meryton out of their senses. He was handsome and dashing, and Elizabeth decided that he was just the sort of person to bring her out of her miseries and for the first half of the evening she was well pleased with him. However, as the end of the night approached he did himself a great disservice, broaching the one subject that Elizabeth had taken great pains to avoid.
"I understand from your younger sisters that you are much acquainted with Mr. Darcy."
"I have been often in company with him during his stay at Netherfield; he is a good friend of Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth reported with caution. She would not expose herself to the neighborhood after doing so to Mr. Darcy himself.
"And how do you find him?"
"I believe that he is generally found to be a man of sense and education." Her reserve on this subject was greatly in contrast to her earlier manners, nor did it affirm the whispers and allusions he had heard from more than one corner that there may have been an attachment between the pair.
His curiosity was piqued, and he continued in his attempt to draw Elizabeth out. "You might be surprised to hear that I am formerly much acquainted with the gentleman. We grew up as boys together before either one of us had acquired any portion of sense or education."
Elizabeth masked any surprise that this revelation brought. "I imagine then that you have the advantage and do not need the impressions and opinions of our neighborhood to draw his character."
"True, true," he conceded with a laugh. "I wonder if he will be long in London or if he means to return to the area?"
"I have heard only that Mr. Bingley wishes for him to return, but as to his wishes I have no knowledge,' Elizabeth declared, returning to topics of less interest to both: the weather, politics, and music.
Wickham turned from Elizabeth dissatisfied. The change in the lady's mien was palpable at the mention of Mr. Darcy, but he could not ascertain if her diffidence was a symptom of too much or too little interest in his former friend. That the tide of the neighborhood had not turned against the proud, cold man surprised him. He knew Darcy well enough to understand that the man only pleases where he chose, but he could not fathom what - or who - in a little country nowhere such as this would tempt him to do so. He watched as his most recent companion joined her friends, a roguish grin spreading across him even as he thought, proceed with caution, Wickham.
As much as she did not wish to, Elizabeth could not keep from drawing comparisons between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham. While the latter's words were laced with compliments and an aim to please, she thought with regret that he lacked the former's conviction and acumen. She wondered with curiosity how two such men could be raised alongside one another; and - if, in fact, they were - how it could result in such different effect. She could readily admit that the man that entertained her in the drawing room of her Aunt Phillip's that evening had all the favor of appearance and happy manners. And yet, she was struck - with even deeper sentiment - by a high regard for the warmth of expression and the composed manners of the gentleman who was - at present - having similar thoughts in the library of his quiet home in London.
As the evening came to a close Charlotte and Elizabeth found a quiet corner to share their observations and laugh at the follies of their friends and neighbors.
"And so Lizzy, how did you find Mr. Wickham? Will he suffice to entertain you in the absence of your favorite?"
"I will not pretend in one meeting to dislike him. His manners are undoubtedly gentleman-like, but as to whether they are gentlemanly, I am unconvinced." Lizzy sighed, thinking that she was no longer sure that she understood the makings of a real gentleman. "He is excessively diverting, and we will meet again, I'm sure. He shall tell me comical things, and I will laugh at them, which will be a pleasure to us both. "
"Well, even if he has nothing else to recommend himself, Lizzy, I suppose our neighborhood will still look upon him as a treasure. Young, handsome and a manner designed to please; we cannot also ask for virtue and riches, can we?"
"There may exist a being out there who matches my definition of perfection – combining the wit and manners that could make one such as myself happy, being the dearest friend of my sisters' future husbands, and in possession of both a fortune and a handsome face. But even if such a man exists, I cannot imagine it likely that he may ever cross my path."
With a look of exasperation, Charlotte raised her brows. "Can you not? And to think that I have - until just now - always attributed to you the superior imagination."