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Gardiner agreed to make it plain. The answer left her with the uncomfortable knowledge of receiving assistance, but at least she knew who gave it and could thank him without consenting to anything else.

She asked whether they could meet again with her father, if he would come to London. The solicitor could attend on Friday. Before leaving the Gardiners she wrote to Sir William, requesting his presence that day and asking him to reply there. She said she needed his help in a private matter, not that illness or danger required him to leave at once. Gardiner undertook to send the letter by the ordinary post.

Elizabeth walked with her into the hall. “Will you be quite comfortable returning?”

“For a few days,” Charlotte said. “I know what I am doing there now.”

* * *

Lady Catherine's letter awaited her at Brook Street. The housekeeper said a servant had brought it during the afternoon and required no answer at once. Charlotte carried it upstairs, removed her bonnet and sat on the edge of the bed before breaking the seal.

Her ladyship proposed that Charlotte accompany her to Rosings after her London visit. The proposed stay was presented as a benefit which a recently bereaved woman could hardly fail to appreciate. There were references to quiet, propriety and the suitability of familiar surroundings. Of Mr. Collins there was only the respectful mention necessary to explain why Charlotte ought to be grateful for the invitation.

She read it twice. Rosings meant Lady Catherine at dinner, Lady Catherine enquiring into her visitors, Lady Catherine discovering causes for dissatisfaction in arrangements she had made herself. It also meant the parsonage close by. Charlotte set the letter on the coverlet and pressed her palms against her knees until the impulse to be sick passed.

She could decline an invitation. She did not yet know what would follow the refusal.

At the Gardiners, she and Elizabeth had agreed that a note concerning any new pressure should go directly to Elizabeth by a messenger instructed to await her, rather than enter the ordinary household post. Charlotte made a copy of Lady Catherine's letter, retaining the original. She added that she had not accepted and asked for the copy to be delivered to Mrs. Darcy herself. The maid took the folded sheet to the waiting messenger; there would be no certainty of its arrival until he returned with an answer.

Charlotte opened her clothes press. Most of the dresses were hers, whatever Richard thought his attention had entitled him to expect. She took out a plain gown brought from Hertfordshire and laid it in a small trunk. Then she found her mother's sewing case, wrapped it in a shawl and placed it beside the gown.

The room would require very little alteration after she left. That hurt unexpectedly. She had kept it neat, chosen where the books should stand and learnt which drawer stuck in damp weather. She would miss the comfort of it, though she had no intention of buying that comfort by remaining where other people proposed to put her. She folded the next gown and went on packing.

CHAPTER 5

ELIZABETH

Jane arrived at the Gardiners' house on Tuesday with a small trunk, their mother's directions concerning the care of a bonnet and the determination to make as little trouble as possible. Elizabeth heard that last intention from the hall and went down the remaining stairs too quickly. By the time her sister had finished thanking the servant, she was in her arms.

“You have come,” Elizabeth said, which was a poor return for a woman who had travelled expressly to establish the fact.

Jane held her tighter. “Papa said I might stay until our aunt was tired of me. Mama thought London might improve the bonnet, if not its wearer.”

“Then we must show it everything.” Elizabeth drew back enough to inspect her sister's face. She looked tired from the journey and entirely herself, a combination so welcome that Elizabeth had to blink before turning towards their aunt.

Mrs. Gardiner directed the trunk upstairs and said that the bonnet might rest before beginning its improvement. Jane's reply to Saturday's invitation had reached them the previous evening, confirming the place secured for her journey and a stay of several days. Elizabeth followed her sister upstairs while their aunt arranged tea, carrying the small parcel of things their father had thought might be wanted.

It contained a book, a short letter of advice concerning the bonnet and a pair of spectacles which belonged to neither daughter. Elizabeth laughed when she found them.

“He was reading when he packed it,” Jane said. “I expect he has accused every person at Longbourn of stealing them by now.”

Elizabeth pressed the parcel against her waist. Their father had been reading. Her mother had been concerned with a bonnet. The ordinary life she had left was continuing, without knowing how often she thought of it. Jane removed her travelling things, and Elizabeth sat on the bed because she could not bear to go downstairs just yet.

“I received your letter about the post,” Jane said. “The one you wrote when you reached London. I have been so anxious.”

“He understood the flowers. Charlotte's name, as far as I had written it.” Elizabeth watched Jane fold her gloves upon the dressing-table. “He sent the letter knowing what it meant. We mustn't use it again.”

Jane's hands became still. “Did he say why?”

“He thought it might make me less resentful to imagine that I could speak without his permission.” She had made the explanation harsher than Darcy's words and could not find the will to soften it. “I've seen Charlotte. We spoke alone. There are things we are arranging together, but her affairs must wait until she wishes to tell you of them.”

Jane nodded. She asked no question which required Elizabeth to betray that distinction.

* * *

They took their tea in the small parlour after Jane had washed and changed. Mrs. Gardiner listened while the sisters discussed Longbourn, then went to settle a dispute upstairs, leaving the door closed behind her. Elizabeth could hear a child making a case with increasing confidence as the argument moved away.

She told Jane what she had told their aunt and uncle about the marriage: the demand Darcy had made, the protection he had offered and the choice which had never felt like one. Jane had suspected enough to receive the account without surprise, but knowledge altered her face more painfully than suspicion had done.