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"I wonder," Eliza says, eyes bright with indignation, "what Mr. Darcy means by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?"
Charlotte doesn't know if it's possible for someone as clever as Elizabeth to be this oblivious. Mr. Darcy's eyes follow her wherever she goes, and while he tries to hide his infatuation, he doesn't often succeed.
"He watches you quite a bit, Eliza. I think he might have some regard for you, and you would be wise to not throw it away."
Eliza laughs, her head thrown back. Charlotte eyes the smooth lines of her neck, and hates herself for it.
"Mr. Darcy, having feelings? I think his poor heart would sooner give out than submit to emotion. Why, my dear, wherever did you come across such a joke?"
"Well, you do have some talent for capturing hearts." It's meant to be a quip, but Charlotte's voice is somber. She isn't so sure that she's joking, now.
Elizabeth is watching her, concerned. Her dark hair is lined gold in the candlelight, and her cheeks are wine-flushed. Charlotte looks away.
There are some things that she can never have.
-
It starts like this:
When she is 16, Elizabeth makes her debut.
She is still gangly from her recent growth spurt, and unused to her new height and the pretty gown she has been forced into. Charlotte remembers the little girl who would cavort with the neighbour boys and pities her. Elizabeth has always been loud, and society is never kind to loud women.
Elizabeth seems to have no such fears. Every time her mother asks her to be more ladylike, she rolls her eyes and laughs. Charlotte adores that about her, how free her laughter is, how her smiles are always daring, never demure.
There are other, more unspeakable things that Charlotte adores about her, but she can't bring herself to think of those just yet.
-
Charlotte isn't surprised when Mr. Collins proposes. She had been kind to him, listened to his ridiculous blustering, put herself forward as the perfect wife.
Of course, Mr. Collins is a pathetic excuse for a gentleman, but he has a steady income and is easily managed. Charlotte could be content with him.
Say yes, a voice whispers, one that sounds like her mother, say yes.
She says no.
Mary Bennet marries him instead, and Eliza's eyes are shiny as she watches her sister leave for her new home. Charlotte comforts her, "I'm sure she will be happy, Eliza."
Eliza laughs, and both of them pretend to not notice the tremble in her voice when she says, "Of course she will. I can imagine it now: Mr. Collins giving his sermons, and Mary lecturing, and neither of them listening to a word the other says. I don't think there shall be a happier couple in England!"
-
They're walking through the woods when Elizabeth turns to kiss her. Charlotte barely registers it, the blinding sunlight, the sudden darkness as Elizabeth's hair veils them both, the taste of mint that lingers on her lips.
Charlotte can't stop looking at her after, her sparkling eyes and her pretty mouth closer than it's ever been, and those lovely, long fingers that rest cool against her cheek. There's a slight pressure on her forehead, a fleeting kiss, and Charlotte cherishes the wet imprint, thinks that this must be what baptism feels like.
"Eliza--"
Elizabeth's breath fans hot and sweet against her cheek when she speaks, "You're the only one who calls me that, you know. Eliza."
Charlotte knows.
"I liked it, having a part of you that nobody else did. Even if it was only a name." Her voice breaks on the last word, and Eliza's face goes soft.
"You have my whole heart, dear Charlotte, and I only wish I would have told you sooner."
Charlotte twines their fingers together. They stand there in silence for a while, but it isn't Eliza's way to be quiet when there's mischief to be had. When she speaks, eyes sparkling, Charlotte knows to be wary of what's coming.
"But of course, my love, if you want any other parts of me, you have only to ask."
Charlotte only kisses her smirk away.