Elizabeth looked at her sister’s worried face, Jane’s color high and her blue eyes unusually bright and wide. She answered carefully. “I think it is possible to grow in love, is that not how we all love anyway? But I do not know that it is such an easy recipe to follow. Time and intimacy alone may not accomplish the task.”

Jane nodded. “Lizzy, would it be very wrong of me to accept Mr. Walker if I do not love him?”

“I do not think it would be very wrong, no. You like him; you respect and esteem him. Many marriages have been based on far less.”

Jane nodded, her eyes meeting her sister’s and sharing an unspoken truth. That was not how they wished to marry. Or at least it hadn’t been before their father interfered.

“So you are thinking of accepting Mr. Walker then?” Elizabeth asked.

“I am giving it careful consideration. I can clearly see how it will be, or as clear as is possible with no formal arrangements. His father and family are all kind and welcoming to me. His mother died several years ago and I imagine I would immediately become mistress of his father’s house in London, which will one day be his. It is a large responsibility but one I feel I can take on. He is a good man, of that I am certain, and he knows his own mind, the importance of which has lately been impressed on me.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Do you no longer wish for Mr. Bingley, then?”

Jane looked down, then looked at her sister with her eyes full of tears she refused to let fall. “I am trying, Lizzy, trying so hard to forget him! His sisters are not kind like Mr. Walker’s, he does not know his own mind, he is blown about by whims and fancies and the wishes of his friends. He is not a man full grown!” she declared vehemently, her eyes clearly showing her distress.

“So you still love him,” Elizabeth said quietly, the finality of the words filling the small room.

“I fear it is not something I can control. Would it be wrong of me to accept Mr. Walker, in every way,” she looked at her sister significantly, “with my heart full of another man? Is it betrayal? Or is it prudence?”

Elizabeth shook her head, unable to answer her sister. Instead she knelt before her, hugging her tightly and stroking her hair as Jane quietly sobbed out her sorrows on her sister’s shoulder.

They slept together that night, Jane’s head on her sister’s soft stomach, as they had done when they were children, and Elizabeth’s hand wrapped in Jane’s hair, each giving strength and comfort to the other.

In the middle of the night, Jane woke and found her sister by the window, looking out towards the sea.

“Are you well, Lizzy?”

“Yes, Jane, I’ll be fine.”