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that your real parents died before you even knew them must grieve you anew.”
    “And do you not find it strange to accept that we are related, Miss Darcy?”
    “I did find it shocking, but I am most pleased.”
    “Pleased?” Once again, I sounded like a parrot.
    She smiled and touched my hand. “I liked you from the first time we met, and I can think of no one I would rather call cousin more than you.”
    How gracious her acceptance—it almost renewed my tears, and I took several steps backward to distance myself. Evidently, Mr. Darcy had told her the untruth my father created, and she, naturally, believed him. I wondered whether she would be as accepting of our relationship if she knew that we were sisters. I turned away slightly, hoping to spy Jane and thus escape the uneasiness of the situation, but Miss Darcy again laid a gentle hand on my arm.
    “Miss Bennet, my brother and I would be honoured if you would consider visiting us at Pemberley. We leave Netherfield next week and hope you will make the journey with us.”
    I could not believe the words I heard. Visit Pemberley again? Had Mr. Darcy seriously encouraged Georgiana in this request? Was it I, alone, who imagined daily torture if I returned to Pemberley attempting to act the role of poor relation while, in truth, I was his sibling?
    “Forgive me, I must attend Jane,” I mumbled.
    Forgetting my manners completely and without another glance in their direction, I fled the Darcys’ presence and crossed the room to find Jane and Mr. Bingley surrounded by well-wishers. When I could not penetrate the throng, I hurried through the entryway and out the side door.
    The sting of cold January air caused me to gasp, but it was not unwelcome. It had grown much too warm within the house filled with guests, and although I was surprised when snowflakes fluttered softly about my cheeks, I rejoiced that it would make a picturesque setting for the bride and groom’s departure. Eventually growing cold, for I had not taken time to don a cloak, I stomped around and rubbed my hands up and down my arms to keep warm.
    “Lizzy,” Kitty cried as she ran out the door. “Will you come help us with the bridal wreath? Jane and Mr. Bingley shall depart at any moment.”
    I walked back into the house long enough to open the door while she and Maria Lucas carried the huge arch of beribboned flowers outside. Almost immediately, the throng of company followed them with much gaiety and cries of excitement. The crowd swept me out the door along with them, and before I could turn around, I heard my mother’s voice calling out last-minute admonitions to Jane. And then, there they were—Mr. and Mrs. Bingley—running through the wedding arch and climbing in their carriage. I reached out and clasped Jane’s hand for but a moment. She stopped and pressed her cheek to mine, and I could see joy shining in her eyes.
    And then they were gone. What we had earnestly hoped and prayed for so long had now come to pass. My mother was thrilled that my sister married a rich man. I was thrilled that she married the man she loved. I knew for certain I would never be that fortunate.
    Many of the guests began to take their leave while others stayed at my parents’ urging. I caught a glimpse of Miss Darcy in conversation with Mary and knew her brother would not stray far from her side. They turned to re-enter the house while I walked in the opposite direction. I crossed the park and hurried up the lane. Snow began to fall in abundance, and once more, I regretted not having grabbed my coat. I passed the villagers’ cottages and acknowledged several greetings. I knew I should return to my parents’ house, but I did not wish to face Miss Darcy or her brother again until I thought of an excuse to refuse her invitation. My vow would be easier to keep if I never saw him again.
    Before I knew it, I stood upon the threshold of the church building. The door remained open, and I could feel the warmth from within.