Love Never Fails

by Jennifer Joy

Elizabeth swallowed hard to keep from laughing.

  Miss Bingley feigned indifference, though the color in her cheeks deepened. "Yes, I have made significant progress on that front. Not that I have not been asked, mind you."

  "Of course not, my dear. You are far too handsome to lack in suitors," agreed her aunt. “What you lack is good sense by insisting on marrying someone wholly unsuited to you.”

  Miss Bingley pursed her lips. “Who would you have me marry?” she snapped.

  Lady Rutledge shrugged her shoulders.

  A tap on the door preceded the butler’s entry into the room. He carried a silver tray with some letters on it. Elizabeth expected nothing for herself, but she still peeked over the top of the tray to see.

  "Two letters have arrived for Miss Bennet and the rest are for you, ma'am," he announced as he placed the tray in front of them. The first letter had the familiar handwriting of Aunt Gardiner. The other letter was from Mother. She stared at it, rubbing her thumb over her large, embellished letters.

  She pressed them to her breast when she felt Miss Bingley's breath against her hand.

  "Gracechurch Street? Do you have relatives there, Miss Eliza?" she asked.

  Seeing no reason why she should not respond openly, Elizabeth said, "Yes. My aunt and uncle live at Gracechurch street. My eldest sister, Jane, currently resides with them."

  "Is she the one I have heard you speak of so often?" asked Lady Rutledge. Leaning over to Miss Bingley, she added, "From what I hear from Eliza, she is a real beauty."

  Miss Bingley's face soured. If only she knew how ugly she looked wearing that expression.

  "Who is your other letter from?" asked Lady Rutledge.

  "The other letter is from my mother."

  "She lives at the address of a dancing school?" asked Miss Bingley.

  Impressed with her eyesight and quick reading, Elizabeth said, "Yes. She and my youngest sister, Lydia, live in an apartment above one."

  Miss Bingley rolled her eyes and inclined her head off to the side. "How charming, for sure," she said flatly.

  "Perhaps we should invite them over for tea before long," suggested Lady Rutledge. "I admit to being curious about your mother. Do you resemble her a great deal?"

  Elizabeth paused. She loved her mother dearly, but she could not easily speak of her. "My mother wishes for nothing more than security for her daughters."

  "She wishes for you to marry?" asked Miss Bingley, one side of her mouth tilting up.

  "I believe that most mothers wish for their daughters to marry," said Elizabeth, hoping that Miss Bingley would tire of the subject.

  "How many daughters are there?" she asked.

  "We are five."

  "Have any of your sisters married?"

  Growing increasingly uncomfortable, Elizabeth kept her answer brief. "No. Not one."

  Her smirk widening, Miss Bingley said, "How difficult it must be for a mother with five daughters in reduced circumstances to be deprived of the joy of seeing them married."

  Lady Rutledge harrumphed. "You ought to know about that, Caroline. You ought not criticize others for something you have been incapable of accomplishing yourself.”

  Elizabeth held her arms and legs still so that she would not squirm impatiently in her seat. She so badly wanted to dismiss herself and go upstairs to read her letters. Why had she thought that being a companion was such a wonderful idea? An act of madness, a decision made with emotion— that was what it was.

  “Eliza, you may go up to your room to read your letters,” said Lady Rutledge.

  Elizabeth did not need any more persuasion than that. She made it up the stairs and down the hallway to her room in short time.

  First, she read Mother's. The letters were difficult to read, being written in haste and with her flourished style of adorning each letter with unnecessary loops and marks. She and Lydia were kept busy with a multitude of callers and made more new friends every day. It was not the quiet life of a widow in mourning, but the diverting account of a young lady visiting town for the first time. Elizabeth poured over every word, written on both sides, hoping to find some information of substance. However, Mother only wrote of parties, her growing list of acquaintances, and her high hopes that her girls marry before the end of the year.

  Elizabeth dropped her hands to her lap, the paper crumpling in her hands. What had she expected? Was not Mother acting precisely as she always had— with no other motive but to marry her daughters and take advantage of every social occasion set before her?

  She tried to think well of her mother's happiness, but Mother acted as if she did not miss Father at all. As if she had already forgotten him. Elizabeth knew in her mind that her parents’ marriage had long ago ceased to thrive on love. They had lived in indifferent complacency for as long as she could remember, but she felt that her father deserved more from his widow. Did he not? On the other hand, what was the purpose of living if it were not to be happy?

  Frustrated and uncomfortable with the mix of emotions brought on by Mother's letter, she cracked the wax seal on Aunt Gardiner's letter and settled into her chair to be delighted with her latest news.

  A particular sentence caught her eye and she had to read it again. Sitting as straight as a board in her chair, she continued reading at a quicker pace. No, no, no! It could not be!

  She started again, hoping that somehow she had misread the communication and her plans were not for naught. But there it was still. Jane was to accompany Aunt, Uncle, and the children to the coast for the improvement of Emma's health. They would be gone for a month.

  Elizabeth felt like a child who had been promised an outing only to wake to rain.

  Chapter 25

  "You seem out of sorts, Eliza. What is wrong?" demanded Lady Rutledge. "Did your letters not contain good news?"

  "Jane is leaving town with Aunt and Uncle for the coast. My cousin is recently recovered from a fever and the doctor suggested that the fresh sea air would improve her greatly. It is good, and I have no doubt but that Jane will benefit from the trip… but I had so hoped to see her."

  "When is she to leave?"

  "Today," she said, not bothering to straighten her slumping shoulders.

  Lady Rutledge frowned. "How inconvenient. I have already sent an invitation to Caroline and Charles for luncheon tomorrow so that they might meet her. I even went so far as to include Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam to balance the table."

  Jane would have enjoyed herself and surely with three single gentlemen present, she would catch the interest of at least one.

  Her gut twisted and her fingers went cold. What if Mr. Darcy preferred Jane? She was certainly more handsome, and she showed a much greater consideration for propriety than Elizabeth.

  She pushed the dark thought aside, giving Lady Rutledge her full concentration. Maybe she would distract her out of her contrary mood.

  Tapping her pointy fingernails against her chin, Lady Rutledge pondered. "I do not want to cancel our luncheon when it has already been planned. Do you suppose your mother and the sister with her would agree to join us?"

  Elizabeth held back her initial joy. How would Lady Rutledge view her family? What would Mr. Darcy think of them? "They are in town, but my sister, Lydia, is much younger than Miss Bingley. I do not know that they could become such good friends as I suspect she and Jane would. Like most young people her age, she is… impulsive and… inclined to say the wrong thing."

  She should have said that Lydia was a bore. That would have dissuaded Lady Rutledge. Contrary to what Elizabeth had hoped, the older woman brightened and she clasped her hands together. "Oh how lovely! It will be good for Caroline to be around someone who does not feel the need to seek the approval of others to the detriment of her own enjoyment of life. It is decided! Instead of your aunt and eldest sister joining us, we shall invite your mother and youngest sister."

  Elizabeth, filled with anticipation and misgiving, asked, "Are you certain?"

  "Absolutely. It is perfect.
You can write to your mother right now and we can send it by messenger so that we may get her reply immediately."

  Elizabeth's only hope was that Miss Bingley would be kind and Lydia would remain quiet.

  "Are you coming with us to the luncheon Aunt Lavinia plans for tomorrow, Darcy?" asked Bingley, moving a chess piece to the sounds of rustling newspapers and hushed steps in the library of the gentleman’s club.

  He shrugged his shoulders, uncertain how to reply without sounding too eager. "I should like to go very much, but I must see if I am available at that hour." The truth was that he longed to see Miss Elizabeth again.

  "Make yourself available! Aunt said that the purpose of her luncheon is to introduce us to Miss Bennet's eldest sister, Miss Jane Bennet. Is that not a lovely name?" Bingley rested his cheek against his hand and sighed.

  "Are you so determined to fall in love that you would become infatuated with a name? Come, Bingley. Love is not a trifle sentiment to be taken so lightly." He had seen the expression Bingley wore before. Several times, in fact. “Checkmate.”

  Dropping his hand, Bingley bunched his eyebrows together. "You insult me, Darcy. Have I not made it through over a month of the Season without declaring myself in love? No, I am decided that I shall be more selective in my choice of a wife. I am no longer of an age to indulge myself in harmless flirtations."

  "Flirtations are never harmless," Darcy said.

  "Perhaps not for someone like you. You are much too serious for it. I, on the other hand, have had to learn that kindness is oftentimes mistaken for flirtation by young ladies looking to abandon their single state. I cannot manage to act unkindly, and thus it behooves me to marry before I am trapped by someone for whom I have no particular regard. I should much rather choose my own wife, you know."

  Darcy chuckled. "You have become wise of late."

  Bingley smiled at the compliment. "Wisdom by association, Darcy."

  They sat in silence for some time, which was odd for Bingley. He was not the sort of man to lack words or get lost in his thoughts.

  "I do think that I shall know her when I see her," Bingley said finally.

  "You believe in love at first sight?" asked Darcy. He would not discredit Bingley so quickly. He still remembered the first time he saw Miss Elizabeth. Not that he was in love, mind you. He admired her greatly. That was all.

  "I cannot be for certain, never having experienced the sensation to that degree. I have thought several ladies agreeable at first sight, but I cannot say that I loved them. I would like to think that each of us has the ability to connect to the emotions of a lady in such a way as to understand each other from the beginning. The ideal would be that she reciprocates, of course, or else I would have to lead a life of misery being ignored by the one woman I felt a profound attachment to." His romantic idea, once elaborated on, waned in intensity. As so often happened in the novels, he went from the height of elation to the depths of despair.

  Darcy, not wanting his friend to suffer long, said, "While I do not agree with the whole of the idea, there is some truth to it. Otherwise, why do some experience matrimonial bliss independent of the amount of time spent in courtship? I have found that, oftentimes, the married couples who married after a brief courtship are just as happy as those who have known each other their entire lives."

  "That gives me hope, Darcy. All the ladies with whom I grew up are either already married or are…" Bingley shivered in repulsion. "I would never insult a lady by implying that she was… unfortunate in appearance… but suffice it to say that there are no ladies of my early acquaintance whom I would consider marrying."

  “There are ladies who increase in beauty on further acquaintance,” suggested Darcy.

  “And there are others who worsen,” sighed Bingley.

  "Let us pray that you are able to discern which camp the lady of your choice falls into before you marry her."

  The first time he had seen Miss Elizabeth, her face was stained with tears and her eyes had been swollen and red. It was not the sort of encounter to inspire romantic feelings. Yet, his heart had stirred— with admiration.

  She had been handsome to begin with, but their lively conversations and her outspokenness— even when she was wrong— had adorned her until Darcy believed her to be the handsomest lady of his acquaintance.

  Abruptly, he rose from his chair, startling Bingley.

  "I apologize. There is some business I remember that must be seen to. I will not be able to accompany you tomorrow and will send my regards to Lady Rutledge. I wish you a pleasant luncheon and hope that Miss Jane Bennet is everything you hope her to be. Good day, Bingley."

  He left the room before Bingley could ask him what his business was about or attempt to dissuade him in any way. He knew what he must do for Miss Elizabeth, and he would not leave any detail up to chance.

  Chapter 26

  The morning crawled by. Elizabeth had gone to bed disappointed the night before and her humor only worsened as the day progressed.

  Mr. Darcy had called the previous afternoon, but they had been out taking a drive in the park. Elizabeth loved the opportunity to be out of doors and she dearly missed her daily long walks, but she would have encouraged Lady Rutledge to stay in had she known that he would call. He would be unable to join them for luncheon.

  So, she prepared herself to receive Mother and Lydia, her excitement only dampened by the threat of Miss Bingley's critical eye.

  She descended the stairs to the parlor where a round table had a checkered cloth laid over it so that it resembled an indoor picnic. Cucumber sandwiches, assorted cakes and biscuits, strawberries, and other treats to delight the senses covered the surface. Lydia, always one with a healthy appetite, would be in raptures. There was a large, crystal bowl of lemonade in the center with cheerful, yellow slices of lemons floating in it.

  "It looks lovely," said Elizabeth to Lady Rutledge, who fussed with an arrangement of flowers at the other end of the table.

  "One should take pleasure in everything one does. I look forward to meeting your mother, and all the more so because I sense some hesitation on your behalf."

  Elizabeth sighed. "Does nothing escape your notice?" she partly teased.

  "I make it my aim to notice everything. Never worry, Eliza. Charles has a tendency to think everyone agreeable, Colonel Fitzwilliam is an amiable gentleman, and Caroline… She might present some difficulties, but she is not truly malicious. She only pretends to be when it suits her."

  Elizabeth doubted that. "It is a pity that Mr. Darcy could not join us. She is always on her best behavior when he is present."

  Lady Rutledge dismissed his absence with a wave of her hand. "These busy men with their large estates and many responsibilities…. It is only because his sister is so soon to join him in town that he has stayed. Otherwise, he would do as he always does and deprive everyone of his company by hiding himself away at Pemberley. Not that I blame him. Pemberley is the sort of place one would never wish to leave."

  For Lady Rutledge, who was accustomed to surrounding herself with luxuries to speak so of the grandeur of Pemberley, Elizabeth could hardly imagine what it was like. She had never been that far north. Perhaps Lady Rutledge would wish to go when the beau monde left town.

  The Bingleys arrived along with Colonel Fitzwilliam a few minutes before the hour agreed upon.

  They were received in the drawing room until all of the guests arrived. Only Mother and Lydia remained. Elizabeth looked at the clock again.

  "Dear Caroline, I am sorry that you will not have the pleasure of meeting Miss Jane Bennet today," said Lady Rutledge. "I saw no need to say anything before, as we are to receive Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughter, Miss Lydia, today in her place."

  "What a pity," said Mr. Bingley, looking genuinely disappointed before he remembered himself. “Not that I do not look forward to meeting your mother and other sister…,” he said to Elizabeth.

  Miss Bingley rolled her eyes at her brother’s sincerity. "That is a sha
me. I rather anticipated meeting her. Did she give a reason for her absence?" she asked her aunt.

  "She is out of town. Apparently, my invitation crossed paths with a letter from Mrs. Gardiner stating that they were to leave for the coast. It is unfortunate, but we shall invite her again when she returns to town. Colonel Fitzwilliam," Lady Rutledge turned to the colonel. "Did Darcy give a reason for his absence? All he told me was that he was called away for business."

  Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. "I know nothing more, but you know how he is. It could very well be that he did not want to come."

  Elizabeth did not want to believe it. Could it be that he did not care to see her?

  Miss Bingley twisted her shoulder and arched her neck. "I dare say you are correct. Mr. Darcy will not be convinced to do anything he does not wish if he is not tempted." She looked at Elizabeth levelly. "Besides, he spent a good deal of time with Charles and me only yesterday. He mentioned nothing of our little gathering today."

  The colonel puffed out his chest. “I see that I chose my words poorly. In no way did I intend to imply that he found the company offered by Lady Rutledge lacking, and I doubt that you mean to infer as much against your own aunt, Miss Bingley.”

  Her nostrils flared, and Elizabeth watched in delight as her complexion turned a rosy shade of pink.

  Continuing, the colonel said, “Darcy is fond of Lady Rutledge and finds Miss Elizabeth to be excellent company.”

  It was Elizabeth’s turn to puff out her chest, but she refrained from doing so. A lady should not gloat so openly.

  The entry of Mother and Lydia into the parlor stole the wind from her sails. They were late.

  Lydia bounced in as she always did, the ringlets around her face bobbing up and down as enthusiastically as she did. Mother put a hand on her shoulder to calm her.

  Before introductions could even be performed, Lydia spoke to anyone who cared to listen, "I do apologize for making us late, but you see, there was a bonnet in a shop window. It was divine, and I simply had to have it. I would bring it in to show you, but the butler insisted that I leave it with him." She pouted.