“Because he is fairly besotted with you. He knows I care not what his sister says.”
“Precisely, but I do.” Jane stood and began to pace the room. “Does he not realize how her words affect me? They may be directed toward you, but you are my dearest sister. Any slight against you, injures me as well.”
“Jane, were he to realize …“
“Again, you confirm what I say.” She took a deep breath and stood before her sister. “If Mr. Bingley returned my affections, he would be aware of how Miss Bingley’s words and actions might be seen through my eyes. He would know that you are more dear to me than any other and I would not want you treated in such a manner.” She swallowed. “It is clear that I am merely a distraction for him during his time in the country. He shall return to London and forget me.”
Elizabeth studied her sister. The tears were gone and a grievously resolute expression covered her beautiful features. “Please, Jane, do not do as Mama has asked.”
“Mama did not ask, Lizzy. She instructed. We are dutiful daughters and will do as we are told.” A lingering sadness filled her eyes, but she shook her head and turned away. “Will you leave me? I fear my head is beginning to ache and I must look my best this evening. I believe I shall attempt to rest.”
***********
Jane did not wait for Elizabeth to respond before she moved toward the bed. The click of the latch signaled her sister’s departure and Jane collapsed into the pillows piled against the headboard, pulling her knees to her chest. She thought sobs would wrack her body and tears would flow freely, but instead she felt hollow. Images of the All Hallow’s turnips they had carved the month before filled her mind. Her heart felt as though it had been scraped clean until only remnants removed. In truth, the pain she felt caused her to think twice of participating in the barbaric tradition in years to come.
Visions of her time with Mr. Bingley rushed through her mind. They first met at the Meryton assembly shortly after his arrival in the neighbourhood and she had considered him all that a gentleman should be. Jane had also met his sisters that evening. Their manners did not match his own, but she attempted to see beyond that.
She always attempted to look beyond what everyone else saw. Perhaps it was from her own experience. She knew she was more than a pretty face, but others looked no further. She may not have Mary’s accomplishments or Lizzy’s wit, but she was more than a pleasant smile. Did no one see that? Not even Mr. Bingley?
His sisters had behaved as though they liked Jane. They invited her to dine with them, but then pressed her to learn more of her connections. Her mother had insisted she ride on horseback to Netherfield Park as it looked like rain, so Jane had been obedient and was wet through when she arrived. Had the chill she had taken not made her feel bad enough, the Bingley sisters questions surely did.
She had fallen ill and Lizzy came to see to her care. It was clear by her sister’s posture each night when she returned from dinner, that the Bingleys were not as welcoming as they should have been. Though Lizzy did make some comments, Jane knew she left most of what had transpired unsaid.
Contemplating once more what she knew of Mr. Bingley, her tears slowly began to fall. How could an amiable gentleman be related to two such hateful women? More importantly, why did he allow it?
Her tears ceased and she sat up. Her mother was correct. The Bingley sisters would rule their brother and he would never be happy. Jane would not submit herself to such a future. She crossed to the wash basin, wetted a towel, and pressed it to her face. Mr. Darcy must not see me with red eyes.
***********
Elizabeth had left the room, but once the door latched, she leaned against the wall as tears washed over her cheeks. Jane deserves so much more. She allowed herself to weep for her sister until she slowly became aware of noises coming from down the hall.
The door to her youngest sisters’ room was open a few inches and she stood just outside so none could see her.
“I do not understand why I should not be Mr. Darcy’s wife,” she heard Lydia say.
“Why would you wish to be?” Kitty asked as though Lydia had suggested sleeping in the stables.
“I could buy whatever I desired. I would be quite grand and go to balls every night …”
“Do you truly believe Mr. Darcy would attend such events?” Mary asked. “He barely spoke or danced at the few here in Meryton.”
“He could stay at home for all I care,” Lydia replied brightly.
Kitty laughed. “And allow you to make him a laughingstock? You would embarrass him. He would not permit you to leave his sight. You would not attend any event without him. I doubt he would be pleased to see you dance as you do now.”
A soft huff followed by creaking told Elizabeth her youngest sister had thrown herself upon the bed as was her way. “Then Mr. Bingley.”
Mary’s steady voice spoke softly. “Mr. Bingley cares very much for Jane. I doubt he would easily shift his attentions.” Her voice changed to one of censure. “You are nothing like Jane.”
“So Jane shall have both?” Lydia asked crassly.
Silence filled the air and Elizabeth was about to continue on her way when she heard a soft gasp. There was movement inside and she wondered what was occurring.
“Do not cry, Mary. Your eyes will get red and blotchy.” Kitty whined, “Oh, you do not like it.”
“No, it is lovely,” Mary whispered. “I had not realized I could look this way.”
Elizabeth dared to step closer and peek around the door. Her middle sister stood before the looking glass, brushing her fingers lightly over her hair. She had never seen Mary look so well. She was not so beautiful as Jane, but the new style showed her to be more attractive than had been imagined. Kitty embraced her sister as Elizabeth slipped away, not wishing to disturb their moment.
Her steps took her down the stairs as the front door opened. Mr. Collins entered speaking in his obsequious manner. Elizabeth saw her father just behind the man, his normally amused expression replaced with a frown. Suddenly, the thought of her father gone struck her like a physical pain and she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and his expression turned to one of concern.
“Lizzy, are you unwell?”
She shook her head, but was unable to speak. Mr. Bennet stepped forward, placing an arm about her waist. She fell against his chest, fighting to hold back her tears.
“What is it, child? You look as though you have seen a specter.”
“Cousin Elizabeth, is there anything I can do to relieve your distress?”
She looked up to find Mr. Collins standing overly close and she realized she must compose herself. Forcing a smile, she pulled away from her father’s warm embrace. “I am well. I fear I was a bit lightheaded, but it has passed.”
Her father eyed her suspiciously as Mr. Collins blathered on about a lady’s weaker constitution. Finally Mr. Bennet spoke over the prattle. “Yes, well, should you not be preparing for the ball?”
“Jane is resting and I do not wish to disturb her.”
His frown deepened as he glanced at his pocket watch. “I would think you would both be anxiously dressing.”
“Her head began to ache. I will have Hill prepare some tea, then I will go check on her.”
It was clear Mr. Bennet knew something weighed upon her, but she turned toward the kitchens before he could question her further. Mr. Collins seemed to forget her as he quickly returned to whatever he had been saying when they entered the house giving Elizabeth a sense of relief when the door to the servants’ hall closed behind her.
The warmth of the kitchen and smells of the light repast being prepared to sustain them until dinner would be served that evening at Netherfield, brought her some comfort. Mrs. Hill approached, her countenance drawn with worry.
“Miss Lizzy, are you ill?”
Elizabeth laughed harshly. “You are the second to ask such a thing. Do I look so poorly?”
The kindly woman frowned. “You look as though a great weight s
its upon your shoulders.” Her features tightened slightly. “Is your mother well?”
“I believe so. She is acting in a way I have never seen before.”
Hill nodded and returned to her work. Elizabeth followed her. “May I have some tea to take to Jane? Her head aches.”
Within moments, a kettle was set to boil and the tea tray prepared. Elizabeth took a seat to wait and watched the endless movement through the busy kitchen.
Maids scurried about, eager to finish their tasks as they anticipated an evening of pleasure. With the family away at the ball, chores would be finished early and the servants would have time to themselves. Elizabeth expected a gathering would take place somewhere or other in the area. They know no fear for their future.
A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly batted it away before any could see. Not wishing to speak, she checked the kettle herself and poured the water into the teapot. Making certain she had all of Jane’s favourites, she quietly thanked Mrs. Hill and carried the tray up the servants’ stairs to her room.
Jane sat at the dressing table as Elizabeth entered. The normal air of excitement prior to a ball was noticeably absent. Setting down her load, Elizabeth began to prepare the tea to her sister’s preferences. Once finished, she set a cup, saucer, and plate upon the dressing table. Taking up the hairbrush once more, she began brushing Jane’s hair. Voices could be heard coming from Kitty and Lydia’s room and Elizabeth hoped it would cover the unnatural silence between herself and Jane.
A soft knock on the door was the only warning before Mrs. Bennet bustled into the room carrying a small jewel box. Everything that had once been soft and familiar about her mother’s features now held a cold, harsh appearance.
“Jane, these were your grandmother’s. You will wear them tonight.” She drew out a strand of pearls and placed them about Jane’s neck. After adjusting the way they lay several times, she stepped back and looked her eldest over. “You are at your most beautiful tonight, my child. I am so proud of you. I know you will do what is right.”
She then turned her attention to Elizabeth. “Lizzy, I know you are displeased with me, but one day you will understand.” Mrs. Bennet reached out and pulled a curl free from its pins so that it hung tantalizingly over Elizabeth’s shoulder, just barely caressing the edge of her neckline. “You are both so lovely. Do not lose this opportunity. It may be the only one we have.”
With that she rushed from the room. They listened as her footsteps hurried down the hall to the younger girls’ room. Exclamations were heard followed by murmuring. As Jane and Elizabeth gathered their wraps, the sounds began moving closer. Mrs. Bennet called out for them to hurry as she passed. In no time, they were all nestled in the carriage and on their way to Netherfield.
CHAPTER Three
When Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, the cluster of redcoats assembled reminded her of the previous day’s expectations. To think, less than a day before she had fallen asleep dreaming of a dance with Lieutenant Wickham. Tonight her heart was breaking, but she was expected to behave as though all was well and life as she knew it was not about to change drastically. More importantly, as impractical as a match with a penniless soldier was before, now it was impossible.
Kitty and Lydia rushed toward the officers while Elizabeth followed at a more sedate pace. Her youngest sisters were under no more instruction than to behave properly this evening, though Elizabeth doubted their ability to do so. Giving herself a small shake, she remembered to be pleasant and smile. She arrived in time to hear Lydia lament Mr. Wickham’s absence.
Mr. Denny smiled. “I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here.”
Suddenly, every disappointment Elizabeth felt, for both herself and Jane, found a home. Unable to remain still, she began walking the perimeter of the room as she reviewed each of them. It was Mr. Darcy’s insult at the Meryton assembly which had unsettled her, causing her to truly despise a person for the first time in her life. It was his very presence and his fortune which would separate her dear sister from the man she loved. According to Mr. Wickham, it was Mr. Darcy’s past transgressions against that gentleman which kept him from being a suitable husband. And it was his presence which kept that amiable man from attending the ball. No matter the calamity, it could be traced to that man. Her sister’s future husband, should Mrs. Bennet have her way.
“Oh my, Eliza. I fear for the person who has caused such a scowl to rest upon your countenance.”
Elizabeth turned toward the voice and found her friend, Charlotte Lucas, seated nearby. The playful smirk fell away from Charlotte’s lips as Elizabeth stepped closer.
“Dear Lizzy, I fear you are quite distressed. I did not mean to disparage your feelings.”
With a great sigh, Elizabeth dropped unceremoniously into the adjoining seat, her spine ramrod straight and her nose in the air. “Oh, Charlotte. I wish Mr. Darcy had never stepped foot in Hertfordshire.”
“Mr. Darcy? Has he approached you? Am I to wish you joy?” Charlotte leaned closer, eager to hear what news her friend would reveal.
“Me?”
“Yes. Surely you have noticed how his eyes follow your every movement?”
Elizabeth turned to her friend with a look of alarm. “You jest!”
With a sniff, Charlotte drew herself taller. “In this I never would. Eliza, how many times has the man asked you to dance?” She crossed her arms and waited for the answer.
Elizabeth frowned, wondering what her friend meant by the question. “He refused to ask me.”
“At the Meryton assembly when you had not been properly introduced, that is true.” Charlotte shook her head. “But my own father told me Mr. Darcy asked you at Lucas Lodge and you mentioned something of it yourself.”
The lines between her brows creased further. “When Jane was ill at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy mentioned he felt inclined to dance a reel.”
“And have you ever seen him dance with anyone else outside his party?”
“Perhaps others have refused him as I did,” Elizabeth replied in a flippant manner, but her upper teeth teased her lower lip as she considered what Charlotte had said. She could not give credence to Mr. Darcy being smitten with her, but this was not the first time Charlotte had mentioned it. In truth, Jane had once suggested something similar, but desisted when Elizabeth had reacted in a distressed manner.
Charlotte chuckled as her eyes travelled over the gathering. “I suppose we shall have our answer this evening.”
Before more could be said, the musicians struck the first chord of the opening dance and couples began to take their places in the line. Elizabeth smiled to see Jane take her place across from Mr. Bingley, but it was fleeting once she saw Jane’s cool, downcast countenance. Poor Mr. Bingley appeared bewildered by his partner’s unusual air.
Mr. Collins approached and, after being introduced to Charlotte, escorted Elizabeth to the floor. Though Mrs. Bennet had suggested it, Elizabeth and Jane both insisted they could not attempt to change their partners once they had accepted them. In truth, Elizabeth hoped a dance with Mr. Bingley would weaken her sister’s resolve. Unfortunately, it did not appear to be so.
For herself, she did not enjoy the dance more or less than she had anticipated; though her concern for her sister might have lessened the embarrassment she would have otherwise felt. Mr. Collins was awkward and solemn, apologizing instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it. Under normal circumstances, she would have felt the shame and misery of having such a disagreeable partner. This evening, it was a minor distraction.
A warmth travelled across her shoulders and she turned her head ever so slightly to find two sets of eyes watching her closely. The first was that of her mother. A frown graced that lady’s countenance as her eyes flickered between her two eldest daughters, both of whom were dancing with the wrong partners in her estimation. Mrs. Bennet tapped her fan in a rapid staccato agains
t her palm as though she wished to speed the musicians to the end so that partners may be exchanged to better fulfill her plans.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr. Darcy was the other person who had found her performance so very mesmerizing. At first, his expression appeared amused by her clumsy partner; but as the dance continued, his normal frown returned. Elizabeth did not know what to think of it.
She was pleased when the dance ended as she was able to escape from both men who vexed her so and return to her friend. Unfortunately, before Charlotte could take up the teasing conversation from earlier, Elizabeth found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy.
“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lucas.” He bowed and they responded accordingly. “Miss Elizabeth, may I request the next set if it is available?”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped as she stared at the man before her. She felt Charlotte’s elbow press sharply into her side as Mr. Darcy’s countenance began to redden. Elizabeth took a quick breath. “Oh, forgive me. Of course, Mr. Darcy.”
The gentleman bowed to them both and turned away quickly, leaving her staring after him until her friend’s soft laughter reached her ears. “Do not say a word, Charlotte,” she muttered. Her gaze scanned the room, hoping to find Jane, but fell upon her mother instead. That lady did not appear pleased.
Mrs. Bennet was moving toward her at a determined pace. Fearful of what might be said and who might overhear it, Elizabeth excused herself and met her mother near the balcony doors. A brief glance told her none would be wise to their conversation, if she was able to keep Mrs. Bennet from raising her voice.
“Lizzy! I am most displeased. Your sister …”
“Mama, he approached me.”
A Beneficial, If Unwilling, Compromise Page 2