by Jann Rowland
“I understand you have been in London for some time, Miss Bennet,” said Anne by way of opening the conversation.
“I have.” Jane paused and then directed a rueful smile at Anne. “My father’s letters have been becoming more strident about our return. I suspect Lizzy’s letters have been even more pointed, for they are very close.”
Anne’s gaze slipped to where Elizabeth was speaking with her aunt, and she noted that her dear friend’s attention was now split between her current companions and Anne and Jane. Anne only rolled her eyes at her friend and turned back to Jane.
“She has not mentioned it. But she has stayed with us for some time now, and it is approaching the close of the season. It is not surprising your father would wish you both to return.”
“And there is also the question of my uncle and aunt’s imminent departure. Originally, Elizabeth was to go with them on a tour of the lakes, but I believe that has changed. As Lizzy and I have both been from home for several months, I believe my father is loath to part with us again so soon. As a result, the invitation has been amended to include my middle sister, Mary.”
“Ah, Elizabeth has not mentioned that either,” replied Anne.
“No, I am not surprised she would not. She would not wish you to feel responsible for missing this tour.” Jane paused, regarding her sister for several moments. “I know that Lizzy was anticipating traveling with our aunt and uncle, but matters seem to have changed substantially for her. I wonder if I will be losing my sister before long.”
“It is hard, is it not?” said Anne, not attempting to deny the interest Darcy possessed in Elizabeth which Jane had obviously seen.
Jane turned a sad smile on Anne. “It is. She has been my dearest friend for many years. She is my protector and my advocate in all things, and though I have always done what I could to return the favor, I have wondered if I am lacking.”
“How so?”
“I am . . .” Jane paused and smiled. “Surely you have seen that Lizzy is outgoing and confident. She takes any slights against me as if they were made to her, and she will protect me to her last breath. The contrast between us is not difficult to see—I am quiet and calm, and my way of dealing with adversity is much different from hers. I do not defend like she does.”
“She understands this, Jane,” replied Anne. “She would never expect you to step in, claws extended and teeth bared, to protect her. I believe she places great value in your calmness, in your patience, as it provides her with a model of behavior she is able to emulate.”
Jane was silent, considering Anne’s words. “I have never thought of it that way.”
“Do not devalue your worth to Elizabeth,” urged Anne. “She defends you because it is in her character to do so—she has extended that same privilege to me, and I feel fortunate because of it. You bring your own strengths to your relationship with her, and she values you accordingly.”
It may have been nothing more than fancy, but Anne thought Jane sat up a little straighter at Anne’s words, her confidence appearing to have increased apace.
“It is difficult, is it not?” said Anne. Jane’s eyes swung to her, a question in their depths. “Having a relation who is larger than life. Your Elizabeth is so irrepressible that it is not difficult to be caught in her shadow. I am familiar with the sensation, for my mother is an unstoppable force, and I have often felt like an adjunct to her.
“What we both must remember is that there is no need for us to be in their shadows. Elizabeth would not wish you to reside there—she loves you as her sister and values you for your strengths.”
“And you, Miss de Bourgh?” asked Jane. “From what I understand, your escape from your forceful relation was difficult.”
“Assisted by your sister,” said Anne. “I am free of my mother’s shadow at present, and I still have hope that she may be reached and our relationship, restored. But she must understand that the dynamic which existed before has been replaced. I wish for a relationship of equals—it will depend on her willingness to allow it.”
In later years, Anne would point to that short conversation as the genesis for a lifelong friendship with Jane Bennet, as the true meeting of minds when they understood each other. But it was not the end of their conversation that day.
“Actually, a thought has just entered my mind which I am not certain if your sister has mentioned. We have recently seen two of your acquaintances and I wondered if they had paid a visit to you.”
Jane turned to regard Anne, and her gaze was searching. Though she remained as closed as ever, Anne thought she was well aware of the possibility of Miss Bingley having visited Darcy house. Though, perhaps, she had not been dreading the possibility of hearing of them, she was not exactly sanguine about it either. And Anne had no doubt Jane knew exactly of whom she spoke.
“I do not have many acquaintances in London, Miss de Bourgh.”
“Please, call me Anne, Jane,” replied Anne. She received a nod in reply. “And these are not acquaintances from London, but rather friends you met in Hertfordshire. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley came to Darcy house last week and were introduced to me.”
There was just enough in Jane’s countenance to suggest she was not indifferent to the mention of the sisters of the man she admired. But Jane, being Jane, managed to respond with a creditable measure of composure.
“How is Miss Bingley?” asked she. “I have not seen her in some months.”
“Miss Bingley is well, but I thought her to be a little discontented. Mrs. Hurst is of a much quieter character. I enjoyed her company, but as for Miss Bingley . . . Well, let us say that I do not find her company nearly so agreeable.”
“I . . .” Jane paused and turned away, her gaze distant. “When they came to Hertfordshire, I thought her everything that was lovely, but these past months I have been persuaded to your way of thinking.” Jane smiled. “And Lizzy’s. She never agreed with me about Caroline’s merits.”
Anne declined to speak. Her poor opinion exceeded that which Jane espoused, and she did not wish to be seen as criticizing, though she knew Miss Bingley deserved it. But to disapprove of Miss Bingley in as oblique a manner as Jane had was the limit of her capabilities, Anne thought, so she decided to allow the subject to rest. Or at least she had until Jane made her next comment.
It was with a decided sense of despondency—the likes of which Anne had never seen from Jane—that she sighed and turned a carefully fixed smile on Anne. “I understand that there is a certain expectation of an eventual marriage between Miss Bingley’s brother and your cousin, Miss Darcy.” Miss Bennet’s eyes flickered to Georgiana, and Anne wondered at the goodness of this woman, to welcome so readily a girl who had been set up as her rival. “I hope they will be happy together.”
“Jane, I know not where you have heard such a thing, but it is most patently untrue.”
Shocked, Jane’s eyes flew to Anne. “But Caroline . . .”
“Ah, I suppose I should have known,” said Anne when Jane’s voice trailed off. “Jane, though I would not wish to speak ill of a person who is not here to defend herself, in this instance, I must agree wholeheartedly with your sister. Miss Bingley has misled you in this matter.”
“She was so certain.” Jane’s tone was almost pleading. “As his sister, should she not be aware of the contents of his heart?”
“I have never met Mr. Bingley,” replied Anne, “but there is no attachment between Mr. Bingley and Georgiana. By all accounts, Mr. Bingley has been in London for almost two weeks, and he has not visited Georgiana once. Does that sound like a man desperately in love with a woman?”
Jane could not respond, so Anne was more than willing to fill the gap. “Furthermore, Georgiana is only sixteen and not ready for entrance into society, let alone marriage. It will be another two years before she is introduced—in fact, it is possible, it will be three seasons, as she has only just turned sixteen. Darcy would never allow any sort of attachment between them. I do
not know what gave Miss Bingley this impression, but it is false.”
“Perhaps when she is older?”
“That is always possible,” conceded Anne. “But for the present, you should put it out of your head.”
The glare—or what passed for one from such a sweet woman—rested on Anne, and it felt slightly accusatory. “Lizzy told you of my history with Mr. Bingley.”
“I have heard something of it,” confessed Anne. “But you should not think I am anything other than supportive. I have said that I do not know Mr. Bingley and cannot guess his feelings, but I would not have you labor under the weight of such a blatant falsehood. Do not give it a moment’s more thought, Jane, for there is no attachment between Georgiana and Mr. Bingley.”
Jane nodded, though she was distracted, and remained that way for the rest of the evening. Though Anne could not be certain, she thought she detected that precious quality in her new friend that evening. Hope.
“You spoke of Mr. Bingley tonight, did you not?”
Elizabeth was aware that her tone was accusatory, but at the moment she did not care. She had not missed Anne’s long tête-à-tête with Jane that evening, not to mention Jane’s silence after. She was not happy that Anne had once again raised the subject, particularly when Jane’s feelings were so delicate. There were times when Anne was too like her mother—meddling and intent upon having her way. Elizabeth did not appreciate this in her friend, and she would not stand for it.
“Actually, we spoke mostly of you,” replied Anne.
Not ready for such an unexpected revelation, Elizabeth could not reply. Anne laughed and touched Elizabeth’s arm. “In fact, I learned a lot of your relationship with Jane tonight. Do you know she has often felt inadequate when compared with you?”
Elizabeth could hardly believe what she was hearing. “How could Jane possibly feel inadequate next to me? She is everything good, gentle, kind, beautiful . . . I have none of these things.”
“I believe this is a case of you both diminishing your own worth, something I must own I find ironic. Yes, Jane is all the things you mentioned, but you are also many things she is not, including courageous, fierce, and protective, though you are not devoid of your own beauty and kindness. Trust me, Elizabeth—it is natural for her to feel that way in the face of a naturally more vivacious and outgoing sibling. I have experienced some of the same feelings with my mother.”
Elizabeth was unequal to the task of responding. The thought that Jane had felt insufficient next to her was beyond her capacity to fathom, regardless of Anne’s subsequent words. Jane was, in her opinion, simply the best person of Elizabeth’s acquaintance. No one could hope to compare to her, and Elizabeth had never even tried.
“But, yes,” said Anne when Elizabeth did not respond, “we did speak of Mr. Bingley. She mentioned Georgiana and offered her felicitations on their future happiness.”
“Oh, Jane,” said Elizabeth. It was difficult, but she forced the other subject from her mind to be considered later.
“I disabused her of that notion entirely. I could not allow her to continue to suffer under Miss Bingley’s delusions.”
“And?” asked Elizabeth, almost afraid of the answer.
“She seemed more light-hearted after that. It was the confirmation for which I was searching. It is obvious to me that Jane still admires Mr. Bingley, though I am certain she thinks he does not care, as he has not taken the opportunity to visit her.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and Anne could only agree. “I did not discuss that with her—I know you believe Miss Bingley has kept Jane’s presence in town from her brother, and I am of the same opinion. I believe that putting them into a situation where they can resolve their mutual attraction together to be the right decision.”
“I hope so, Anne,” replied Elizabeth. “Witnessing Jane so cast down was hard. I would not wish her to be so sad again.”
“Then we will have to ensure she has a chance at happiness.” Anne threw her arm around Elizabeth shoulder. “I am certain all will turn out well.”
Then with another squeeze of her shoulder, Anne left, leaving Elizabeth alone with her thoughts. She hoped Anne was correct, for she was not certain she could endure the Jane of December again.
As for the other matter of which Anne had spoken, Elizabeth did not wish to think of it at all, though she knew her thoughts would go thither without any active assistance. Tilly soon came to help Elizabeth prepare for the night, and she retired. But as she had expected, thoughts of Jane and their relationship stayed with Elizabeth until the wee hours of the morning. There was not much sleep to be had for Elizabeth that night.
Chapter XXV
Elizabeth did her best to remain as she ever was the next day, but she was well aware she had little success in the endeavor. Anne, seeming to understand her distraction, left her to her ruminations, though Elizabeth could not determine if it was to her benefit or not. The other members of the family, however—excepting Colonel Fitzwilliam who was absent because of his duties—did not seem to know what to make of her silence. Georgiana was soon at her lessons, so Elizabeth was not concerned about giving the girl the wrong impression, but Mr. Darcy was another matter.
The knocker had been taken down that day, and Elizabeth was grateful. Anne, who was acting, at least nominally, as Mr. Darcy’s hostess, had decided they required a break from society, and Mr. Darcy had supported her. But though they were left to their own devices and it was clear Mr. Darcy wished to be in her company, Elizabeth could not find the heart for such conversation. Instead, knowing she was not fit company for anyone that day, she excused herself and removed to the garden where she could think in peace. She was not to remain undisturbed for long.
The garden was tranquil as it ever was, and Elizabeth chose the bench Mr. Darcy had shown her, the one his father had installed for his mother’s use. Whereas Elizabeth had not come to a decision about Mr. Darcy’s attentions, in an odd sort of way she felt close to the man’s mother, sitting here on this bench which Lady Anne had used so many times. At that moment, she wished she had been able to meet the lady, to know her as intimately and esteem her as deeply as did her son. The life he had described was his as a boy filled her with hope, the future of a family of her own, a doting husband, children to love and receive their love in turn. What she was not yet certain was whether that future could be had with Mr. Darcy.
Not long after she sat, she was alerted to the approach of someone down the path before her, and she raised her eyes to see the man in question approaching. He walked slowly, his eyes betraying his uncertainty of his welcome. Elizabeth did not have it in her to either order him away or welcome his company, so she only watched him as she approached. It did not do anything to boost his confidence.
“You are quite introspective today, Miss Bennet,” said he when he stopped a few feet from the bench. “I have never seen the like in your behavior.”
Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself. “Are you accusing me of being shallow of character and lacking in the capacity for reflexion, sir?”
“No, indeed,” said Mr. Darcy, catching her amused tone. “In fact, I have a healthy respect for the depth of your character, Miss Bennet. It simply seems to me that you are usually so sure of yourself that deep meditation is not required.”
“Then it appears that I have managed to occlude myself to a certain extent, Mr. Darcy. I am prone to self-examination, much as any other person. However, I am usually able to contain it to those times of solitude when I am unobserved.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, but did not reply. They remained in that attitude for some few moments, though Elizabeth was not even consciously aware of how their gazes were locked together. Had the fact been pointed out to her, she would have colored in embarrassment.
“I am happy to lend a listening ear, if you are willing. May I sit?”
Though part of her wished the man away, if only to be free of the confusion his presence brought to her heart, Elizabet
h was relieved to be free of her thoughts, if only for a moment. She smiled and indicated the seat to her side, and he accepted the invitation. They sat in further silence for several long minutes. There was a comfort in the silence, though Elizabeth thought perhaps it was because he was not demanding she answer his questions. But it was not to last.
“Will you share what has distressed you, Miss Bennet? I would not pry into your private affairs, but my offer to provide a willing confidant was not an idle one.”
“It is not precisely private affairs, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth with a sigh. “It is just . . . I have been made aware of something I had not considered before, and it has unsettled me.” Elizabeth paused and laughed. “In truth, I do not know why I am so troubled, for it is nothing which should give me pause.”
Mr. Darcy said nothing—instead, he waited with a patience Elizabeth would long have attributed to him, even before she became acquainted with the more estimable aspects of his character.
“Anne and I spoke of my relationship with Jane. Before you returned to the sitting-room last night, she and Jane had a long conversation, and that subject played a prominent role.”
A frown settled over Mr. Darcy’s countenance. “And this has distressed you? Did you learn something of your sister you do not like?”
“Nothing objectionable, to be sure—Jane remains as angelic as ever. It is just . . .” Elizabeth paused, struggling to put her feelings into words. “I have always felt myself to be in Jane’s shadow, for she is everything good and wonderful. But she told Anne last night that she has always felt to be in mine.”
“And this distresses you?”
Feeling caged, Elizabeth rose from the bench and began pacing in front of it. As she spoke, her hands were moving wildly in the air. “How can Jane possibly feel inadequate next to me? It is entirely unfathomable.”