Chapter Four
Mary and Kitty, thankfully saw to Mrs. Bennet’s exclamations of, “I knew Jane could not be so beautiful for nothing!” while Elizabeth slipped away to her own quarters. She used the excuse that she would be required to room with Mary while Mr. Darcy and his cousin were with them, and she would move the majority of her personal items to Mary’s quarters.
Below, she could hear her mother and sisters excitedly discussing Jane’s short, but productive, courtship. Meanwhile Elizabeth stared at the oval mirror on her sitting table and gazed at her own reflection, but she did not notice the few strands of dark brown curls which had worked their way free from her chignon. Nor did she note the lack of “magic” generally found in her eyes.
Instead, she viewed herself at the one and only London ball she had ever attended. She had worn a gown in the style appropriate for a girl but fifteen at the time. She had practiced lifting her chin and presenting those who approached her a pleasing smile, though she was confident she had failed miserably. As she looked about the ballroom on that particular evening, Elizabeth had been more nervous than she thought possible.
Initially, she had been so excited to be included in her Uncle Gardiner’s small party. Naturally, her relations were not included in the supper party, but, nevertheless, she had been quite eager—nearly fidgeting with nerves—to be included with those who would enjoy the dancing. Elizabeth had always loved to dance—or she had until that night. Now, it was a necessary evil and a means to socialize, though none of the Bennet sisters had attended an assembly since Lydia’s scandal had made the family the laughing stock of the local community.
A young man, who later was identified as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, stood with several others on the opposite side of the dance floor. Dark of head and tall and handsome. Their hostess had brought him to stand before Elizabeth and made the necessary introductions. She curtsied. He bowed.
It was her first time dancing at a ball and with a handsome young man of society, rather than the village’s dancing master.
The ballroom was lit brilliantly, just as it should have been. Laughter filled the air as conversations swirled about them. She had assumed he was, at least, five years her senior, but Elizabeth would not have cared if he was twice her age: It was her “first” dance at her “first” ball.
His dark grey coat stretched tight across his shoulders, and his cravat was tied in intricate layers, but no one would have termed him to be a “fop.” He was a young man of society, and she was awestruck to be his partner.
When she first dared to look into his obviously bored expression, cold, steel grey eyes never met hers, but looked instead over her shoulder to where a pretty blonde, cut much in the form as was Jane, had caught his eye. However, he was too much of a gentleman to deny his hostess’s “suggestion” that he claim Elizabeth as his partner.
His masculine “power of attraction” had thoroughly fascinated Elizabeth. She could not remove her eyes from his countenance. Even so, her growing anger found his arrogance appalling. His inborn lassitude had been forced upon both of them at that moment.
He bowed and extended his gloved hand, while requesting her as his partner for the opening dance. Even now, Elizabeth relived that half hour of which she had always thought would be pure magic as being worse than torture on the rack. It was the nightmare that still returned over and over again to haunt her. “Mr. Darcy looked upon me as if I was an ant to be squashed beneath his booted foot. His chilling eyes had me wishing to disappear. I made myself offer a topic for conversation, but he lifted his eyebrows in response to indicate I was an imbecile.”
She had been so embarrassed and angry, she had refused to speak again throughout the rest of the set. The memory of his hateful actions still brought tears to her eyes. “Now, the man has proposed to Jane. What might he do to my sweet-natured sister?”
Elizabeth had no time to wipe her tears away before Mary tapped on the door and entered. “I was worried regarding your quick exit,” her sister admitted. “You have several days to move your belongings. Do you worry regarding the speed of Jane’s agreement to marry? I admit I do not wish Jane to suffer in order to save me.”
“None of us would, except, perhaps, Mama, though even she would not wish Jane to be miserable.”
“Then what made you so upset when you learned of Jane’s betrothal? Mary pressed.
Elizabeth sighed heavily, knowing denial would not do for Mary. “I took Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance during that one short season I had when I was fifteen. Remember? Grandmother Gardiner wished me to know something of society,” Elizabeth explained.
“And?” Mary encouraged.
“And I danced with Mr. Darcy. My first and only dance at a ball. Our hostess insisted we dance, but he lodged his contempt by not speaking to me except one time and that was to indicate my conversation bordered on the inane. No one asked me to dance after that. Though I do not think the gentleman purposely told others to avoid me, his actions spoke loudly enough for all to hear. Now, he has asked our sweet and kind Jane to be his bride, and I cannot but question why. He could have his choice of brides—those richer, perhaps even prettier, and, definitely, with better connections. I fear our dear Jane is being misled.”
“Although he has said nothing of his opinion, I do not believe our father is best pleased with this sudden development. Did you also speak to him of your qualms?” Mary questioned.
“I did not,” Elizabeth assured. “I could not. It was my shame to shoulder. How could I share it with anyone if not for this turn of events? The only exchange Papa and I had was our concern for how speedy this engagement has come about.”
“Could Jane be infatuated with the gentleman? Has he more to offer than a sizable income?”
Elizabeth paused to recall how she had briefly thought herself the most fortunate of females, for Mr. Darcy possessed a masculine appeal, but such did not disguise his extreme arrogance. “The man is handsome indeed, or, I should say, he was pleasing on the eye when we met more than a handful of years prior. For all I know, he has turned to drink or other vices.”
Though Elizabeth made the comment to protect her own pride, innately she knew the man was not prone to being a drunkard nor a gambler nor a womanizer. He obviously held himself to standards she could not meet. The fault rested upon her head, not his, and such was the reason the incident had not known a “death” in her memories.
“I imagine Mama has already planned who all she might tell, even though father has forbidden her from spreading the news.”
“All she must do is tell Aunt Phillips,” Elizabeth observed.
Mary shrugged her response. “Permit me to assist you with your things. It would displease me to have told our mother a lie.”
Elizabeth embraced her sister. “Say a prayer this evening that Mr. Darcy has matured.”
“I am confident he has,” Mary responded dutifully. “Jane is not so gullible as to agree to marry a man who displeased her.”
Even though Elizabeth essentially believed, as did Mary, in Jane’s sensibilities, later, when Elizabeth returned below, Mrs. Bennet’s continued exclamations regarding how Jane had saved them all, had brought on another round of the dismals, as far as Elizabeth was concerned. She lashed out at her mother, “I pray,” she had said with more harshness than she intended, “you do not mean to make our Jane ‘the golden calf’ to save our family!”
“Assuredly not!” Mary was quick to say.
“No sacrifice,” the mother said dutifully, but she immediately returned to her raptures. “Your father was smart to economize and provide Jane a Season. With her beauty and kind nature, I knew she would not disappoint.”
“Unlike I did,” Elizabeth retorted, though she knew her mother had not meant to be sour-natured. It was not appropriate to think of her mother conniving in that manner. “Perhaps the money used on me should have been used on Lydia instead. She proved herself better at finding a husband at fifteen than I did.”
“I never said any such thing!” Mrs. Bennet insisted. “My mother always favored you, for you greatly resembled her in likeness and temperament. Moreover, she always thought you girls should marry early. My mother pressed both me and your Aunt Phillips to marry young. As to my advice to Lydia . . .”
“I apologize, Mama,” Elizabeth was quick to say. “It is not your fault that none of us recognized Mr. Wickham’s true nature. I assuredly did not. I am simply worried for Jane’s future. I understand the Gardiners admire Jane’s betrothed, but I cannot help but to worry: I do not want Jane to sacrifice her happiness to save mine.”
Kitty dashed into the house. “There is a crested carriage making its way along the paddock,” she called as she turned towards the sitting room. “Sit up, Mama! Mary! Elizabeth! Papa! Jane’s betrothed has come to Longbourn!”
“Are you assured?” Elizabeth asked as she rushed about the room to gather balls of ribbons, while Mrs. Bennet dumped newspapers and knitting in a large chest.
“I saw the coach from the walled garden,” Kitty admitted.
“You were sitting on the wall again!” Mrs. Bennet accused. “What if you fell and . . .”
Elizabeth cut off her mother’s reprimand. “Not now, Mama. Everyone, please claim a seat. Mary, be reading. Mama, needlework. I will fetch Papa.”
Elizabeth scampered away to be brought up short by her father’s appearance in the hall. “I will greet our visitor, Elizabeth. Ring for tea and refreshments and then join us.”
“Yes, Papa,” she said as she followed his directions, though a part of her wished to know if Jane’s “Mr. Darcy” was truly the same one who had once shunned her own acquaintance.
In the end, it was not Mr. Darcy in the carriage, but rather Jane and Aunt Gardiner. Elizabeth had caught Mrs. Hill in the passageway, and the two of them had peered out a side window to view the skirts of both women as they stepped down, but not a gentleman’s booted foot. Was Elizabeth relieved? She could not say or, perhaps, it was “would not” say.
Mrs. Bennet immediately rushed to greet Jane while Mr. Bennet assisted Mrs. Gardiner with her pelisse. Elizabeth caught Mary’s hand for support, for the first time she could recall, there was a barrier between Jane and her, and Elizabeth wondered if it would forever be that way because of a gentleman from Derbyshire.
“Oh, my darling girl!” Mrs. Bennet was saying. “How could you think any of us would not be overflowing with joy? You have saved your sisters! You have saved me! Once you are Mrs. Darcy, you may introduce your sisters to eligible young suitors. Is such not true, Madelyn?”
Aunt Gardiner said with a straight face. “You may put your hartshorn away, Frances.”
“Of course, I might,” Mrs. Bennet said without even a notice of her sister-in-marriage’s small barb. “Such a triumph! Naturally, a titled gentleman would have been better, but Mary seems to think Mr. Darcy’s mother was titled.”
“Lady Anne Darcy was the daughter of the previous Earl of Matlock. The family name is ‘Fitzwilliam,’ which, by tradition, is Mr. Darcy’s given name,” Aunt Gardiner explained what Elizabeth already knew.
“Such an imposing name,” Mrs. Bennet said. She turned to Elizabeth. “Later, I wish you to explain to me something of the ‘Fitzwilliam’ family history so I do not appear so . . .”
“Mayhap we should learn of the d'Arcy family instead,” Elizabeth said without appearing to criticize her mother. Though she would never admit it to anyone, Elizabeth had spent several hours upon multiple occasions to learn all she could of the man.
“Both,” Mrs. Bennet declared undeterred, though neither Elizabeth nor her mother thought Mrs. Bennet’s intentions were set in stone.
“Tell us how it all came about,” Kitty demanded as she tugged Jane down beside her on a settle.
“I shall see to the tea and your quarters, Aunt,” Elizabeth pronounced, not wishing to learn more of Mr. Darcy wooing her sister.
“I cannot stay,” Aunt Gardiner instructed. “Your uncle must be away from home for the rest of the week. I promised I would return Mr. Darcy’s carriage this evening. It was generous of the gentleman to send Jane home in his coach.”
“Madelyn, if you would join me in my study, I would like to hear what your husband and Jane’s intended have discussed while my eldest fills her mother’s ears with tales of lace.”
Elizabeth also wished to hear her aunt’s opinion, but there was no means to be included in her father’s conversation. In the end, she was glad she had remained in the sitting room. Even after Aunt Gardiner returned, in Elizabeth’s opinion, there was nothing in either Jane’s tone or Aunt Gardiner’s praise that spoke of Jane’s affections for her betrothed.
“Mr. Darcy will arrive at Longbourn, as he has indicated, at the end of the week. He planned to call upon his sister, Miss Darcy, and speak of his intentions to marry. I shall have another sister with whom to share my new home,” Jane explained in strained tones.
Mrs. Gardiner added, “Miss Georgiana Darcy is some twelve years younger than her brother—about Kitty’s age, I would imagine. I believe the gentleman hopes Jane may serve as not only a ‘sister’ to Miss Darcy, but also a ‘friend’ to the girl.”
“I am confident Jane might serve both roles,” Mrs. Bennet declared.
Later, after Aunt Gardiner’s departure, Jane followed Elizabeth to Elizabeth’s room. “You are going elsewhere?” her sister asked when she saw the state of chaos in Elizabeth’s room.
“I shall room with Mary while your betrothed calls at Longbourn,” Elizabeth explained.
“It should have been me to remove from my quarters. It is I who has caused the upheaval,” Jane argued.
“No worry,” Elizabeth assured. “Mary and I do well together.”
“Of course you do,” Jane said softly. “Out of sight. Out of everyone’s thoughts.”
“Do not be melodramatic,” Elizabeth warned. “No one is forgetting the sacrifice you are making for the family.”
Jane broke into tears, and Elizabeth knew instant regret. She pulled Jane down beside her to sit on the edge of the bed. “I did not mean to be rude,” she offered. For the life of her Elizabeth could not apologize for her thoughts, but she could apologize for her tone. Therefore, she changed the subject to something her mother would likely repeat later. “What is the latest fashion in London?”
“I brought a few fashion plates home,” Jane wiped her eyes and permitted the diversion. “I thought Kitty would be wild for them. Your coloring might prove quite beneficial. The darker shades swallow me.”
For the next quarter hour, Jane prosed on about the smooth ride provided by Mr. Darcy’s carriage and, especially, on her desire to return to Longbourn. With a heavy sigh, her words trailed off.
Elizabeth gathered her sister into her embrace. “We are capable of discovering a means to survive without your sacrifice.”
“It is a wonderful match,” Jane protested, but only half-heartedly. “Mr. Darcy is handsome and extremely rich. He has been excessively attentive. How could I ask for more?”
“But you are not in love with him, and I doubt he could have learned to love you in a matter of weeks,” Elizabeth argued.
“Surely you do not still believe in love in marriage,” Jane countered. “Is such why you have always followed . . .” Her sister broke off with what she meant to say. “I did not mean to speak harshly to you. There have been many who have questioned my decision, but you are always so supportive.”
“And I still am,” Elizabeth assured. “I just feared you meant to deny yourself a chance for love elsewhere. You must do what is best for you, and, if that person is Mr. Darcy, you have my blessing.” She gave her sister another hug. “Think nothing more upon it.”