Mrs. Bingley’s Sister (The Austen Novels)

Chapter 33

Elizabeth met Jane and Bingley outside her room, after having changed into dry clothes. Her mind was still racing from having held Darcy's hand as they laughed at being caught in the rain together—she wondered what would have happened between them, had the other house guests not been in the hall when they had rushed back inside. Her heart pounded to think about how easily it would have been to let the man kiss her—if he wanted to do such a thing, she knew, deep down, she would not stop him.

She knew she loved him.

"Mrs. Llewellyn is playing for everyone, and Mr. Fitzwilliam asked if I would exhibit as well," Elizabeth told the Bingleys, bringing herself out of her own daydreaming thoughts of Darcy, "shall we all go down together?"

"Sounds like a capital way to pass the time," Bingley said, "This weather is ghastly."

They made their way to the drawing room, hearing the sounds of the pianoforte emanating from the room, Mrs. Llewellyn's talents on full display. Elizabeth colored as she thought about it.

"Goodness. I will feel foolish trying to exhibit after such a performance," she uttered to Jane, "We both know I am hardly as proficient as that."

But when they entered the room, it was not Mrs. Llewellyn playing, but her sister-in-law instead. This only made Elizabeth even more embarrassed—and she couldn't forget the way Miss Llewellyn spoke to Darcy just earlier, placing her hand upon his arm in such a way. She left as quickly as she could when the lady touched him—it hurt her so much to see. Elizabeth was certainly jealous, and to be somehow competing against this young woman for Darcy's affections made her feel dreadful. She spotted Darcy, and his eyes caught hers. Elizabeth looked away, and she and the Bingleys sat down quietly, awaiting the performance's end.

When it was concluded, everyone applauded and complimented the young lady on her talents. Elizabeth sank in her chair, hoping that Fitzwilliam would forget that he had invited her to play earlier—but alas, his eyes found her, and he insisted she perform, so, without so much as looking at Darcy, she sat at the bench and began. She played a light air, something much simpler and plainer than what Miss Llewellyn had performed. Elizabeth was a little rusty, so she did not play perfectly well, and her concentration was all but dashed when she glanced up to see Darcy looking at her with the most intent kind of look—the way he used to often look at her, his dour, stern sort of expression—and she fumbled over the keys as a result, embarrassing herself even further.

When it was finally over, she was ready to leave the instrument, but Fitzwilliam insisted she play another piece, so she did; it did not help that this time when she performed, Miss Llewellyn sat herself beside Darcy on the settee, whispering in his ear and drawing his attention away. She pulled her eyes back to the pianoforte and tried to quell her confused feelings.

Elizabeth could not reconcile how, on the one hand, whenever she did get to interact with Darcy, he seemed to be very interested in her, sentimental, even; but on the other hand, whenever the rest of the guests were around, his attention was taken up by Miss Llewellyn. Elizabeth couldn't honestly believe that he would pick a woman as old as she was over a lady like Miss Llewellyn.

She finished the piece and was happy to leave the instrument behind. She went to sit beside Jane, and hopefully distract herself from the excessive friendliness exhibited between Miss Llewellyn and Darcy. It was all but in vain, however, as she couldn't help but observe Miss Llewellyn leaning in closely to the man, saying some many such things in his ear, and receiving all of his attentions.

Elizabeth could practically hear Lady Catherine de Bourgh's voice in her ears, criticizing Elizabeth's lack of suitability, telling her she was of little consequence, that a woman like herself would never be good enough for Fitzwilliam Darcy.

The longer the evening went on, every minute in the presence of everyone else and hardly being addressed by Darcy at all, the more Elizabeth began to believe that she truly didn't deserve a man such as Darcy.

By the time she laid her head upon her pillow that night, Elizabeth was convinced: she would never have a chance with the man.