Chapter 18 Midnight Confessions #2
“He said he wished to introduce me to his daughter, Lady Hightower. She is a viscountess, but he loves her anyway.”
Jane laughed. “What an odd thing to say!”
Elizabeth shrugged. “He is an odd man, I think, but I rather liked him.”
“I am glad there was someone you got on with this evening.”
Elizabeth nearly teased her sister about finally saying something bordering on rude, but she was too tired to tease and squeezed Jane’s hand instead.
“Yes, I am as well. I hope his daughter is as open-minded and kind as he is. It would be good to have a friend in Town. I would hate to go to parties and balls and have no one to talk to. I had not thought about that before,” she added in a small voice.
Jane sat up and wrapped her arm around her younger sister. “Are you worried you will be friendless as Mr. Darcy’s wife?”
“I shall not be, for you will marry Mr. Bingley and we shall be together always.”
Jane looked down. “He has made no declaration, Lizzy.”
“He will. He only wants time.”
Jane looked toward the window, a worried expression on her face.
“Jane, you do know that Mr. Bingley is giving you time for your sake and not his own, do you not?”
Jane whipped her head around to look at her sister. “What do you mean?”
“Mr. Bingley knows he did you a great wrong when he left Hertfordshire last November. He wishes you to trust him again, and he knows that is something that can only grow with time.”
“How do you know this? Has Mr. Darcy said something?”
“He has said that Mr. Bingley was miserable all winter without you, and that he moped about parties and the club like a boy who had lost his closest friend.”
“Did he really?” Jane asked, her eyes bright.
“Jane Bennet! If I did not know better, I would say you are glad Mr. Bingley was so wretched without you!”
Jane looked down again and plucked at the coverlet. “I cannot be glad that Mr. Bingley was in depressed spirits, but I will admit that I am glad I was not the only one in such a position. Is that awful of me?”
Elizabeth squeezed Jane’s shoulders. “No! Your feelings are natural and just. Misery loves company, you know.”
Jane pushed her shoulder into her sister’s. “Lizzy! That is uncharitable.”
“Yes, Jane, I know. But I learned long ago that I will never be as sweet as you, so I may as well be as mischievous as myself.”
Jane smiled and shook her head. “I hope you never change, Lizzy. No matter who you marry, or how you live, I hope you are always as lively and wonderful as you are now.”
“I do believe I am flattered!”
Jane rolled her eyes and elbowed her sister.
“No, Jane, you know I will tease when I should be serious, but I do thank you. Yours is the most important opinion in the world to me.”
“What about Mr. Darcy?”
“What about him?”
“Do you not care for his good opinion?”
“Of course I do!” She hesitated. “Well, now I do.”
“More than my own?”
“No. Why do you ask?” asked Elizabeth suspiciously.
“A day will come when his opinion will be the most important to you—above my own, even above Father’s. That is when you should accept him, Lizzy. But not before.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister in surprise. “When did you become so wise, Jane?”
“I am not wise, merely older and more experienced than you,” she teased.
Elizabeth smiled. “I will heed your advice, for it is sound. Is Mr. Bingley’s the most important opinion to you?”
“It was.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister in the moonlight, trying to understand what she saw there.
“If you cannot forgive him, Jane, it is all right. If you cannot trust Mr. Bingley again, you may live with me and Mr. Darcy all your days. I would be happy to have you. I’m sure Fitzwilliam would agree.
He rather likes you, you know. You are his favorite of all my sisters. ”
Jane gave her a look that conveyed that was not much of a compliment and said, “I thank you for the offer, Lizzy, but I have forgiven Mr. Bingley. Truly, there was not much to forgive. But I have wondered if I am being foolish.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Bingley’s sisters do not like me. Or they do not like me as a wife for their brother.
They will likely not be welcoming even were we to wed.
I can hope for civility, but not much more.
What would our life be like? You saw how the earl treated me this evening.
He did not even look at me! I would hate to feel that way in my own husband’s family. ”
“It might be better if Miss Bingley did not notice you.”
“Do be serious, Lizzy!”
“Very well. I understand what you are saying, and I agree it is not an ideal situation. You will simply have to tell Mr. Bingley that his sisters must treat you with respect or you do not wish to be around them. Surely he would not stand for any mistreatment of you.”
“Would he not?”
Elizabeth looked at Jane as if seeing her for the first time. “I think we have both changed very much since last winter,” she said slowly.
Jane could only nod, her eyes glassy in the moonlight.
“I have learned a great deal. Some things I will admit I did not wish to know, but I cannot remain innocent forever. The world is full of those who will be cruel for the most ridiculous of reasons. I wish it were not so, but I cannot ignore it any longer.”
Elizabeth squeezed her shoulders again. “I am sorry it has come to this, Jane. But at least now you can decide what you wish to do about Mr. Bingley with your eyes fully open to his character and situation.”
Jane nodded.
“I do not think he travels in very exalted circles. He has not even met most of Mr. Darcy’s family, if that is any consolation.”
“Oh, Lizzy! I am being selfish. You must be so upset about Mr. Darcy’s relations. Was Lady Hopewell very awful? Every time I looked toward you, she seemed to be holding an inquisition!”
“She was not gentle, but neither was she more than I could handle. Do not misunderstand me—I did not enjoy the evening, and I am in no hurry to repeat it anytime soon, but it was manageable.”
“Poor Mr. Darcy. He must be so embarrassed.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth quietly. “I believe he was.”
Elizabeth lay back beside her sister, wondering if she and Mr. Darcy might have just levelled the disparity between them.
Darcy sat in his private sitting room, a warm robe around his nightshirt and a brandy in his hand.
He stared at the flames, wondering how on earth he had gotten into this situation.
He had thought he was offering Elizabeth all the advantages in their union.
He would elevate her station, enrich her situation, and increase her consequence.
She would go from a maiden to a wife; from an insignificant family to one of the oldest in England; from a confined country neighborhood to his exalted society.
What a fool he had been!
He had never considered, not even for a moment, that the transition would be uncommonly difficult for her, and that the advantages might not be worth the effort.
Seeing how his family treated her, he could not in good conscience blame her if she chose to end their courtship.
He would certainly not wish to deal with all that she would have to manage in the coming months.
Yet he had begged her not to break with him, to give him a chance to prove he was worth all the trouble he was putting her through. He must now prove himself worthy of the faith she was placing in him.
He had realized he was in trouble before they left his aunt’s home.
The look on Mrs. Gardiner’s face—utterly unimpressed with his grand family and their atrocious manners, and Miss Bennet’s wounded feelings had alerted him to the danger he was in.
But nothing was as frightening as the utter indifference he saw in Elizabeth’s eyes when she looked at him.
They had begun the evening with smiles and affectionate glances.
By the time they entered the carriage to depart, she had looked as if she did not care whether or not she ever saw him again.
It had scared him more than he liked to admit.
“How was dinner with the Hopewells?”
Darcy jumped forward so quickly his brandy sloshed out of the glass. “Fitz! What are you doing here?”
“Forgive me for startling you. I did knock, but there was no answer and I thought you may have fallen asleep before blowing out your candles again.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “That was one time, and I was eleven.”
Fitz shrugged. “Fire is no laughing matter, Cousin.”
Darcy sat back in his seat and took a sip of his brandy. “Dinner was a disaster.”
“Truly? Was Winters a boor?”
“Worse. He arrived two hours late and in his cups, then proceeded to make a cake of himself flirting with Miss Bennet. She practically ran out of the room when the ladies withdrew.”
Fitzwilliam winced. “Did Lord Hopewell not intervene?”
Darcy laughed cynically. “He was even worse! Miss Bennet was seated on his left and he did not speak a word to her the entire evening.”
“Truly?”
“Not one word.”
“They ate in silence?”
“Through seven courses.”
Fitzwilliam grimaced. “Miss Bennet must be terribly offended.”
“I am sure she would be if she thought about herself at all, but I am afraid she is the kind to take things too much on herself. She will be upset she did not manage the situation better.”
“I cannot imagine what that’s like,” said Fitzwilliam with a pointed look to his cousin.
“I am not like Miss Bennet!”
“Not at first glance, I grant you, but you must admit there are similarities.”
Darcy looked at him skeptically. “How so?”
“You are both reserved and prefer to keep your feelings to yourself. You both prefer to listen rather than speak, and you both rely on your more verbose relations in social situations. You take responsibility for things no other person would dream of claiming, and you are both drawn to lively, cheerful personalities. Need I go on?”