Chapter 7
Elizabeth
Fortified by Williams’s expressions of devotion in his daily letters, Elizabeth made ready to accompany her elder sister, once again, to Netherfield.
On the way there, she asked her sister how she was feeling about her relationship with Mr Bingley.
For more than a month, now, they had fallen into the habit of avoiding discussions of personal topics—so unlike the entirety of their relationship before that summer—and therefore Elizabeth asked her question hesitantly.
Equally careful of her words, Jane said, “Well, I am comforted that Mr Bingley is unfailing in his invitations to Netherfield—and when I am away from him, such as during this very moment, I find myself imagining that our relationship is deepening, strengthening. However, when we are together, I—well, I used to feel—special—but now….”
Elizabeth was very surprised. “I surmise that you are saying you do not feel as close to Mr Bingley as you used to feel. That surprises me very much. And, honestly, it saddens me. His constancy in sending for us, using his driver and horses and carriage to convey us to his house every single morning—I was so certain that he felt more and more strongly about you.”
Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “I do not know what I am doing wrong.”
Elizabeth squeezed her hand. “I am certain you are not doing anything wrong. It is possible that he is not the man for you, and you sense that.” Elizabeth thought again of William’s reservations regarding Mr Bingley’s character, or his maturity; William was not certain which.
“It is possible that you two must take a slower path to developing your relationship. Mr Bingley is much younger than my William, and it has only been months, not years, since his father died; it could be that he is still struggling to become the man he wishes to be.”
“Or it is me—my own lack.” Jane’s voice sounded defeated. “Did you not once chide me for being so shy that a man would not know if I liked him or was indifferent to him?”
Elizabeth flinched. “I remember attempting to help you show your true feelings. But not by pretending to be something you are not. You do not have to flirt or allow liberties. Look into his eyes at times. He can see evidence of your regard in your eyes, but at the time that I spoke to you of it, I was worried that it was only the floorboards that had a chance to see your feelings.”
Jane almost smiled, but the carriage was approaching Netherfield, so Elizabeth hugged her sister and asked if she wished to go home.
“No.” Jane drew herself up. “I wish to go in, smile more, and hold Mr Bingley’s eyes for…perhaps half a second at a time.”
Elizabeth chuckled and said, “Or an entire minute?”
She remembered one time when William and she were separated at a London dinner but could still see one another by looking diagonally down the table.
Almost every time she flicked a glance his way, William had been looking at her, and they would share a smile or playfully cock their heads or wag their eyebrows.
At one point during that dinner, Elizabeth had been gazing at William when she suddenly registered that nobody was speaking or eating.
She broke eye contact with William to look around at the other diners, only to discover that everyone was watching William and her watch each other.
Upon that realisation, she had begun to laugh, and the duke sitting next to her said, “You have been staring at Darcy for five or six hours now, and we have all realised that we are merely background figures in your tableau.”
Laughing harder at his words, she cast another fond look at Darcy, who was smiling but blushing and looking down.
She replied to the duke, and for the benefit of all the diners, “Now, I know you are a mere man, and you cannot truly understand what I wish to say, but in the privacy of your own carriage, later on tonight, please ask your wife if Fitzwilliam Darcy is not gorgeous enough for any lady to stare at him for untold numbers of hours.”
At that, everyone at the dinner table had laughed, including William.
Elizabeth smiled at the memory, knowing that neither she nor William had ever had difficulty showing each other their tender attachment to one another. She looked at Jane, who wore her usual serene expression so well, Elizabeth would not have believed she had almost cried just a few minutes ago.
The carriage swung around to the front steps, and Mr Bingley greeted them with as much friendliness as ever, coming down the steps to help them out of his carriage.
He offered an arm to each lady as he escorted the two of them to the blue drawing room.
He sat as close to Jane as always and asked after her morning with as large a smile as ever.
Elizabeth felt convinced that he was, in fact, continuing to give her sister every attention.
Therefore the rift between them, as described by Jane, must be coming from her.
Far be it for Elizabeth to dictate others’ actions, let alone their feelings, but she could not help feeling a bit disappointed.
She would love for Jane to be happily paired with a good man.
Watching Mr Bingley rearrange some chairs so that Jane would benefit from a cooling breeze, it still seemed to Elizabeth that he could be that man… .
Those times when Mr Bingley addressed Elizabeth, she found herself already thinking of him as a brother, and thus responding with more warmth and enthusiasm than ever.
She scolded herself for clinging to the idea of Jane and Mr Bingley being together.
Still, when she remembered Jane’s tears, and her plaintive question about what she was doing wrong, Elizabeth felt a burning desire to help the couple overcome whatever impediment stood in their way.
She managed to motivate the entire group to take a turn around the gardens in the afternoon, when a cooling breeze stirred the branches of the trees outside the drawing room window. They had had their tea and still had an hour before it was time for Jane and Elizabeth to return to Longbourn.
Once they were walking, Elizabeth disentangled herself from Mr Bingley’s arm, murmuring that she must ask Mrs Hurst something.
She walked briskly back to where the Hursts strolled, whispering to them, “Can we turn to the right? It would give my sister and your brother the feeling of more privacy. I worry that they cannot always speak freely when they are so often the subject of everyone else’s attention. ”
Louisa nodded eagerly, but Mr Hurst looked briefly concerned before nodding his head.
Mr Hurst seemed fairly wise, and Elizabeth asked if he had concerns that they should not afford Jane and Mr Bingley time alone.
“No, no, I have no worries about a few minutes of privacy outdoors, in a public place. Miss Bennet is every inch a lady, and Bingley would not force his attentions on a woman.”
Elizabeth grinned to herself. She, too, was every inch a lady, and William certainly would never use force to enjoy liberties with her—but she knew that some would say that she had not always acted as an unmarried lady should, nor he as a gentleman should.
Elizabeth knew that some would dictate that they be much more carefully chaperoned, outdoors or not.
But since they were already married—in spirit, that is, since they both felt strongly that they had already taken the vows in their hearts—she felt no guilt about the ways in which they had shown each other their love.
“What brings you such a smile, Elizabeth?” Louisa asked.
“I was just having a happy memory of my Mr Darcy,” she responded. “You see, I have to live primarily in memories right now, until he comes back to me.”
The Hursts asked about the colonel’s health and shook their heads over all the injuries and deaths that could be laid at Napoleon’s door. “And the wars just go on and on,” Louisa intoned fretfully.
“Oh, I know,” Elizabeth said. “It is in every way horrible.”
When the two groups of walkers met up again, near the central fountain, Elizabeth studied Jane’s face.
Behind her sister’s usual serene expression, Elizabeth was able to detect a happier note in her composure.
As the sisters’ eyes met, Jane’s twinkled, and as they smiled and greeted one another, Jane nodded subtly—a sign, Elizabeth thought, that Jane had managed to keep her eyes engaged with Mr Bingley’s or otherwise signal her affection.
Elizabeth was delighted with everyone and everything that afternoon.