Chapter Eighty-Two
Jane realised that she had not yet visited Charlotte Lucas to congratulate her on her engagement. As heartsick as Jane was, the idea of visiting a deliriously happy friend was almost more than she could bear, but she knew her duty.
Trudging down the road to Lucas Lodge, she tried to paste a smile upon her face. It hurt; it actually hurt to smile! How she was going to get through this very necessary morning call was beyond her understanding, but she would do her best.
She was welcomed warmly, made to sit by the fire, and offered a cup of tea. She took the tea gratefully; it was strong, as was her preference, not the weak, watery stuff her family now called tea.
“I have come to offer you my most sincere congratulations, dearest Charlotte,” she said. She was aware that her tone was wooden; she tried to brighten it. “He is the luckiest man in all of England to have you as a wife!”
Lady Lucas preened and spoke about the upcoming wedding, but Charlotte was silent. It had only taken her a moment to know that Jane was suffering a good deal. She interrupted her mother. “Jane, might we not walk a bit? I am suddenly finding the room too warm.”
Jane agreed, listlessly, and Charlotte went to get her pelisse. While Charlotte was out of the room, Lady Lucas prodded Jane. “And how is your dear mother, Jane? She seemed rather out of sorts when I last saw her.”
Jane raised her eyes to Lady Lucas’ face in amazement and opened her mouth to say something horrible, but she was rescued just in time by Charlotte’s return.
Charlotte took Jane’s arm and all but marched her out of the house. They walked out of earshot, and Charlotte turned to Jane and said, “Has he not yet proposed?”
Jane stared at her.
Charlotte shook her head at her friend. “Jane, I am speaking of Mr. Bingley! We are all expecting him to propose at any minute! Reggie wrote to him to tell him to get on with it!”
Jane replied, slowly, “I think he was about to; he came to see me, all dressed up, but I would not go downstairs.”
“What on earth is the matter with you, Jane Bennet? You love him, he loves you!”
“Charlotte, you tell me how I am to say yes to the man I love and then turn about and demand three thousand pounds from him!” Jane hissed.
Her sorrow had turned to rage, the very rage she had long feared to let loose.
“When you tell me how I am to do that to him, to the best man I know, then I will say yes, yes, a thousand times yes! And until you have an answer for me, I can only ask that you leave. Me. Alone!” She turned and marched away, head held high, but tears pouring down her cheeks.
Charlotte stared after her friend for a long time, her heart hurting.