Chapter Twenty-Three
Elizabeth cried off accompanying the rest of the household to church in the morning.
Instead she went to the cottage, where her mother met her with a worried look, wringing her hands in the folds of her dress.
“Jane is not well, Lizzy, though she will not allow me to send for Doctor Perry. She was up half the night weeping!”
“Should I go to her, or let her sleep?”
Miss Bates yawned, looking as if she had been kept up by her daughter’s distress.
“You are such a good girl to look in on her, Lizzy – you must have that certain intuition often attributed to twins – but I daresay she needs to rest herself. I do not think she is ill, but perhaps stirring up such a great fuss last evening was too much for her.”
Elizabeth hung her head a little. Miss Bates must not be aware of Jane’s relationship with Frank Churchill, but it seemed likely there may be some truth to her sister being exhausted by all the attention they had aroused.
Elizabeth had been responsible, at least in part, for both of the things that now troubled Jane.
She stayed and broke her fast with her mother and grandmother, but they were quiet and dull, as if Jane’s unhappiness were a dark cloud that hung over them all.
After this, they played cards, and Elizabeth had the wicked notion of teaching Miss Bates to play chess.
There was an old set in a cupboard – it once belonged to her grandfather – and Elizabeth immediately set about teaching her mother the game that her father so enjoyed.
After a few hours, Jane emerged from her room in a simple day dress, a tattered shawl wrapped around herself. Through the open doorway, Elizabeth saw that the window was also open, and that Emma and Mr. Churchill were hailing Jane from the street.
Miss Bates hurried to fuss and fret over Jane, and also noticed the pair calling out. “Oh! Our friends are here – how funny for them to come to your window, Jane!”
She went to the door and called, bidding them to come in, but they only approached as near the gate. Elizabeth followed her mother to the doorway and scowled.
“You must come and join us,” Mr. Churchill called. “We want your opinions – we have been inspecting the Crown Inn as a place to hold a ball – do come and take a look!”
“Oh my – a ball – how marvelous,” Miss Bates cried. She turned to Jane. “How does that sound, darling – does it not make you feel a little better? Come and speak to Mr. Churchill, for he would have our opinion.”
Jane looked wretched and shook her head with a dark look. “You go, I will stay here with Grandmother.”
Elizabeth looked imploringly at her sister, but Jane would not meet her eye as she added, “Go, see your friends.”
Miss Bates gazed nervously between her daughters. “Well, perhaps we had better do as Jane says, eh?”
Elizabeth and her mother joined Mr. Churchill and Emma, who led them to the Crown Inn, a short walk into the village.
Emma linked her arm through Elizabeth’s as they made their way up the poky stairs and into the old assembly rooms. “Look at them,” she whispered, nodding her head toward Miss Taylor and Mr. Weston.
“Another scheme of yours to unite the couple?”
“I know it is hardly necessary, Lizzy – I suppose I may let nature take its course from here, while I enjoy my success and apply myself to other endeavors . But what do you think of holding a proper ball? We might have parties at Hartfield and perhaps even Donwell, but we should be no more than twenty people – a ball would include the whole neighborhood!”
Elizabeth looked skeptically around the room. “We would be quite a crush! I daresay the space could accommodate no more than eight couples. I am surprised you favor the plan – will it not signify that you are celebrating your engagement?”
Emma made a sound of exasperation. “Oh! By the by, Lizzy, I have something shocking to tell you… when we might speak privately.”
Elizabeth’s gaze darted to Mr. Churchill, who was presently receiving Miss Bates’s lengthy opinion in favor of his scheme. “Is it about… about the ball?”
“No indeed – though what I have to say is something that will make the experience pleasanter, I suppose.”
Emma could say no more, for Mr. Weston had thrown open one of the windows and called down to Mr. Knightley, who was walking across the square. The gentleman was summoned to join them, and he soon obliged.
Mr. Knightley greeted them all warmly, but gave his opinion very bluntly.
He stated that he thought the room too small for a large celebration and saw little need of it when Hartfield and Milton Hall were already so full of excitement.
“Where would we even dine? There is no space; we had better think of something else to amuse ourselves.”
Elizabeth saw Mr. Churchill make a droll face at Emma, who tutted at her old friend. “Are you going to be holding any parties at Donwell, sir? You have ample space there, if I recall – indeed, it has been so long since I was there that I scarcely remember!”
Mr. Knightley gave a civil bow. “It would be my honor; I shall consider how best to divert you all. But where is Miss Fairfax? I do not see her amongst you. Is she unwell? She did appear over-tired last evening.”
Again, Mr. Churchill screwed up his face. “I have been entirely remiss as a gentleman – I ought to have inquired, Miss Bates – why does Miss Fairfax not join us? Has she no great enthusiasm for a ball?”
“She has a headache,” Elizabeth said flatly. “Perhaps the events of last evening were too much for her.”
Mr. Churchill appeared sufficiently chagrined; Mr. Knightley looked truly concerned.
“That is just what I feared. May I look in on her, Miss Bates? If the headache remedy I provided is not adequate, perhaps I might obtain something else. Your butler’s cousin at Abbey Mill Farm is skilled in remedies – perhaps I should consult with her.
I am overdue for a game of chess with her son, Robert. ”
Miss Bates only wanted a little praise for learning that game herself, and after she received it, she heartily encouraged Mr. Knightley to look in on her dear girl. Miss Taylor approached Emma and Elizabeth with a look of intrigue as the gentleman departed.
“Well, girls, what do you think of that? Mr. Knightley is certainly very attentive! He brought Jane that basket just a few days ago.”
Emma looked skeptically at her companion. “It was a gift for the whole household; he and Papa are often sending them such things.”
“Emma, you are obsessed with matchmaking – can you really see no possibility there?”
Elizabeth desperately wished to speak up, to encourage Emma in this, for she believed it would be a far superior attachment for her sister. But Jane would hardly speak to her – perhaps she had meddled enough already.
She did not see her sister again until the following day, when the sisters and Miss Lucas were invited to Hartfield for the first of their painting sessions with Emma.
Nearly the entire party from Milton Hall went to Hartfield, with the exception of Mr. Hurst. Miss Bates and Mrs. Bates came with Jane, and they were such a large party that Emma suggested they all relocate out of doors.
Elizabeth and her friends all had easels and canvases of their own; Emma informed them that her brother John Knightley had procured the supplies in the village to make amends for her displeasure at how he had pushed for her betrothal.
He was not entirely forgiven, but the four young ladies were happy to use the painting supplies.
Elizabeth nearly feared that Miss Bingley would try to join them, but thankfully there was not a fifth easel available, and so that lady was obliged to speak with Isabella Knightley, who gave her every proper sympathy for not being included in the painting scheme.
Elizabeth was prepared to make the most of this.
She teased Mr. Darcy into being her first subject, declaring, “We intend to make a series of all the principal persons of Highbury, and shall unveil our masterpieces like a gallery exhibition – and then, sir, you will have to concede that we are all of us very accomplished.”
“I am ready to commend you even now for your fine choice of subject,” he drawled. She had bid him to sit on an armchair that had been brought outdoors and pushed up against a large hydrangea bush, and he managed to look very dignified with so many large blossoms encircling him.
She gave him a bittersweet smile. Emma had desired to paint the twin sisters together, but Jane flatly declined, which had stung Elizabeth.
She made the most of it, reminding Emma that if they were sitting instead of painting, Miss Bingley may use one of the extra easels to join their scheme.
She was sorry that her sister was so cross with her, and yet she resented being put in such a position; if only Jane would tell Emma the truth about Mr. Churchill!
Elizabeth was glad to have some excuse to stare at Mr. Darcy for above an hour, for she had thought him exceedingly handsome even at the beginning of their acquaintance, and he was rendered even more so by the improvement of his manners toward her.
The silence between them was comfortable as she sketched out the basic shapes on her canvas before she began painting in the hues of his visage and the flora around him.
But even such an easy silence could only be bearable for so long. After she had shaded in his lips with flushed cheeks at the memory of their kiss, she bid Mr. Darcy converse with her, for she was sure the other three painting ladies were making merry – well, two of them, at least.
“I should be happy to oblige; tell me what you would most like to hear.”