7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Confession
J ane fretted over what she had said to Elizabeth, fearful she had said too much. Despite knowing it was not wise, she rose from the bed and paced through the chamber. She walked to the window, turned sharply and moved to the fireplace, then paced toward the bed before repeating the circuit again. She did not wish to injure her sister’s feelings, yet she could not wish the words unsaid. She had a terrible feeling Elizabeth’s blindness to her own snap judgments would one day get her into a terrible situation she could not undo.
Her sister’s dreams only made her more confident in her judgment. Whether they were true or not—and Jane did not know what to think about that —they set Elizabeth apart from her sisters. The dreams had caused Elizabeth to forge a bond with their great-grandmother; that bond, and the dreams themselves, had increased her confidence. Jane could not think that was a bad thing, but that same confidence had also made Elizabeth feel superior to those around her.
In many ways, Elizabeth was superior. She was certainly the smartest girl in Meryton and the quickest by far—quicker than most of the gentlemen they were acquainted with. They enjoyed dancing with her and gaining her smiles, but Jane doubted any of them would offer for Elizabeth. Most men did not like to feel quite so inferior to their wives.
Deciding she was being ridiculous and borrowing trouble, Jane settled back into the bed. Elizabeth had needed to hear what she said for her own good. There might be a few moments of uneasiness, but the result would be worth any temporary discomfort. She hoped.
Jane stared at Elizabeth with her mouth open. Elizabeth watched her sister carefully, thinking that she had never been able to see all the way around her blue irises before.
“Jane? Are you well?”
Jane continued to stare at her, and Elizabeth cringed. She had not meant to blurt it out like that. She had thought they would talk, perhaps sit by the window, and she would gently tell her sister that she had seen Jane’s husband in her dreams and that the man was Mr. Bingley.
Instead, she had burst into the room, full of nervous energy, and blurted out, “Mr. Bingley is your husband. I have seen it many times in my dreams, and you are wildly happy together. I am sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
Jane continued to stare at her as Elizabeth reached slowly for her hand.
“Jane? Do you wish to ask me any questions?”
Jane’s eyes snapped closed and then blinked rapidly. She turned to face her sister, her color high. “You have seen it?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Bingley and me…married?”
“Yes.”
“And we had children together?”
“Yes. I only saw the first two as I did my own, and we were each with child with our thirds together.”
“I had two boys, did I not?”
“Yes. They looked like you.”
Jane looked at her in disbelief. Or perhaps it was shock. It was hard to tell. She looked very near hysteria. “You are saying you have seen Mr. Bingley in your dreams?”
“Yes.”
“Not a man who looked similar to him? You saw his actual face?”
Elizabeth nodded. “And I heard his voice and observed his nature. It was Mr. Bingley.”
“You are certain?”
“Quite certain.”
Jane fell back on the bed, her eyes closing.
“Are you angry with me?” asked Elizabeth, her voice timid.
Jane’s eyes snapped open. “Why would I be angry with you? You cannot control your dreams.”
Elizabeth shifted her eyes from one side to the other. “You might be angry that I did not tell you sooner.”
“You did tell me. You told me when you were but sixteen. You have often spoken of both our husbands.”
“Yes, I know that. I meant that I had not told you it was Mr. Bingley.”
Jane was quiet for a few minutes, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I am glad you did not tell me sooner. It would have made me anxious in his company, and I would not have been able to come to know him as I have, nor my own heart.”
“Do you know your heart? It has not been so very long.”
“No, it has not, but I know I am growing to love him. I have cared for him for some time, but my feelings only deepen each time we meet.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Oh, Jane! That is wonderful!”
“Do you know when we shall wed? Did you ever dream of a wedding?”
Elizabeth made a face. “I did not. My dreams are never clear about when they are happening. I can only guess according to how old we look and the season of the trees around us.”
Jane nodded absently.
“Jane,” Elizabeth said hesitantly, “have you considered being more open in your feelings with Mr. Bingley?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Charlotte said something to me—that you are so reserved that a gentleman might not know if he had a chance to win your favor for how similarly you treat everyone.”
Jane jerked her head back in surprise. “Would you have me be improper?”
“No, of course not. I mean no criticism of your behavior and I am not suggesting anything untoward. But, since you are sure of your feelings for Mr. Bingley, and we may be sure of his for you—”
“Because of your dreams,” interrupted Jane.
“Yes, because of the dreams. Since you know you will be happy together, might you consider being more open with him? Perhaps giving him more encouragement? It might bring about a wedding sooner.”
Elizabeth looked into the eyes of a clearly perplexed Jane, wondering if she should share her thoughts with her sister. “You know, Jane,” she said hesitantly, “I have come to wonder if what occurs in my dreams is not guaranteed.”
“What do you mean? They must be real if you saw Mr. Bingley. You had never seen him in your life before he came to Hertfordshire.”
“True, but that is not quite what I meant. They are real enough, but I mean there is no guarantee that what I dream will happen. Very little from the dreams has come to pass. Most of it is far in the future. I have begun to wonder if it is a glimpse of what could happen, not necessarily what will.”
Jane nodded thoughtfully.
“If that is true, I do not wish for you to lose Mr. Bingley. I know he will make you blissfully happy, and I wish that for you, my most deserving sister.”
“We are all deserving of happiness, Lizzy,” chastised Jane.
Elizabeth smiled. “You have proven my point perfectly.” She squeezed Jane’s hand. “That is why I want you to consider encouraging Mr. Bingley. I do not wish you to miss out on your chance at happiness.”
Jane looked about to protest, but then she stopped. She knew she kept a great deal to herself, but she did not wish for everyone around her to be aware of all her feelings. Neither did she wish to make anyone uncomfortable by sharing more than was proper or by displaying a sentiment that could injure another.
And there was her mother to consider. Mrs. Bennet meant well, but she could not see that all her boasting of her eldest daughter and thrusting her in front of every eligible man they met was mortifying to Jane and unlikely to endear their family to prospective suitors. That was one of the things she liked most about Mr. Bingley. He did not allow a little silliness to deter him. He seemed happy to be in her company despite her mother’s vulgarity.
“I think you may be right, Lizzy,” she said slowly. “I have kept things to myself for so long that it has become a habit. Perhaps I will try to show my feelings more with Mr. Bingley. If he is to be my husband, after all, it would not do for him to be completely unaware.”
Elizabeth smiled. “No, it would not. You will do splendidly, Jane. I know it.”
Jane smiled nervously, wondering how one went about showing their feelings when one had spent a lifetime concealing them, but her future happiness may very well depend on her assuring Mr. Bingley his interest was not unwelcome.
That night, Jane came down after dinner to sit with her hosts. Mr. Bingley was attentive and everything kind, and she smiled at him freely and tried to be encouraging when he spoke to her. She was sure she had made a cake of herself and felt horribly awkward, but she did not wish for her suitor to feel alone in his pursuit of her.
By the time she returned to her room, she was exhausted.
“Did I make a complete fool of myself?” she asked as Elizabeth helped her take down her hair.
“Not at all! Why would you think such a thing?”
“Mr. Bingley seemed nervous, did he not? I think the change in my behavior disturbed him.” She chewed her lip, a bad habit she had not exhibited since she was eleven and Mrs. Bennet had told her it was unladylike.
Elizabeth stifled a laugh. “I do not think he was disturbed at all, Jane. He looked very happy to be with you and thrilled you returned his attention.”
“He did?”
Jane’s hopeful look quashed any laughter that threatened to bubble up. “He did.” She ran the brush through Jane’s long, honey-colored tresses. “Do not worry. All will be well. Continue on as you have done, and he will not fail to know your heart. It will become easier with practice.”
Jane sighed. “You are right.” She reached up to her shoulder and clasped her sister’s hand. “Thank you, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth kissed her sister’s head. “You are welcome, Jane.”
Darcy joined Bingley in the library for a brandy after the ladies had retired. He relaxed in a chair by the fire with his feet propped on a stool and a comfortable cushion behind him.
“It was a lovely evening, was it not?” Bingley asked jovially.
Darcy glanced towards his friend. “Yes, it was. You seemed to enjoy Miss Bennet’s company.”
“She is an angel! She has been ill all this time, and yet she has not complained. And she made very few requests of the servants. Caroline would have had the entire house waiting on her hand and foot, but Hannah says she has been no trouble at all.”
“Hannah?”
“The maid Caroline assigned to attend her.”
“Ah.”
Bingley stared into the flames dreamily. “I think I will propose to Miss Bennet.”
Darcy started and his brandy nearly sloshed out of his glass. “What?”
“I love her, I am sure of it. And I believe she loves me.”
Darcy blinked at him, his mouth falling open. “You cannot marry a woman you have known little more than a month, Bingley.”
“It has been six weeks, and I do not see why not. Plenty of our acquaintance have only seen their wives a dozen times before they wed them, and I doubt they have had as many conversations as I have had with Miss Bennet.”
Darcy stared at his friend. “Those acquaintances you reference were marrying for fortune and connections, not affection. They might be fond of their wives, but I doubt it is any more than that.”
“All the more reason to marry a lady one loves. They are in for a nasty surprise if they get six months into the marriage and find their wives cannot hold a decent conversation and have terrible taste in wallpaper.”
Darcy nearly choked. “Wallpaper?”
“Have you been to Wallace’s house? The paper in the dining room is covered in enormous exotic birds with menacing expressions. One fears one’s eyes may be pecked out while eating. Have you truly not seen it?”
Darcy felt an odd urge to both laugh and scream. “As unfortunate as bad taste in wallpaper may be, it is not a good reason to forego an otherwise suitable bride. Nor would the presence of good taste be a reason to choose a lady.”
“Darcy, you miss the point.”
“What point is that?”
“Marrying a lady for her fortune may be enough to make some men perfectly content, but I am not one of them. I have enough money. I wish to be happy.”
Darcy could not deny the earnestness in his friend’s expression or the truth of his statement. He knew plenty of unhappy marriages between wealthy members of the ton. It was not something he was in a hurry to experience and why he had avoided ladies so assiduously. He was not looking forward to giving up what contentment he had.
“I cannot say you are wrong, Bingley. However, I will say that being in an unequal union could be difficult. I would imagine it is quite painful. I would hate to see it happen to you. If you married a well-dowered lady with good connections, at least you would gain something tangible from the union.”
“That is rather cynical.”
Darcy shrugged. “It is the way of the world. I do not know if Miss Bennet returns your affections, but even if she does, there is no guarantee those feelings will last.” He gave Bingley a significant look.
“I hear what you are not saying, Darcy. It is the longevity of my affections you are concerned about, is it not?”
Darcy only looked at him.
Bingley sighed. “I cannot be upset with you for thinking so, as you have often seen me in love, but this time is different. I know it is. All the other feelings I had were like a gentle mist on the wind. What I feel for Miss Bennet is a raging thunderstorm.”
Darcy sighed. “I hope you are correct, Bingley. It would not do to toy with her. She is a gentleman’s daughter and from the country. She is not used to the dalliances of Town.”
“My intentions are honorable, I assure you.”
“It is not the honor of your intentions I am concerned with.” He raised a brow.
Bingley met his look with a hard stare of his own. “You will see, Darcy. My feelings are strong.”
He nodded. “Very well.” Let us see how long they remain strong.