Chapter Ten
London
The morning after the ball, Jane and Elizabeth took their breakfast on a tray in Elizabeth’s room, and then they began composing a letter to their cousins in Hertfordshire.
Jane's ankle was sore from her evening of dancing, and Elizabeth propped a stack of pillows under Jane’s foot and insisted that she incline comfortably on the plush bed, warm and cozy in a heap of blankets and pillows.
Elizabeth sat at the little escritoire by the window that overlooked the busy square, and for a few minutes she sat back in her chair to bask in the sunlight as she sipped her peppermint tea.
Finally she set it aside and turned to Jane with a serious expression.
“I feel that we have so much to say to our cousins, but I hardly know what to write.”
Jane furrowed her brow, giving an idle nod of agreement. “Too much may be an ill thing, but it would be wrong to say nothing of our having seen Mr. Ferrars and Mr. Willoughby.”
“Yes, exactly.” Elizabeth twirled her pen idly in her fingers before dipping it into the inkwell. She began to write. “I will say that we have seen Mr. Ferrars, and certainly they will not be surprised to hear that we found his relations exceedingly unpleasant.”
“They are not so very bad,” Jane said. She might have made some argument in favor of Mrs. Ferrars and her children, but she could think of no truthful praise of them.
“Robert Ferrars is completely absurd, which was at least amusing. I made up a great deal of nonsense to see what he might agree with, and he complimented all of it.”
Jane giggled and shook her head at Elizabeth’s antics. “Tell me.”
“Oh, let me think. I told him that if I were a man, I should reside in a dilapidated cottage by the shore, and write heartbreaking poetry about the cruelty of the sea, which he agreed would be a great credit to the literary genius of England. He had a great deal to say on the superiority of cottages as the most charming aspect, being infinitely preferable to any other style of living – I daresay our cousins would disagree, but I would not pay him the compliment of rational argument.”
As Elizabeth penned a few lines, Jane laughed heartily. “He is not my favorite of our new acquaintance. I do approve of Edward Ferrars, however; you may tell Elinor I said so, though perhaps it would pain her to hear – that is, I think his mother wishes him to fancy Miss Morton.”
“She spoke to you a great deal when we dined with her.” Elizabeth raised her brows and looked inquisitively at Jane.
“She did ask some very leading questions,” Jane admitted. “It would be most uncomfortable if she thought of me for her eldest son.”
Elizabeth twisted her lips in a pensive expression as she continued penning her letter. Then she stared expectantly at Jane, sadness shading her eyes. “I am sorry about Mr. W. I hoped he might be the cure for your heartbreak over Mr. Bingley.”
“I do not know if my heart was broken, Lizzy. I admired Mr. Bingley, and I believed I might grow to love him, but I had not given away my heart as our cousins have sadly done. I believe I am glad that I finally saw in his sisters what you always perceived. As to Mr. Willoughby….”
Jane’s eyes welled with tears, and she covered her face with her hands. “I liked him very much, and I am terribly sorry for it.”
Elizabeth moved to sit beside Jane on the bed and stroked her loose hair soothingly. “I hardly know what to say; I am so sorry, Jane.”
“I am very sorry for it,” Jane cried, her shoulders shaking a little as she wept.
“How strange that I should be more affected by a stranger I scarcely knew, than I ever was by Mr. Bingley! But he is so handsome, and his mother and sister are such pleasant and warm people! They were so attentive, so encouraging. And when he sent the flowers and poetry, it seemed such a marked attention, far beyond Mr. Bingley’s affability. ”
“He seemed so smitten with you himself, and after so recently wooing Marianne,” Elizabeth scoffed, returning to the escritoire.
“I shall say nothing of that to Marianne. Even if he is vindicated of his offense against Colonel Brandon and Miss Williams, I told him that he must be the one to make amends to Marianne – I will not do it for him.”
“Perhaps you may at least say that he is not engaged to Miss Grey; I am sure they will have seen it in the papers.”
“And what shall I say of the viscount? He asked especially to be introduced to you, and praised your beauty quite eloquently.” Elizabeth wagged her eyebrows and grinned before continuing the letter.
“Nothing that Mamma shall make too much of – I do not wish to again raise her hopes and then disappoint them.”
“Too late, I have written that he was instantly captivated by your very fine looks, and now I shall devote a passage to our splendid attire for the evening.”
“I am sure we owe Mamma a letter full of such talk,” Jane mused.
“She will like to hear of how fine Mrs. Jennings’ home is, too.
” Jane managed to deflect the discussion of their letter from her romantic prospects, to her immense relief.
When they had composed a second letter tailored to what would most fascinate their mother and sisters, Jane and Elizabeth dressed for the day, for they were expecting to receive callers.
Mrs. Hatchard and her daughter were the first to arrive, not long after the four ladies of the house came downstairs to sit in Mrs. Jennings’ spacious parlor.
Mr. Darcy, his sister, and the viscount joined them soon after, and while Jane and Elizabeth amused themselves by encouraging an easy camaraderie between Miss Darcy and Miss Hatchard, the gentlemen all subtly vied for their attention.
In another quarter hour, while their guests showed no inclination to depart such happy company, their merriment was soured by the arrival of Mrs. Ferrars and her haughty children.
Mrs. Ferrars would hear Elizabeth perform at the pianoforte, and Jane was pressed to sing for them as her sister provided the music.
Elizabeth selected a lively tune, and as the gentlemen listened attentively, Miss Hatchard coaxed Miss Darcy into dancing a lively reel with her.
As this amusement carried on, Mrs. Palmer arrived with Miss Steele, and Jane felt her joy at the occasion begin to ebb away.
The butler, Mr. Foote, brought in two extra chairs for the guests, and as they all rearranged themselves, Mrs. Ferrars contrived for her eldest son to sit near Jane on a chaise by the fireplace.
Miss Steele was seated across the room between Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. Gardiner, but she was often looking in their direction as they exchanged banal pleasantries about the ball. When Miss Steele was at last distracted by Elizabeth, Jane relaxed a little.
“My sister and I wrote to our cousins the Dashwoods this morning; we mentioned that we had met with you. Elinor and all my cousins spoke very highly of you, sir. I am sorry you were not able to attend more of the Christmas Eve celebration in Meryton.”
“I ought never to have gone,” Mr. Ferrars sighed. He shook his head, looking a little mortified. “Forgive me. I am grateful that your cousins ever thought well of me, though now….”
Miss Steele again looked that way, giving Edward a simpering smile that he did not return.
Nonetheless, the young lady crossed the room and came to stand beside them, waiting for Jane and Mr. Ferrars to make space between themselves for her on the chaise.
“I am so envious of all that I have heard of Lady Morton’s ball!
But how glad I am to hear that you have danced with Edward, Miss Bennet! Is he not a splendid dancer?”
Jane blinked at her, hardly able to reply in the affirmative.
Miss Steele did not appear to require any response.
“Dear Edward, your mother and sister are perfectly charming! So grand and genteel! I am glad they approve of my new friends, for I am sure Mrs. Ferrars was singing your praises, Jane! I understand they do not think much of your cousins, as we do, the poor creatures! But if they are favorably disposed to you, I hope that you shall speak kindly of me to those whom my happiness depends upon.”
Mr. Ferrars gaped at her. “You have confided…?”
“Is it not fortunate that we share such compassionate mutual acquaintance, Edward? Both Elinor and Jane have been so discreet; I might have envied such lovely creatures, if they were not so gentle and obliging. But I hear you have admirers of your own already, Jane – may I call you Jane? Oh, I hope your good luck is catching – a fine omen for me, if I do say so. And your charming friends, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley have pledged to assist me – I may confide in them, for surely they have the means to be of influence.”
Jane forced a smile and nodded, and Mr. Ferrars shifted uncomfortably. A moment later, he was called away by his mother.
“Edward! Come and tell Mrs. Hatchard about the books of your fathers’ – the collection you retrieved from his friends at Cambridge. I am of a mind to sell to a private collector.”
When she was left alone with Miss Steele, Jane began to scan the room for some means of escape, but Elizabeth was distracted by Mr. Darcy – she was actually laughing with him.
Jane dared not interfere with that interesting development, for she had long hoped that Elizabeth would overcome the grudge she had held since the Meryton assembly.