Chapter Thirteen #4
“I thought you wished to learn somewhat of my mischief, sir.” Elizabeth flinched, for she could see that her jest had not the intended effect on Mr. Darcy.
“I also wish my friend to be the master of his own fate, to make his own decisions. It is what I ought to have done with Bingley, and I consider not more than mere mischief to repeat that mistake with another friend, whose circumstances are far more precarious.”
“I see. And so Jane’s kindness must be prevailed upon so that Mr. Ferrars does not fall from his mother’s favor?”
“Elizabeth, I have no wish to speak of it,” Mr. Darcy said in exasperation.
She gaped at him as he spoke her name so intimately, and in such a harsh tone. Without saying another word to him, Elizabeth withdrew her arm from his and stormed away, to walk with Georgiana and Sophie the remainder of the way to the Serpentine. She did not speak to Mr. Darcy again.
***
Jane smiled at the sight of Viscount Bellamy as he fell into step beside her. She had declined Mr. Ferrars’s arm as they walked together, but she took the viscount’s with a grateful smile.
“I hope I am not too forward,” he said, “in wishing to acquaint you with my daughters, Miss Bennet.”
“I am honored, sir,” she replied. “What sort of girls are they?”
“They are kind and cheerful, ready to please and be pleased by everyone they meet – rather like yourself, Miss Bennet.”
Jane felt a blush creep across her face, and it occurred to her that she might enjoy his compliment more if Mr. Ferrars was not still walking at her side. He remained determined to recommend himself to her, and she could not at all account for it.
“Do you desire a large family of your own, Miss Bennet?”
“I… I suppose,” she said. “I confess I have never thought much about it. I have a large family already, with so many sisters; it feels quite natural.”
The viscount scowled at Mr. Ferrars. “And what of you, sir? Have you permission from your mother to think of starting a family? Has she any young lady in mind for you?”
Mr. Ferrars frowned. “An innocuous query, I assure you. One may be permitted to think of children, when there are children present.”
“You are one of many, like myself,” Jane said to the viscount.
“I daresay that it must feel perfectly natural to be around children, when one has so many siblings. You are very like your brother and sister, Mr. Ferrars, while my experience has been that my sisters are all of varied dispositions and pursuits. What is the case with your daughters, my lord?”
Jane heard Mr. Ferrars suck in a sharp breath at her assessment, which was not at all complimentary. They had reached the park now, and he took this opportunity to join other companions as the viscount described the similarities and differences of his girls.
She passed a happy hour playing games with them as they had their picnic along the Serpentine, and for a while Jane even managed to forget the strange feeling of Mr. Ferrars watching her from afar.
Jane found the three girls to be delightful creatures, all very sweet and obliging, and she thought the better of Viscount Bellamy for having raised such well-mannered children.
She wished she could fancy the viscount.
She respected him, and thought him everything a gentleman ought to be; his addresses were not unwelcome, but he had yet to touch her heart.
She was faced with the unpleasant realization that when Mr. Ferrars had asked her about starting a family, she had imagined a boy and a girl with Mr. Willoughby’s pleasing features.
When Jane glanced around, searching for a shrub to hide behind as she played hide-and-seek with the viscount and his children, she caught sight of Mr. Willoughby amusing Miss Bingley. Jane’s stomach felt sick, and she nearly collided with her sister.
“Oh! Lizzy! I am sorry – but whatever is the matter?”
Elizabeth schooled her countenance. “Nothing at all, Jane.”
“I expected you to be occupied with Mr. Darcy – teaching him your wicked ways.”
Something shaded Elizabeth’s forced smile. “Mr. Darcy has found fault with my counsel; besides, we are a large party, and I wish to speak to everyone. Well, nearly everyone. But what do you say to Aunt Madeline and Colonel Brandon?”
Jane cast a discreet glance in their aunt’s direction. She was speaking with the colonel, but Jane thought their aunt looked rather bored. “It is still too soon to think of such things, I am sure; do not press her, Lizzy. Surely we have every reason to think ill of meddling.”
Elizabeth grimaced and gave a curt nod of her head. “Of course.”
Not long after Elizabeth moved away, as Jane continued to play with the three Fitzwilliam girls, she was approached by Mr. Willoughby.
He gave a slight tip of his head as he observed, “I have done my best to distract Miss Bingley; I believe I owe you such a favor, but she will not be kept from her quarry.”
Jane looked in the direction he had subtly indicated; Miss Bingley fawning over the viscount and attempting to ingratiate herself with one of his daughters.
“I am sure there is nothing she can say to the viscount that I would wish unsaid; indeed, I should not deny her the opportunity for her to demonstrate her character to him.”
“Oho! Well said, Miss Bennet. I think you mean that she will only expose her own artifice as she throws herself at him. I merely thought that if I threw myself at her, it might give you some opportunity to show the viscount who you are, a lovely and charming creature without fault or guile.”
“Throw yourself at her? But what about Marianne?”
Mr. Willoughby smiled and shook his head. “My sentiments and wishes have not altered. I may serve you well by distracting Miss Bingley, but I have no intentions toward her, nor any expectation of engaging her affections. I do not think her capable of any such feelings.”
“Have a care, Mr. Willoughby. It would serve you right if she fancied herself madly in love with you.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “That I could be such a man to please her! That would either make me very grand, or entirely repugnant, and I have no aspirations to either.”
Jane laughed in spite of herself. “You will not tempt me into any of your wickedness, and though I am not as bold as my sister, I hope I am perfectly capable of getting on with my friends, without resorting to subterfuge.”
He waggled his brows. “I see your little smile, Miss Bennet; you cannot convince me it does not amuse you just a bit. Pray, what do you think they are talking of?”
Jane hardly knew why she was indulging his flight of fancy, but she studied the pair in question. “I suppose she is praising his children, which is no more than I have done.”
He spoke in a high-pitched voice as he clung to Jane’s arm.
“Oh, Viscount, how charming your daughters are – but I am sure I could give you a son by tea time, if you promised me a generous marriage settlement! Behold my simpering smile, behold the thrusting of my bosom as I laugh at your every weak jape! We are practically family already!”
Jane laughed in spite of herself, and before she could think, the words spilled from her lips in a low, gravelly voice. “Good Heavens, Miss Bingley, your hauteur and perpetual agreement are just what I desire in a bride!”
As she clapped a hand over her mouth, Mr. Willoughby laughed uproariously. “How could any man resist such affected charms?”
“Oh, dear – I ought not to have said – I am sure he thinks no such thing.”
“No, indeed; it is obvious that he is enamored with you, Miss Bennet – obvious to all but Miss Bingley, it seems. Until I have word from Marianne, I have no objection to pestering her with my nonsense. As you have cleared a path to reconcile me with your cousin, you must allow me to do likewise with the obstacles you face.”
Jane pressed her lips together. The greatest obstacle was her own indifference. The viscount did not make her laugh as Mr. Willoughby did, he did not captivate her imagination, did not compel her to ruminate in volumes of romantic poetry, and sigh out the window while waiting for him to appear.
“I wish you well with Marianne, truly, sir. But do you think it wise to… muddy the waters?”
“Wise? No. Amusing? Vastly. As I said, it is a favor I am happy to pay you; but you may rest assured that Miss Bingley has no heart for me to break when Marianne learns the truth – if she can accept my situation.”
Jane eyed him skeptically. “You would not… not actually pursue Miss Bingley? Her fortune does not tempt you?”
“There are far too many pleasant women in my life for me to abide such a creature for my bride, and I should say the same if she had a hundred thousand pounds! When I wed, it shall only be for the deepest love and mutual respect; I rather pity anyone who has a more pecuniary approach to such matters.”
Jane grinned at him as the viscount broke away from Miss Bingley and began walking toward her. She gave Mr. Willoughby a gentle nudge. “Go on, then, and commiserate with her for such heartless aspirations.”
She watched him go with a strange ache in her chest, knowing his finest qualities would be wasted on Miss Bingley. But she had no right to appreciate his charms. Jane reminded herself to think of Marianne, who knew better than she what a fine man he could be.
She turned her faltering smile on the viscount and resolved to be pleased by coming to know him better.
Furthering their acquaintance must reveal something between them that could ignite her fancy, if only she applied herself to the attempt.
Wishing both of her cousins’ beaux miles away, Jane devoted herself for the remainder of the picnic to coming to know the viscount better and endeavoring to make herself known to him.
But at the end of the day, she could persuade herself to think no differently, and she chastised herself privately for thinking entirely wrongly about everything. It was all a hopeless mess.