Chapter Eighteen #4
Mr. Willoughby turned away from Miss Bingley, who did not notice his abandonment, and continued her prattle for the benefit of nobody.
“I was briefly acquainted with Miss Dashwood in Devonshire, Colonel. I believe what Miss Bennet means is that Elinor Dashwood has always done what is best for others; someone ought to place her above all others, for she will never do it herself.”
“Yes,” Jane said with instant animation. “Yes, exactly. She sacrifices a great deal; would that you could lay the world at her feet, Colonel. ‘Tis but little to ask for, is it not?”
The colonel nearly choked on a sip of wine. When he recovered himself, he nodded at Jane with a feeble smile. “That is very like what your sister has advised, and I am nearly convinced of what I must do. But I do hope your next letter to her will be full of how charming you found me!”
“Of course, I must commend any man so eager to please,” she replied.
The countess laughed, giving a little wave of her hand to capture Jane’s attention. “I am sure Phillip is also eager to please! Do tell us, since you are so like your cousin, what might complement your disposition?”
The viscount looked at Jane expectantly, and she furrowed her brows as she considered. “I have often been told that I am too good, too sweet and obliging – I believe my complement must be a stronger conviction of character, and perhaps a little wickedness.”
Mrs. Jennings laughed indecorously. “What do you say to that, Viscount? Are you still too much the vicar to be a little wicked?”
He made some jape that caused Lady Matilda to laugh, but Jane scarcely heard it. She turned once more toward Mr. Willoughby; he winked roguishly at her.
Heat flushed her face as she recalled him doing the same just the night before.
They had been at the opera; the ladies from Berkeley Street had been invited to the Fitzwilliam box at the opera.
Jane had grown listless as Viscount Bellamy attempted to whisper japes at her aunt, who was prone to weeping at emotionally evocative music.
She had glanced across the theatre and caught sight of Mr. Willoughby, who was with Miss Bingley and a group of people Jane did not know.
He screwed up his face and winked at Jane, his posture sagging as if it were a chore to return to Miss Bingley’s chatter.
And he did just the same now, as she watched him turn back to Miss Bingley, who had begun to preen at the viscount.
But Mr. Willoughby’s eyes lingered on Jane, and she offered him a sad smile.
She could not believe that Marianne had been cruel enough to destroy both of his letters – and to actually give Lady Rebecca some cause to imagine a match between her and Mr. Bingley.
Though Jane no longer lamented the loss of that gentleman, she expected that her cousin would understand Mr. Willoughby to be in every way superior.
When the ladies withdrew to the parlor, Lady Matilda sought Jane out directly. “I am so pleased that you have recovered from your malady, Miss Bennet. Mrs. Jennings tells me she gave you some advice, and I do hope you will benefit from it.”
“Yes, of course,” Jane said blandly, though she understood at once that the countess was not speaking of her headache.
“It is a pity you did not join us, for you might have beheld some of that wickedness which you claim would complement your disposition so well. But I suppose your sister has told you about our unusual artwork?”
Jane shook her head. “I believe she was too worried about my indisposition, or perhaps she did not want to distress me, if I missed some great amusement.”
“Then I hope I am not cruel in telling you what you have missed.” The countess proceeded to give an account of the morning’s antics, detailing the viscount’s propensity for mischief in the comfort of his family.
Jane could only acknowledge that it sounded very merry, but this clearly did not satisfy Lady Matilda.
“I have been uncommonly observant of late, Miss Bennet. May I speak candidly with you? I believe you may profit from my observations.”
They were interrupted when Mr. Willoughby entered the drawing room, the other gentlemen trailing behind him. “We quickly realized we should all prefer the company of you fine ladies to my mediocre brandy and cigars,” he announced with a playful flourish.
The countess let out a sharp exhale and her eyes flashed with annoyance before she offered Jane a polite smile. “May I?”
Anxiety wound its way through Jane’s insides, but she gave a nod of her head. “Cer-certainly.”
The countess smiled graciously. “Truly, I do hope my observations help rather than harm. But I have often noticed that Phillip is less gregarious with you than some others of your household. In your absence today, he was exceedingly lively and impudent, though I wonder if you would have perceived it – or if he would have shown it, had you been with your aunt and sister. You seem to inspire reticence in one another. Though you have a sense of one another’s most obvious charms, I have seen many a short acquaintance progress to more profound depths than the pair of you have managed. Would you not agree?”
Jane watched the viscount approach her aunt, and she smiled widely; the countess followed her gaze, and then gave Jane a pointed look. “I do agree, with all my heart. I cannot believe I never noticed before – I suppose I thought she was only easing the path for me – her manners are more open….”
Mr. Darcy and the colonel were standing rather close to them, and the countess frowned. “Well, that is all I have to say to you, anyhow. I will add my voice to those who have already said that you are a dear, sweet girl – I trust you shall also be a wise woman.”
Jane felt lighter for a moment as the countess stood and moved away.
She was very close to giving herself permission to do what she most feared and most desired.
Mr. Darcy was making his way to Elizabeth’s side, but in an impulse she would never have indulged before, Jane hastened to get there first, flashing him an apologetic smile. She would only be a moment.
Elizabeth betrayed an instant of disappointment at the deprivation of Mr. Darcy’s company before smiling warmly at Jane.
“Sister of mine, there is a very strange air about you today,” she said with an affectionate shake of her head.
“But did I hear you say you finally received letters from our cousins?”
“Oh, yes. Forgive me – we shall speak of it later – but I am nearly resolved, Lizzy, if only you would bolster my nerves. I know what I must do.”
“Oh?”
Jane nodded her head, her posture straightening as she steeled herself for what must follow. “I must heed Mrs. Jennings’s advice.”
A snort of laughter bubbled out of Elizabeth, and her eyes went wide. “Good Lord, are you quite certain?”
“No – yes – oh, perhaps. I believe I am walking a fine line of foolishness and a queer sort of clarity. But you would never think less of me….”
“Never! Jane, whatever is the matter?”
“We have jested frequently of late, about how similar you and Marianne are.”
Elizabeth chortled. “Being both prone to accosting gentlemen in ballrooms, and choosing rebellion at every opportunity?”
“And you have always said I am more like Elinor, reserved and obliging,” Jane sighed. “You once advised me to be pricklier, like you. But what if I were more impetuous, more like Marianne? Very like Marianne?”
“So long as you are not determined to break your own heart,” Elizabeth said, peering curiously at Jane.
“I hardly know,” Jane said. She looked around the room, her eyes darting between the viscount and Mr. Willoughby.
The latter smiled at her as he deftly intercepted Miss Bingley from her path to Viscount Bellamy.
He winked over his shoulder at Jane and she smiled tightly at him, certain that she must find some chance to tell him that Marianne had burned his letters.
But first, Jane stood and strode resolutely toward the viscount.