Chapter 24 Machinations Revealed #2
When at last Elizabeth managed to extricate herself from her mother’s clutches—long after Jane and Mary had escaped upstairs—she closed her chamber door and leant against it, exhaling a long, weary breath.
Her nerves were frayed, her head still full of her mother’s exclamations about lace, the wedding breakfast, and something about a new carriage.
She did as she had promised, changing quickly out of her travelling gown without waiting for a maid.
Mary followed a moment later to assist her with her dress.
They spoke little, yet by the time Elizabeth seated herself before the dressing table, her reflection appeared as weary as she felt.
She drew the pins from her hair and Mary once again assisted her by brushing it out in long strokes, the familiar rhythm easing her tension at last.
Mary had just left, intending for Elizabeth to rest, when a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Expecting perhaps a servant, she called for the person to enter and was startled when Jane appeared in the doorway.
Her sister’s expression was troubled, and in her hands were several folded papers that could only be letters.
“I believe I owe you an explanation for my behaviour of late,” Jane began, her tone subdued.
Elizabeth frowned, her brush pausing mid-stroke. “I have wondered, Jane.”
Jane stepped further into the room, twisting the letters in her hands.
“Miss Bingley came into my room one afternoon while you were visiting Netherfield. You had left me to rest—I believe I was asleep until she entered because she entered rather noisily, and it woke me. She seemed quite pleased to find me alone and began to speak of her brother—how he was prone to flirtations that came to nothing and how he was destined, in time, to marry Georgiana Darcy. For several minutes, she praised Miss Darcy’s perfection—her beauty, her gentleness, her superior breeding—and insisted that no other lady could compare.
Then she claimed that her brother always sought out women who resembled Miss Darcy to flirt with—quiet, fair-haired women—because they reminded him of her since she was too young to flirt with and their understanding would not come to fruition until she entered society. ”
Jane’s voice trembled, and Elizabeth thought she saw the faint sheen of tears in her sister’s eyes.
“Then,” Jane continued, “she allowed a few other things to slip—how you were forever flirting with Mr Darcy whenever she saw the two of you together. I tried to correct her, told her you disliked him, but she was insistent that you had changed your mind the moment you discovered the extent of his fortune. She claimed you had ensnared him with your wiles—” Jane’s voice broke on the word—“and that you had ruined her own understanding with him which she called an ‘acknowledged fact’ before he came into Hertfordshire and met you.”
Elizabeth rose from her seat, her heart pounding.
“Jane! Could you truly have thought me capable of such behaviour?” she cried.
“You know me better than anyone—how could you believe I would act in such an avaricious manner? I have always said I would never marry for anything but affection and respect.”
“I know, Lizzy,” Jane said earnestly, her cheeks colouring with shame.
“But Miss Bingley spoke with such sincerity that I… I listened. I was hurt by her claims about Mr Bingley and angry to think he had been toying with my affections. Then the next evening, she had left Netherfield without a word, and no one would tell me why. Mr Bingley continued to be kind, but I was still weak and unsettled—and Miss Bingley’s words had taken root in my heart.
When I saw Mr Darcy paying you attention, I am afraid that…
jealousy stirred in me. I thought you might be seeking revenge for his slight at the assembly.
If that were true, I feared it would ruin any chance I might have that Mr Bingley would change his mind about Miss Darcy. ”
She drew a shaky breath, eyes pleading for forgiveness. “It was foolish—horribly foolish—to put faith in Miss Bingley’s words, but I could not help myself. She seemed so genuine, and I truly thought she was my friend.”
Elizabeth’s hands tightened on the back of her chair, the brush forgotten on the table. The pain of her sister’s confession stung deeply—not for the falsehoods themselves, but for the wound they had caused between her and her closest sister.
Jane went on softly, “After Miss Bingley left for Scarborough, she continued to write to me often. Her letters were full of stories about her brother’s supposed understanding with Miss Darcy—and of you.
She claimed you threw yourself at Mr Darcy again and again while at Netherfield.
You had told me of some of those instances yourself, but Miss Bingley…
twisted them. She made it sound as though you behaved exactly as she said. ”
Elizabeth drew a long, steadying breath.
The anger that rose within her was cool, deliberate—a quiet ache born not of temper, but of betrayal.
“So she not only sought to destroy my happiness,” she said at last, her voice low but steady, “but yours as well. She hoped to turn us against each other—to make you doubt me, and me lose faith in you. In doing so, she might have imagined she could keep me from growing closer to William and keep you apart from Mr Bingley.” Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Did you ever write back to her?”
Jane’s expression was wretched as she shook her head.
“No,” she whispered. “I could not bring myself to do so. I did not wish to give credence to her words—but even so, I allowed them to affect me.” She twisted her fingers together, unable to meet Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Then, when Mr Wickham sought me out to tell his stories about Mr Darcy, I was… glad that someone seemed to take me seriously. I let myself believe him, even after you and Mr Darcy both warned me otherwise. What he said seemed to fit so perfectly with what Miss Bingley had claimed—that Mr Darcy was not to be trusted, that his interest in you could not be honourable. When, despite all his attentions, there was no announcement, I convinced myself that Mr Wickham must have spoken the truth.”
“Even after he proposed marriage to me?” Elizabeth asked, her voice low but trembling with restrained feeling.
“You still insisted that you were correct about Mr Wickham—even after learning of my courtship and our engagement? When William told you what Mr Wickham had done to him—and that was not even the whole of it—you still doubted his words? You still believed a stranger over the sister you have known all your life?”
Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “It was wrong of me, Lizzy, I know that now. I was foolish, but I would hope you will not hold it against me forever.”
Elizabeth drew in a long breath, her anger tempered by sadness.
“No,” she said at last, “I do not mean to hold it against you forever, Jane. But neither can I pretend that these past weeks did not happen—or that your lack of faith did not wound me. You have not even asked for my forgiveness,” she added quietly, “only explained why you behaved as you did.”
“Forgive me, dear Lizzy,” Jane cried. “I never intended you any pain. I believed I was protecting you, and I thought you would have done the same for me. Mr Wickham and Miss Bingley spoke with such confidence—such apparent sincerity—that I could not doubt them. They seemed so certain, and I feared what might happen if I did not intervene.”
“Perhaps I would have sought to protect you and warned you to be cautious, Jane,” Elizabeth said quietly, her voice steady only by effort.
“But I could not have brought myself to doubt you—to question your character—as you have done with mine.” She paused, the hurt no longer fully concealed.
“What was it, then, that first caused you to question what you had been told?”
“Earlier, Mr Bingley asked if he might call on me,” Jane admitted softly.
“I also received a letter from Miss Bingley while we were in London. In it, she spoke of her brother’s continued attentions towards me and wrote as though she were delighted at the prospect of embracing me as her sister before long.
I must presume she had heard something—perhaps from her brother or Mr Hurst—that encouraged her to write in such a tone.
She made some attempt to excuse her earlier insistence on his supposed engagement to Miss Darcy, but I think I have at last come to see that she, too, has deceived me. ”
Jane drew a steady breath, her expression troubled but resolute.
“To have both these realisations so close together has left me uncertain how to proceed. I agreed to Mr Bingley’s calling on me, but I have come to understand that I must take more time to know him truly.
It seems plain that I am not so good a judge of character as I once believed, nor have I given myself the opportunity to learn his nature well enough to decide whether we might truly suit.
I think it right that he should call—and that we both should use that time to learn whether whatever affection we might feel for each other can be strengthened by understanding. ”
Nodding, Elizabeth came closer, her expression careful but earnest. “Jane, William and I have come to understand each other so well because we have spoken frankly from the beginning of our courtship. If you and Mr Bingley hope to build something lasting between you, I would urge the same. Speak honestly even when it is uncomfortable. That is how affection deepens into trust and respect.”
She smiled faintly at her sister, hoping to imbue at least some compassion into her words, even if she was still angry with her.
“You are wise to wish to take your time—to learn his heart and let him learn yours. If you hope for a love that endures, you must know one another fully and not speak only of trivial matters. While I cannot pretend that William and I have never disagreed, we are stronger for having spoken our minds. Regardless of what Charlotte may claim, it is not better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom one is to spend a lifetime.”
Jane’s lips curved in a small, thoughtful smile.
“Perhaps not,” she said quietly. “But it is sometimes difficult to be brave enough to speak plainly. Still—” she drew a steadying breath and looked at her sister with sincerity—“you have always been braver than I, Lizzy. Perhaps I shall borrow a little of your courage when Mr Bingley calls.”
Elizabeth laughed softly, the tension between them easing slightly as a faint smile grew on her lips.
Even though their bond was still fractured, the warmth in Jane’s eyes stirred a fragile hope within her that all might one day be well between them.
Reaching out, she gave her sister’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“I believe, my dearest Jane, that you are discovering your courage,” she said softly, her tone laced with both affection and a quiet, earnest hope for the future.