Chapter 25 #2
“Mama, you insulted me and my husband when we visited Longbourn after our marriage. You sent me away, asking the Gardiners to be responsible for me since you did not want the bother, and now that I am married, you still think you can order me to come and go as you desire. If you did not want to bother with me when I was living in your home, now that I am living with my husband, why would I want to bother with you?” Elizabeth replied in a voice so low that her mother had to lean in to hear it.
Mrs. Bennet was not as circumspect. “You always were an ungrateful girl,” she said shrilly.
“How can you treat your mother in this infamous way? You were an unnatural child, and I am certain your husband will quickly see you are not worth his time. He will set you aside, and then he will be sorry he did not choose my most beautiful daughter. He will be sorry he did not choose Jane.”
“Madam, you are grievously mistaken if you still hold that belief to be true. I shall never forsake my wife; I did, in fact, wed your most beautiful daughter. Regrettably, she happened to be the one you never wanted and could never see past your animosity to appreciate her. You have imbued your eldest daughter with the notion that she is entitled to the finest, but that is a fallacy,” Fitzwilliam hissed, lowering his voice so others could not overhear.
“As I understand it, she has been repeatedly reminded that such an attitude can render even the most beautiful woman unattractive. She is entitled to nothing; without accomplishments, she has nothing to offer any man beyond her looks. Few men would settle for a woman devoid of wit, accomplishments, or dowry.”
Mrs. Bennet scoffed. “You are a fool,” she hissed, lowering her voice to match his.
“You will regret not marrying my Jane. Lizzy is worthless, always doing the wrong thing, and you will regret it when she cannot give you the son you desire. She is good for nothing, and with her luck, she will only produce girls.”
“My estate is not entailed and may be inherited by any child. Whether we are blessed with sons or daughters, we shall cherish them all. If my wife does not bear me a child, I shall find contentment in spending my life with her. You, madam, are the one in error. It is high time we conclude this conversation,” Fitzwilliam declared, much to his mother-in-law’s chagrin.
Nevertheless, she had no further remarks to offer, and upon noticing her neighbours casting disdainful glances her way, she chose to withdraw.
“That was not wholly unexpected, although I did not expect her to attack so quickly. Jane was quiet,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Too quiet,” replied Fitzwilliam. “She still believes she is better than you; it was written in her face.”
“It will be well, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth reiterated, trusting the more she said it, the more she would convince herself.
While she harboured some concerns about the plan, she understood revealing them might prompt her husband to summon the carriage and swiftly return her home instead of allowing events to play out.
Finally, the first strains of the music were heard, and the Darcys moved toward the dance floor.
Elizabeth took a moment to take a drink of tea handed to her by Lady Anne, as her throat was dry from speaking to so many people.
Soon, they were standing in opposite lines, watching as others stood around them.
Elizabeth noted Jane’s position in the line—there was only one person between the sisters, Charlotte.
Elizabeth smiled at her friend, momentarily reaching to clasp and squeeze her hand.
As the couples progressed through the line, Elizabeth alternated her gaze between her husband and the surrounding crowd.
She noticed her brother and mother-in-law observing and even spotted Richard and the guards discreetly positioned throughout the gathering.
Despite being aware of Wickham’s presence in Meryton, Elizabeth still felt taken aback when she finally spotted him near the refreshment table and began to scrutinize him intently.
“I see him as well,” Fitzwilliam murmured as they passed each other in the line.
He continued when they found another brief moment, “Richard is standing nearby, along with the others. They are keeping a close watch on him. My love, you should cease staring, or you may inadvertently reveal their presence.”
Elizabeth was startled by this reminder, prompting her to turn her attention to her husband. “Thank you for the reminder, my dear,” she whispered. “I was momentarily taken aback when I saw him here.”
“Be prepared to take whatever Jane offers you when the dance ends. George and I will ensure you do not drink it,” he said as he stood beside her as they waited for their turn. “Are you ready for your performance?”
She laughed lightly. “I am,” she replied. “I have always enjoyed play acting, and now I have a reason to do so.”
All too soon, the dance concluded, and the Darcys started approaching Lady Anne.
However, Jane intercepted them before they could reach her, carrying a glass.
“Dear sister,” she feigned, “You appeared positively wretched as you concluded that dance, so I thought I would fetch you a drink to ascertain if it might revive you.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her sister’s gesture and the insult it contained.
“Thank you, Jane,” she responded, accepting the drink and ignoring her comment.
However, as she brought it closer, an unfamiliar scent assailed her senses, triggering a visceral reaction.
Her stomach churned, and she turned her face away.
Fitzwilliam regarded her with deep concern, as this was not part of their plan. “Are you feeling well, dearest?” he inquired, his worry evident.
“I am not entirely sure, Fitzwilliam,” she replied, betraying her unease. “It is strange—I caught a scent that turned my stomach. I do not believe it was the wine, but a strong odour lingers. Perhaps a man’s cologne?”
Jane observed her sister cautiously. “It could not be the wine,” she remarked abruptly. “You have had it many times before without any issues.”
“I do not believe it is the wine,” Elizabeth affirmed gravely.
Lady Anne and George joined them, their expressions mirroring concern. “Are you feeling all right, Elizabeth?” Lady Anne inquired.
“I think so, Mother. A noxious odour briefly overcame me, but I am improving now. It just struck me so suddenly,” Elizabeth replied, laughing at herself.
To the astonishment of her sons and daughter, Lady Anne appeared almost pleased by this revelation. “Is this the first time such a thing has occurred?” she asked.
Elizabeth pondered for a moment. “My stomach has been unusually unsettled recently, especially upon rising,” she admitted.
Lady Anne patted her hand reassuringly. “We shall discuss this further tomorrow, though I am confident you are perfectly well. Do not fret, Fitzwilliam,” she assured them both.
Jane stood there, observing their interactions, and for a brief moment, experienced a twinge of… something. It might have been wistfulness for a family like the one before her. However, that sentiment vanished almost as swiftly as it had surfaced.
“Here, Lizzy,” she offered again. “Perhaps the wine will help.”
Stepping in to act his part, George reached forward. “Since Elizabeth is unwell, I will take the drink in her stead,” he offered. “May I?”
“Umm,” Jane hesitated, her gaze flickering towards the refreshment table where Wickham lurked in the shadows. Upon receiving his subtle nod, she extended the drink towards the gentleman, concern about the alteration apparent in her eyes. “Here, I hope you find it to your liking.”
“I am certain I will,” George replied, taking the drink she offered. “Thank you, Miss Bennet.”