Chapter 16
“Jane, may I come in?” Elizabeth asked as she rapped on her sister’s door before bed.
“Of course, dearest. Please, join me.” She patted the chair next to hers where she was seated in her dressing gown with a letter open on her lap.
“Who is the letter from?”
“My friend in town, Mrs. Pearson,” Jane answered.
“Is she the one with the very eligible elder brother?” Elizabeth asked, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders and settling into the chair by the open window. The only light in the room was the lamp on the table between their chairs and the pale glow of the moon outside.
“Yes, she is. Mr. Walker.” Jane looked down self-consciously, then coming to a decision, looked her sister in the eye. “She says her brother has asked after me several times and that she has twice taken the liberty of reading my letters to him.”
“Does she?” Elizabeth was slightly surprised with her sister’s proclamation, as Jane was usually more circumspect and modest, but she tried not to show it.
“She hints that he is interested in me romantically and wishes to see me when I return to town if it is possible.” Jane held the letter out to her sister. “Or do I mistake her?” she added.
Ah, there is the Jane I know. Elizabeth took the letter from her sister and read it through twice before handing it back.
“I do not think you are mistaken, Jane. She sounds very much like she would like to have you in the family and that her brother is eager to perform the job.” Jane flushed and looked out the dark window.
“That is what I thought.”
“Do you wish to join the Walker family, Jane?”
“I do not know. He is a very kind man, but as yet my feelings are not any stronger than friendship.” The name Bingley hung in the air between them, unspoken but not unthought. “His sisters are very kind.”
“There is more than one?”
“Yes, he has an older sister living in London. Her husband does business with Uncle. She is very genteel and kind, not unlike Aunt Gardiner, and has the most adorable children.” Jane smiled sadly.
“There is another brother as well, but I have not met him. He is much younger than the others and is away at school. Martha, Mrs. Pearson, assures me he is a lovely boy.”
“Sounds like an ideal family,” Elizabeth said softly.
“Yes, they are,” Jane said distractedly.
After several minutes of silence, she asked her sister, “Do you think it is possible to grow to love someone? I mean someone that you do not love after you know them, but perhaps after knowing them more intimately and for a longer period of time, you may come to love them? Do you think it is possible?”
Elizabeth looked at her sister’s worried face, Jane’s color high and her blue eyes unusually bright and wide.
She answered carefully. “I think it is possible to grow in love, is that not how we all love anyway? But I do not know that it is such an easy recipe to follow. Time and intimacy alone may not accomplish the task.”
Jane nodded. “Lizzy, would it be very wrong of me to accept Mr. Walker if I do not love him?”
“I do not think it would be very wrong, no. You like him; you respect and esteem him. Many marriages have been based on far less.”
Jane nodded, her eyes meeting her sister’s and sharing an unspoken truth. That was not how they wished to marry. Or at least it hadn’t been before their father interfered.
“So you are thinking of accepting Mr. Walker then?” Elizabeth asked.
“I am giving it careful consideration. I can clearly see how it will be, or as clear as is possible with no formal arrangements. His father and family are all kind and welcoming to me. His mother died several years ago and I imagine I would immediately become mistress of his father’s house in London, which will one day be his.
It is a large responsibility but one I feel I can take on.
He is a good man, of that I am certain, and he knows his own mind, the importance of which has lately been impressed on me. ”
Elizabeth nodded. “Do you no longer wish for Mr. Bingley, then?”
Jane looked down, then looked at her sister with her eyes full of tears she refused to let fall.
“I am trying, Lizzy, trying so hard to forget him! His sisters are not kind like Mr. Walker’s, he does not know his own mind, he is blown about by whims and fancies and the wishes of his friends.
He is not a man full grown!” she declared vehemently, her eyes clearly showing her distress.
“So you still love him,” Elizabeth said quietly, the finality of the words filling the small room.
“I fear it is not something I can control. Would it be wrong of me to accept Mr. Walker, in every way,” she looked at her sister significantly, “with my heart full of another man? Is it betrayal? Or is it prudence?”
Elizabeth shook her head, unable to answer her sister. Instead she knelt before her, hugging her tightly and stroking her hair as Jane quietly sobbed out her sorrows on her sister’s shoulder.
They slept together that night, Jane’s head on her sister’s soft stomach, as they had done when they were children, and Elizabeth’s hand wrapped in Jane’s hair, each giving strength and comfort to the other.
In the middle of the night, Jane woke and found her sister by the window, looking out towards the sea.
“Are you well, Lizzy?”
“Yes, Jane, I’ll be fine.”
Jane watched her sister, then finally curled her legs under her chin and hugged her knees, looking very much like a little girl.
“Do you think you will grow to love Mr. Darcy, Lizzy?”
“I do not know. Sometimes I think I am doomed to a life with a stubborn, intractable, difficult man. Then he is sweet and kind and surprisingly charming and I think everything will be all right in the end.” She shrugged her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel terrible for bothering you with my troubles. You have your own more difficult situation to deal with and I selfishly burdened you with mine. Can you forgive me?”
“Dearest Jane,” Elizabeth said, rising and taking her sister’s hands in her own, “there is nothing to forgive. We must go through these things together. Is that not what sisters are for?”
Jane smiled and hugged her, then Elizabeth returned to her own room for the rest of the night where she slept fitfully until late the next morning.
The following day was Sunday and instead of attending services, the entire family slept very late and when Mr. Darcy arrived, Mary Bennet was the only family member who received him.
He made stunted small talk with Elizabeth’s sister while waiting for his betrothed to come downstairs.
Thankfully, she arrived within a quarter hour and whisked him into the garden where she ordered tea.
As she poured for him and offered him a small tray of muffins, he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was, that he had many more days just like this to look forward to.
Even luckier; in less than a fortnight, they would be wed and he would not have to go home alone or even wake up alone.
It was not something they had discussed, but he hoped she would consent to share a bed, at least some of the time.
He thought he might like to sleep together every night, but he was practical enough to realize such a thing should probably be tried before it was decided upon.
He didn’t realize he had been looking in her direction without really seeing her for several minutes until she broke his reverie.
“What has your brow so puzzled, my dear?”
Immediately he brightened. She had never called him that before and seemed quite unaware of having said it herself.
“I was wondering if you snore,” he said.
She laughed and quickly set down her teacup. “What?”
He smiled. “It would seem odd for such a delicate person as you, but one never knows about these things.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered you think I’m delicate or insulted by your thinking I snore!”
“Why would you be flattered? Are you not often thought of as delicate? I should think it would be quite ordinary by now.”
“You might be surprised.” She arched a brow and gave him that look he loved. “My mother is not as inclined to think of me as such. She says I am far too wild to be considered delicate.”
He scoffed. “As if she—,” he stopped, seeing her brow raised and her eyes a mix of censure and amusement. “I, ahem, I’m sure she’s mistaken. You are all that is lovely and delicate.”
At this, Elizabeth had to laugh. It was a soft, chiming sound, like the wind in the trees in autumn or the church bells at Christmas. Overcome with a sudden rush of affection for her, he blurted, “God, how I love you.”
Her retort about him recovering from his faux pas so nicely died on her lips along with her laughter, and she was left looking into his eyes as he regarded her with an intensity she’d seldom seen.
She reached across the table and took his hand in both of hers, pressing it firmly and stroking his knuckles with her thumb.
The marmalade cat that made himself at home in their garden took that opportunity to mew loudly at their feet, breaking the moment. She laughed self-consciously and released his hand, busying herself with refilling his cup and then her own.
“When are you returning to London? Shall you accompany us on Wednesday?”
“I’m afraid I must return tomorrow.” He was comforted by the slight look of displeasure on her face.
“I have much business to tend to before we leave town, and I want to devote the days immediately following the wedding to my new wife.” He couldn’t help it; he verily beamed with pride at the pronouncement that this exquisite creature sitting opposite him would soon be his wife.
She returned his smile. “What a dutiful and attentive husband I am acquiring.”
He smiled at her tease and took her hand again.
“That is something I wished to talk with you about,” she said.
“Oh? About me being a dutiful husband?”
She smiled again and tilted her head flirtatiously. “You are getting better at teasing, Mr. Darcy. I approve.”