Page 20 of The Countess and Her Sister

Elizabeth could imagine. Her heart twisted at the recollection of what Jane had gone through on the night she became engaged.

She would not wish such an ordeal on anybody, even a young lady she did not especially like.

Elizabeth did not wait for the captain’s apology, which would mean little coming from such a man.

She extended her hand, and when Miss Thorpe tentatively stepped closer, she linked their arms together and led them back to the party.

As soon as they were in the ballroom, Miss Thorpe began to withdraw her arm, but Elizabeth held fast as she steered her companion toward the back of the room. As they strode past Mrs. Rushworth and Mrs. Ferrars, Elizabeth gave a trill of feigned laughter as she addressed her companion.

“I hope Mr. Bingley will not mind that you and I have had a look at all the lovely artwork in his home! But here are some very lovely paintings!”

Realization dawned on Miss Thorpe, and her eyes went wide; she let out a long sigh as she pretended to admire an unremarkable landscape.

“Oh, I like this better than the ones we saw in the gallery.” She dropped her voice and added, “Thank you, that was cleverly done, Miss Bennet. If I can ever repay your kindness, I would do so most happily.”

Elizabeth returned Miss Thorpe’s rueful smile.

“I appreciate you saying so, but I hope you would do yourself the favor – consider that marriage to a man who was caught in such a way could not be pleasant for a lady who was not wooed properly. I wish you well in Bath; may you find a man who will bestow his affections openly and honorably. In truth, I ought to thank you for illuminating the character of a man who has been paying my sister his addresses.”

“I suppose I would not wish to see my own sisters so ill-used,” Miss Thorpe admitted.

“Then you have grown in good sense already.” Elizabeth divested a passing footman of two glasses of champagne from his tray, and handed one to Miss Thorpe as she raised the other. “To lucky escapes.”

Mr. Darcy returned to the ballroom and approached Mr. Thorpe.

Despite the severity of Mr. Darcy’s countenance as he spoke privately to the fellow, Mr. Thorpe responded with a hearty laugh and clapped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder as if it were a fine joke.

Half their party were still dancing, and Mr. Darcy met Elizabeth’s eye.

Miss Thorpe excused herself with a worried glance in her brother’s direction, and Elizabeth finished her champagne before surrendering to the magnetic pull of Mr. Darcy.

They met in the middle of the room, and he offered her his hand. “We have not finished our dance, Miss Bennet. Shall we?”

Elizabeth nodded eagerly. “You have regained your equanimity rather quickly, sir,” she said as he spun her into position for the next set of figures.

“I am following your example – you look very well pleased with yourself.”

“I am,” she chortled. “I have just given Miss Thorpe some advice, which I do believe she shall give due consideration.”

“Then you have succeeded where I failed, and I must commend your powers of persuasion – as well as the grace you showed in the face of something so shocking.”

Elizabeth felt the merriment sink from her face. “It reminded me of….”

“I understand. I am disappointed that my warning to that young man was so hastily dismissed; a brother ought to do better, ought to protect a sister from such libertines. I hope you do not disagree with my vow to keep silent on the matter.”

“It is very sad that her own brother should care so little, but she is fortunate that you understand what perils might befall a young lady. I suppose you must have seen them leave the room.”

He nodded. “We both know the merciless consequences for a young woman who trusts too easily and loves too freely.” When a question formed on Elizabeth’s lips, Mr. Darcy shook his head.

“A story for another time, but I promise you shall hear it. In the meanwhile, we have agreed to enjoy our dance – I hope you find me a tolerable partner.”

Elizabeth laughed a great deal as she finished her dance with Mr. Darcy.

She and all her companions were a little half-sprung, and they chatted gaily together all the way home.

In such a state of merriment, it was natural that the three sisters should sit together in their bedclothes, piled indecorously on Jane’s bed as they discussed their evening.

Elizabeth hugged her knees to her chest and leaned against Jane, grinning devilishly. “What did you think of Mr. Bingley’s friends?”

“They were… eager to please, though they did not do as fine a job of it as Mr. Bingley.”

Rebecca giggled as she burrowed comfortably against the plush pillows. “Perhaps he is more devious than I had imagined, for you must admit it was clever of him to surround himself with such inferior companions – and therefore appear the finest of fellows.”

Jane frowned. “I had hoped to find that his friends were all rather like Mr. Darcy. Well, perhaps with more of Mr. Bingley’s affability, but with sense as well.”

“Poor Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth cried. “I believe he is simply too congenial a man, and would extend friendship to anybody who desired it.”

“I have lost that part of myself,” Jane sighed. “But it does sound very lovely to think everybody worthy, whatever their faults.”

“Oh! As to having faults, I must warn you about Captain Tilney.” Elizabeth set about recounting what had transpired that evening, and how masterfully Mr. Darcy had managed it.

Rebecca snorted. “Darcy is lucky the little tart did not turn the tables on him .”

“She is very fortunate, as well.” Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “You did for her what you could not do for me. It was brave and generous of you, and I am grateful to Mr. Darcy, too. I had not imagined any man could be so compassionate toward that sort of plight.”

“He is an excellent man,” Elizabeth agreed, conjuring in her mind’s eye the sight of him beckoning her to dance with him.

Rebecca screwed up her face. “Miss Thorpe got better than she deserved, in my opinion – there was such an artful gleam in her eyes all evening. But I am pleased that the gossiping Mammas found no fresh fodder. Horrid creatures, I thought them. I would pity many of the gentlemen such ghastly mothers, if I possessed the capacity to sympathize for the less fair sex.”

“It is an interesting coincidence that Henry Tilney has no mother,” Elizabeth said, giving Rebecca a gentle kick on the rear. “You shall be quite safe in that respect.”

“Because we know you fancy him,” Jane sang out with a laugh.

“He is the only man you do not dance with as a means of inflicting torture,” Elizabeth said archly. “You wish to please him, I think, and it nettles you that he wishes to please everyone.”

“What woman of sense and judgement would not prefer a man who likes her better than everyone? If he had Northanger Abbey, I should take him, I suppose – if his father and brother would most obligingly leap, hand in hand, all the way off a cliff, tumble into the sea, and be viciously devoured by unfathomable beasts.”

The three sisters gave into hysterical hilarity, the laughter of each prolonging the mirth of the others.

When she had recovered her speech, Rebecca fanned herself and sputtered, “I believe I am quite foxed! It was a necessary indulgence, to bear some of the company. Ladies were scarce and Mamma demanded that I dance. But I must say, it is shocking that after two years of no balls or parties, a few glasses of wine and champagne have made a shambles of me!”

“It is shocking that after two years of no balls or parties, you can lament such diverting society!”

“Do not mistake me – what I meant is that I believe I consumed perhaps a little more than what might have adequately fortified me to enjoy the absurdity.”

Elizabeth burst into raucous laughter. “Forgive me, I was imagining you haunting the halls of Northanger Abbey – Miss Tilney showed me some of her sketches of the house, and it is like the scene of a gothic novel.”

“I would be a great credit to the place, I am sure,” Rebecca said primly. “Alas, I am not at all fit for marriage.”

“Certainly not,” Elizabeth cried. “Think of what sort of children you might someday unleash upon good society!”

Jane let out a dreamy hum. “I want more children,” she mused.

Rebecca sat up with a mischievous look at Jane.

“What sort of children? Thomas is such a timid boy, though he is very sweet with us . Should you like a child that is disciplined and reticent, all duty and honor and drivel? Or perhaps you might like lively children with open manners who wish as much to please others as divert themselves?”

Jane sat up, her head looking a little dizzy.

“I see what you mean, Rebecca. I would hope that my children will possess all of these fine qualities and many more. What I should wish for them in a father is what I did not have. A sense of priority and responsibility – protection. Sound judgement. Discipline. Respect. Gentleness.”

Tears welled in Jane’s eyes and her lips trembled as she recited a long list of all the ways she had been failed four years ago.

“I know little of Mr. Darcy, but I am certain he is such a man, if I could only manage to feel more for him than gratitude and awe. Mr. Bingley is kind and obliging, but I have often seen his sister speak to him in a manner that warrants reprimand or reproach, which I do not think him capable of. Surely he might check her manners, surely he might take care with what sort of friends he welcomes into his home. I fear he is not a man of action. What Mr. Darcy did tonight – I cannot imagine it of Mr. Bingley, and it pains me.”

“Every man has some particular deficiency, I am sure of it,” Rebecca said, wrapping an arm around Jane’s shoulders. “I believe that only women are wise enough to correct such deficiencies – and only then if the gentlemen are fond enough of their wives to submit to reform.”

“You would have Jane rework a man like an ugly bonnet?” Elizabeth laughed as she dabbed at Jane’s tears with the hem of her night gown.

“Such talk will persuade me to take your view, Rebecca, and never marry. I have no wish to alter a man who is not to my liking. It sounds very much like rearing a child, so I must hope to find a man whose mother did a proper job.”

Rebecca raised her brows dramatically. “In England?”

“I should like to know what it is to be a proper helpmeet,” Jane mused.

“I believe that in a good marriage such as the Gardiners’ there is enough affection that one might have inducement to improve oneself.

I am not perfect, either. Could a man such as Mr. Darcy grow livelier when wed to someone as reserved as I am?

Could a man such as Mr. Bingley learn to manage vast holdings and set an admirable example for Thomas, when I myself have little to do with my son’s estates? ”

“I believe you might make the most of either situation,” Rebecca said.

She cast a lingering glance at Elizabeth before looking back at Jane.

“But I posit that one of the two scenarios would make you happier, and you have already begun to understand which. Tell me, did you shed these tears because Mr. Bingley is not bold and imposing, or because Darcy is not disgustingly agreeable?”

Jane sniffled and furrowed brow in contemplation. At last, she answered, “Mr. Bingley.”

Elizabeth swayed a little as a dizzying wave of relief washed over her.

She told herself she would have known this to be the right choice for her sister even if Mr. Darcy was not the other option.

She could want Jane’s happiness even when her every thought was irrepressibly shaded by her own admiration of Mr. Darcy.

Rebecca grinned. “I knew it! Oh, you sigh and fret and fidget when you find little to talk of with my dull cousin Darcy, but you are far more impassioned when you speak to Mr. Bingley. He has some advantage, of course – his flaw is not such an obstacle to your enjoyment of his company!”

Jane laughed. “I suppose you are right. And Mr. Bingley might more easily improve his discernment in matters of estate than Mr. Darcy could alter his character. But if he does not, I cannot allow myself to be wounded.”

Elizabeth let out a little huff of exasperation. “Mr. Darcy is perfectly amiable; why must everyone say he is not?” She flinched. She had not meant to speak the words aloud.

Rebecca seized Elizabeth’s hand. “Lizzy, when shall it be your turn to receive my romantic wisdom, which I would never dream of heeding myself?”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, indulging in the hope that she might indeed have something to speculate about, if only Jane would allow herself to make the right choice.

And then a chilling thought occurred to her – if Jane was too hasty in choosing Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy might seldom visit Matlock House.

He was friends with Mr. Bingley, and a relation of her family, Elizabeth reminded herself.

She could not bear the thought of losing the gentleman who had called her his lovely friend.