Page 31 of The Countess and Her Sister
Elizabeth, Jane, and Lady Augusta broke their fast in silence together the next morning, each of them dosing their tea with headache powders.
When Rebecca joined them, she took a glass of wine instead of tea, cracked an egg into it, and drank it down swiftly, the disgust evident in her face.
She laughed as she made herself a heaping plate at the sideboard.
“My goodness, we were entirely debauched last night! Richard did not come home at all, I am sure.”
“He stayed with Darcy, I think,” Lady Augusta replied, rubbing at her temples. “Perhaps it is for the best that we say no more about the festivities. We enjoyed ourselves, and that is all.”
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, attempting to smile.
They certainly had enjoyed themselves, and though their physical discomfort would soon pass, she was not so sure if she would ever recover from the mortification of her forward behavior with Mr. Darcy.
She wondered if Jane felt the same after kissing Mr. Bingley – or perhaps Jane was fortunate enough to forget her own antics.
Elizabeth remembered every moment, even if some were a little fuzzy.
After their breakfast, Elizabeth followed Jane into the music room, determined to know if they were at least fully past the unbearable tension of the previous evening. In this, at least, Elizabeth was blessed with total relief.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane cried, drawing her sister into a tight embrace.
“I am sorry for how I acted toward you. I am a vain creature, indeed, to have been so distressed by Mr. Darcy preferring you over me. There is no logical reason for me to desire the admiration of a man whom I can scarcely maintain a conversation with. I believe I thought only of pleasing Mamma, and of feeling myself capable of earning the regard of such a worthy gentleman.”
“Perhaps a hope to prove Mrs. Bennet wrong,” Elizabeth suggested, stroking Jane’s hair with a look of compassion.
Jane let out a heavy sigh. “ She would have made much out of my failure.”
“Which is a strong argument against doing so yourself,” Elizabeth teased. She sank down onto a comfortable chaise as Jane perched on the window set. “Perhaps my own advice to you was quite wrong.”
“What do you mean, Lizzy? You have never led me awry.”
“I advised you to enjoy the luxury of choice, but perhaps you have overextended yourself, as only the truly rapacious can manage – Miss Bingley, for example, is desperate enough to recommend herself to every gentleman of fortune she encounters. You are a woman of greater substance, and have more to offer one man – the right one – if only you do not divide your energies.”
Jane’s cheeks turned pink. “You mean Mr. Bingley? I do not think Mr. Darcy was really put off by my interest in his friend; we simply did not suit, and I bear you no ill will for that. Truly, it was very wrong of me to sulk as I did yesterday.”
“I forgive you, of course, Jane. I hate to see you dwell on what went amiss with Mr. Darcy when Mr. Bingley is quite in love with you!”
Now Jane’s entire face was red, and she averted her gaze, pretending to be interested in looking out the window. Elizabeth waited, hoping Jane would confess to what had taken place on the balcony the previous evening.
When Jane said nothing, Elizabeth pressed her. “Is there any merit in my reasoning? Might it be easier for you to progress with Mr. Bingley now that you have abandoned the pretense of considering Mr. Darcy?”
“It was no pretense – I was quite serious in my consideration!”
“You are deflecting, Jane!” Elizabeth shook her head and grinned. “Will you not admit to any partiality? When we saw him set down Lady Catherine and his sister in nearly the same breath, even I wished to kiss him!”
“It did reveal a side of him I had not seen before,” Jane admitted. “And I believe two of his previous paramours were at the ball last night – I did not see him speak a word to either of them, which was reassuring. Yet I am not past a fear of finding myself amongst their number.”
Elizabeth had wished to know Jane’s mind, but she was truly astonished that her sister could remain so uncertain.
She still felt a sense of obligation to Jane, as if she must wait for her own happiness to reach the conclusion she desired, that she must see Jane so happy before she could ever enjoy a romance of her own.
“And what must it take for a gentleman who is liked and respected wherever he goes to prove his worthiness to you? Say that I am Mr. Bingley, and I come and take your hand like so, and I beg the favor of a kiss – what might tempt you to accept me?”
Elizabeth had sashayed across the room to capture Jane’s hand in a fair impression of Mr. Bingley, and Jane’s eyes widened in alarm. “You know something!”
“I might.”
“But how?”
Elizabeth grinned. “If only you would confide in me as willingly as I might tell you something very shocking.”
Jane crossed her arms in front of her chest, a playful smile spreading across her face. “You first.”
“I must begin by reminding you that I was out of my senses with drink,” Elizabeth said, wishing to make light of what had not yet ceased to mortify her.
“So much so that I found Mr. Darcy to be quite handsome enough to tempt me. We were alone together on the balcony when I happened to glance round the corner and see a sight that inspired my own subsequent actions.”
Jane gasped as realization alighted on her. “Oh! You saw us – and then you….”
“Made a cake of myself,” Elizabeth said with a rueful laugh. “In truth, I hardly know how I shall ever face Mr. Darcy again after my wantonness.”
“I feel quite the same way, Lizzy. I fear that I may have given Mr. Bingley the idea that I have reached a decision which yet evades me.”
Gently, Elizabeth asked, “Then why did you kiss him? I shall confess my own reasons, beyond Lady Thurston’s strong punch.
I like Mr. Darcy better than any other man I have ever met, and I feel confident in the return of his regard.
I believe Rebecca might even say that it is supremely unfair that any man who is rich and intelligent, and of good character, could also appear so very dashing at a costumed masquerade.
So, you see, my self-restraint was entirely disadvantaged. ”
Jane chortled. “Sometimes I think it must be you who has influenced her so wickedly!”
“And yet last night on the balcony, I was following your model of agreeable courtship! But I have told you my own sentiments – will you not admit to feeling the same for Mr. Bingley?”
Jane crossed the room and threw herself down on the chaise beside Elizabeth; the two sisters made themselves comfortable in such a familiar tangle. She idly fidgeted with one of Elizabeth’s loose curls, gazing into the distance as if lost in her own recollection.
“I did feel much of what you described. I think Mr. Bingley very handsome, and I have a high opinion of him despite – nay, because of Lady Catherine’s mischief.
I never feel myself to be wanting, in his company.
I never think myself insipid or dull, and certainly never find him to be so.
He likes to speak and has a great deal to say on subjects I would not have thought to pursue; I am content to listen, and he requires little more than my genuine interest in hearing him.
In that regard, I believe I can understand how you and Mr. Darcy get on. ”
Elizabeth rested her head against Jane’s as they snuggled together like they had done since they were children.
“Mr. Darcy says he is reserved, but I have never found him to be so. Perhaps I might flatter myself that my own open disposition encourages him to speak more than he is accustomed to. Could it not be the same for you, Jane?”
Jane let out a thoughtful sigh. “I can have little to say that Mr. Bingley might wish to hear. My thoughts are all for the mundane minutiae of my life, planning meals or thinking of games to play with Thomas, reflecting on my own recent activities, which have been domestic and dull until recently.”
“These are all things that any woman might discuss with the man she shares her life with.” Elizabeth reached for Jane’s hand and squeezed it.
“Robert might not have cared for such talk, horrid as he was, but even Papa occasionally endured his wife’s monologues on muslin and tea service.
Besides, Mr. Bingley was even enthusiastic about your embroidery patterns, Jane – indeed, he may be the only man in England to perform such a feat convincingly. ”
Jane giggled. “He likes everything.”
“Then there can be no need to fear speaking to him of urbanities. Ask him what dishes he likes, or what his favorite game was as a boy, or how he might occupy himself on a day with no obligations.”
“Is this what you and Mr. Darcy speak of?”
“Oh, no, we are a wicked pair, and speak chiefly of what is passing – we have no shortage of amusing companions to hold our interest. But I ought to take my own advice; once I have recovered from the tremendous shame of my behavior on the balcony, I am sure I shall demand to know everything about him, and be equally known myself, before I consider anything progressing between us. It has only been a month – that is what you fear with Mr. Bingley, is it not?”
“I fear approving of him too hastily, yes, but also that time might lessen his regard – that in coming to know me better, Mr. Bingley may like me less.”
“Jane, that is indefensibly stupid.” Rebecca came to stand behind the chaise her sisters lounged in, and she leaned forward, tumbling onto them with greater acrobatics than Elizabeth might have expected after the previous night’s departure from sobriety.
All three of the women careened onto the floor, laughing.
Elizabeth sat up, curling her legs to one side as she leaned against the chaise and waited for her sisters to right themselves.