Page 11 of The Happiness of a Most Beloved Sister (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER TEN

E lizabeth allowed Mr Darcy to lead her from the dining room once the meal had concluded, and she clung tightly to his arm as they re-entered the ballroom.

Even though he must be thinking the worst of her and her family after that execrable display, somehow his strong presence soothed her jangled nerves.

There was something stalwart about the gentleman, like a rocky protrusion jutting out of a turbulent sea.

It was almost as if, in clinging to him, she could somehow be saved from her turmoil, though the notion was absurd.

Still, she would imbibe of his quiet strength until he relinquished her to her mother.

To her surprise, Mr Darcy did not guide her towards where Mrs Bennet was seated, but rather away.

A moment later, she blushed to realise that he likely wished to avoid the matron in favour of depositing her elsewhere, but instead they continued to perambulate around the room, arm in arm, without any clear destination .

After a short period of heavy silence, Mr Darcy again awkwardly introduced the subject of books, to which Elizabeth responded with an equally awkward titter. “Did you forget so soon? Books are not a proper subject for the ballroom, sir.”

“Ah, but a ballroom without dancing is the same as any other room in the house. I see no conflict.”

Her next laugh was less strained and more genuine. “Very well, I shall make an exception on this very limited basis. What think you of Chaucer?”

They spoke at some length on The Canterbury Tales , then compared the genius of Chaucer to Shakespeare and found they were surprisingly alike in their tastes.

When they did disagree, they compared their opinions with playful fanfare.

Elizabeth was grateful for this jocular reprieve, which gradually restored her to her previous equanimity.

Until the dancing recommenced. The warning notes for the beginning of the next set sounded, and they drew to an abrupt halt.

A knot of anxiety tightened in Elizabeth’s stomach at the prospect of her impending dance and the uncomfortable conversation that must take place.

Perhaps Mr Bingley would also prefer to discuss the merits of literary giants.

Lost in thought, she started when Mr Darcy addressed her. “If you are not engaged for the next, I would be happy to stand up with you again.”

Elizabeth, shocked that Mr Darcy would wish to continue their association after her family’s horrid display at dinner, and in such a way as to imply particular interest in her, did not quite know how to answer at first. At length, she replied, “I am sorry, but my next is promised to Mr Bingley.”

Was that disappointment curdling his expression? Or relief? Perhaps he had only meant to cheer her after witnessing her previous suffering. If so, he was inordinately kind.

“I see. Then our parting is imminent because he is coming this way now.”

Mr Darcy nodded to his right, where Mr Bingley was, indeed, approaching with a broad smile. When he reached them, he held out his hand. “Miss Elizabeth, I believe this is our set.”

“It is.” She turned back to Mr Darcy. “I thank you, sir, for your company. I quite enjoyed our conversation.” To her surprise, she meant it sincerely. Who would have believed, only a handful of hours ago, that this stoic gentleman would have been the greatest pleasure to be had at the ball?

Mr Darcy lifted her free hand and bowed over it, making her cheeks tingle with a blush. “It was my pleasure, Miss Elizabeth.”

The music began to play, and Mr Bingley cajoled her to join the line. She readily followed him thither, though not without sparing a final look for Mr Darcy over her shoulder. He remained where she had left him, ever watchful. Somehow, she missed his presence already.

Reminding herself of her purpose, Elizabeth shook off any regrets she might feel and concentrated her efforts on the dance.

It was a reel, which did not allow for much discourse between partners, but at least she had time to rally her thoughts.

Mr Bingley was light of foot, albeit a mite too eager, but they danced well enough with nary a stumble.

It was not so easy to predict his movements as she had with Mr Darcy—or had he predicted hers?

She could not say for certain—but her toes remained untrodden.

He might have done better had he not been frequently staring down the line, where Jane frolicked with John Lucas.

The second dance of the set was slower in tempo, enabling Elizabeth to at last broach the subject of her deepest concerns. With a steadying inhalation, she did so in as delicate a manner as possible. “I must beg a favour of you, sir, though I know I am unforgivably forward in asking.”

“Eh?” Mr Bingley turned his attention to her after first severing it from her sister. “I beg your pardon. I was not attending. A favour, you say?”

“Yes, though it is a rather…awkward request. Will you hear it?”

“Anything for the beloved sister of Miss Bennet.”

“That is well, for my communication involves Jane.” She steeled herself for what she must say next, for exposing her dear sister’s confidences was no easy matter. “Did you know that she suffered a disappointment once? My mother mentioned it when she came to visit Jane at Netherfield.”

Mr Bingley’s head tilted to one side, his forehead folded and eyes distant as he apparently searched his memory for her allusion. “Yes, I think I recall something of that nature. The poet?”

“Yes, him.” Elizabeth sneered at the off-handed mention of Mr Wilbur. The pig. “What my mother did not say was how disgracefully he treated poor Jane.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” he replied, and he truly looked it. His troubled gaze darted up the line towards Jane again, where she glided effortlessly, presently unencumbered by past disappointments. “What sort of scoundrel could harm such an angel?”

“The worst sort. Mr Wilbur led her to believe for several weeks that a proposal was imminent, only to marry someone else out of seemingly nowhere.”

Mr Bingley returned his attention to Elizabeth, aghast. “He did not!”

“I assure you he did. We only learnt of his betrayal after reading the wedding announcement in the newspaper.”

“The villain!”

Elizabeth nodded, finding it impossible to disagree with Mr Bingley’s vehement sentiments. “A scoundrel and more. I shall always regard him as the most despicable man of my acquaintance.”

“Poor Miss Bennet.” His eyes again returned to Jane, his countenance melancholy on her behalf.

“It was quite a shock for her. Jane, being only fifteen at the time, took his defection hard. She became weak and feverish within days. We were afraid—” Her voice caught, and she was forced to cough before continuing, “We nearly lost her to the heartbreak. She still suffers to this day.”

“She still cares for him, then?”

“No! Oh, goodness, nothing like that, I assure you,” Elizabeth was quick to contradict. “Once his true nature became clear, Jane realised that she never really knew him at all, and her attachment to him dissolved.”

The relief on Mr Bingley’s face was obvious. His entire form practically slackened with it. “That is good. I should hate for her to harbour affection for someone unworthy of it, or to be disinclined towards…well, someone more deserving.”

“There is no fear of that, sir. Jane is ready to love again, although…”

“Although?”

“Should she give her heart away once more, she would need to be assured that the gentleman’s intentions are good, else she might experience another setback. I am not exaggerating when I suggest that another defection would be detrimental to her.”

With his gaze steadily affixed to Jane, Mr Bingley grew quiet and thoughtful. At length, he asked, “Is she quite recovered?”

“As recovered as anyone can be after such an ordeal. Jane has been…delicate since then, as is only natural. I am sure you understand.”

“Indeed, I do.”

“My request is this— please treat my sister’s fragile heart gently. I could not bear it if she were to suffer another disappointment and…” Her throat closed in the middle of her petition, and she could say no more.

Mr Bingley at last turned back to his own partner and granted Elizabeth a smile, though it was somewhat weakened by the worry shining in his eyes. “I should be the last one to cause harm to Miss Bennet, I assure you.”

Elizabeth sighed in her relief. “That is good to hear. Forgive me for speaking to you of such an improper and personal matter, it is only that Jane is so very dear to me, and I would not like to see her ill-used again.” Behindhand in recognising the implied insult to Mr Bingley’s honour, she swiftly amended, “Not that I think you capable of such unfeeling behaviour, only it is my duty to ensure Jane’s happiness. ”

“Worry not, Miss Elizabeth, I understand completely. You have given no offence.”

The dance concluded soon after, and they parted mutely. She was glad to see Mr Bingley make immediately for Jane and take her hand up in his, leading her away to sit in the nearest chair. He settled next to her, more solicitous than ever, and Elizabeth’s lips spread in a hopeful smile.

A flicker of movement just beyond the happy couple drew her attention.

Mr Darcy lurked behind a pillar, observing them as steadily as Elizabeth herself had done.

Seeming to sense that someone was watching him, he looked up, and their gazes connected from across the room.

Feeling unaccountably bashful, she withdrew and moved to find Charlotte.