Page 15 of The Happiness of a Most Beloved Sister (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“ I am most looking forward to visiting the parks, I think. There are so many paths to explore and sights to see. Or perhaps the theatre—it has been so long since we last saw a play that was not put on by the Lucases.” Elizabeth chuckled at her own sly jest as she sorted through her gowns, adding her better ones to the open trunk situated at the end of her bed.

Jane ground her teeth together at the sound.

How tired I am of her forced cheer! Her sister had been relentless in her attempts to lift Jane from her doldrums ever since Mr Bingley left for town, and she was heartily sick of it.

There was nothing worse, in her opinion, than a person so wholly determined to be jolly when you wished to be the opposite.

She would be highly gratified if Elizabeth would keep her irrepressible good humour to herself.

With effort, Jane swallowed back her irritation, reminding herself that she was mere days away from a fresh chance to capture Mr Bingley.

She wished she had thought of travelling to town with the Gardiners before, instead of wasting so much precious time at Longbourn, but then her relations were not likely to have accepted her into their household so soon before Christmas.

No matter, she would be in London before the New Year and, hopefully, back to enticing Mr Bingley to propose by Twelfth Night.

Mrs Gardiner had pointedly cautioned her that they did not run in the same circles as the Bingleys, but Jane had confidence in her ability to lure him to Gracechurch Street once he knew of her presence there.

It would require paying a social call to those horrid sisters of his—who no doubt were the architects of the plot to keep her and their brother apart—but they would never suspect her, a ‘dear, sweet country girl’, of ulterior motives.

Even if they did, she was confident that a single coy glance in Mr Bingley’s direction would erase any objections raised against her.

Her mother always said that men valued a pretty face above all—‘Accomplishments are for ugly girls’, she was fond of reminding her daughters—and Jane was perfectly aware that hers was more than merely ‘pretty’.

With her abundant charms, as well as a touch more forwardness in her manner, he would find her more irresistible than ever. In short, she would have him yet.

“What are you most anticipating?”

Jane responded to her sister without turning away from her task, continuing to pick through her jewellery box for suitable items. When I am married, I shall insist Mr Bingley purchase me real gemstones. These paste ones are shameful. “I should like to call on my friends.”

Elizabeth went silent at last, but only for a handful of blissful moments. “Do you mean Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst? ”

“Of course. It would be lovely to be in their company again.”

“Are you certain that is wise?”

Pivoting her head to cast a glare at Elizabeth over her shoulder, Jane snapped, “Just because they never warmed to you does not mean that they necessarily despise me .”

Elizabeth drew back as if struck. “Forgive me, it is just…I am not convinced they are true friends. I know they did not approve of your attachment to their brother, for instance.”

It was no less than Jane herself had discerned, but it irked her to hear it from her younger sister, who said it with an air of chagrined patience. “And what makes you think that?”

“I overheard them once whilst we stayed at Netherfield.”

“And you never thought to mention this?”

“I…I did not wish to pain you. You always think so well of everybody and never like to hear ill of them.”

It was less that Jane thought well of everyone that she met and more that she could not be bothered to concern herself with their foibles.

She had lived her entire life as a diamond in the rough, a rare jewel surrounded by paste reproductions, and had been forced to look away from all the ugly imperfections of those around her.

Her mother, for instance, while still beautiful well into her middle years, was a silly bit of fluff who rightly deserved her husband’s mockery.

Her youngest sisters were just like her, only without exceptional beauty to make them tolerable company.

Mary was hardly worth mentioning, plain and bookish as she was.

Her father, while intelligent, was lazy and unremarkable; if they were, indeed, cast into the hedgerows, it would only be because he did not take the trouble to secure an alternate future for them.

Even Elizabeth, the least objectionable of her immediate family, could only be prized for her utility—she never said ‘no’ and was easily bent to whatever ends Jane required of her.

For all her vaunted cleverness and relative handsomeness, she was destined to always be less than her elder sister and would likely die a spinster.

Mr Darcy galloped to London as speedily as his friend did.

I knew he would not lower himself to offer for a penniless country girl.

If she were fortunate, Jane might engage Elizabeth as a governess to her children one day, for heaven knew she had no patience for seeing to their education herself.

As for Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, Jane cared not a single whit for either of them aside from how much they interfered in her pursuit.

They thought themselves so fashionable and above their company, but they were naught but the daughters of tradesmen.

For all Mr Bennet’s faults, he at least retained the title of gentleman, and Jane had inherited his respectability.

He might not have overflowing coffers, but that was what Mr Bingley was for.

Jane turned back to her dressing table so that Elizabeth would not see her roll her eyes. “I am sure you misunderstood, or perhaps they were merely concerned for their brother’s felicity. After all, they must wish for him to be happy in his marriage.”

“If that were the case, surely they would have championed you.”

Those jealous cows did not want me about to remind them of their own haggard appearances.

All the lace in Brussels will not distract from Mrs Hurst’s bulbous nose or Miss Bingley’s horse teeth.

“It is only natural for them to be hesitant in befriending their brother’s new inamorata , especially when she is previously unknown to them.

That is doubtless why they expect him to court Miss Darcy”— who is no doubt a supercilious twit just like her brother —“whom they have been acquainted with for many years.”

“Even so?—”

Irritated beyond endurance, Jane cut off whatever snivelling objection Elizabeth meant to make next. “I understand that you are concerned for me, but I am determined to be reunited with Mr Bingley. If his sisters attempt to prevent me, I shall persist. I hope you do not mean to get in my way also.”

Elizabeth was quiet for so long this time that Jane believed the matter settled. Just as she was returning to the perusal of her jewellery, her sister made a tentative confession. “I…I may already have.”

Slowly, Jane swivelled bodily round on her stool to face Elizabeth. Her sister was chewing on her thumb again—a disgusting habit—which told her that something was afoot. In an even tone, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I may have—well I did, actually—accidentally led Mr Bingley to believe that you are sickly.”

Jane stiffened as if suddenly formed from ice. She stared hard at her sister, who blinked rapidly, seemingly staving off tears, and willed her to feel the cold rush of rage that was emanating from the depths of her being. “What?”

Elizabeth dissolved into blubbering as she described, in detail, what she had said to Mr Bingley at the Netherfield ball, mere hours before he bolted to town.

Apparently, she had, in a misguided effort to test his fidelity, insinuated that Jane was ‘delicate’ after Mr Wilbur’s previous defection.

This, coupled with Jane’s recent stay at Netherfield during which she had been confined to her sickbed, had presumably convinced him that she was too weak and enfeebled for marriage. His sudden departure now makes sense!

Much as she wished to rail at Elizabeth for her stupidity, Jane was practised in remaining calm in the face of turmoil.

Instead of shouting or calling for her salts as her mother would have done, she stood and walked to where Elizabeth stood quivering beside the armoire.

In a voice of deadly calm, she said, “You have ruined, perhaps forever, my chance at happiness. I shall never forgive you for it.”

With that, she turned sharply round and left the room. If she had not, she would likely have torn it—and Elizabeth—to shreds.