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5th December 1812, Thursday

Dearest Charlotte to be married!

And to none other than that buffoon of a cousin of hers!

Lizzy could not believe what she was hearing, but it must be true, for Charlotte was standing in front of her now, and was telling her of the happy news!

“But Charlotte! How could you endure it?” She asked her friend a little desperately, “He’s an odious, odious man!”

“Indeed, I do not expect you to understand it, Elizabeth.” Charlotte replied patiently, “For out of the two of us, you have always been more romantic. I, on the other hand, am perfectly satisfied with this union.”

Elizabeth frowned, “He will step on your foot everytime you dance.” At the time, with all her thoughts in such a muddle, it had seemed like an important thing to warn her friend about.

“Then it is a good thing that I do not much like dancing.” Charlotte replied, “The both of us shall strive to avoid it as often as acceptable.”

“He perpetually smells like old fish and wet hay.”

“That is true. As the future mistress of his house, I shall make certain he bathes more regularly. ”

“He will always love his patroness better than his wife!” Lizzy cried, getting desperate now for her friend to see the truth,

“And I shall always love his situation more than him.” Her friend answered bluntly.

Elizabeth’s mouth parted in shock.

She could not understand it.

She, who has always seen affection and esteem a necessity in any successful marriage, could not see how her dearest and longest friend could settle for so little.

“Charlotte…” Lizzy tried again, searched her mind for every one of her own reasons for refusing Mr Collins, “Charlotte, he is very ugly.” She said softly, blushing as she even said the words, for out of every argument yet, it was the shallowest.

“And I am the plainest old maid in all of Meryton. I suppose we are well matched.”

Lizzy looked at her mutinously, making Charlotte sigh.

She walked over closer to her friend, taking her hands in her own,

“It is a good match for me, Lizzy.” She told her friend softly, pressing her lips together in concern when Lizzy’s eyes began to brim with tears of frustration,

“You deserve better.” Elizabeth argued, her voice thick and eyes narrowed.

So sweet she was in her defence of Charlotte’s worth, she could not help place a kiss on Lizzy’s cheek,

“Perhaps.” Charlotte acquiesced quietly, “But, I turn thirty next year. And unlike your Mr Darcy, what I deserve might not ride on his horse over to our little village of Meryton with a friend who wants to lease an estate. ”

Lizzy furrowed her brows, ignoring for a moment the way her heart raced at just the mere mention of the gentleman, “So, you are settling?”

“Very much so.” Charlotte nodded, “there is no guarantee that I will get a better offer. And between me and Maria and little Martin, John cannot marry until somebody leaves home. I cannot forever be a burden on my family, Lizzy.”

John Lucas was, Elizabeth knew, was Sir Lucas’s eldest son, two years younger than Charlotte, and the heir to their family house.

But, Lucas Lodge was a smaller property than Longbourn and while the Bennets could afford to house and care for their five daughters with relative ease, the Lucases and their four children were a different story.

There would not be any space for a new bride until one of their daughters married and moved away, and the Lucases were not as well to do as to buy their son a property for his own family.

Lizzy pursed her lips- every argument in Charlotte’s arsenal was ineffable and logical.

And while on any other occasion, she might have proudly relished in her friend’s unfailing sensibleness, at the moment, she wished Charlotte would hold out hope for something better.

Some one better.

Charlotte seemed to understand Elizabeth’s struggle, her friend’s eyes, always so clear and bright were now a tempest of emotions.

She sighed, pressed her hands again,

“We are to marry four days hence, my dear Lizzy. Mr Collins has gone today to Kent to procure a common licence. He insists he cannot leave his parish unattended until the banns are read and that he cannot face his patroness Lady Cathrine deBourgh without a wife when she very clearly commanded him to marry.” Charlotte smiled at her a little sadly, “If I cannot ask for your attendance by my side at the altar until then, Lizzy, I would hope to have at least your blessing.”

─── ※ ·?· ※ ── ─

Charles Bingley was in love.

Happily, blissfully, contentedly in love.

He sighed as he flung himself onto the plush leather armchair in Darcy’s study dramatically.

The fireplace was lit, and he felt inordinately hot after the four glasses of wine he had had with dinner.

And yet, none of it compared to the warmth that was spreading through his stomach at the thought of those pretty blonde ringlets or those cornflower blue eyes.

“Lady Petunia is an angel .” he proclaimed loudly, gratefully taking the glass of port his friend offered him.

Darcy sighed, taking a seat from across the other man in front of the fireplace with a glass of his own.

“Were you not saying the very same thing about Miss Bennet just yesterday?” Darcy asked, a bit bemused,

“Two women can be angels at the same time, Darcy.” Bingley replied, as if talking to a toddler.

His tone made Darcy scowl, but it was fairly obvious his friend was in his cups.

“Yes, but which one of them is your angel?” He asked,

“Both of them.”

Darcy raised a brow, “Okay, so which one of the two are you in love with?”

Chalres frowned, thought about that question for a few long moments,

“Both of them.” he answered, nodding his head decisively as if he had solved a puzzle.

Darcy should not have been surprised.

After all, Bingley’s inconstancy was a well known characteristic all over White’s.

Not only in his affections, but also in the matters of business and political opinions, Bingley could be swayed in any direction at any moment.

It was one of the reasons why Darcy kept such a close eye on him, and also why Bingley trusted him to choose an estate for his future legacy.

Still, falling in and out of love was a little different than being in love with two people at once.

And knowing how blatant his friend had been with his affections in Hertfordshire, Darcy could not help but feel a little worried for the eldest Miss Bennet.

And truth be told, he was a little worried also, for himself.

If Bingley did not return to Hertfordshire after his business, Darcy could not see how he could go back to Meryton without having to stay at an inn just to attend the Goulding's party next week. And while he was not opposed to the idea, people would talk if they realised that he had returned without the rest of his party just to dance with Miss Elizabeth. Not only would that make Elizabeth uncomfortable, it would also set off gossip against her elder sister at Charles' absence.

“Say Darcy, what are you thinking about?” Bingley slurred, his head lolling a little where it rested against the arm chair’s tall headrest.

Darcy looked up at him, decided now was not the time to discuss matters of such import and got up to retire for the night,

“Come Bingley,” he said, helping Charles to his feet, “Barken will help you to your rooms. We have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Early morning?” Charles asked, his feet stumbling a little over the dark persian carpet that lay beneath the armchairs.

Barken, a young footman in his early twenties took over from his master in supporting the house guest, and together, they made a slow but steady work of climbing up the stairs,

“Yes, Bingley. We have a meeting with your solicitor at eight. The sooner we deal with your investments, the sooner we can return to Hertfordshire. ”

Bingley pouted, “But Her- Herford-shire doesn't have Lady Petunia.” Suddenly, he turned on his heel making both him and Barken stumble before the young man regained his balance. Darcy, not trusting his friend, took up his other side, “She’s an angel, Darcy!” Bingley pronounced, again.

“That is true. But Hertfordshire has Miss Bennet.” Darcy reminded him, “Who, as you said, is also an angel.”

This level of advanced thinking seemed much too beyond Bingley in his inebriated state. Darcy watched his brows furrow as he thought long and hard upon his dilemma, then simply gave up and began stumbling upstairs again. Darcy sighed, but did not push. He would talk to Bingley in the morning.

6th December 1812, Friday

Caroline Bingley waited exactly a day after Charles and Mr Darcy took their leave to order the Netherfield servants to pack their trunks and close the house. The other two members of their party were too wholly unconcerned- Loiusa having already married into a fairly fashionable, if not all that very wealthy or connected family, and Mr Hurst too lazy to involve himself with any such matters- for there to be any kind of protest from them.

The idea that she might displease Mr Darcy with her decision was but a passing concern. After all, she might not have exactly done as he had expected of her by waiting for her brother to return, but she was sure that once back in Town and amongst more appropriate company, any thought of Hertfordshire with its vulgar families and impertinent misses with their fine eyes would soon enough leave his thoughts altogether.

Still, Caroline was not so wholly uncivil as to ignore decency in its entirety, and so she made sure to call on her neighbours to give them her farewells before getting in her carriage and riding out of this miserable little country. Mrs Bennet, as always, received her with a cloyingly warm welcome, directing her and her sister to her stuffy little parlour furnished with an assortment of ill-matched, gaudily designed and cheaply painted paraphernalia of interior decor,

“It is so nice of you to have come, Miss Bingley,” The matron chattered effusively, “We were all so sorry when Mr Bingley informed us of his going to London on business. Netherfield must feel quite lonely with two of your party absent, given how big the house is. Say, I know it has only been a day, but has there been any news from your brother? When might we expect him back in Meryton?”

Miss Bingley managed to hold in her sneer, but only just. Instead, she gave Mrs Bennet a tight, insincere smile, taking pleasure in imparting to her and her daughters what must be, to them at least, devastating news,

“Actually, Louisa and I have come today to also take your leave.” She could not quite suppress the smirk that curled up her thin lips when she saw the shock on the faces of Mrs Bennet and her eldest, Jane. Eliza, her face lowered and eyes and hands supposedly focused on the needlework in front of her also seemed to freeze at those words, “As it happens, we did get word from my brother just this morning,” She lied, “And he has asked us to close the house for the winter and return to London.”

Jane seemed to pale, Elizabeth’s grip on her hoop and needle tightened, though she still did not lift her face. Only Mrs Bennet could bring herself to speak, and even her voice trembled a little,

“Oh?” She giggled a little hysterically, “This is quite a surprise, I have to say. When Mr Bingley was here last, he was quite certain he would be gone but a week. I wonder what it could be that would delay him for a season. ”

Caroline raised a derisive brow, “I do not presume to understand, or really, even to question my brother’s business or his decisions. After all, I am not a man. But Charles has always been a fickle sort of a person, his inclinations, decisions, proclamations, altering rapidly and often.” She shifted slightly to meet Jane’s eyes, gave her a sympathetic sort of a look, “Indeed, many a times he has declared himself violently in love with a lady only to, after a bit of time and distance away, forget any little sort of affection he might have felt.”

Jane flushed in embarrassment, Lizzy finally raised her head to direct a venomous glare at their guest. She could not decipher in that moment who she was angry at the most- Miss Bingley, for her cruel words or her apparently capricious brother. As for Mrs Bennet, she looked like she might swoon any moment now. For weeks, nay, from the very beginning of their acquaintance, Mr Bingley had paid her eldest and most beautiful daughter the most particular attention. Indeed, the entirety of Meryton were expecting Mr Bingley’s addresses towards Jane to culminate into a proposal and ultimately, into a wedding.

To think- her most favourite daughter! Spurned! Jane, who was so beautiful, and so kind, and very much nearing four and twenty and on the verge of spinsterhood!

Oh, who would marry her now?

9th December 1812, Monday

It had been three days since the departure of the Netherfield party, and Elizabeth was quietly working on Jane’s hair, braiding it prettily for what was to be one of the most special occasions in years for their little Meryton community-

Charlotte Lucas was to be married today.

The past three days had been spent quite solemnly in the Bennet household. Mrs Bennet had taken to her bed almost immediately after sending off the remaining Bingley party, only coming back downstairs yesterday at dinner. The younger girls, having witnessed Jane’s dejected spirits, had taken to, on multiple occasions, abuse and disparage Mr Bingley and his sisters amongst themselves, an action Elizabeth could not wholly condemn, even if it did only result in Jane becoming sadder and quieter.

The village, of course, had by now heard of Netherfield closing back up and its inhabitants taking their leave. Right behind their shock and surprise at the unexpected turn of events were whispers of Jane and the Bennets and their surely shattered hopes. The Bennets had avoided going outside- not wanting to be either pitied or ridiculed- but none of them could, in good conscience, avoid the wedding of their closest and dearest neighbour.

And so Longbourn, at least for this one morning, had gone back to its original state of chaos as Mrs Bennet shouted for Hill to help her with her dress, and Kitty and Lydia fought over their ribbons, and Mary avoided having to get ready by pretending to be consumed by a piece of sheet music she was butchering on the piano. In contrast, the room Jane and Elizabeth shared was a safe haven. Jane had helped Lizzy get ready with her usual serene quiet, and now that it was Elizabeth’s turn to help Jane, she let the silence continue, unsure of how to prepare her jilted sister for the world outside.

“Are you sure you want to attend, Jane?” Lizzy could not help but ask, though she knew the answer, “I’m sure Charlotte would understand if you were not well enough for a public gathering.”

Jane smiled at her, giving the hand that was on her shoulder a grateful squeeze, “You are an angel, my dear sister, but I am quite well.” Jane looked down at the dressing table, busied her hands by gathering up all the extra pins, “I will not lie by saying I was not disappointed by Mr Bingley’s leaving- and perhaps a bigger part of me than I would like to admit had begun imagining a future with him- but I was not as attached to him as mama was, nor had I yet given him my heart. ”

Lizzy could not tell how true those words were. If that was how Jane really felt, or if she was minimising her own pain so as to make it easier for everyone else to move on. In either case, Lizzy bent down to hug her sister close, to kiss her cheek and whisper into her shoulder,

“You deserve better, Jane.” Lizzy said, and hated that this was the second time in only so many days that she had had to say this to another woman so dear to her, “You deserve so much better than Mr Bingley or his family.”

Jane smiled, though Lizzy could not see it with her head burrowed against her sister’s neck, and nodded softly, Yes, she did .