Page 30 of Infamous Relations

“Who is only sixteen years old,” Fitzwilliam put in.

“And, forgive me, Darcy, because your sister is a charming, sweet and beautiful young lady who any man would consider himself fortunate to marry, but…” Bingley trailed off miserably.

“But not you,” Mr. Gardiner surmised correctly.

“Miss Darcy is very shy,” Bingley said weakly.

“And Bingley here is the epitome of the social butterfly,” Fitzwilliam said cheerfully. “Georgiana would absolutely hate his lifestyle, even if the man himself isn’t too objectionable.”

Bingley’s expression was a picture, so much so that Mr. Gardiner had to laugh. “I see,” he said at last.

“Anyway,” Bingley said, giving Fitzwilliam a final glare, “Caroline was quite determined to divert my attention from Miss Bennet.”

“And Mr. Darcy’s away from Lizzy,” Mr. Gardiner murmured, enlightened. “I begin to see.”

“Darcy and Lizzy - you mean Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley only looked all the more bemused. Shaking his head, he took a seat at the table. “For God’s sake, somebody ring for some food. I cannot possibly think so hard on an empty stomach!”

Chapter Twenty-One

Elizabeth awoke feeling vastly better than the previous day, to see Jane lying asleep beside her, beautiful, serene face pillowed on her hand. Gingerly, Elizabeth raised her fingers to lightly brush the bump on her head. There was no pain until her fingertips touched it, and then she winced slightly, her breath hissing out. That hurt.

Jane stirred as Elizabeth made a sound. Her cornflower-blue eyes opened, widened to see Elizabeth sitting up in bed, fingers to her brow. “Lizzy!” she pushed herself upright, reached out. “Oh, do lie down again!”

“I will not, I am done with lying abed pretending to be an invalid,” Elizabeth smiled to take the sting from her words. “Look; ‘tis a beautiful day outside and I would wish for some air.”

“Lizzy, I cannot think that wise. Won’t you at least wait until Dr. Trent comes by?”

Elizabeth sighed at that and acquiesced to Jane’s pleading, though she insisted that she would get up and dress. Jane went to fetch tea for them both and they spent a quiet half hour helping each other dress and brushing hair, Jane especially careful of Elizabeth’s sore brow.

“No, I shall not pin it up,” she said in response to Elizabeth’s request to do so. “Nobody expects you to look picture-perfect, dearest. Not after - after what happened.” She wove Elizabeth’s long curls into a loose braid, tying the end off with a ribbon. “There, perfectly respectable for staying in your room.”

“Which I’m not going to do.”

“Lizzy…” Jane sighed, shook her head fondly. “You had a terrible accident. Do you even remember what happened, yet?”

“No,” Elizabeth admitted a little sheepishly. “I don’t remember anything before waking up and seeing your face.”

“Since when?” Jane asked. Elizabeth frowned, not understanding the question. “What’s the last thing you remember from before? Do you remember anything at all from that day?”

Elizabeth sat back, sipped her tea and thought, eyeing her sister curiously. She had never seen Jane so vehement, so impassioned. “What’s going on, dearest?” she asked finally. “What are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing!” Jane said, far too quickly. She looked away, too, unable to meet Elizabeth’s eyes.

“What is it that you want me to remember?” Elizabeth said softly, wracking her brain. “There’s something…” her fingertips fluttered up to her breasts, and Jane gasped, tears standing in her eyes.

“Darcy!” she cried out, her voice shaking. “When you first spoke to me, when I asked you what had happened, you cried out and clutched at me, telling me that Darcy had done something terrible. What did you mean?”

Then it was Elizabeth’s turn to cry out, reaching for Jane’s hands. “Oh Jane - oh, I can hardly bear to think on it, even now!”

“But you must,” Jane sought to steady her voice. “You must tell me.”

“He told me that he aided Miss Bingley in separating you from your dear Bingley! He was proud of it, the foul creature, proud of wounding so grievously the dearest, sweetest girl who ever lived! Oh Jane, I am so very, very sorry…” tears were pouring down Elizabeth’s cheeks, but Jane only stared back at her, shaking her head slowly.

“I do not give a fig for Mr. Bingley.”

“What?” shocked, Elizabeth’s tears stopped.

“Lizzy, until two days ago, I never knew myself. It was only when word reached me of your accident and I had to spend those long hours on the stage-coach coming to you, never knowing if you yet lived, that I came to a realisation. I cared more for the opinions of my family, even of our neighbours, than for Mr. Bingley. I left Longbourn not because I was heartbroken, but because I was ashamed. Ashamed of what was being said about me, poor Jane Bennet, for all her beauty she cannot even tempt the first serious suitor she ever had even to a proposal!”