Page 7 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

“For wit? For charm? Elegance?” I laughed, for his gallantry was indeed amusing, certainly refreshing.

“Ah, I must be careful in my speech, Miss Elizabeth. For you are quick to call me out. If you and your sister, Miss Jane, are taken as exemplars, then Hertfordshire women must certainly be renowned for their beauty.”

Oh, what a singularly charming gentleman—I could not recall ever being flattered with such panache by my partners at an assembly. We continued our banter—I had never enjoyed a set so much. I felt genuine regret when he led me back to Mama. He bowed, then returned to stand with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

The next set began and Mr. Bingley led Jane to the floor. “He has asked her for a second set, later this evening,” whispered Mama. “I do hope she will not be disappointed by his attention.”

They took their place in the line. As the musicians struck up the first notes, their steps fell naturally into the rhythm. Mr. Bingley’s countenance was all animation; he spoke to Jane with a lively cheerfulness, and she, though less given to open laughter than myself, responded with such arch sweetness that I could see his pleasure increase with every turn. His attentions were so marked that even Lady Lucas, who had come to stand with us, was forced to whisper, “He is already quite smitten, I daresay.”

Jane’s eyes shone as her soft replies to his enquiries were invitation enough to further conversation. She was enjoying herself; indeed, I had never before seen her so forward in her evident regard. The dance itself demanded a certain sprightliness, and Jane’s lightness of foot was matched by Mr. Bingley’s unsuppressed delight in her company. They turned and parted, their hands meeting again with each figure, their movements so in harmony that it seemed as if they had known each other much longer than a single evening.

It was then that I knew with a certainty that quite disconcerted me: that were Mr. Bingley’s affection for Jane to prove constant, my beautiful sister, my dearest companion of the past twenty years, would step out into the world with another. Oh, she would still remain my very special sister, but I could see that Mr. Bingley would displace me as her best and closest friend.

* * *

“Oh, Lizzy,” said Jane later that evening, after we had returned to Longbourn, “Mr. Bingley is just what a young man ought to be: sensible, good humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!”

“He is also handsome,” I replied, “which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can; his character is thereby complete.”

“You are impossible!” exclaimed Jane, swatting me with a pillow. “Can a man not be kind and attentive without being required to be handsome? But what of Mr. Darcy? All said that he was exceedingly so. And he singled you out, Lizzy, for a dance.”

“Handsome indeed, but he did not single me out as did Mr. Bingley. He asked Mama, but she refused, her being a married woman. But you shall not deflect me, dearest. We are talking about Mr. Bingley. I am sure you are going to profess surprise at his asking you for a second dance…”

She blushed, for I knew her too well.

“No, Jane, what could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room.” I laughed, swatting Jane with my pillow in return. “He certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

“I have not! Well, I suppose Mr. Robinson, while quite well-favoured, was rather dull.”

“Well-favoured! I would sooner call Mrs. Goulding charming.”

“Dear Lizzy, you are terrible.”

We both collapsed into laughter. When the mirth subsided, Jane tucked her feet beneath her and regarded me with that earnestness which always undid my teasing.

“Truly, Lizzy, I hope you do not think me foolish. I may like Mr. Bingley, but I am not so besotted as to lose my senses entirely. He is amiable, but I do not know him well.”

“Nonsense, Jane, you must be in love with him at once!” I teased. “It is a rule universally observed, you know: first admiration, then affection, and then marriage, all before supper.”

She shook her head, but her smile betrayed her. “You are determined to laugh at me, I see.”

“Only because you look so well when you blush,” I replied. “But I promise to be serious—at least for the space of a minute. Tell me, do you think he will call tomorrow?”

A faint hope flickered in her eyes, though she tried to appear indifferent. “I cannot say. Perhaps Mama will invite him to tea.”

I paused. Dear Mama and I had watched Jane dance with Mr. Bingley—watching the pleasure in her step, the smile she reserved for when she was truly happy. A brief fear furrowed my brow.

“Lizzy, what is it?”

“‘Tis nothing, Jane dearest. Only that speaking of Mama made me recall the pain she had experienced, that is all. The lot of all women, I suppose, when contemplating marriage.”

Jane’s eyes moistened; she was suddenly serious. “Please, Lizzy, do not spoil my pleasure. I cannot, will not spend my days in seclusion because of Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. I have thought long on Mama’s travails. But while pain is inevitable, surely life also offers beauty and joy. You tease me because I find goodness in the world. I cannot deny it! I would prefer to be blind to the follies of the heart than to succumb to misery by avoiding all sorrow and pain.”

I reached for her hand, feeling the warmth in her grasp. “You are the best of us, Jane. I could never accuse you of foolishness when it is hope that guides you. It is I who am foolish.”

She squeezed my hand in reply. “You are not foolish, Lizzy. But often you think too much.”

Yes, I certainly did overthink—is that even a word? Oh dear, I am overthinking again—Jane was correct. I pulled the covers up, sinking into the warm bed. But already I was planning the days ahead. There would be visits in Meryton, perhaps a visit to Netherfield Park now that we had been introduced.