In fact, Elizabeth wished she did not know.
She wanted to go walking to clear her head, but it was a very cold day. She would need to fetch her cloak and her pelisse as well as a scarf, warm boots, and gloves. By the time she did all that, her mother would be expecting her to return to the parlor.
Instead, she paced in the hallway toward the back of the house, thinking furiously all the while. Even so, she came to no conclusion. She had no idea what Mr. Darcy was about by making such declarations. She wanted to doubt him, but she had never seen a more sincere expression, a more disappointed reaction, than what she had seen on his face mere minutes ago.
Eventually, she returned to the parlor. She expected to see Mr. Darcy still sitting by the window, ignoring everyone else. It was how he usually behaved in company, even occasionally when he was at Netherfield among close friends. Instead, he was chatting with Mama while Mr. Masters and Miss Darcy chatted with Jane.
Elizabeth could not believe her eyes or her ears. If she had believed it was possible for Mr. Darcy to speak with anyone, Elizabeth would have assumed it would be Jane, but there he was, chatting with Mama and seeming to be quite at his ease.
She listened to what they were speaking of for a few moments before approaching. It seemed as though Mr. Darcy had asked what kinds of things Mama grew in the kitchen garden as well as what kind of game and fish could be found on the estate.
Mama was in full flow. Since it was a subject related to housekeeping and entertaining, Mama was quite knowledgeable and not nervous or embarrassing in the least.
Elizabeth joined the pair of them, while her mother was still speaking. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said very quietly. She hoped he knew she was thanking him for covering for her and that she was not thanking him for his declarations, but she could not elaborate while her mother was speaking.
Ten minutes later, the guests departed, leaving behind two confused daughters and one pleased mother.
Chapter 8
When the unexpected guests entered the room, Jane’s eyes were immediately drawn to the gentleman she had never met before whose name turned out to be Mr. Masters. Since she was still hoping for Mr. Bingley’s return, all she saw at first was that he was not Mr. Bingley.
Disappointment rolled through her. Mr. Bingley had told her so earnestly, the day before the ball, that he was looking forward to seeing her again after his business in London was complete. Yet, only two days later, she had received a note from his sister saying that they would all be in London for the foreseeable future.
Elizabeth declared that Miss Bingley must be lying in an attempt to keep Mr. Bingley away from her, but Jane could not believe that her friend would be capable of such manipulation. Though it pained her a great deal, she had no choice but to believe that Mr. Bingley had simply changed his mind about her.
As Mr. Masters was introduced, Jane could not keep herself from comparing him to Mr. Bingley, not because he was similar, but rather because he seemed to be the complete opposite. Where Mr. Bingley had blond hair and blue eyes, Mr. Masters had almost black hair and dark brown eyes. Mr. Bingley had a round, almost boyish face, but Mr. Masters had a longer, more chiseled face.
As she began to chat with him, she noticed that even their way of speaking was different. Mr. Bingley’s voice was a pleasant tenor, but Mr. Master spoke in a much lower register. Mr. Bingley was always cheerful and lighthearted. Mr. Masters, on the other hand, had a serious, almost forbidding expression.
He spoke well, keeping up with the conversation between her and Miss Darcy. They spoke mostly of country life. Though Mr. Masters clearly preferred the city, he was avidly curious about the difference between city and country life.
After Elizabeth’s sudden, surprising departure from the room, Jane took advantage of the break in the conversation to ask the question that had been burning her tongue since they arrived. “Did Mr. Bingley return to Netherfield with you?”
She assumed he must have, since he owned the lease on Netherfield. But if he had, it made no sense that he had not joined Mr. Darcy in calling on them.
“I am afraid not,” said Mr. Masters. “In fact, he sold the remaining part of the lease to Darcy.”
Jane felt her heart shatter. It had been aching before, but there had been the tiniest bit of hope that perhaps there was some misunderstanding. Perhaps, Mr. Bingley had been delayed by business. If he had sold the lease, however, that was a clear statement that he would not be returning.
She tried to maintain her perpetual serene expression despite her distress, but something must have shown on her face. Mr. Masters said, “I am sorry to have conveyed such unpleasant news.”
Jane glanced over at Miss Darcy to see if she, too, was aware of Jane’s pain, but she had been momentarily distracted by the sight of Mr. Darcy speaking with Mrs. Bennet.
Making an even greater effort, Jane smiled and said, “I thank you for your concern, but it is nothing. Now, tell me, are you an avid theater goer? Most people I know who live in the city go at least a few times a season, some almost every week. Is that something you enjoy?”
The concern in Mr. Masters’ eyes remained, but he seemed to understand her desire to change the subject. “I am afraid I only attend the theater when one of my friends insists on it. I seldom enjoy the play itself, but even if I did, I don’t think it would outweigh the discomfort of the pomp and circumstance of such a public place. You must have seen for yourself that many people only go so they can see and be seen.”
“I have noticed,” said Jane. “Though, for me, the pleasure of seeing a story acted out by those talented enough to do so outweighs that discomfort.”
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Darcy, her attention back on their conversation. “I absolutely agree. I do so love it when Fitzwilliam is willing to let me come to the theater with him. It isn’t often, you see. It has only been since I left school last spring that he would even consider it.”
“Where did you go to school?” asked Jane.
“It was in London,” said Miss Darcy. “We did make a few excursions to the theater while I was there, but that was very different to attending with my brother.”
“I imagine so,” said Jane.
The conversation continued as smoothly as it had been, but Jane noticed that Mr. Masters’ look of concern occasionally returned despite Jane’s best efforts to cover up her heartbreak.
