Jane leaned into her side, offering unspoken support and affection.
“Jane, tell me what you concluded about Papa, I pray you.”
“I overheard Uncle Gardiner tell our aunt that sarcasm is nothing more than irony used to mock and convey contempt, that in ancient Greek or Latin or some other language, it means to tear strips of flesh from someone’s back like a whip used for punishment. He is correct because Papa’s words sting most grievously. I am saddened that you have finally felt the burn, Lizzy. Imagine how Kitty, Lydia, and Mary feel? It is no wonder that our youngest sisters yearn to marry quickly, being willing to attach themselves to anyone who pays even the slightest attention or offers any small kindness to them. Additionally, while we often wish our mother was less enthusiastic about her pushing us toward others, I now understand why she does it, forshe is the recipient of the brunt of father’s sarcasm. Mr. Darcy may have spoken poorly when he insulted you at the assembly, but he has not done so since, at least not to my knowledge. Papa’s barrage is constant, and I see no end in sight. Poor mama! In truth, I am weary of being treated as someone of little value to him. I, too, want to be gone from Longbourn. However, I will not marry Mr. Bingley should he offer for he has in his household a sister who is as much a viper as the one we live with. I do not want to trade one snake for another with an equally poisonous bite.”
“Jane!” To say Elizabeth was stunned would be an understatement. “I do not know what to say. Never have I heard you speak like this.”
“Lizzy, in the darkness of the corridor, in the midst of the storm, my eyes were finally opened, and I saw clearly what would happen if Miss Bingley were my sister. My nature, that of hating confrontation, would mean that she would walk over the top of me like she does her brother. I simply could not imagine living without peace in my own home.”
“Well done, Jane!” Elizabeth clasped her arm and pulled her close.
“She is correct in everything she says, Lizzy,” Lydia whispered from her other side. “I wanted to marry an officer because they are active and busy. They protect us from attack and participate in parties and dances. Papa does none of those things. Mr. Wickham laughed at Papa, saying he was lazy and indolent. I wasn't even mad when he said it because it’s true. I do see now that not all officers are worthy because Captain Carter, Mr. Chamberlayne, and Mr. Denny remained in the cellar, leaving the females vulnerable to the wind. Even Colonel Forster sought his own comfort ahead of his wife. No, I will do as Mr. Darcy said. I will not marry just any officer. Instead, I will look for a man with qualities like Mr. Darcy, someone who Ican respect even though I wish he was more joyous and liked to dance.”
Elizabeth considered the wisdom emanating from her sisters. They were correct in everything they said.
Lydia continued. “Besides which, as Mama says, the wife of Mr. Darcy will be a great lady with fashionable friends, clothing to fit a queen, matching horses and carriages, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires in abundance. He is a handsome man who would draw the envy of all if I walked into a theater or a ball on his arm.”
Elizabeth snapped her head around to face her sister. “You are in love with Mr. Darcy?” She heard the challenge in her voice, desperately wishing she had softened her tone.
“Ha!” Lydia snorted. “I am only teasing. He is far too serious for me, and even though he is almost as handsome as Mr. Wickham, he lacks the easy manners that suit me.” She hesitated before saying, “Say, I did not think about it until now, but have you noticed how similar Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy are in their countenance? Not in coloring because one is fair and the other dark, but they have the same muscular form, the same mannerisms. Even their brows are arched the same. If all the men in Meryton were lined up and we were tasked with choosing which two are cousins, I would guess Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy instead of Mr. Darcy and the colonel. What do you think?”
Jane admitted, “I fear that I have not studied the features of Mr. Wickham carefully enough to make an accurate guess. What I can say for a certainty is that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam have qualities that are amazingly similar. As to appearances, what I can recall about Mr. Wickham is that I would consider him more similar in appearance to Colonel Fitzwilliam than Mr. Darcy. Again, I am not the best judge.”
“What about you, Lizzy?” Lydia asked. “What do you think? Would you pick Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam out of a crowd as cousins?”
Elizabeth chuckled softly. “I wonder at you asking me since I am the only one of us sisters with the dark hair and eyes of our father. If we girls were scattered amidst a crowd of females, I doubt anyone would select me along with you. They would likely choose Maria Lucas since she is as fair in coloring as the rest of you.”
Lydia commented, “I always wanted your hair, Lizzy, for it makes you stand out as different, which appeals to my character. I think it is why I did not mourn the loss of my hair since I am now the only lady in Meryton with short curls that frame my face, Mr. Darcy’s valet said so.”
Wrapping her arm around her youngest sister, Elizabeth pulled her close. “You are a treasure, Lydia Bennet. Will you not be setting your cap at Mr. Darcy, then?”
“Heavens, no!” Lydia snuggled in beside her. “Mr. Darcy only has eyes for you, Lizzy. He stares at you every time we are in the same room, watching you like an eagle with a fat mouse in its sight.”
Elizabeth stammered, “You do not know what you are talking about, Lydie.”
“I have noticed the same,” said Jane.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly parched. One part of her rejoiced that they noticed his attention. She wanted him to notice her. Yet, her more rational side fretted that absolutely nothing would come of it. Glancing toward the stairs, which was the last place she knew him to be, she said to her sisters, “I am merely the thorn in his side that he is desperate to rid himself of. What you have noticed is nothing more than that.”
She desperately hoped her words were false. The simple truth was that their first kiss was an accident, but the secondwas not. His arms had pulled her deeper into his embrace, and his mouth moved expertly over hers. Was it because she was available, his only port in a storm? What had Mr. Darcy meant by kissing her that second time? Until she knew, she could not imagine having peace.
CHAPTER 21
Darcy sat so long in one position that his legs cramped. He struggled to stand once the lowered voices of those awake increased enough to signal him that the room was rousing. With the jab of his elbow, his cousin woke ready for action. Reaching forward, he asked a footman to light a few more candles.
“Bingley, are you ready for a new day yet?” Darcy was hoping his friend was not suffering from his overindulgence with the wine. His host approached after stumbling over the feet of those who remained asleep.
“Mighty unusual circumstances to conclude my first ball, Darcy.” Glancing around, he noted the addition of the ladies. “Uh, I beg your pardon, but where are we supposed to…uh, you know.”
Without hesitation, he replied, “Your sisters have taken up residence in the stillroom, which was set aside for personal use. Before you can take advantage, you will need to rouse them from their perch, that is, after you determine that the kitchen is safe enough. If not, we will need to blanket off a corner of the room and use whatever is available here.”
Bingley’s blush could have lit the cellar. “Ah, yes. Well. I shall need to do something about this…and quickly.”
Before Richard could smirk at Darcy, Bingley was back. “Say, the kitchen is in a terrible state. The fire is out, and the water buckets are all tipped over, so the floor is wet from one end of the kitchen to the other. Why, had there not been a threshold on the cellar entryway the water would have run down into here too. We are mighty fortunate, we are.”
“Yes, while you slept, the storm turned. The ladies had to shelter in the narrow corridor between the kitchen and dining room, sitting on the floor before it abated enough for them to seek protection here.”
Slapping his forehead, Bingley said, “I cannot believe that I slept in the comfort of the chair while Miss Bennet was in danger. What sort of gentleman does she think me to be?”
