Lady Rebecca’s cheeks grew pink, and she began to examine the buttons on her gloves. “Yes, well, the Fitzwilliam family is singularly remarkable in that aspect. We are all wildly fond of making ourselves useful to those who have deserved our interest and affection. But that puts me in mind of another matter I might be thanked for….”
She made a subtle motion with her head, drawing Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood’s attention to Marianne and Mr. Bingley. The pair were still engaged in a snowball fight with Meg and Julia, and several other young people had joined in the revelry, skating about in a wild, snowy frenzy at the far end of the pond. But where Marianne went, even amidst the chaos, Mr. Bingley managed to follow.
“She was so determined to despise him,” Mrs. Dashwood said with a rueful laugh.
“Not as determined as I have been to find him the right sort of woman. From all that I have heard of Jane Bennet, she would never have stood up to Bingley’s horrid sisters, for she tolerates them even now, in London. But I look forward to Marianne giving the harpies the same treatment she gave Charles a month ago.”
“I fear she may think it disloyal to her cousin,” Mrs. Dashwood mused.
Elinor had no wish to speculate, for Marianne had diligently kept her words and abstained from comment on Elinor’s personal affairs, especially as pertained to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Even so, she could not resist a smile. Jane had long ago given them her blessing to receive Mr. Bingley back into the neighborhood with warm regards, and Jane herself was soon to be engaged, if Lady Rebecca’s assertions were to be believed.
There had been an air of inexplicable tension between Marianne and Mr. Bingley at breakfast; they had stared often at one another while refusing to make any direct eye contact, but it seemed they had overcome whatever caused such awkwardness, and Elinor looked forward to hearing her sister admit she had reconsidered her disdain of second attachments.
When Mrs. Dashwood had sufficiently enjoyed her gossip with Lady Rebecca, she managed to wrangle the high-spiritedpair in her charge and took her leave. The ice skating portion of the day was coming to an end, and a select few guests were now welcomed into the house for an hour of music to be followed by cards.
Elinor embraced her mother, who made a few more remarks on the fine prospect of returning to Norland once matters were settled between Marianne and Mr. Bingley. Elinor asked her to convey her tender assurances to her aunt and cousins, and from there it was only a short leap for her mind to return to privately longing for the colonel’s arrival.
From her apprehension at his possessing Norland, and then her awe at his gesture of returning it to her mother, Elinor had now progressed so far as to cherish a hope that he could, somehow, save her foolish cousin Lydia from ruin. It was more than hope, she realized, as the colonel finally arrived at Netherfield and came directly to sit at her side and listen appreciatively to Marianne’s performance at the pianoforte. It was trust.
She was perfectly content to sit silently at his side, exchanging warm glances and shy smiles while her sister worked her magic at the instrument, enthralling the whole room. They progressed to a beguiling game of subtle pantomime as she mouthed the wordsthank youto him. He shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands, feigning innocence, and she regarded him with a look of stern affection before resting a hand on her heart. He shifted on the sofa, resting one hand at his side in the space between them, and with a thrill coursing through her, unlike anything she had ever felt before, Elinor laid her hand atop his.
The colonel tipped his head toward Mr. Bingley, who stood near the far side of the room, leaning against the wall, staring at Marianne as if it were the first time he had ever seen the sun. Colonel Fitzwilliam waggled his brows at Elinor.Emboldened, she leaned a little nearer to him and whispered, “You should have seen them skating.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned, his posture loose and whimsical as he gave a little shake and batted his eyelashes. Elinor screwed up her face and then grinned as she mimicked him and nodded her agreement. His fingers wrapped around her own and remained there until they were obliged to applaud at the end of Marianne’s song.
To everyone’s surprise, Mr. Bingley announced that he and the colonel intended to perform a duet for them all. Elinor regarded Colonel Fitzwilliam with amazement. "Do you play? Or sing?”
“Aye, and very poorly – ‘tis an occupation my brothers and I devoted ourselves to, when our sisters were learning. Our dubious abilities helped Rebecca become the irrepressibly confident menace we all know and love. Bingley is quite good, but I shall only hinder his display of talent. Prepare yourself for something I hope you shall find endlessly charming in its awfulness.”
Across the room, Mr. Bingley entreated Marianne to remain at her instrument, and appeared to show her a simple medley that would accompany the song. When Richard joined them, Mr. Bingley retrieved a violin and began to play reasonably well; Marianne looked over her shoulder in wonder.
In a deep baritone, the colonel began a ballad detailing the history of Britain’s monarchs, relaying in satirical rhyming verses such scandalous truths about the royals that it was vastly diverting, if nearly treasonous.
Lady Rebecca came to sit beside Elinor, and she unfolded a letter before displaying it for her friend. “I received this a little while ago, from my stepmother Tilly in London. She writes that she has had an account of Jane’s illness from Mrs. Jennings.”
“How is my cousin?”
“On the mend, apparently,” Lady Rebecca whispered. She turned away, momentarily distracted by some particularly bawdy lyrics about Henry the Eighth, and then she fixed Elinor with a devilish grin. “Your Mr. Ferrars accosted Jane Bennet in the thoroughfare outside Mrs. Jennings’s home, detaining her so long in the freezing rain and snow that she took ill, though Tilly supposes the shock of the gentlemen’s assertions truly caused your cousin’s illness.”
Elinor glanced down at the letter as Lady Rebecca pointed to the relevant passage. Her stomach twisted as she read. “He is not my Mr. Ferrars,” she murmured.
“No, I suppose he never was,” Lady Rebecca said sharply. “But perhaps you understand his true character, at last. I find it infinitely more to be desired when a gentleman demonstrates exactly who he is from the very start of an acquaintance, and then continues on just as honorably. Do you not agree?”
Elinor stared down at the letter until the words seemed to blur before her eyes. “Yes,” she said at last.
“But then, perhaps your former beau did illustrate his own scruples from the very beginning. As I understand it, he came amongst you during a time of great sorrow for your family and singled you out, neglecting to tell you of his betrothal to another. He remained amongst you long enough to comprehend his sister’s selfish mistreatment of your mother, your sisters, and most especially yourself, and took no pains to put a stop to Fanny Dashwood’s heartless snobbery. He might have encouraged his sister and her husband to the benevolence of actually honoring your father’s dying wish that they look after you ladies – or if he did, it was not with any efficacy. When next he saw you, when he visited that tragic little cottage to which you need never return, he was not sufficiently dismayedby your circumstances to appeal then to your half-brother and his wife. And according to Marianne, he wore a ring of hair that he allowed you to believe was his sister’s, which Marianne now believes to be a token from Miss Steele. Have I omitted anything?”
Elinor listened to all this in agonizing silence, allowing the pain of Edward’s many failings to wash over her, strengthening the tender sentiments she now cherished for Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Thank you,” she murmured at last, blinking back tears as she looked at her friend. “Believe me to possess every feeling you might wish to inspire.”
Lady Rebecca smiled brightly at her, and she clasped Elinor’s hand. “I have no wish to cause you pain; I only hope to call you sister.”
By way of answer, Elinor squeezed her friend’s hand and gave a nod of her head.
When the gentlemen finished their cheeky song, Lady Rebecca stood and announced that after she performed a duet with Marianne, refreshments would be served. Following this, they would all play cards for an hour, but the instrument would remain open to any other ladies of the neighborhood who wished to delight their party.
The colonel resumed his seat beside Elinor, ready to receive all her praise and astonishment. When he was satisfied, he gave her a wry smile. “My lively tune has put me in the perfect mood for an evening of dancing, though I understand there shall only be half as many sets as a proper ball; no doubt my sister’s guests shall find themselves exhausted after their exertions on the ice. But how many dances might I claim of yours? You must stand up with Bingley, I suppose, but dare I hope you are willing to shock and amaze our companions by promising the rest of your sets to me?”
“I only hope that shall prove sufficient time for me to thank you,” she said softly.
