When Lady Carlisle finally brought Jane the letters, tied neatly with a pink ribbon, Mrs. Jennings teased Jane for seizing them so eagerly. “Well, I have never seen you so desperate for anything, my dear! I am sure the Dashwood sisters must be mad for news of you in London, but what ever could be so fascinating about Meryton, when there are so many friends to be met with in town? Pish, do not look so sullen, my dear – I am entirely in jest! Of course you wish to read your letters.”
Jane did not want to be rude, so rather than retreating to her room, she only withdrew to her favorite seat by the window and began to read the three letters that had gone amiss, for her cousins had mistaken the house number. She read each missive twice over, and each with increasing dismay.
The first letter was penned by Elinor and gave a more rational account of events Jane and Elizabeth had heard of only from their mother, whose superlative tone often led the sisters to presume much of what was said had little truth in it. Jane was astounded to learn that the ordeal with the Lucases had by no means been exaggerated, nor had Marianne’s first meeting with Mr. Bingley.
Even in Elinor’s reasonable and rational tone, Jane understood that these events must have been quite shocking,but what followed was far worse – Elinor’s account of Mr. Wickham’s punishment, which was well-deserved given the true depth of his depravity. Jane once told Elizabeth that there must have been some misunderstanding, that surely both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham were good men, but the latter was proven to be a libertine of the lowest imaginable morals, and Jane knew the revelation would pain her sister.
The second letter provided more to please than to shock Jane, for much of it was praise of Lady Rebecca and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and even an account of Mr. Bingley attempting to improve himself. This one was written by Marianne, who was poetic in her musings, though nearly as superlative as Mrs. Bennet in lauding what pleased her and disparaging what did not.
The third letter caused Jane the most distress; it had been sent only the day before, and Elinor’s tone was disconsolate. The Dashwoods were greatly dismayed at the news of John Dashwood’s folly, and Jane had a sense that though Elinor did not mention it explicitly, Edward Ferrars’s recent behavior must also cast a pall on the ladies’ somber mood.
Surely something must have vexed Marianne enough for her to take leave of her senses entirely, for Elinor reported that her sister had burnt both of the letters from Mr. Willoughby, and was greatly wounded by Jane’s warm recommendation of the gentleman.
Fortunately, Lady Carlisle had taken her leave by the time Jane read the third letter, for she could not control the tears that slowly slid down her cheeks as she folded the letters and placed them on the desk to show Elizabeth. Mrs. Jennings, however, took notice of Jane’s despair.
“My dear girl, whatever is the matter? Surely it cannot be bad news, for your mother has my address correct, and wehave had nothing fromherto indicate any great calamity at Longbourn.”
Jane wiped at her tears, suddenly feeling a little silly, for she could hardly account for herself. “I suppose I am only disappointed that Marianne and Mr. Willoughby shall not be reconciled.”
“No? I am astonished to hear it – but this must mean she has found some new beau in Meryton! Who is he?”
Jane shook her head. Both her cousins mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam, the brother of Viscount Bellamy, but Marianne boldly implied that he admired Elinor, who in turn tried a littletoohard to assure her cousins that he was only a friend.
“There is nobody else that I know of. She must still believe him to be a villain, for I only wrote of how pleasant he and his relations are; I left the truth of his affairs to Mr. Willoughby, and his words were all turned to ash. How could she have been so cruel? It is amazing that she had not the slightest curiosity, no desire at all to read what he wrote to her, when I know it meant so much tohim!”
Mrs. Jennings narrowed her eyes at Jane and studied her for a long minute. Though she was often a fussy and flighty woman, affectionate but not especially intuitive, there were occasional moments when she betrayed an unlikely acuity. Jane could not like that this should be such an occasion.
“Your headache, my dear…. I have raised daughters of my own, you know, and I comprehend what it means when a pretty girl with so many suitors begins to eat so little and sleep so poorly. You are in love! Strange, that a headache would prevent you from visiting the viscount, unless it is not he who holds your heart.”
“I should hardly wish anybody at Matlock House to see me when I am not feeling my best,” Jane said, averting her gaze.
“Ah, well, then do you not perchance prefer another to the viscount? The company of Mr. Willoughby, for instance, is not more agreeable to you? He does not make you smile brighter and laugh more often?”
Jane wrung her hands in her lap, pressing her lips together as if to quell the internal screaming of her heart. “I will confess I have been more interested in reconciling Mr. Willoughby with Marianne than in acquainting myself with the viscount.”
Mrs. Jennings gave her an affectionate smile, but she could not conceal the doubt in her eyes. “And now that it has come to naught, what will you do?”
“I will endeavor to come to know the viscount better. I esteem him greatly, and I like his company, but I have yet to feel any romantic inclination – it has scarcely been three weeks.”
“Like him! Esteem him! Such insipid words from a sweet girl, whom I am sure feels things so deeply! But if that is the case, my dear, you ought to consider that you have no need to marry for such considerations as most young ladies might entertain. Your mother would strangle me for not telling you to try harder with the viscount, but you are in the fortuitous position to set yourself free from such expectations. You shall have Longbourn someday, and your fortune might support you and as many of your sisters as remain unwed – and in a fashion beyond what you have ever known! Consider that any possible alliance must be a superior temptation, rather than a duty.”
Jane let out a sigh of relief that Mrs. Jennings’s advice was not what she would have heard from her mother, and she laid her head on the kindly woman’s shoulder as Mrs. Jennings wrapped one arm about her.
“Now, you musn’t tell your Mamma I have said such a thing, or she will never forgive me! But you should behonest with the viscount – you might consent to become better acquainted with him, for surely your sister despised Mr. Darcy at the beginning of their acquaintance, and look at them now! Besotted, the pair of them! Though if you believe it to be impossible that your feelings might take a romantic turn, you do him no favor in keeping him on the hook – better to throw him back!”
Jane laughed as she wiped her tears, imagining herself tossing the viscount into a stream like a common trout. “I will think on it. Thank you, Mrs. Jennings.” She gave the old lady a kiss on the cheek and then stood and smoothed out her skirts. She felt a little better, but she knew that if their conversation continued, she was in danger of confessing feelings that ought to be suppressed until they could be forever extinguished.
Jane remained in her room, reading the most maudlin of the poetry volumes from Mr. Willoughby, until it was time to dress for the dinner party at the Hatchard home in Cavendish Square. She assured Elizabeth and her aunt that she was recovered from her headache and well enough to attend, though she could not quite summon the enthusiasm to dispel their worried stares.
They watched her throughout dinner, and Jane was overcome by mortification at how poorly she got on with the viscount at her side. She and Viscount Bellamy spoke little to one another; he said everything that was civil and kind in inquiring after her health and informing her that she had been missed during the morning of revelry at Matlock House.
In turn, Jane endeavored to make every proper reply, but they were seated too near Mr. Willoughby, and Jane often caught herself watching him assiduously charm Caroline Bingley. She might reasonably suppose that he was once again diverting Miss Bingley’s attention from the viscount, yet Janefelt a pang of jealousy that had never been present when Miss Bingley did succeed in getting her claws into Viscount Bellamy.
When she was not making herself miserable, Jane managed to enjoy the conversation of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was full of news from Meryton. The viscount became more animated than Jane had ever seen him as he bantered with his brother, and after the colonel gave Jane a report of her cousins, Viscount Bellamy compared the colonel’s account to what he had heard from their sister.
“I imagine Rebecca is quite the terror of the neighborhood, though she would never admit it to it herself,” the viscount said with a laugh. “I understand she has decided to make matches for your cousins, Miss Bennet. She intends to unite Miss Dashwood with my brother, who is often luckier than he deserves. Tell me, do you think him worthy of her?”
“I have received all of my cousins’ letters at once, and only just this morning,” she said. Elizabeth glanced over at Jane with a question in her countenance, but her attention was soon reclaimed by Georgiana. Jane forced a smile. “I should hardly betray her secrets, had she confided them; I can only say that she holds you and your sister in high esteem, and even Mr. Bingley.”
