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She found Jane still in bed, although sitting up, looking rather pale.
“Lizzy, do come in and sit beside me. I am so sorry I have not come down for breakfast…I have not felt quite in spirits of late.” Her face took on a pinched look. “Of course, Caroline says I emulate my mother.”
Naturally, Jane would not wish to share the truth with such a sharp-tongued shrew; she must believe it too soon to share with anyone.Lizzy took her sister’s hand in her own. “It is good that you already know she has not a brain in her head, else she would not say such stupid things,” Lizzy replied. She hesitated, wondering if she should try to speak to Mr Bingley privately instead. “I have learnt something…something unpleasant. Perhaps this could wait a bit, however.”
But Jane straightened, setting aside her tray. “Oh, Lizzy, please tell me if there is anything that I can do to be of assistance. I want to help.”
Lizzy took a deep breath and told her what Kitty had revealed. She had not been sure what Jane’s response would be—perhaps anger, perhaps sorrow and disappointment. She had not expected hysteria.
“It cannot be true. Mr Wickham would not behave so unworthily! You are mistaken! Oh, you must be mistaken!”
“I am afraid you have been much deceived by amiable appearance and graceful conduct, dear sister. I told you that he was untruthful in his criticism of Mr Darcy, but you chose to defend them both.”
Jane turned utterly white at this. “I have!” she cried loudly. “I did. I have made a muddle of everything once again. Again. I cannot do anything right! Anything at all!”
Jane’s maid, Harper, poked her head into the room, alarm on her face.
“No,” Jane cried again. “Do go away!”
Lizzy nodded reassurance to the maid, who quickly made herself scarce, and for the second time that morning, Lizzy saw a sister fall to pieces. Jane’s normally placid nature made the scene all the more distressing.
“No, no, no, no,” Jane sobbed, rolling away from Lizzy to weep into her pillow. “It is all t-true, everything Caroline has said, everything she will say. I cannot s-stop it or escape it. How could I have known? You look at me, believing me to be the happiest of women. I have everything, d-do I not? But I never would have married him if I had kno-own!”
Alarmed, Lizzy did her best to comfort, patting her sister’s back while Jane’s shoulders shook. “You…you do not love Mr Bingley, Jane?”
“No! That is the p-problem!” She wept, going off into another round of sobs. “I d-do, I do. Oh, I d-do!” It took some time for her to be coherent enough for Lizzy to make any sense of it.
“It b-began in Scarborough, with his widowed aunts who married cousins. They look so much alike, and their names are Mrs Dora Smythe-Jones and Mrs Cora Jones-Smythe, and I c-could not get them straight. I am so stupid! He-he laughed every time I m-misspoke and made a joke of it to everyone.”
“Dearest, he only thought it funny. He did not mean to be unkind. He does not think you stupid.”
“B-but they did. It was so obvious. The harder I tried to b-be pleasing, the stupider my mistakes and the louder his laughter. I might have o-overcome my embarrassment, but of course, they wrote to Caroline and Louisa. At least his aunts were never vindictive or mean, but his s-sisters—they hate me, Lizzy. Every time I make any mistake, he makes a joke, and they p-poke at me.”
“I have not noticed this, Jane. I believe you are being too thin-skinned.” And your husband needs to shut it, she thought.
“They are m-more restrained when you are present, for you are just as likely to turn any tease back upon them without a thought. But Lizzy, I c-cannot. They pick and pick at me, in the subtlest ways, and I t-try so hard to make them like m-me, but they do not and n-never will. He…he w-will say something to them of Lydia, of what she is d-doing, of Kitty knowing. And I…I will hear of my sluttish relations all the rest of my life.”
“Surely he would understand the need for gravity, for silence upon this particular matter,” Lizzy tried.
“Oh, he would…except to his sisters. They are so loyal to him that he cannot imagine they are not loyal to me as well.”
“Yet, if we are able to prevent any of Lydia’s misdeeds, surely it will all be forgotten. Putting a stop to it early is the most important thing.”
There was a long silence before Jane spoke so quietly her voice was almost a whisper. “It is like the store-closet at Longbourn.”
“The…store-closet?” Lizzy asked, wondering if Jane was growing hysterical again.
“Yes. Do you remember? At first it was just a little drip, nothing to cause any mischief. Then more and more until it was a steady stream, and we had to move everything out of it, leaving it to splash itself as it liked. It is like that, Lizzy. Drip, drip, ‘I wonder at the chintz, Jane—do you never grow weary of last year’s styles?’ Drip, drip, drip, drip, ‘Joints of mutton again! What a menu!’ Splash, splash, splatter, spray, ‘Dearest, never change, for Charles fell in love with your country manners!’ Over and over again, at everything I do, until I fear rearranging a pillow or shifting a vase. Even if Mr Bingley s-somehow never mentioned another word about Lydia, I would know that he knows of our mortification, how weak and corruptible my relations. I can barely hold my head up as it is. I should never have brought him d-down as I did. He might have married a wealthy heiress. Instead, he only has me, and I…I am not enough.” Her sobs began again in earnest.
It was all Lizzy could do to calm her sister’s agitation with reassurances, to put her back to bed, promising that she would gain her uncle’s assistance instead, and that Mr Bingley should know nothing of the matter. She sat beside her sister until Jane was finally sleeping then sought out a very curious Harper.
“Is the mistress well, miss? I never seen her go off like that before!”
“She is, or soon will be if she is not disturbed in her rest. Please, see that no one does,” she instructed. “I will send up a special tea later that will help set her to rights. And Harper—there is no need to tell anyone of Mrs Bingley’s distress.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t!” she assured, wide-eyed. “I’ll take good care of her. You needn’t worry.”
But worry, apparently, is my new and constant friend,Lizzy thought.
