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Once Mr Bingley arrived in the drawing room, having been informed in a not overly helpful fashion by Lydia, pure panic ensued—even though, by this point, Jane was recovering from her swoon—and Mr Jones was immediately summoned. Lizzy was obliged to tell Mr Bingley her suspicions as to the true cause of the faint, lest he allow the apothecary to treat her with leeches again. The information only increased his anxieties on his wife’s behalf, and his determination that everything within his power should be done for her.
Hence, Jane was put to bed with a hovering Mr Bingley in constant attendance. The midwife was called, and Jane ordered to stay there until tomorrow evening’s entertainment. Lizzy worried for her sister, but where once she would have been welcomed to sit beside her, Mr Bingley now eagerly seized that duty. It was best for Jane, but Lizzy felt a certain new loneliness.
The express from her uncle arrived about the time she had begun peering out of windows towards the drive, expecting to see his carriage, and her disappointment was great, for she had wished for his advice upon what her own decision ought to be. Should she go at all tomorrow night?
She did not want her mother humiliated before the Bingley ladies, even though, for their own sakes, she was sure they would say nothing to anyone else. She did not wish for her sisters to be forced to bear the brunt of Mr Bennet’s capricious temper. At the same time, to find that he blamed her that he had been forced to confront a situation almost entirely of his own making was ridiculous. His desire to deprive her of every comfort of familial affection was evil, and to yield to his demands, insupportable. It was as if her private vow to forgive him had only doubled his offences against her.
Jane had said she would stand with Lizzy, but had she spoken with Mr Bingley about it? And if she had, would he encourage the quietest possible outcome, especially in light of Jane’s current fragility? Certainly, it would be easier for him if Lizzy absented herself from the festivities.
As if this all were not enough to contemplate, Mr Darcy would be here within a day.
Lizzy read the note from her uncle for, oh, the hundredth time, at least, since its arrival.
Dearest Lizzy,
I apologise for such a last-hour delay, but we will not be to Netherfield Park today as I had hoped and will instead arrive tomorrow, likely just ahead of the musicians. Hopefully, Mrs Bingley will already have received Mr Darcy’s acceptance of her kind invitation, with his apologies for the tardiness of his arrival; it is business of his which delays me. We look forward with all our hearts to seeing you tomorrow evening.
Yours very affectionately,
Edward Gardiner
It was a temptation to hide herself in her rooms, if only to avoid seeing Mr Darcy again, avoid viewing his indifference towards herself, avoid facing all that she might have enjoyed in happiness, had she only had more courage. That last day in Brighton, she ought to have insisted upon one last conversation, upon waiting for Mr Darcy’s return; she ought to have ensured he understood every reason for her refusal—or at least that none of those reasons were due to a lack of deeper feeling. And yet—if Mr Gardiner had known that there had been a proposal, however unwise a one, he might have tried to insist upon its fulfilment, whether or not it was the most sensible decision for the happiness of both. On the one hand, she wished she had done differently; on the other, she was convinced of the essential correctness of her original decision. Despite her fatigue, her sleep that night was a troubled one.
But there was no chance for staying abed the next morning as Jane was required to do. For some reason, the servants preferred to take every question related to the ball to Lizzy instead of Miss Bingley, so she found herself thrown into the position of final arbiter of all decisions related to it, with hardly a moment to call her own. The day passed in a flurry of tradesman deliveries, errand boys, and busy servants. She met with Mrs Nicholls at least three times over several small adjustments, inspected floral and candle and polish in the ballroom, and reviewed every detail of the dinner and supper menus with Mrs Schmidt, the Bingleys’ cook.
The sun was disappearing before she realised the time, and she knew she ought to request water for a bath soon—if she were going to go downstairs again. Should she?
A light tap on the door interrupted her infernal musings. “Come in,” she called.
Mrs Nicholls opened the door. “Excuse me, Miss Bennet. The mistress is asking for you.”
So. Here it was. Jane’s—or rather, Jane and Mr Bingley’s opinion. She made her way to Jane’s chambers, wondering if she would be sad or relieved if she must miss the entertainments. Probably both. She sighed, for never had a girl been of so many minds.
Jane appeared lovely and pale in her white lace undressing gown, her golden hair perfection. Kitty was right—she really did look unfairly perfect for a woman ailing. “Lizzy,” she called, stretching forth both hands; Lizzy took them.
“I am quite fit and well able to be up and about.” She sighed. “I only promised to stay abed today so that Charles would not worry about my attendance at the ball tonight. I am so looking forward to it! Thank you, my dear sister. Thank you for everything.”
“No thanks are necessary, Janey. I am happy to do whatever I can to help. And Miss Darcy has worked tirelessly as well.”
Jane smiled, but there was something else in it that Lizzy could not read. “I shall thank her, too, but it is not only about the ball of which I spoke. Lizzy…I had no idea of being with child. I could not really believe it, not until Mrs Bailey confirmed it. You shall call me stupid, I do not wonder—”
“Never! You are not stupid and never have been. Neither have you ever been enceinte. I should have said something! It is a subject of particular interest to me and always has been, for as long as I can remember, but I forget that not everyone shares my fascination—I have always enjoyed listening to Mama and her friends speak of such things, and your symptoms are very like how she has described her own experiences.”
Jane squeezed Lizzy’s hands. “You are very kind. But you shall agree with me when I tell you how I diagnosed my complaint. I thought I was dying. I am so tired and often dizzy. I was very afraid and very…not myself. When you told me of Lydia’s folly, all I could think of was how relieved Mr Bingley would be to be rid of me and of his sisters dancing upon my grave and rejoicing. And yet, neither could I say anything aloud of my fears, lest I discover I was correct. It was very foolish of me.”
“Oh, Janey. My poor sister.”
“And so again, I left you to cope with what I would not. I told Mr Bingley everything, and he said neither of us is to worry about anything that Mr Bennet says to him or any member of his family—he will put our father in his place if he dares repeat aloud such ridiculous accusations so irrationally. He is sending Caroline back to London with the Hursts directly after the ball—he is quite indignant that they should have made me feel so unwelcome. He truly had no idea of my feelings and has assured me that I must always come to him with them—that he trusts me implicitly not to be dramatic or ridiculous, as I feared any accusation would make me appear.” Her cheeks pinkened. “And I have promised him that I shall trust in his affections and not leap to the worst possible conclusions if I am teased.”
“I am so glad. His happiness to have you as his bride has been very obvious to everyone.”
“Can you forgive me, Lizzy? Yet again?”
“There is nothing to forgive. You are my sister. I am so grateful for my home with you.”
Jane sighed. “You are a much better person than I will ever be.”
No,thought Lizzy. I have had so much less to take for granted than you. But I am not sorry that I have learnt to cope with greater difficulty either. “Life has a way of teaching us that which we need to learn, does it not? Now, you must rest, as you promised your husband.”
