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Chapter Text

All was not calm and bright in the Bennet household.

It wasn't quite Christmas yet, but it was close enough that plans for dinners to host and neighborhood events to attend were whirling around Mrs. Bennet's mind as she stared at the ceiling of her darkened bedroom. She had so hoped that they'd have at least one engagement to announce at those events, at least one fiancé to recompense for the lack of male Bennets, but it seemed that God and everyone else had conspired together to thwart her best matchmaking efforts. But no, the only fiancé to be found was that dratted Charlotte Lucas'. They deserved each other, really. Nasty pair. If only Lizzy would have simply taken pity on her poor mama, but Mrs. Bennet was left only with the satisfaction that Lady Lucas, not the Bennets, would have to satiate that man's insufferable appetite with her cheap table--everyone knew that that family was only barely keeping up noble appearances.

It was through these thoughts that a faint noise reached Mrs. Bennet's ears. One that hadn't echoed through Longbourn's thin walls in many, many years. When Mrs. Bennet had learned that she was expecting for the first time, she had gleefully set up the nursery in the bedchamber closest to hers, so she could easily hear if her precious baby boy needed his mama. The boy, of course, never arrived, but she always rushed to her daughters' bedsides when they needed her. When Lydia had finally left the nursery and Mrs. Bennet had begrudgingly accepted that a son would not be arriving to fill her place, the bedroom had been renovated into a finer chamber befitting beloved Jane, who would save them all. So through the quiet that usually settled over the household late at night, Mrs. Bennet could hear her eldest daughter's muffled sobs.

She briefly entertained the notion of returning to her younger days, of going to her beautiful daughter and reassuring her that it was all simply a bad dream. Shhhh, she would say. It will be alright in the morning, my darling. You’ll see. But it wouldn’t be alright in the morning, and Mrs. Bennet, despite her dearest wishes, knew that. Mr. Bingley and the Netherfield party had been gone for two weeks with no sign that the grand old house would be opening again anytime soon. She may not be the most intelligent of women, but she knew when a battle had been lost.

Accompanying the cries that drifted through the walls was Elizabeth’s voice, attempting to soothe her brokenhearted sister. Mrs. Bennet stayed put. Jane didn’t need her, and she had no desire to see Lizzy at the moment. Jane’s tears eventually subsided, or at least, Mrs. Bennet could no longer hear them, and Longbourn’s mistress drifted off to an unhappy sleep.

***

The Gardiners arrived a week before Christmas and not a moment too soon in Mrs. Bennet’s opinion. The household truly was falling to bits and no one had the slightest sympathy for the toll that it took on her nerves. Lady Lucas was clearly trying to outpace her future son-in-law in ego; if Mrs. Bennet had to sit through one more dinner where the only topic of conversation was Charlotte’s brilliant match, she might actually explode, or at least make a scathing comment about Charlotte only being able to secure the man because Lizzy rejected him. But Mrs. Bennet was more of a lady than that former tradesman's wife ever would be, title or no, and so she simply smiled and gloried in all of the attention her girls were receiving from the officers. They never looked twice at Lady Lucas' plain daughters.

Jane, who hadn't cried since that one night (at least not to Mrs. Bennet's knowledge), eagerly took the children out to the gardens. She really was a dear girl, and the only one in the house who had any compassion for her poor mama. It really was a shame that she was heading towards spinsterhood, and Lizzy right along with her. Mrs. Bennet would have loved a grandson with Jane's blond curls and Mr. Bingley's charming smile. Jane hadn't looked twice at a man since the Netherfield ball and she barely spoke two words in company anymore. The Gouldings' youngest son had scarcely left Jane's side at the Lucas dinner just a few days ago, and she hadn't even smiled. Sure, his inheritance portion wasn't much and he was only a little younger than Mrs. Bennet herself, but Jane really could not afford to be picky at her age.

Mrs. Bennet said as much to Mrs. Gardiner. "Really, I don't see why they shouldn't be a good match. She's not getting any younger you know, and what does love really have to do with marriage these days anyway? Mrs. Goulding, the doctor's wife, that sounds well enough for her, I suppose. He's a doctor in some town to the North, you know. I would encourage him towards Elizabeth, in case Mr. Bingley comes back for Jane, but I have done my last good turn for that insolent girl. I must just pray that some rich man realizes the benefits of a lively, beautiful wife like Lydia, for I'm sure she's the only one who will get married now. The others seem determined to live a life of spinsterhood and Lord knows what will become of them once those Collinses throw us out. I swear to you, Madeline, I could see that awful Lucas girl redecorating the parlor in her mind the last time they came for tea." Mrs. Bennet would have continued if not for the need to stop and take a breath.

Mrs. Gardiner seemed to understand. "You only want the best for your girls and they know that, Fanny. It just takes some a little longer to find their way. I didn’t marry your brother until I was a little older than Jane, remember, and we are very happy. And if it is meant to be with the young Mr. Goulding, then I’m sure it will be. You certainly can’t force Jane to accept someone when she’s still grieving Mr. Bingley.”

“If I could force my girls to do what I wanted, we would all rest much easier, I tell you. That Lizzy is determined to vex me, I’m sure of it. She rejected a perfectly fine match. I knew that she was impertinent, but I thought that she loved her family. I thought that she loved her mama. But no, we will all starve and Charlotte Lucas will see to it.” This was not the first time that these thoughts had haunted Mrs. Bennet, and she was certain that it would not be the last.

She continued. “I truly just need a break from all of this. Perhaps that arrogant Mr. Darcy was right, remember that he was the one who insulted Lizzy? Really, that child isn’t the beauty that Jane is, but a true gentleman would never say that in her hearing. Anyway, he said that country life is less varied than town, and perhaps he was right. I find that I grow very tired of seeing the same faces for every gathering. No wonder the girls don’t want to marry anyone here, since they’ve seen them too much. It’s the same people and the same gossip. I even grow tired of the officers, as handsome as they are. They’re all dirt poor anyway, but they have better taste than some with five, nay, ten times their income. Oh, what am I to do? There is never anyone new here and Mr. Bennet refuses to do a thing about it as usual. I feel quite despaired of it.”

An idea hit her. “Madeline, what do you say to Jane and I coming back to London with you? It must get so lonely, with my brother at his warehouses all day, and perhaps Jane will meet some rich man there. At least, it will be a change of pace for her. And I couldn’t possibly allow her there unaccompanied. Oh, but what about her dresses? Mr. Bennet would never approve of her going for a season. That man, on my word, never does a thing for his daughters. Please, Madeline, have pity on your poor niece.”

“I suppose I can speak to Edward about it, but I don’t see why we couldn’t host you for a time. I’m sure that Jane will appreciate extra time with the children, and the children will love seeing her more,” Mrs. Gardiner nodded in agreement.

Lizzy chose that moment to interrupt their conversation. Mrs. Bennet repressed her flash of irritation. London would be good for her, she resolved. She would get away from her most vexing daughter, and so would Jane. Perhaps without Elizabeth’s influence, Jane would find a man to her liking, or at least one that she would willingly marry. Lord knows, her second daughter could drive off a man without even having to open her mouth.

“Aunt Gardiner, I was hoping that you would be able to help me. I know that it’s so close to Christmas, but I find that I have no idea of what to give to Jane this year. She has no interest in the romance novels I initially thought of for her, not now, and I gave my idea of lace and a new bonnet to Kitty and Lydia.” Elizabeth seemed more than a little frantic.

Mrs. Bennet hit on another idea. Without waiting for Mrs. Gardiner to respond, she said, “Why, it’s just brilliant. Jane and I will be joining the Gardiners in London after Christmas, and she’ll need a new wardrobe. Why don’t you help pick out fabric for a new dress, or better, simply give Jane the funds and we’ll get something new from the warehouses there?”

Lizzy’s brow creased in confusion, but Mrs. Gardiner seemed to agree. “That might be a good plan, Lizzy. Perhaps select a ribbon or something out here to choose a color scheme for her, and we’ll pick out fabric to go with it. You need not send any of your pin money, but a few ribbons will allow Jane to have her own creativity while keeping a piece of you with her in London.”

“You’re really going to go to London, then? I was going to speak with you about that--I thought that Jane could use some time away from Meryton. You know how everyone is, they all talk about how it’s such a shame that she got abandoned by Mr. Bingley and they don’t even think about how she feels about the whole thing!” Lizzy’s voice rose in indignation.

So it was settled. Jane was quite surprised with Lizzy’s gift on Christmas Eve and the planned visit that came along with it, and it was set that the party would leave after the Lucas’ Twelfth Night assembly. It was just as well, since Mrs. Bennet had no desire to be in attendance for the much-anticipated wedding scheduled for the end of January. It was sure to be cold and miserable anyway and Mrs. Bennet was not sorry to depart for the glittering excitement of town and all the entertainments that were sure to provide great distraction for herself and her eldest daughter.

Chapter Text

Jane was startled when, a mere quarter hour after the carriage had pulled away from the Gardiners' front stoop, it rolled to a stop and the footman pulled the door open. It couldn't be time already. But time it most certainly was, since Aunt Madeline was already exiting the carriage with her mother close behind. Had Miss Bingley miswritten the return address on her farewell letter?

"Aunt," she started hesitantly, not wanting to cast doubt on the abilities of her staff. "Aunt, are you sure this is the right place?" The house in front of them was much like the Gardiners' in outward appearance: well-kept, clean, and surprisingly modest. All in all, a house that fit nicely into the well-to-do, but not excessive neighborhood that included Gracechurch Street and this establishment that evidently was home to her friends that had departed Meryton so quickly in the fall.

Her aunt nodded in the affirmative and, with a jolt of nerves, Jane had to remind herself that this visit was one among friends. Just her friends, the Bingley siblings. She had met several of her aunt and uncle's friends from the neighborhood in the two weeks she and her mother had been in London and they were all very welcoming. This would be no different. 

Her mother, who had paused for a moment to take in their surroundings, fearlessly led the way up the walk to the front door. Mrs. Bennet reminded Jane most of Lizzy in moments like these, where she refused to let a situation in front of her become intimidating. Aunt Madeline followed Mrs. Bennet, and Jane had no other choice but to do the same.

The butler showed the trio of ladies into a lavishly decorated front parlor that reminded Jane more strongly of Netherfield's ornate style. And they waited. Mrs. Bennet chatted with Aunt Gardiner about the fineness of the furnishings while Jane tried desperately to calm her rapidly pounding heart. Would he be here? It was the appropriate calling hours, and Mr. Bingley was always a sociable gentleman in Meryton. But what if the butler had announced their presence to him, her presence, and he had shaken his head to indicate that he was not at home to the visitors. Not at home to her. To indicate that the butler should let them sit in the parlor, alone, and awkwardly wondering if their hosts were even home. 

Jane was sure that they had just come a little early, and the family was still preparing to greet their guests. It had taken Jane a little while to adjust to town hours, so it must be similar for others as well. Miss Bingley was always the image of courtesy when Jane was sick at Netherfield, so she must simply be dealing with an unforeseen situation.

Her ponderings were confirmed when Miss Bingley swept into the room with Mrs. Hurst close behind. “Dearest Jane! How good of you to call!” Miss Bingley did not smile at the words, but did sit on the settee closest to Jane’s seat so that they might have some conversation. “Whatever are you doing in London?”

Jane smiled at her friend. “Mama and I decided to come for some entertainment after the holiday season. We are staying with my aunt. May I introduce you to Mrs. Madeline Gardiner? She and my uncle live only a short distance away.” 

Something inexplicable flashed across Miss Bingley’s face. “This is the wife of your uncle in trade? How... quaint.” 

Mrs. Gardiner did not respond to Miss Bingley’s odd-sounding comment. Whatever could she mean by it? Jane was confused, but tried to carry on without letting it show. “How has your time in London been? I am sure that your friends were excited to see you for the holiday festivities.”

Mrs. Bennet chimed in. “Of course, Miss Bingley, do tell us about the fine events you must have attended. I hear that London is quite the thing over Christmas.”

“Yes, I almost forgot that none of you have ever had a London season. Oh, it has been quite grand. Incredibly diverting, truly. In fact, Louisa, do you remember at that one ball, how foolishly Miss Kisting clung to that poor Mr. Ringsling, the one who is to inherit his great-aunt’s estate? Well, it clearly didn’t do her very much good, because I had it from his cousin that he is set to marry his sister’s best friend, Miss Jennings. The two families are apparently quite thrilled. Keeping the connections close, really. It is for the best, and I’m sure that Miss Kisting will find another wealthy gentleman to attach herself to in time. Oh, but winter is the best season for engagements. I’m sure that our friends will have news of many more in the upcoming weeks.”

Jane was taken aback by this little speech. She had no knowledge of who these people were, or how Miss Bingley thought that her guests would be interested in the affairs of people they had never met. What was going on? Caroline had never been this careless with their acquaintance in Meryton. 

“Do you attend many such balls, Miss Bingley?” Mrs. Bennet asked politely.  Jane admired her mother’s fortitude, for she was quickly losing her courage to continue this conversation.

“Oh, naturally. The society here is quite more varied than what you must be used to. Why, we were just about to step out and visit some of the friends that we’ve seen quite often in the last few weeks. Of course, Charles won’t be accompanying us, for lately he seems quite incapable of tearing himself away from Darcy House. He most certainly enjoys the social events that he does attend, and even more so when the Darcys are there. I just love how close our families have become, don’t you, Louisa?”

Mrs. Hurst smiled. “Yes, I quite agree, Caroline. We attend many of these events together, and remember, sister, just last week I was saying to Miss Lane how much I enjoyed dear Georgiana’s company. She was quite interested in how we might have been able to befriend Mr. Darcy’s sister, but I mean, it is quite natural for us to do so. She immediately told Miss Adams and Miss Crawford, and they would be most delighted if they could also make Georgiana’s acquaintance. Perhaps soon, our dear friend will spend more time in company and then we can introduce her to our friends.”

Miss Bingley agreed vigorously. “I will so enjoy the opportunity to introduce her to our circle. I’m sure she’ll find them fashionable enough to suit her exquisite tastes and perhaps one or two of them will be able to match her and my common interest in pianoforte. Just think of the delightful musical evenings we might have in the future. Speaking of, I am sorry to say that we must cut this visit short, dear Jane. We are expected to visit the lovely Miss Crawford, for she is quite distraught over the possibility that her brother might be marrying someone she does not like, and as her particular friends, we are honor-bound to console her.”

Even Mrs. Bennet had not been able to get a word in edgewise in the duration of this incredibly peculiar conversation. Jane’s mind was spinning in embarrassment and bewilderment. Miss Bingley had scarcely even looked at her the entire visit, and if Jane didn’t know better, she would think that Miss Bingley was deliberately ignoring her. But Jane remembered her friendly demeanor in Hertfordshire, and knew that Miss Bingley was too much of a lady to be so intentionally rude. 

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst stood, signaling the end of the very short visit. Truly, the Gracechurch Street ladies had spent more time waiting in the parlor than they had visiting with Jane’s friends. Mrs. Gardiner was the first to rise, and Jane was shaken from her thoughts to follow. Mrs. Bennet rose and  ventured, “I hope that we will have the pleasure of meeting you again, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst. You are such fashionable ladies and I’m sure that Jane will appreciate your advice on the society to be found here in town.”

Miss Bingley glanced at Jane, appraising her in a way that made Jane feel very, very small. “If we have the time, we will most certainly pay you a visit. I would hate to lose contact with such a good friend. You are staying in Cheapside, I presume?” Miss Bingley raised one elegant eyebrow.

Mrs. Gardiner intervened. “Mrs. and Miss Bennet are staying with my family and I on Gracechurch Street, Miss Bingley. You likely have driven past our house several times on your way to Bond Street, as it is in that general direction. We will look forward to your visit.”

The ladies curtsied to each other and before long, Jane was back in the carriage staring into her aunt’s sympathetic expression.

Next to her, her mother harrumphed. “Well, that was quite odd. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a shorter visit, even with Widow Lane who so dislikes company. What did you make of it, dear? They are your friends, after all.”

Jane tried to hide her similar perplexion. “I’m sure that we simply caught Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst at a bad time, that’s all. They had other things on their minds. They will visit and we’ll be able to converse more then.” 

Despite her calm words, she twisted her gloves in her hands as she mentally went over the visit again and again. Every word seemed to indicate that Mr. Bingley was truly enjoying the company of Miss Darcy, and from the reports of her that Jane had heard, she could hardly blame him. The sisters clearly relished the idea of the match, and the idea of marriage in general, so there must be a happy announcement coming soon. The pieces of Jane’s heart cracked a little more. There was nothing for her to do, but to continue her friendship with Miss Bingley and stand aside as Mr. Bingley found his happiness. That’s all she truly wanted for him, no matter if it involved her.

They quickly reached Gracechurch Street, and Jane fled her aunt’s pitying gaze and her mother’s irritated ramblings. She would not cry again. She refused to. After all, there had been nothing settled between the two of them. But, her heart whispered, what about --no. She would not go back over the glances he’d shared with her at the Netherfield ball, or the questions he had asked about her plans for the winter. She would not think about the way her heart nearly stopped at his nearness during their dances, or the first true conversation that they had been able to have, the one when she’d finally felt well enough to come down to visit with her gracious hosts when she got sick.

Gracious. Caroline had certainly been anything but that today. Jane tried to give her friend a viable explanation, some circumstance that would have warranted the sisters’ actions. But there was really only one, and Jane’s heart did not refute it. The look that Miss Bingley had worn at the end of the visit, it took Jane back to a time in her life that she preferred to forget. 

She could still remember sitting in her mother’s drawing room, listening politely to the older ladies chat about various society nothings as she practiced her embroidery. Jane had been eleven years old, and quite proud that her mother had allowed her to join her for the hours that she was home to visitors. Charlotte had accompanied her mother and although the older girl was Lizzy’s friend more than Jane’s, she appreciated that Charlotte had willingly come to sit at Jane’s side. That is, until Gertrude Goulding had joined them. 

“What on earth are you doing, Jane? Don’t you know that it’s rude to ignore guests when they have come to call?” Gertie had grown up with Jane, Lizzy, and Charlotte along with many of the neighborhood children, and she had always been very outspoken. Now that she was sixteen and out in society, just like Charlotte, she considered herself to be too elegant to join in on their adventures. 

Jane tried to explain. “My sister’s birthday is coming up soon, and I need to finish this before then. Mama said it was alright and she says that she is proud of how my embroidery is coming along. Do you embroider, Gertie?” 

Gertie let out a most unladylike snort, not that Jane would ever say such a thing out loud. “Of course I do, you goose. But when visiting, it is important to be engaged with people. You never know who might know someone important, and could provide you an introduction. After all, my mama says that my wit and conversation are sure to catch me the finest of husbands someday soon, and I intend to practice for when we go to town. I’m sure your mother has talked to you about catching a husband, hasn’t she?”

Jane shook her head. Charlotte seemed to understand what Gertie was getting at, however. “Gertie, I hardly think that Jane will need to worry about that just yet. She’s still young, after all, and she should hang onto that as long as she can.” 

Gertie ignored Charlotte and plowed on. “My mama says that the Bennet girls will need to make very good matches since they don’t have any sons. So Jane will need to know how to talk to a man. After all, Jane dear, you won’t be able to just bat your eyelashes at him until he proposes. My mother and sister always talk about how men like wives who have curves, and how it’s good that I’m so well-formed, but you seem to be a little lacking in that department. But don’t worry, I’m sure Charlotte will be able to guide you in how to cope.” 

With that little speech, Gertie flounced off, seemingly pleased with the speechless state of her audience. Mrs. Lucas (her husband had yet to be knighted) called over to Charlotte to close her mouth. Obeying, Charlotte turned to Jane. “You mustn't listen to what Gertie says. You don’t need to worry about catching a husband yet. And what she said was very unkind and completely untrue.”

But her words had stung Jane deeply. She didn’t tell Lizzy when they were talking later that night, because she knew that her sister would take offense to the statement and was rash enough to do something drastic like put a frog in Gertie’s dress the next time they saw her in Meryton. Jane knew the truth, knew that when she looked in the mirror, that her face had more angles than curves, that her eyes seemed to be too large for her face, and her hair, while golden, was puffy and untameable. She already felt awkward trying to sit elegantly in her mother’s parlor with her gangly, skinny limbs that seemed to refuse to arrange themselves gracefully. And on top of that, she greatly disliked when people she didn’t know well would ask her questions and expect her to speak like a lady about any topic. She knew what would be expected of her soon. All Gertie did was voice it, and for that Jane could not blame her.

But it wasn’t Gertie’s words that echoed back in Jane’s memory as she retired to her room in the Gardiners’ home. It was the look on her face as she delivered her condescending verdict on Jane’s prospects and abilities. It was the same mixture of contempt and pity that Jane had seen on Miss Bingley’s face. Now, away from the house that had once contained so many possibilities and away from the tension of the conversation, Jane hoped against hope that she was merely misinterpreting Miss Bingley’s intent. But she also knew what she had seen, and knew that no explanation could justify the sisters’ clear preference for other company and hints that Mr. Bingley was not and never had been a possibility for Jane. 

Gertie had been right. Jane didn’t have the capability to simply bat her eyelashes at a man until he proposed (the very prospect seemed absurd and she could hear her sister laughing uproariously all the way from Hertfordshire), and she didn’t have the comfort in social situations to entice him with her wit and conversation. This morning at the Bingleys’ townhouse that wasn’t quite as grand as Miss Bingley had described while they were together at Netherfield, Jane was again that eleven-year-old girl found lacking in her mother’s drawing room. Plain Jane. Shy Jane. Awkward Jane. 

She would not cry, not for Mr. Bingley. But she could shed a few tears for the girl that she had been, and the realization that truly, not much had changed. That she would allow.

Chapter Text

If one were to ask Mrs. Bennet, she would be of the opinion that nothing was going as planned. A month into visiting the Gardiners, Jane was still prone to lapsing into sad silences and staring off into the distance. The Bingley sisters had not returned their call. There had been no one at any of these social gatherings that Mrs. Bennet thought would do well enough for Jane (her almost-spinster eldest daughter could snag more than a tradesman, surely). To top it off, her most contrary and vexing daughter had arrived in London for a brief visit before continuing on to Kent to visit with the newlywed Collinses. 

Of course, no one had thought to ask Mrs. Bennet her opinion.

They were all sitting quietly together in Mrs. Gardiner’s drawing room. Jane was buried in her stitching, Lizzy consumed with her book, and Mrs. Gardiner was occupied with invitations for a dinner they were hosting. Mrs. Bennet couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. "Tell me, Lizzy. How was Miss Lucas' wedding?"

Her second daughter looked up and sighed. "It was quite lovely, Mama. Charlotte looked very pleased and I daresay our cousin felt the same."

"You did say that they left straight from the church, yes?" Mrs. Bennet let out a huff. "Lady Lucas always did like to keep affairs cheap. Just as well, as I'm sure she will be wanting to use the funds to forward a match for Maria. Pity that she is just as plain as her sister. Have you rejected any more eligible suitors, Lizzy? Perhaps then she'll find a husband."

Lizzy rolled her eyes in that unladylike manner of hers. "If I reject another proposal, I'll make sure to refer him to Maria directly."

"You'd be better off letting Mary have him first. At least then you'll have done some good for your family." 

Jane piped up for the first time that morning. "Lizzy does care for our family, Mama. And both Mary and Maria will meet their own matches in time."

"Yes, if Charlotte Lucas can snare a husband, I daresay anyone can. I wager she'll only have daughters--that will show her what it's like to know that she will be turned out of her home." Her daughters exclaimed at the unkind statement about their friend, but Mrs. Bennet was in no mood to apologize for her words. Her daughters were in no place to know the crushing realization that one had failed in the foremost duty of the mistress of an entailed estate.

Mr. Bennet rarely looked at her anymore, but when she did manage to catch him gazing at her, it was always with an expression of… resignation? Bitterness? In those brief, fleeting moments, she remembered again the moment that he walked into the birthing room for the final time. Mrs. Bennet had known that he would be disappointed in the appearance of yet another daughter, but surely they could try again. She had refused Mrs. Hill’s offer to inform the master of the house of the gender of the newest Bennet babe. Foolishly, she had thought that the news would be better coming from her. But her husband had walked into the birth room, seen her tear-streaked cheeks, and put the pieces together. 

“It’s a girl?” he asked.

At her tearful nod, he simply sighed. In that moment, Mrs. Bennet saw the weight that had been slowly descending on him and on their marriage settle firmly onto her husband’s shoulders, and she hadn’t dared venture the idea of another child. He had not returned to her side, as a lover or as a life partner, since.

Mrs. Bennet, although she would never admit it, was lonely. Of course, her daughters always surrounded her and she had her friends in Meryton, but her friends all had to forward their own daughters’ interests and her girls, God willing, would all move on to their own lives. If Mrs. Bennet had anything to say about it, her daughters would never have to know the kind of nerves that beset her every time she thought about the future that awaited them. However, she was not above wishing that future on the usurping Collinses.

***

A few days later saw the entire Gracechurch Street party out for a society excursion. Mrs. Bennet would have infinitely preferred some shopping, a dinner, or even a ball, but Mr. Gardiner expressed an interest in attending a lecture on the chemistry of the fabric-dyeing process, and the rest of the family had been agreeable. Yet again, no one asked Mrs. Bennet her opinion. How in the world was Jane supposed to find another suitor if they didn’t go anywhere interesting?

The only redeeming factor was the presence of her brother’s young business partner, a Mr. Samuel Clare. The man was not overly wealthy, overly handsome, or overly anything really, but he was certainly good enough for Lizzy. With any luck, he would not be overly opposed to an impertinent, untameable wife. He certainly seemed to enjoy having her on his arm as they walked into the great hall where the lecture was to take place. And if Lizzy ended up rejecting him too, then Mrs. Bennet would simply have to send for Mary to come and join them. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered with her disobedient daughter anymore. Why, Lizzy wasn’t even trying to speak with the man, but rather listening intently to the lecturer!

Bored, Mrs. Bennet looked out at the other audience members. There didn’t seem to be anyone of true fashion here and no one was dressed to the level that the Bingley sisters had in Hertfordshire. Mrs. Bennet still didn’t know what to make of that truly ridiculous visit. The Bingley women clearly weren’t people of quality, if their manners seemed to be anything to judge by. And snubbing Jane so obviously when they and their brother had paid particular attention to her whilst in the country. Hmmph! If the situations were reversed, Jane would have graciously returned the call even if the acquaintance wasn’t in her normal sphere. Mrs. Bennet may not have been born a gentlewoman, but she had raised her daughters with the manners necessary to interact with their circle! It was shameful, really, the way that those women went about with their noses in the air. The Hursts’ townhouse was only a few streets away from the Gardiners’, reminding everyone that no matter how much money the Bingley family supposedly had, they were still intimately tied to trade and Mr. Hurst was merely the son of a small landowner. Did Mr. Bingley truly have five thousand a year or was that one of the sisters’ attempts to hold themselves as better than their company? What candle could Caroline Bingley hold to Jane’s beauty and grace? Nothing! The longer Mrs. Bennet thought about it, the angrier she became. Perhaps it was for the best that the Bingley sisters had not come to call. If they dared to wait on Jane in the future, Mrs. Bennet fervently hoped that Jane would not be home, and she could send the superior sisters on their trade-stenched way. 

Musing over exactly how she would send Miss Bingley off, preferably with her absurd feathers pulled down over her eyes and an accidental tear in the hem of her obnoxious gown, Mrs. Bennet followed her party out of the hall absentmindedly. She had heard not a word of the lecture, although Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Clare had seemed to enjoy it enough. The men and Lizzy chatted about it, using words Mrs. Bennet did not bother to try to follow. If this was what Mr. Clare wanted in a wife, one that could discuss completely unladylike topics, then it was all the better that he seemed to take a liking to her most unladylike daughter. Jane, as usual, was silent by her sister’s side, but Mrs. Bennet caught the appreciative glances from various men that they passed. It was comforting to know that even with her eldest daughter’s advancing age, she could still turn heads. Perhaps they would have to come to another lecture, when Jane was more up to speaking, and they could form some new acquaintances.

It seemed that they were only destined to meet old acquaintances on this particular visit. Lizzy, engrossed in her conversation with Mr. Clare and her uncle, stumbled over someone’s foot in the crush towards the entrance, and only avoided toppling over (clumsy girl) because someone had reached out to steady her elbow. Mrs. Bennet didn’t care much who it was and only looked properly at Jane’s small gasp. “Mr. Darcy!” 

The tall man was clearly surprised to see them. To think, the high and mighty Mr. Darcy at a common lecture. Granted, Mr. Gardiner had assured them that it was quite the fashion for people to attend that did not choose to go to the theatre or the royal menagerie, or one of the other entertainments in town. But still, how he must loathe the very sight of the girl that he had so rudely insulted without even properly meeting her! Mrs. Bennet had half a mind to tell him exactly what she thought of him too, but as he had not been rude to Jane, to her knowledge, she decided that her younger daughter could fend for herself. She had nothing to say to the man, but  if they were friendly enough with Mr. Darcy, perhaps Jane would meet Mr. Bingley once more. Yes, his sisters were unabashedly ill-mannered, and no, he wasn’t the most constant of men, but if it would make Jane happy, then Mrs. Bennet would tolerate such a son-in-law. 

Lizzy introduced Mr. Darcy, insufferable man, to the members of the group to whom he was unknown. He bowed politely to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, despite their status in trade, and nodded to Mr. Clare. At least the man was decently civil. His eyes seemed to narrow slightly at the sight of Mr. Clare standing so closely to Jane and Elizabeth. Well, the distance to either girl certainly wasn’t inappropriate, and even if he or his friend were unwilling to give undue consequence to her daughters, that didn’t mean that other men weren’t willing to court them. Why, she would take great satisfaction in having all of her daughters married off before he found a suitable wife, or found his perfect sister, if the Bingley women were to be believed, a suitable husband. Oh, how droll it would be if Jane stole Mr. Bingley back from the proud man’s beloved sister! That would show him who truly had consequence where it mattered.

Mrs. Bennet, lost in her thoughts, was brought back to the conversation by the sound of Jane’s voice for the first time since they left the house. 

“Are you enjoying the season, Mr. Darcy?”

The man nodded in the affirmative, but seemed disinclined to say anything else. Jane’s simple question seemed to have flustered him, as he’d been conversing a little more easily with Mr. Gardiner than he’d done with anyone, except perhaps Lizzy,  in Hertfordshire. Mrs. Bennet prayed that Elizabeth would have the sense to keep her thoughts to herself instead of running her mouth off like usual.

Mrs. Gardiner, seeing the courage that it had taken Jane to speak at all, cut in. “We visited Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst a few weeks ago. I understand that they are friends of yours, Mr. Darcy.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I was close with their brother at school and traveled to their leased estate near the Bennets’ to help him learn the basics of estate management. I’m sorry, the sisters did not mention that they had seen you in town, Miss Bennet.” 

Jane seemed incapable of speech. Mrs. Bennet decided that it was time to step in. “Well, it was a few weeks ago, but my brother and sister-in-law are such close neighbors with them that I rather thought it odd that they have not returned my Jane’s call. Surely, their brother did not seem as above company as some others when we saw your party in Hertfordshire. Of course, they are in trade as well, so perhaps Mr. Bingley is busy with his business, yes? I know that my brother could afford to be less diligent about such things, but he is very committed to his family’s happiness.” There, that should show the haughty man that his connections weren’t so above them after all.

“Erm, yes. Mr. Bingley was unfortunately called away due to a family matter in Scarborough, although I’m sure he will be sorry to have missed you.” Well, at least the man had the dignity to look down as if he was even a little ashamed of his and his friends’ uncivil behavior. Or perhaps he was just looking at Lizzy, who stood closest to him and at least a foot shorter. 

“My nieces told me that you hail from Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy. Are you related to Lady Anne Darcy, by any chance?” Mrs. Gardiner, at least, seemed to think the man was worth speaking to. Of course, she didn’t know his true nature.

“Yes, ma’am. She was my mother, but she passed away nearly fifteen years ago.”

Mrs. Gardiner’s face softened in sympathy, and even Mrs. Bennet had to feel a little sorry for Mr. Darcy. But she remembered his behavior towards her friends and neighbors, and thought that it was quite the shame that his mother had not been alive longer to teach him some proper manners.

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was a truly wonderful woman.”

“You knew my mother?”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “Yes, I grew up a few miles away from Lambton, in the opposite direction of Pemberley. I remember Lady Anne bringing over some baby things when my younger brother was born, and she played a little with us children when my mother was recovering from the birth. She truly was a lovely lady, and I have nothing but the fondest of memories of her as a neighbor.”

Mr. Darcy seemed confused. “You grew up a few miles from Lambton… are you one of the Davenports’ daughters?”

“I’m their cousin, Mr. Darcy. I was a Davenport, yes, but my brother did not survive infancy and the estate, like my brother-in-law’s, was entailed away from the female line. It went to my father’s younger brother when my father passed, and my mother still lives with them. I married Mr. Gardiner shortly after my uncle took over the estate’s management.”

“I’m sorry for your losses, Mrs. Gardiner. I do not know Mr. Davenport well, but I do encounter your uncle’s family from time to time at various events in the neighborhood. I’m not a very sociable man, I’m afraid.” 

“Then you are very like your father, Mr. Darcy, which is far from a bad thing to be.” 

Was that a hint of a smile from the man? Lord, maybe pigs could fly, Mrs Bennet wondered. “Thank you, ma’am. It was a pleasure seeing you all, but I should be going home to my sister. I promised to have dinner with her.”

They said farewell to Mr. Darcy, who cast another look over his shoulder at Mr. Clare and his proximity to Mrs. Bennet’s daughters. Any possibility of a smile had vanished and the crease between his brows deepened. Mrs. Bennet thought that she must have been mistaken, which happened more often than she would like to admit. Oh, it must simply be her nerves again.

Chapter Text

Miss Bingley did return their call, long after Jane had given up on the prospect of continued friendship with any member of the family. Elizabeth had left for Hunsford a few days prior and her parting words echoed in Jane’s mind as Miss Bingley was announced.

“Darling, you have the purest soul, and the kindest heart. Promise me that you will not continue to pine after those who could not treat you the way that you deserve, for they must be truly blind to not see you for the treasure that you are.” Jane had promised, and resolutely decided to think no more of the Bingleys. That is, no more until Miss Bingley was shown into the Gardiners’ sitting room.

Jane knew that there was no mistaking the cold detachment in Caroline--no, Miss Bingley’s face. She had thought at one time that she would be able to call Miss Bingley by her given name, as her sister, or even just as her friend, and there were moments at Netherfield that Jane could recall her former friend’s true smile and the occasional unguarded laugh. That woman had vanished, however, and in her place was a stranger sitting primly on the provided chair and examining the room as if inspecting it for dust. Although, if Jane was being uncharitable, Miss Bingley’s present state was not so strange after all. She could recall several times in Hertfordshire where Miss Bingley’s face pinched into what could be called disdain and her nose turned up ever so slightly. 

Thank goodness for Aunt Madeline. Jane, while she felt sure in her decision not to worry any further over the actions of a certain family, was not entirely sure now that she was faced with such a situation. But her aunt, ever the elegant hostess, thanked Miss Bingley for coming, and asked after the health of her family. Miss Bingley responded in kind, making no comment on the family matter that Mr. Darcy had mentioned at the lecture a few weeks ago. 

Jane tried to find her voice. “How is Mrs. Hurst? I hope that nothing serious kept her from visiting with you.”

Miss Bingley smiled thinly. “My sister is very well, thank you. She chose to visit with some of our other friends, who are very accomplished and wanted to share their newest endeavours with us. However, I remembered that we had not yet returned your… generous visit, and so I sent my sister along without me so that I could wait on you.”

Jane could not ignore the implication there. It was not an unfamiliar insult, for she had been hearing it since she had been old enough to be out in society. At fifteen, she had not felt nearly ready to face such a group of people as the one at the Meryton assembly at the end of the summer, but her mother had insisted. So Jane had attended, dressed up in a fine white gown and with a borrowed piece of her mother’s jewelry around her neck. She had finally stopped growing, so the dress had not needed to be let down as her mother had fretted, and her hair had been tamed into gentle curls tucked at the back of her neck, but Jane found it impossible to raise her eyes from the floor when their family was announced to the general crowd. If only she could vanish into the edges of the room, but with her height, she stood out amongst the other ladies, making hiding an impossibility, and her mother would never have allowed it. 

The dance portion of the night had gone well enough. She danced the first with her father, which she thanked heaven for because the thought of dancing for the first time in public with a stranger made her want to sink through the floor. A few young men had come to ask her to dance, and her mother fluttered with delight. Thankfully, Jane had not made any obvious mistakes in her steps and her partners did not seem to mind doing most of the talking during their sets. Glances cast her way were sparing, and many only because her mother did not bother to conceal her delight at having a daughter out in society. 

But then it came time to exhibit. 

Gertie Goulding, now twenty, had opened the performance part of the night with a beautiful German aria. If Mrs. Bennet was to be believed, the older girl had had a suitor in town that season, but he had been deemed unsuitable. Truly, Gertie was talented, and she seemed quite determined to present herself well. If there was a slight lilt of sadness in her tone, it only served to enhance the notes. Other performers came after her, but none quite performed to the level of the first. Jane stood off to the side, quietly enjoying the performances at her mother’s side (her father had long since disappeared into another room to converse with the other local gentlemen). 

“Oh, dear Jane Bennet! Why don’t you take your turn at the pianoforte?” Gertie’s smile was wide. Her dress swept about her figure in an aura of gently-bred sophistication as she walked over to Jane. Her voice carried about the room in a way that made Jane want to hide behind her mother’s skirts like a small child at the eyes that turned toward them expectantly. 

Jane desperately searched for a response. “No, thank you, Miss Goulding. You played beautifully, however.”

“Why, thank you.” Something in Gertie’s smile changed. “But please, I must insist that you honor us with your talents. After all, we have not yet had the pleasure of hearing what you have to offer.”

“I couldn’t possibly, Miss Goulding.”

“Whyever not? It is your first time out in society, and at fifteen, too. Your mother must be quite eager to show off your assets.” 

Jane wished to be any place but in this moment. “I do not have the fortune of being as talented as you at pianoforte, Miss Goulding. I do not have the ear for it.”

“You mean you never learned?” Miss Goulding looked shocked. The eyes on them seemed innumerable, and Jane felt as if she could not be any redder of embarrassment. Gertie continued,“Oh, how unfortunate. You must have never had the opportunity to learn. Of course, my father had our governess teach my sister and I and then a master visited our house when we were in town last winter. I know that my sister’s husband was quite enraptured with her playing this spring, and look where they are now. Oh, I am prodigiously proud of her. But you must learn! We will quite despair without what I’m sure are your considerable gifts.”

At that moment, Jane’s mother cut off her conversation with Mrs. Long and interrupted Gertie. Jane’s gratitude soon turned to further mortification at her mother’s words.

“Jane is quite talented enough, I think. Did you not see her on the dance floor, Mrs. Long? I always knew Jane was light on her feet and she certainly made a pretty picture with all of the dances that she was asked to stand up for. I’m sure that she will soon attract a wealthy gentleman, and I am quite proud of her. She’s simply shy and does not want to call any more attention to herself, the poor thing. I certainly do not pity those mothers who must depend on the performance part of the night to attract the attention of any gentlemen to their daughters.”

Jane could tell that Gertie was becoming angry. She tried to defend her childhood friend to her mother. “I’m sure Miss Goulding was just excited about her sister’s wedding. They must have quite the loving marriage, if the connection was formed based on a common interest.”

Miss Goulding did not hesitate to respond. “Well, they certainly did have to talk to form that connection. I noticed that you were very quiet during the dances, Jane. Perhaps my sister and I can give you some advice on how to hold a conversation with a dance partner. I got lots of practice in town and would be happy to tutor you.”

Mrs. Bennet spoke up again. “Perhaps that would be best, Jane dear. After all, your father refuses to go to town, no matter what it might do for you girls. But truly, I think that your shyness would be quite attractive for your partners, for men do prefer a blushing, pretty young woman. I’m quite sure that we will find the perfect match for you soon, for I would so love to see you settled early. It causes so much stress if one’s daughter is out in society for too long. One certainly thinks that she might be considered rather on the shelf, even if she is talented and talkative.”

Jane could not believe the rudeness in her mother’s words. But Gertie only seemed to latch onto them as her face screwed up in indignance. “I would rather be talented, and quite capable of attracting a dance partner for myself, than to rely on my mother to coerce my partners into asking out of mere politeness. It is quite a shame we will not be able to hear you exhibit, Jane. Now, I believe I have promised the next dance to John Lucas, and I should make sure that I am presentable.”

Jane, with Gertie’s and Miss Bingley’s words echoing in her mind, knew that she was not the most talented society lady. But one did not so rudely point out the flaws of others. It simply wasn’t the kind thing to do, but Miss Bingley, with her unfriendly demeanour so different than in Hertfordshire, did not seem concerned with being kind to her former friend. 

Once again, her mother tried to come to her defense. “I’m sure that you and Mrs. Hurst have many very talented acquaintances. Mary and Elizabeth both play the pianoforte, and of course Mary practices quite constantly. Jane, however, has always been quite content to delight in others’ performances, and truly, she’s my most beautiful daughter. She does not need to put herself on display to gain the attention of others.”

Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed. “No, Jane is quite perfect. It is a pity that you have not met the right man yet. However, I understand that your uncle is quite well-connected in trade, and I’m sure there are plenty of men in his sphere that would love a wife like you. I would not despair for you just yet.”

“My Jane is perfect, yes, and capable of making whatever match she would like. I was telling Mrs. Gardiner, just the other day, that the gentlemen that we met at a dinner party last week seemed quite enamored with Jane’s beauty and poise. She’s certainly the picture of a gentlewoman and any gentleman would be lucky to have her. I quite thought that your brother would be the one to catch her, but it seems that he is preoccupied with other matters to know what’s right in front of him. Hmmph! I never understand what goes on in young men’s minds these days. In my day, if a man paid attention to a lady, or wrote her verses like that suitor did for you, Jane, it was certain to come to something. But, well… the right man will come along, I’m sure.”

There were several beats of silence after that little speech. Jane’s head was spinning with the revelation that Miss Bingley had never considered her as a possible sister, and the thought that continued to nudge her that Mr. Bingley never really cared for her other than as a neighbor and a friend. Mrs. Bennet was smug, confident that she’d finally managed to put the Bingley woman in her place.

Miss Bingley abruptly stood. “I should be going. I would not want to leave my sister to fend for herself for too long, and I would quite like to hear of our friends’ newest accomplishments. I am glad that we were able to see each other after Hertfordshire, since you were so good as to entertain us while we were there. Good day.”

Jane truly could not process all that had just happened. She had resolved to put Mr. and Miss Bingley from her mind, in order to avoid being hurt again, but to hear that she had not even been anything other than a pleasant diversion cut deeply. Jane reminded herself to take a deep breath. Miss Bingley, Gertie, all of the staring eyes and sharp tongues of society, they were all waiting to see Jane crack. She could not give anyone that kind of satisfaction, no matter the insult or how much worse her mother always made everything. Deep breath. She would not cry, she would not crack. She had promised Lizzy that she would not let this affect her anymore, and Jane Bennet would keep her promise.

Chapter Text

Well, it was about time someone set Miss Bingley down from the pedestal she’d placed herself on, and Mrs. Bennet was quite proud to have been the one to do it. Now perhaps they would all be able to move on from the spectacle that was the Bingley family and Jane would be willing to at least speak to the next man she encountered.

No sooner had Miss Bingley left (her nose no higher in the air than usual, but Mrs. Bennet thought that she saw a mortified blush gracing those high cheekbones) when the butler announced the presence of another caller. This one was unknown to Jane and Mrs. Bennet, but Mrs. Gardiner welcomed her with open friendliness. She introduced the woman as Mrs. Clare, the young Mr. Clare’s mother. For the first time, Mrs. Bennet mourned the fact that Lizzy was not in London, because that meant that she was not there to meet her future mother-in-law. It was probably for the best, Mrs. Bennet mused, so that Lizzy could only show her impertinence after the wedding. For now, Mrs. Bennet would focus on singing the praises of her second daughter and how much she approved of Mr. Clare. 

“You’ve just missed my second daughter, Mrs. Clare. She and your son had quite the stimulating conversation at the lecture, it seemed. My Lizzy is a very well-read girl, and so excited to meet someone that she can converse with. Lord knows what her father was thinking when he taught her so much, but I made sure that all of my girls know how to manage a house properly. I’m sure that they’ll make good matches, for that’s all a mother ever wants for her children, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Clare?”

The other woman seemed to agree, but directed her attention to Jane. Mrs. Bennet couldn’t blame Mrs. Clare for wanting her eldest as her daughter-in-law, but Jane could do better. “How are you enjoying London, Miss Bennet? My son mentioned that he was very pleased to have met you and your sister at the lecture.”

Jane gave a near-inaudible reply, and Mrs. Bennet could see that she was still struggling with Miss Bingley’s rude words. “We have met many new people while here and Jane has gotten along quite well. I do hope that she will meet her match while we’re here, but I don’t know who might be good enough for her. She’s the beauty of the family, as you can see, and we expect that she will make an excellent match. Perhaps even one of the peerage, wouldn’t that be just the thing? But, of course, quite what she deserves.”

Before Mrs. Clare could respond, Jane’s face crumpled, and she fled the room. Mrs. Bennet rose quickly, concern for her daughter erasing all thoughts of Lizzy and Mr. Clare. She made her apologies to Mrs. Clare, and followed after Jane. 

***

Mrs. Bennet found her in the back garden, crouched by the barren plots that would soon give way to spring’s blooms. Her eldest daughter was hunched over, shaking, and as Mrs. Bennet drew nearer, she could hear Jane’s whimpering cries. But when she tried to pull Jane into her arms, Jane only pulled away.

She tried to comfort her. “I know Miss Bingley was rude, dear, but you can do better than her brother, truly. You are so beautiful, Jane, it won’t be long before someone else, someone richer and more handsome comes along and sweeps you off your feet. And you wouldn’t want that horrible woman as a sister, now would you? She was so cruel to you, Janey, she doesn’t deserve to call you family.”

“I don’t care.” The words came so softly from Jane, Mrs. Bennet wasn’t sure that she’d heard right. 

“Then why are you crying, sweetheart? Mrs. Clare certainly wasn’t rude. I quite like her, and her son is nice enough for Lizzy. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t care, Mama. Just let me be alone for once.”

“What? Janey--”

“Leave me alone, Mama!” Jane’s voice was choked.

“Jane Frances Bennet! What on earth--”

“Mama, I’m not upset because of Miss Bingley, and I’m certainly not upset because of Mrs. Clare! You, Mama, you insist on humiliating me during every visit, and you constantly talk about my looks and my prospects while making me look the fool in front of everyone. No man wants to deal with that, not for all the beauties in Hertfordshire or in London! I try--God knows I try--every visit and every ball to prevent you from embarrassing your daughters, but you refuse to talk of nothing else! No man ever looks at me except with pity for being the spinster daughter that is still not married, not even after seven seasons. Seven, Mama! Every time a man gets close, he decides that I’m not worth the effort. I wish you would just stop talking about it! I can stomach it from people like Miss Bingley, but you remind me with every conversation, and I just can’t do it anymore!”

Mrs. Bennet stood in shock. Jane was finally speaking above a whisper, but what was she saying? Mrs. Bennet certainly didn’t embarrass her daughters, and what mother doesn’t talk about her daughter’s prospects? Lady Lucas and Mrs. Goulding and Mrs. Long, they all delighted in discussing these things with her. She again reached out to her daughter. Poor Jane was just distraught, and her mother was her safe place. “Jane, it will be alright. You’ll meet someone else, I know you will.”

Jane shook her off. “Mama, aren’t you listening? I don’t care about finding someone else. I just want you to stop forcing men to talk to me out of pity, and to stop discussing my impending spinsterhood with everyone who passes into our acquaintance.”

“Jane…” Mrs. Bennet was dumbfounded.

“I don’t care anymore, Mama. Please, just leave me alone.”

Her daughter pushed past her, disappearing back into the house. Mrs. Bennet could not believe what she had just heard. Jane had never spoken this way before. Was this an idea that that dratted Lizzy had put into her head? No, Lizzy had never said anything like this, nor Mr. Bennet. Both were content to laugh at the world, and at her. But Jane didn’t laugh at her. Jane sat with her at events and kept her company. She was just shy, wasn’t she? Of course Mrs. Bennet encouraged young men to dance with her, but Jane didn’t need her help. After all, the only reason the young men came over to talk to them was because one of Jane’s smiles had captivated them from across the room. 

Her only wish in this life was to see her daughters happy and settled well before Mr. Bennet passed. Why couldn’t her daughters see that? 

Mrs. Bennet stood alone out in the gardens, gazing at the cold, lifeless lumps of ground. Where had she gone wrong?

***

Three days later, Jane was quieter than ever. The only time she seemed even slightly animated was with her young cousins, who delighted in playing games with her and showing her every new discovery they made at the pond in the park down the road. Mrs. Bennet was at a loss; she had thought that coming to London would wake her treasured daughter up, not cause her to sink even further into herself.

Her words still echoed back to Mrs. Bennet whenever she looked over at her eldest daughter. What could she do to make amends? With any of her other girls, Mrs. Bennet would have just brushed away their silliness, but she couldn’t do that with Jane.

Mrs. Gardiner had had the idea of bringing Jane and the Gardiners’ eldest daughter, Rose, who was eleven and learning how to be a lady, to an indoor garden open for viewing. She assured Mrs. Bennet that Jane simply needed time, and seeing the exotic blooms would help Jane see the beauty of life again. Rose would appreciate the opportunity to have some of her grown-up cousin’s undivided attention, as well.

So they went, although Mrs. Bennet quickly realized that the garden was not about the actual flowers (which looked rather wilted anyways) but rather just another place to see and be seen. Mrs. Gardiner seemed to realize this too, and suggested that they find somewhere else to sightsee for the day. Mrs. Bennet, having watched Jane’s expression fall at the sight of so many people, quickly agreed. 

They turned, and Mrs. Bennet collided with a fashionably-dressed, all-too-familiar figure. “Miss Bingley, a pleasure to see you again.” 

Mrs. Bennet wanted to smack the woman. She, and that ridiculous brother of hers, was at least partly the reason that Jane was so hurt, and Mrs. Bennet had never wanted to throw decorum to the wind more. However, she remembered Jane’s words, and refrained from saying anything further.

“Ah, Jane! How… lovely to see you and your family again. It’s so funny that we keep running into each other--it is a small world, I daresay. Have you brought your new lady’s maid with you? I did not realize that you were able to keep one, but it is kind of you to help her acclimate to the London fashions. I’m sure she’ll find lots of inspiration here.” Next to her, Mrs. Hurst nodded her vigorous agreement. 

The Gracechurch Street party met that statement with confused silence. Jane responded, “I do not have a lady’s maid, Miss Bingley. I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Then who might this be?” Miss Bingley smiled, tight-lipped, at Rose.

“Someone who has grown into a wonderful young lady,” a voice cut in. 

Rose, who had finally understood what Miss Bingley was saying and seemed to be near tears, immediately broke out into a huge smile. “Mr. Teddy!”

The man, apparently called Mr. Teddy, greeted the group. He was a tall man, towering over the ladies, perhaps thirty or just older, and fair-haired. There was something familiar about his face, but Mrs. Bennet couldn’t place it. She was automatically on alert, as with any time that a potentially available man was in proximity with her daughters, but maintained her silence. She would not upset Jane any further. 

“It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Gardiner. You have grown since I last saw you, but Madeline, you haven’t aged a day.” 

Mrs. Gardiner chuckled. “You always were the charmer, Teddy. I didn’t know that you were back in town--you must come to dinner soon.” 

“Of course. Oh, I’m sorry for not introducing myself. I do business with Mr. Gardiner, and I’ve known Miss Rose here since she was a baby.”

Miss Bingley sniffed. “We’ll be going--I see some of our friends waving us over. A pleasure as always.” She and her sister dipped what could barely be called curtseys and flounced off.

Mrs. Gardiner ignored the abrupt departure in favor of completing the introductions. “Teddy, this is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Bennet, and her daughter, Miss Jane Bennet. They are visiting us from their estate in Hertfordshire. Ladies, this is Mr. Theodore Fitzwilliam.”

Chapter Text

As uncharitable as it might be, Jane had never been so glad to see someone leave than the Bingley sisters as they quickly disappeared into the throng of fashionable people. She had never been so grateful for someone’s interference as she was at that moment. Rose was at a fragile age, one that Jane knew all too well, and Miss Bingley, given the chance, would make Gertie Goulding look like the sincerest of friends. She focused on her young cousin, concerned that Miss Bingley’s words would have torn her confidence to shreds before it even had the chance to form. On the contrary, Jane found that Rose’s face was animated and excited at the stranger’s untoward entrance into their conversation. 

Jane snapped her gaze away from her cousin just in time to perform the proper curtsey at her Aunt Gardiner’s introduction. She could already tell that her face was red. Of course, not only did this person have to witness an awkward altercation with a former friend, but then she had to go and appear as though she was not paying attention to their introduction and as if she had no manners. And in front of all of these people, too. The only thing that would make this situation worse would be if her mother decided to open her mouth.

That was not giving her mother enough credit. Since Jane had lost her temper, Mrs. Bennet had been unusually quiet during visits and she had not mentioned eligible matches more than twice a day. However, her mother had yet to be in such a public setting, interacting with strangers, since their conversation. 

Mrs. Gardiner and Mr. Fitzwilliam quickly fell into a conversation about the man’s travels and recent work, and Rose occasionally joined in with eager questions. Her mother even managed to contribute politely once or twice. It seemed that Mr. Fitzwilliam had a small estate in Ashbourne that had had some troubles with the winter storms, requiring his attention and presence there rather than in London for the beginning of the season. Jane wanted to engage in the conversation, but tearing her eyes from the floor seemed impossible at this moment. There were too many people here and too little space. The perfumes coating the flowers of the indoor garden mingled with those of the ladies to create a noxious mess. Jane knew that if she tried to speak, she would inevitably embarrass herself, and she refused to upset her aunt, who had been kind enough to suggest this outing, or her cousin, who seemed to be relaxing a little as the conversation progressed.

Jane tried to inconspicuously search for the ladies’ washroom. Perhaps there would be more space there, or at least just the chance to catch her breath and calm her mind. As she darted a glance around the room, her eyes met Mr. Fitzwilliam’s concerned gaze. His brow creased. “Miss Bennet---Miss Bennet, are you alright?”

In the mass of people, panicky and desperately trying to stave off embarrassment, Jane heard another voice asking her that same question.

After her mortifying encounter with Gertie Goulding at her first assembly, Jane had escaped out to the small back porch of the assembly hall. She drew shaky breaths of warm late-August air, desperately trying to calm herself and avoid having to return to her indiscreet mother with tear-stained cheeks. She rolled and unrolled the end of the pale green ribbon at her waist between her fingers and tried to disregard Gertie’s words. No one, not even Lizzy, could argue that Jane was particularly accomplished, at least not when it came to performing to others. Conversation did not come easily, especially if Jane felt that her partner was expecting witty or entertaining comments. The pianoforte always sounded flat under her fingertips and while she loved to sing, her voice always wavered under the scrutinizing gaze of others. The only thing Jane could do passably was dance, and much preferred to do so in the comfort and privacy of her own home with her sisters as partners, rather than grown-ups that expected perfection. If only she could have stayed home. She didn’t want to come out, and really, no man would want a quiet, awkwardly-proportioned girl as a wife, no matter what her mother said. She would rather wait, wait until Lizzy could come out with her, and perhaps by then Gertie would have found an acceptable husband and not be in attendance.

“Miss Bennet, are you alright?”

The voice startled Jane out of her self-pitying thoughts. In the light shining from the doorway stood Mr. Matthew Riley, Meryton’s vicar. Jane wilted internally. Mr. Riley was a kind, outgoing young man that had fit easily into the small community when he had arrived in the village five years prior. Jane, at ten years old, had thought her heart stopped when the handsome man at the pulpit began speaking, and as he read the day’s verses, she fell more and more in love. His very first sermon had been about the duty that human beings had to take care of and nurture one another, like stewards of an estate or gardeners in their gardens. “What you give to the world, God will return in a thousand little ways,” he had said. “It is our job to give as selflessly and love as boundlessly as the Lord does, no matter what storms may come our way.”

Jane was sure that her feelings for My. Riley were obvious to everyone, so she tried to hide them. As a result, she only managed to bumble her way through conversations and when she could speak, she always said the wrong thing. Naturally, Mr. Riley was too kind to make Jane feel foolish for doing so, but Jane wanted to curl up in a ball when she thought about the countless ways she’d embarrassed herself. As an excuse to spend time around him, Jane had volunteered to help in the church’s gardens, whose produce went to feed the poor of the community, and brought flowers from Longbourn’s gardens to help decorate the inside of the church for special occasions. At ten, she would have done anything to gain his notice. At fifteen, she would do anything to avoid it, especially at this moment. 

Mr. Riley had married within a year of arriving in Meryton, much to the disappointment of the mothers that gathered in Mrs. Bennet’s morning room to gossip. His wife had been his childhood sweetheart from his hometown, but he had waited to propose until he’d found a secure living. Jane felt no envy towards the sweet woman who resembled Lizzy in so many ways, with her open, friendly smile and easy way of relating to people. Mr. and Mrs. Riley looked after their flock, and Jane adored them both, as well as their two young daughters. However, Jane still cringed at the memories of her initial foolishness around Mr. Riley, and wished to avoid having to relive that on top of everything else that had happened that night. 

“Miss Bennet?”

“I’m quite alright, Reverend. Thank you,” Jane tried to muster up a smile.

The vicar stayed in the doorway, but gave Jane a look that contained sympathy and understanding, but not pity. “I believe that the first event for any young lady is a difficult one, no matter how well or how poorly it seems to go. I believe I was lucky, being born a boy in a small country town, so there wasn’t all of the excitement surrounding my entrance into society. But I know that Mrs. Riley struggled in her own way.”

“She did?”

“You would have to ask her, because she would remember that night better than I. I only recall being excited to finally see her at one of the assemblies, and that I thought that the night went excellently. But she has different impressions of her first few events.”

“How? If you said that they went perfectly well…”

“I believe that sometimes we can focus so much on what we perceive to be our mistakes that we don’t realize that others do not see them. Many times people are concerned with their own problems and worries. That can be good, because it means that we have less time to spend scrutinizing others. On the other hand, it can make people lash out at others because they feel insecure. Jealousy and insecurity can be horrible things if they are allowed to take hold.”

“Oh.” Jane was surprised. Had the others at the assembly not seen her stumbles, or heard Gertie’s words and Mama’s interference?

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember that everyone around us has just as complex a life and a mind as our own. Everyone has their own past and their own fears. But it’s easier to assume that everyone has a reason for their actions rather than to panic and take responsibility for someone’s choices. And you shouldn’t let anyone’s actions keep you from showing the world the incredible young lady that you’ve become.”

Jane blushed and thanked him, gradually feeling better as the weight of his words settled in.

“I’m very proud of the person that you have grown into, Miss Bennet. I still remember you coming to help all of the older ladies decorate the church for my first Easter Mass. You were so excited to contribute, none of us had the heart to tell you that it was too early in the year for anything but a few of the very first flowers. But you told us, very determinedly, that we could decorate with garlands and fabrics, and it would look just as nice. And that’s what we did. My very first holiday in this community, and you made sure that we could celebrate properly. You even took some of the leftover garlands to the Colbys, who didn’t have much. I remember Mrs. Riley coming to that Mass with her parents, and they were very impressed with the community that Mrs. Riley and I were going to call home. You were a part of that, Miss Bennet. I’ve seen your kindness grow, and your loving nature towards your family and the families that live on your father’s land, and I’m glad my girls have a role model like you in Meryton. Don’t forget all that you have to offer just because of someone else’s insecurities.”

Mrs. Bennet, it seemed, had finally noticed Jane’s absence from the assembly room. Her strident voice came through the doorway from behind Mr. Riley. “Reverend, have you seen Jane? Miss Lucas said she came this way but I cannot find her for the life of me.”

“She’s right here, Mrs. Bennet. I was just asking her to dance, if she can bear standing up with a curmudgeonly old man like myself.”

Jane smiled gratefully. “I would like that, sir.”

He asked again, “Are you all right, Miss Bennet?”

Jane looked up at the kind face of Mr. Fitzwilliam, who had expertly brushed off Miss Bingley’s attacks on Rose, who had been respectfully  listening to Mrs. Gardiner and her mother speak, who had been drawing Rose into the conversation and was now asking after a perfect stranger’s wellbeing. Blue eyes met deep, deep brown, and saw the inherent kindness and concern that lay there. Jane knew that this man would understand if she stumbled a little, if she was nervous or embarrassing. He would be the type of person to think about what might be going on behind someone’s actions, and try to understand. 

“I’m quite well, thank you.”

Chapter Text

The Gracechurch Street party, escorted by Mr. Fitzwilliam, decided to leave the public garden in favor of a sweetshop down the street. As they carefully navigated the crowded walks, Mrs. Bennet kept a watchful eye on her eldest daughter. Jane walked between Mr. Fitzwilliam and Rose, with Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet close behind. Mr. Fitzwilliam was telling an entertaining childhood story featuring a few of his father’s farm horses and his first attempt to help in the fields, and Jane was looking up towards him, smiling the sweetest smile that Mrs. Bennet had seen in weeks. As they walked, Mr. Fitzwilliam guided the girls away from errand boys that hurried in and out of shops thoughtlessly and fashionable people that rushed past without any attention to those around them. Mrs. Bennet smiled--he and Jane certainly made a pretty picture.

Mrs. Bennet resolved not to say anything. Jane had been right about many things, most of all that she had been out for seven seasons already. Lord, how could it be seven years? It seemed like just yesterday that Mrs. Bennet had been excitedly planning for her coming-out dress and the party she would host in honor of her precious daughter. If Jane was right, and Mrs. Bennet had scared off her suitors, then it would not do to continue in the same manner. No, not at all. Jane Fitzwilliam, that would sound very well. Perhaps they could court for a little while, and then have a late summer wedding. Yes, that would be just the thing, with August wildflowers to decorate the church and beautiful sunshine to complement Jane’s fair hair and complexion. But for that to happen, Mrs. Bennet would have to remain silent, for Jane’s sake. She would not interfere with the first full conversation Jane was having with a man since November. 

They entered the sweetshop, and after making their purchases, retired to a corner table by the front window to enjoy them and watch the crowds pass by. Mrs. Bennet sighed. She would be quite content to remain in London her entire life, if the Gardiners would have her. Lord knows Mr. Bennet would never come to town, no matter how much good it would do for her nerves or her daughters’ prospects. 

Mr. Fitzwilliam, finished with his chocolate and his story, asked Jane about her family. Mrs. Bennet desperately wanted to interject, for there was nothing more that she liked than singing her daughters’ praises, but again, she reminded herself to hold her tongue. Jane was doing a passable job of it, however, listing her sisters off and describing their fun-loving natures and their varying talents. 

“I quite envy you, Miss Bennet, and you as well, Miss Gardiner, for being the eldest. I was the youngest of my siblings by many years, and always felt a little left out. It seemed that the older ones got to have all the fun while I was left behind.”

“Do you have a large family, Mr. Fitzwilliam?” Jane asked softly.

“I suppose. I have a brother, who is the oldest of us, and two sisters as well. The eldest of my sisters passed away many years ago, but she left behind my nephew, who isn’t much younger than I, and my niece, who is spending time with my brother and his family. My other sister lives in Kent with her daughter, but she rarely travels to town, so it’s really just my brother, his wife and two sons, and my niece and nephew when we all manage to be in London at the same time. Family holidays are lively, but cozy, if that satisfies your curiosity.”

Jane blushed and did not respond. Mrs. Bennet thought that she was doing wonderfully well. It was wise to understand where a man came from, what his family was like and who might be useful to impress to forward a match.

Rose asked, “Did you ever wish that you were the oldest, rather than the youngest, Mr. Teddy?”

Mr. Fitzwilliam looked thoughtful. “When I was a child I did. I wished to be tall enough and strong enough to play with the older children, rather than being relegated to looking after my nephews, who I considered to be very beneath me in age and ability. But my elder siblings have not led easy lives, while I seem to have avoided much of that, so I would say that now I am grateful to have had the benefit of learning from their experiences. How about you, Miss Bennet? Would you have liked to be the youngest, rather than the eldest? Or you, Miss Gardiner?”

Rose answered that she liked being more grown up than her younger brothers and would not want to be younger than little Nathan Gardiner, who at five years old was not his older sister’s idea of maturity and grace. 

Jane seemed to consider it for a few quiet moments. “I admire my youngest sisters’ ability to live in the moment and enjoy their youth, and there are times that I wish that I could be as carefree as them. But then I remember that every age has its challenges, and I would rather live through mine and be able to guide my younger sisters through them than have them face them alone. So no, like you both, I do not think I would trade my place away.”

Mrs. Bennet looked to Mr. Fitzwilliam to see his reaction to this statement. The man was looking at Jane with admiration, which was not a rare expression for a man to wear in her eldest daughter’s presence. But Mrs. Bennet then looked to Jane, and saw her looking back at Mr. Fitzwilliam with something similar to openness and trust.

No matter what came of this, if Mr. Fitzwilliam would draw her daughter back out of herself again, then Mrs. Bennet would be content.

***

Mr. Fitzwilliam insisted on seeing them back to Gracechurch Street, saying that it was on his way anyway. Mrs. Bennet was beginning to think that if Jane was not interested in the man, then she would have to send for one of her other daughters to catch his eye. He was quite the gentleman, and while not the most handsome man that she had ever seen, if he was wealthy enough and devoted, then what else could a mother wish for her daughters? Yes, whichever of her daughters he took a liking to, she would be quite happy to have him for a son-in-law. But she would not say anything of the sort around Jane, of course. It would not do to upset her. 

After a quiet dinner, the Gardiner family retired to the parlor, where Rose demonstrated her blossoming skills on the pianoforte and Jane danced the boys, even little Nathan, through some simple steps. Mrs. Bennet relished the sound of her daughter’s open laughter and finally breathed a small sigh of relief. They had been in town for over two months now, and Jane finally seemed to have allowed something in herself to unravel slightly. Mrs. Bennet promised herself that if they ever saw the Bingley siblings again, she would not even stoop to recognize the acquaintance. She considered their blatant disregard for her family a personal insult. 

When the children tired, Jane walked them up to the nursery and retired herself, and Mr. Gardiner stepped into his study to take care of a few pressing business letters, leaving Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet alone in the parlor.

“Madeline,” Mrs. Bennet hesitated. How should she phrase this? “Madeline, Jane spoke to me the other day. She said some peculiar things, but among them she told me that I have scared off her suitors with my discussions of her prospects. I know that she was upset, but I don’t understand what exactly she means. Of course I’m concerned about her match, but so is any mother, and the poor thing does need some help with talking to gentlemen. How do I make her understand that I’m only trying to help?”

Mrs. Gardiner seemed taken aback. “Jane told you that?”

Mrs. Bennet nodded in confirmation. She hoped that Mrs. Gardiner would agree that Jane was upset, and that she wasn’t responsible for the things that her daughter had laid at her feet.

“I think that you care about your daughters, Fanny, and want to see them well-settled. But they have to find that for themselves sometimes, and I think that your girls, especially your eldest three, are more than capable of navigating society for themselves. It takes a very special kind of man to love a woman as she deserves to be loved, like your daughters deserve to be loved, and if you try to force that process, they won’t find that man for themselves. Finding that person is a journey that they have to walk on their own.” 

“I also think that you allow your nerves to take the focus away from your daughters’ incredible personalities. I understand that you want the best for your girls and that you worry about their futures, but talking about it to anyone who will listen is not going to do anything to help the situation. Edward and I are more than willing to take care of you and any of the girls that are still at home when Mr. Bennet dies, which is not likely to happen anytime soon. You know that, Fanny, I know you do. You can breathe , dear. Your girls are more than capable of sorting out their futures for themselves. It’s a mother’s job to guide them, but to know when to let them fly on their own. If I were you, I would focus on your youngest two. Kitty, especially, and Lydia, too, need your love and guidance in society. But everything will work out, Fanny.”

Mrs. Bennet did her best, but she could not stop the tears that escaped at Mrs. Gardiner’s gentle words. Oh, what had she done to her poor Jane? Seven seasons and still single, all because of her? She had failed in her one mission as a mother. Would it be better for Jane if she returned to Longbourn? Would Jane finally be able to return to her former self, before London and before Mr. Bingley?

She suggested as much to Mrs. Gardiner, who thought it over for a long moment. “No, I think you should stay here, Fanny. Learn to let Jane fly while it’s only her to focus on, and be her support when she needs you. I think London is as good for you as it will be for Jane, once you let her breathe a little. We’re more than happy to have you.”

Mrs. Bennet pulled Mrs. Gardiner in for an impulsive hug. “Thank you, Maddie,” she whispered to her sister-in-law.

In the quiet after that moment, she thought back over the day, thought back to the look on Jane’s face when she spoke to Mr. Fitzwilliam. She asked Mrs. Gardiner about him, out of curiosity and a desire to protect her daughter’s fragile heart if necessary.

Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “Teddy is an old family friend of mine. He met Edward at our wedding, and the two hit it off marvelously. They’ve been as thick as thieves ever since, and the children adore him. He’s really very good with them, but he always was excellent with his niece and nephew. His late sister and  brother-in-law were neighbors of my family, and the Fitzwilliams didn’t live very much farther away, so my family saw them at various events when I was growing up in Derbyshire. I’ve fallen out of touch with the rest of the family, but Teddy and Edward are very diligent in their correspondence and he makes a point of visiting whenever he’s in town.”

Mrs. Bennet nodded thoughtfully. He could be an excellent match for Jane, and Mrs. Bennet only hoped that her daughter would have the confidence to put herself forward into his notice.

“He’s not a very social man; although he has plenty of acquaintances, he keeps his circle small. Teddy tires easily of society. However, he’s a very successful man and he is honest and fair in his dealings with customers and tenants. His entire family is, really. I believe you are acquainted with his nephew already, since Jane and Lizzy introduced us a few weeks ago.”

“Jane and Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet’s overwhelmed mind couldn’t make out the connection.

“Yes, Teddy’s nephew is the Mr. Darcy we met at the lecture hall. Teddy’s older sister, Anne, married when Teddy was three years old, and gave birth to a son a year later. I didn’t want to say anything to the man himself, as we were just introduced, but I know that Teddy is more an older brother to his nephew than an uncle. It really is a small world, isn’t it, Fanny?”

Mrs. Bennet wasn’t entirely sure how much more her nerves could take for one day. The only thing she could do was send a fervent prayer heavenward that the uncle would have much better manners than the nephew.

Chapter Text

For the first time since November, Jane found herself looking forward to an event. Mrs. Clare, the young Mr. Clare’s mother, had called on the Gardiners to extend an invitation to a ball. The Clares, Mrs. Gardiner explained, were well-respected in London society (the lower circles, anyway, who were not opposed to the family’s close connections to trade) and known for their hospitality. Of course, Jane’s mother had fluttered with excitement at the prospect. However, Jane could not find it in herself to blame her. The idea of a ball was thrilling to a certain extent. Somehow, she found it easier to dance and converse among strangers, rather than under the well-meaning scrutiny of the people she had known her whole life.

Jane’s mother had certainly taken her words to heart and ceased the constant commentary on her suitors, but true to form, insisted that Jane needed a fine new dress for the occasion. Thus, Mrs. Gardiner, Mrs. Bennet, Jane, and Rose made their way to the modiste. The modiste, a middle-aged Englishwoman named Mrs. Webley, had come into the Gardiners’ acquaintance many years ago. She had fearlessly walked into Mr. Gardiner’s office one day and proposed a partnership: he would provide the fabrics and other materials, she would provide a clear profit and a discount on his family’s dresses. Edward Gardiner admired the woman’s tenacity, and after she demonstrated her design and construction talent on a ball gown for his wife, he agreed to her proposal. The woman had fulfilled her end of the bargain and grown her business until she was a favorite among those of the ton that favored clean, elegant lines and fine fabrics. 

Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet eagerly flipped through the design options, while Mrs. Webley’s assistants held up various fabrics so that the modiste could decide what colors would look best on Jane. Her companions’ enthusiasm was contagious; Jane smiled at her mother’s girlish squeals at the drawings and her aunt’s hushed laughter. They settled on a pale green satin underdress, with a silvery gossamer fabric layered over it. Silver and emerald green thread would weave together in an embroidered trim on the overdress, and Mrs. Gardiner insisted that Jane also receive an emerald green shawl for warmth. It was April, after all, and the winter chill had not yet relinquished London. Perhaps it was vain, but Jane couldn’t help the thrill that she felt as Mrs. Webley and her assistants bustled around, taking measurements and making notes.

As they were pinning fabrics around her, the modiste’s next appointment walked in. Jane was immediately embarrassed. She had been so wrapped up in herself that she had not realized the time, and she was caught in a state of undress by a pair of strangers and even worse, was encroaching on someone else’s time. Jane made to step away from the mirror only to be shooed back by Mrs. Webley.

“Not a move, Miss Bennet. I don’t want you getting poked by any of the pins. Besides, Miss Darcy’s a sweetheart, and she doesn’t mind waiting a few moments. Isn’t that right, miss?”

Jane started at the name. Miss Darcy? Miss Bingley’s letter came back to her: Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister and we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think that Georgiana Darcy has her equal in beauty, elegance, or accomplishments, so much so that I must hope to hereafter call her my sister. 

Jane stared at herself in the long mirror, willing her color not to rise, and refusing to look at the young woman that Miss Bingley had so highly prized as a sister-in-law. She may have accepted long ago that Mr. Bingley would not be coming back to her side, but seeing the woman that he was courting and quite possibly with his ring on her finger would be too much for her heart.

Mrs. Webley’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Miss Bennet, may I present Miss Georgiana Darcy? She says that her brother has mentioned having made your acquaintance.”

“Miss Bennet?” A soft voice came from Jane’s left side, and with no other choice, she turned.

A tall young woman, a girl really, stood there. Her face still showed the edges and angles of youth, and her expression was hesitant. An older woman, a paid companion most likely, stood protectively a small distance behind her. Jane remembered her manners, and curtsied.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Darcy. I hope that your brother is doing well.”

Mrs. Bennet came to stand beside Jane, pulling herself up to her fullest height (which wasn’t very tall). “Miss Darcy, a pleasure.”

“Miss Darcy, this is my mother, Mrs. Frances Bennet. And I am also here with my aunt, Mrs. Madeline Gardiner, who hails from Derbyshire but lives here in London now.” 

Miss Darcy curtsied in return. “My brother mentioned having met you all at a lecture a few weeks ago. Pardon me, are you Miss Jane Bennet or Miss Elizabeth?”

“I am Jane, Miss Darcy. My younger sister Elizabeth has left London for Kent since the lecture, but she will be returning soon.”

Mrs. Bennet cut in. “I understand that you and the Bingleys are very close. It must be a comfort to have Miss Bingley back in town for the season, as well as her brother. When they left Hertfordshire, they mentioned that they were eager to see you.” 

Jane glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. Mrs. Bennet’s tone was frosty, very unlike her normally friendly, if loud, voice. 

Miss Darcy’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I have not seen the Bingleys in many months. Mr. Bingley usually visits my brother often, but I have been staying with my aunt and uncle and my brother has not mentioned the Bingley family in some time. Were they well when you last saw them?”

Mrs. Bennet seemed to soften. “We also have not seen the Bingleys in a long while. Miss Bingley called upon us nearly a month ago and said that she was very proud of your accomplishments. In fact, my Lizzy said that she had also heard that you were quite the accomplished young lady.”

Miss Darcy blushed and stayed silent. Her companion stepped in to help. “Mr. Darcy wrote of you and your sister while he was in Hertfordshire, and Miss Darcy was hoping that perhaps you might come to tea. She’s not out yet, but would like some practice as a hostess.”

“Does your brother approve?” Jane was surprised. Why wouldn’t Miss Darcy rather host her future sister-in-law?

“My brother was very complimentary of you and your sister. I’m sure he won’t mind. And as I’m staying with my aunt, it’s her approval that I need and she gave me leave to invite you since my brother has already met you and your family. I just didn’t have your direction, so I’m very glad to have met you here.”

Jane was perplexed but couldn’t deny the nervous young woman in front of her. Elizabeth must have been wrong about Mr. Darcy’s opinion of them. And, she reasoned, if the tea was at Miss Darcy’s aunt and uncle’s house, she wouldn’t run the risk of meeting the Bingleys accidentally. 

“We would love to come to tea, Miss Darcy, anytime that is convenient for you. Am I finished, Mrs. Webley? I don’t want to delay Miss Darcy’s appointment?”

Mrs. Webley nodded. “Let’s get you unpinned, Miss Bennet, and we’ll have you ready in a trice.”

They bid Miss Darcy, her companion, and Mrs. Webley a good day, and climbed into the Gardiners’ carriage. Mrs. Bennet huffed.

“That Miss Darcy is still a child. Sweet, of course, but full young. What Miss Bingley is thinking, I could not tell you…” Her mother trailed off, looking at Jane apologetically. “Sorry, Janey, I promised I wouldn’t mention that family.”

Jane shook her head. “It’s quite alright, Mama. I have no quarrels with the Bingleys. You are correct, Miss Darcy seems like a sweet girl. I will be pleased to see her again.”

When she had first come to London, she had resolved that if Mr. Bingley was happy in his choice of Miss Darcy, then she would be happy for him. It seemed, however, that Miss Darcy was not as close with Mr. Bingley as Miss Bingley had implied. Jane sincerely hoped that Mr. Bingley would not be hurt, but could not stop herself from feeling a little relieved that she would not be taking tea with Mr. Bingley’s fiance. If he came up in conversation during the visit, Jane resolved to keep her equanimity, and not cause trouble in someone else’s happiness. If they met again, she would greet him as an indifferent acquaintance. That would be all, and that would be alright.

Chapter Text

The day of the Clares’ ball had finally arrived. Just after lunch, Mrs. Bennet had shooed Jane into her room to begin her preparations and Rose, while not old enough to attend, had quickly followed to participate in the excitement. Mrs. Bennet would not mention eligible men tonight, she reminded herself, but seven years of pestering Jane to look her best was a hard habit to break. 

Mrs. Gardiner gently reminded Mrs. Bennet that she, too, had preparations to make for her own dress, so she proceeded upstairs to get ready. As she passed Jane’s door, she could hear the girls laughing as Rose encouraged the maid to try a daringly modern hairstyle. She paused. What would she have given, just a few months ago, to hear Jane laugh? Why didn’t she see before that it was only the freedom to be a carefree young lady that Jane lacked? Her nerves gave a flutter, whispering that this was Jane’s chance to find a suitor, and save them from the hedgerows, but it was very faint. Hearing Jane enjoying herself was enough. 

***

Hours later, Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner, and Mrs. Bennet were waiting in the drawing room, prepared to leave. Jane had yet to come down. Mrs. Bennet’s nerves gave another flutter--was Jane not coming? What if this was too soon, if they were pushing Jane too far by having her spend an evening in the company of strangers and in a stifling ballroom?

Before Mrs. Bennet could question the mind of her eldest daughter, the very subject of her worries could be heard on the stairs. The adults stood up, grateful to be going, and met Jane in the hall. Mrs. Bennet stopped short.

Jane had always been beautiful. She had a smile that lit up her eyes and cheeks that blushed so prettily. Her fair hair had curled so perfectly around her profile. Any man she met was distracted by her presence. But this Jane, the Jane that stood in front of her mother in her brand-new, glimmering ball gown, had a strength to her that Mrs. Bennet had never seen, or never chosen to see. This Jane set her shoulders in a graceful way that showed just how effortlessly she wore her beauty. She was not the young girl that Mrs. Bennet had always prized and protected, but a woman that would not be cowed by the challenges that life set before her.

Jane’s voice broke through Mrs. Bennet’s reverie. “Mama, are you alright?”

Mrs. Bennet blinked, and cleared her throat. “Yes, my dear. I’m quite well.”

***

The ballroom was packed. The musicians were cleverly placed upon a dias installed in the center of the ballroom floor, and the couples and the music swirled around them. The Clares had spared no expense on the decorations, and neither, it seemed, had their guests on their dresses. Among the lace and the feathers and the jewels stood Jane, elegantly shimmering in the candlelight, the silver and shades of green in her dress highlighting her fair complexion and the glimmer of her starstruck eyes.

The laughter and the constant movement of rich colors brought another image to Mrs. Bennet’s mind, one of a younger Jane surrounded by a sea of people and color. Jane was five at the time, and Meryton had hosted a kite festival to celebrate the beginning of summer. Mrs. Bennet, newly pregnant for the fourth time and certain that this time it was sure to be a boy, had thrown herself into planning the event with the other ladies of the neighborhood. And it had gone marvelously. Extended families had come in from out of town, the townspeople and estate-owners alike had pitched in to make a picnic available for everyone, and the children each excitedly showed each other their creations. Lizzy and Mary, at three and two respectively, were left at home in the care of Mrs. Hill, but Jane was allowed to attend.

Mrs. Bennet had been helping serve tea, when a chill had run through her. It was a breezy day, perfect for flying kites in the flat park just outside the village, but it was also early June and the sun’s rays just didn’t seem to be enough to warm her. Their maid had gone off somewhere (flirting with the baker’s son that she was sweet on, no doubt), so Mrs. Bennet had asked Jane to fetch her shawl from their blanket just a few yards away. Jane had obediently set off in that direction, but when Mrs. Bennet looked up from the cup she was pouring, Jane had vanished.

Mrs. Bennet frantically scanned the crowd for her little girl, but couldn’t see her anywhere. She grew panicked and called hysterically for Mr. Bennet, who had no more luck locating Jane than she. What was she to do? Where could her precious daughter have gone off to? Jane knew better than to wander off and frighten her poor mama. She didn’t see her with the Lucases, nor the Gouldings. Mr. Bennet went off to speak with the magistrate, who suggested that they organize a search party for the missing child. Mrs. Bennet was convinced that someone must have stolen her Jane away, or that she was hurt and ailing and without her mother to help her. What was she to do?

As Mrs. Bennet descended to pure panic, she heard her daughter’s voice calling to her. Jane burst out of the crowd of people, pushing past ladies in their freshly made summer dresses and men boisterously catching up with their friends after a long winter and spring of hard work on their estates. “Mama! Mama! I found it!”

Mrs. Bennet had never been so relieved. She enveloped Jane in a tight hug, thanking the Lord for returning her daughter to her. “Where on Earth have you been, child? Have you no appreciation for your mama’s fears? I thought you had been kidnapped!”

Jane looked ashamed. “I went to our blanket, like you said, and I found your shawl, Mama. Then I turned around and I couldn’t see you or Papa. I thought I went in the right direction, but I just got more lost. I’m sorry, Mama, I really am.” Her green eyes filled with tears and Mrs. Bennet melted.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Janey. I was scared I had lost you. You’re going to stay right here for the rest of the picnic, understand?” 

Jane, ever the good child, obediently stayed by her mother’s side for the rest of the event. But with the way that Jane stood out from the overwhelm of people in the Clares’ ballroom, radiating in beauty and poise, Mrs. Bennet knew that the days with Jane at her side were numbered. Even as she watched Jane admire the tall windows thrown open to allow the spring air to cool heated bodies, and the flowers and vines draping pedestals and window boxes, Mrs. Bennet could see many a man’s attention arrested by the sight of her daughter. They had arrived too late for her to dance in the first set, but as the music played and their party enjoyed the dancers’ performance, Jane’s dance card quickly filled with young men who knew Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and requested an introduction.

Mrs. Bennet caught sight of a figure in her peripheral vision, and turned to find Mr. Fitzwilliam carefully navigating his way through the throng of people towards them. Mrs. Gardiner had explained to Mrs. Bennet, while they were waiting for Jane, that they might see him or they might not. Mr. Fitzwilliam wasn’t a particularly social man, but he had met the Clares through his business with Mr. Gardiner and was sure to find people in the crowd of the Clares’ acquaintances that he knew and liked. He might technically be a member of the aristocracy, but with an older brother with an heir and a spare and the little time that he spent in town, the ton’s gossips had grown indifferent to him. Mrs. Bennet was unsure if anyone had explained to Jane just who Mr. Fitzwilliam really was, but as her eldest daughter shyly smiled up at the man, she decided that she would worry about that another day. 

Mr. Fitzwilliam made casual conversation with the Gardiners and inquired after the children, promising to make a visit in the near future. A young man, apparently the son of one of Mrs. Gardiner’s friends, approached them to claim Jane for the second set of dances, but before she left, Mr. Fitzwilliam requested Jane’s hand for a dance. They settled on the set just after supper, and the whole party watched Jane be whisked away to the dance floor. 

***

Mrs. Bennet was in her element. She, Mrs. Clare, and the other matrons had sat together at supper, and talked of London events, the theatre, gowns, and the like. After all of these years, hidden away in Meryton with her sarcastic, unsociable husband, Mrs. Bennet was finally living out her dreams. She had fetched a glass of punch from the refreshments table, and made her way along the edge of the room, trying to spot Jane and the Gardiners. When she did find them, she saw Jane, white as a sheet, and Mr. Fitzwilliam next to her wearing a worried look. What could have possibly happened? Jane had sat with the Gardiners at supper, as Jane had made sure that she would have a supper partner she was comfortable with before they arrived that evening and Mr. Gardiner had happily obliged his niece. Mrs. Bennet hurried over.

“Please, I insist on seeing you and your family home. You’re not well, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Fitzwilliam was saying as Mrs. Bennet approached.

Mrs. Bennet was growing more concerned by the minute. “What’s happened?” 

Jane mutely shook her head. Mrs. Bennet took charge. “The Gardiners should stay, and make our excuses to the Clares. Jane, I will take you home, if that’s what you want.”

Jane nodded weakly. The strength Mrs. Bennet had seen earlier seemed to have left her.

Mr. Fitzwilliam pressed on. “I can take you back to Gracechurch Street in my carriage. I was not planning on remaining much longer anyway.”

Jane seemed to want to protest, but Mrs. Bennet cut her off. “That would be lovely, Mr. Fitzwilliam. We very much appreciate it.”

He bowed his head slightly. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

Mrs. Bennet ushered Jane from the ballroom as opening notes played, indicating that the after-supper dancing should commence. Mrs. Bennet tucked Jane’s wrap around her in silence and led her out to the waiting carriage, the music trailing off in their wake.

Chapter Text

Jane normally loved the window in her room at the Gardiners’ that let early morning sunlight filter in from the back garden. But this morning, she buried her face deeper in the pillow and wished for nothing more than for a gloomy London day. 

Her family was kind enough to not ask questions about the previous night. Even her mother, new to restraint as she was, chattered tactfully to Mr. Gardiner about fabrics over breakfast. The children, especially Rose, were curious about the ball, but were soon ushered off to the nursery for morning lessons with the governess. Ordinarily, Jane would have gone up as well to help, but she couldn’t muster the energy.

Early afternoon found Jane with her feet curled up inelegantly underneath her in her favorite armchair in the front room. The book in her lap was one of Lizzy’s favorites, and reading it made Jane feel like her favorite sister was in the room with her. Lizzy had read it to her countless times. The last time had been at Netherfield when she was ill. Jane flinched at the memory.

A knock came at the door and Jane hastily straightened her posture back into that expected of a lady, hoping that it was simply one of the staff looking for Mrs. Gardiner. She bade the person to come in, and the housekeeper stepped into the room. “Mr. Theodore Fitzwilliam, miss.”

Jane’s breath caught. The man had been all that was considerate the night before. He hadn’t pressed Jane for details beyond expressing concern for her wellbeing, and hadn’t spoken as his carriage conveyed them back to the Gardiners’ home. Jane had been grateful for the quiet at the time as she gripped her mother’s hand in the dark, but now she looked back with a blush at her rudeness. She had left the ball before fulfilling her promise to dance with him and couldn’t remember if she had thanked him for the escort home. 

The housekeeper was waiting for a response. “Thank you, Mrs. Froggatt. Could you fetch my aunt from the nursery? My mother might be with her as well.”

The housekeeper curtsied and exited the room, leaving the door open behind her. Mr. Fitzwilliam stepped carefully in and bowed.

Jane rose and curtsied. She hoped that he couldn’t see how she clenched the folds of her skirts in a desperate attempt to hide the shaking in her hands. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. Are you feeling better today?”

“Yes, thank you. And thank you for your kindness in seeing us home. Please, have a seat. I’m sure that my aunt will be down in a moment.”

“It was my pleasure to do so, Miss Bennet. The ball was feeling a little stifling to me as well, so I was happy to leave when we did.”

Jane nodded in agreement, and reached for something else to say. She found nothing. Silence fell between the two of them. 

“What are you reading, may I ask?”

Jane looked at the book laying forgotten on the table next to her. “Oh, um… it’s The Children of the Abbey . It’s one of my sister Elizabeth’s favorites. Have you read it?”

Mr. Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Silence reigned again. Jane looked to the floor. She wanted to explain, to try and excuse her rudeness of the previous night, but couldn’t find the words.

The children burst into the room. “Mr. Teddy!” Seven-year-old Frederick ran to him, despite Mrs. Gardiner’s call to mind his manners. Mr. Fitzwilliam merely laughed.

“How have you been, Mr. Freddy?”

“I lost another tooth! Look!”

“So you have! Then I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in this then?” Mr. Fitzwilliam pulled a hard candy out of his pocket.

“Of course I would!” protested the young boy. 

“Freddy, what do we say?” Mrs. Gardiner admonished her son.

“Please, Mr. Teddy?”

“Hmmm, I suppose. It would be a shame to let the candy go to waste.”

He gave the candy to the grateful boy, and offered some to the others as well. Even Rose wasn’t too ladylike and grownup to say no to the sweet.

The children peppered Mr. Fitzwilliam with questions. He did his best to answer all of them, giving updates on the animals on his estate, telling amusing stories of the people that lived and worked in the house and on the grounds (whom the children had apparently met on a visit the previous summer), and asking questions of their lives in return. He asked Rose about her French, Hugo about his Latin, Freddy about his reading, and Nathan about his model horses and soldiers. It was clear that he enjoyed the children’s company, and they enjoyed his. As they settled in to visit, he agreed to referee a checkers match between Hugo and Freddy. The board was quickly brought out, and placed near Jane’s seat.

Jane returned to her book. Mr. Fitzwilliam was just out of her field of view, but his voice, encouraging the boys as they played and gently teasing each one as they lost pieces to the other, made a kind of warmth spread through Jane’s being. She admired his liveliness and his way of interacting with the boisterous children. He treated the boys with the same respect due to a business partner or a fellow gentleman, and it was clear that they adored him for it. With such an entertaining game going on nearby, she found it very difficult to concentrate on her reading.

A half-hour quickly passed, and Mr. Fitzwilliam began to make his excuses. Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet wished him a good day, and Nathan quickly extracted a promise of a checkers game just between the two of them the next time that he came to visit. With a bow, he left the room. 

Jane screwed up her courage. Mumbling an excuse to her mother and aunt, she walked quickly into the hall. “Mr. Fitzwilliam?”

He was just taking his coat from the footman. “Thank you, Thomas,” he said, and turned to face Jane.

Jane swallowed the lump in her throat. “I wanted to… I wanted… I’m so sorry. I wanted to apologize for not dancing with you last night. It’s not that I didn’t want to dance with you, of course, not at all. I mean, I did wish to dance with you. So I’m sorry that I was… that I was unable to keep my commitment.”

She could feel her face getting warmer by the word, and stopped speaking. 

Mr. Fitzwilliam smiled gently. “I am not offended, if that’s what you are worried about, Miss Bennet. I can find social engagements like a grand ball such as the one last night to be tiring as well. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave early. I was only concerned that someone may have caused you distress.”

Jane looked to the floor. “Yes, um… something, well, someone did. I ran into a former acquaintance from home after supper.”

“You don’t need to tell me, Miss Bennet. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“No, no, it’s alright. It was an acquaintance that has made it very clear that they were uninterested in maintaining our friendship. But again, I apologize. I should not have insisted on leaving.”

“As I recall, Miss Bennet, it was I who insisted on seeing your mother and yourself home. I do not remember you having much say in the matter, between Mrs. Bennet and I.”

Jane blushed. “Thank you for doing that, sir. It was greatly appreciated.”

He gave a small bow. “Always happy to be of service. I do hope, however, that you’ll save a dance for me at the next event we both attend?”

Jane’s heart fluttered to a brief halt. “Of course, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I would be happy to oblige.”

She curtsied, and he bowed once more, bidding her farewell. Nodding to Thomas as the footman held the door open, Jane turned away, but not before noticing that he glanced back at her briefly as he descended the front steps and made his way to the waiting carriage.

***

Her mother’s nerves came back in full force when an invitation arrived by footman to the Gardiners’ door bearing the seal of the Earl of Matlock. Curling, delicate handwriting invited Jane, Mrs. Bennet, and Mrs. Gardiner to tea that Wednesday afternoon, on behalf of Miss Darcy and her aunt, the Countess of Matlock. 

Jane tried to remember, from the previous fall, if Mr. Darcy had ever mentioned his noble relations. She didn’t recall his ever mentioning it and her mother would have known if the word had gotten out. As uncharitable as it was, she was surprised that Miss Bingley had never told the people of Meryton in her efforts to stand above the rest. Did Miss Bingley know? She must, if the families were as close as she said.

Wednesday afternoon came, and standing outside the carriage with damp hands and shaky breath, Jane tried to remember that Miss Darcy was just a young girl, with whom she was excited to make an acquaintance. Miss Darcy was just another younger sister. Jane knew how to handle those well. 

The grand house before her was not helping in her mission to remain calm. Neatly tamed garden boxes hung from the sills of tall, glistening windows. A fine, gleaming wood door sat, intimidating, at the top of the steps, framed by well-kept columns. Once inside, a maid in a simple, pressed uniform silently took their wraps before the butler led them to a parlor just off of the main hall. 

Unlike their visit with Miss Bingley, Miss Darcy was waiting for them in the parlor, alongside the plainly-dressed woman from the modiste’s shop and a tall, willowy matron dressed in an elegant, dark green gown. It suited her dark hair perfectly well, and her expression was cautiously friendly. The butler announced them and Jane felt the evaluating eyes of the woman in the green gown settle on her face.

“Aunt, may I introduce Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet? My brother met the Bennet family during his time in Hertfordshire, and I had the pleasure of seeing them at Mrs. Webley’s a few weeks ago.” Miss Darcy performed the introductions, and the trio of Gracechurch Street ladies curtsied. The woman bowed her head gracefully in response. “This is my aunt, Lady Helen Matlock, and my companion, Mrs. Annesley.”

Miss Darcy indicated that the ladies should take their seats, and the housekeeper came in with an elaborate spread of tea and small cakes. The young lady served the tea in silence, while Jane wondered if she was meant to start the conversation. She felt completely out of place among the finely gilded furniture and simple, understated decor that spoke to the level of wealth that had clearly been in the family for generations. She didn’t think that she was supposed to speak until the hostess began the conversation, but she longed for the comfortable simplicity of Meryton’s drawing rooms, where the rules were more flexible and the consequences less dramatic. 

Miss Darcy sat down and looked to her aunt for guidance. The woman raised an eyebrow delicately. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Miss Darcy started. “How are you, Miss Bennet?”

Jane blinked. “I am well, Miss Darcy. And you?”

“Very well, thank you.”

Jane was desperate to avoid the silence, but a look at her mother and aunt yielded no help. Her mother was struck speechless at her surroundings, face pale and hand clutching her teacup’s saucer. Her aunt was staying silent, clearly aware of her rank amongst the women in the room. “Did your appointment with Mrs. Webley go well?”

“Quite well,” Miss Darcy said brightly, apparently thankful for Jane’s choice of topic. “My brother and I will be traveling back to our home in Derbyshire for the summer in early July, so I wanted to make sure that I had the appropriate wardrobe made before we left. It’s my last summer before I come out, you see.”

“That’s a very exciting time in a young lady’s life. Are you looking forward to your first season?”

Miss Darcy looked down at her teacup. Jane noticed that she was holding the handle so tight that her fingers were turning white. “Yes. It will be exciting to attend the dancing, I suppose. And my aunt thinks that I’m ready.” She did not sound like she held the same confidence as her aunt.

“I remember being nervous about my coming out as well. It is very nerve-wracking, but when you have supportive people around you, it will turn out just fine.”

Miss Darcy smiled weakly. “I do wish that someone else was also coming out with me. I love my brother, but some days I wish for a sister my own age just for someone to take the attention away.”

Lady Matlock spoke up for the first time. “You’ll do wonderfully, dear. We’ll be right with you every step of the way, remember.”

Jane nodded in agreement with the older woman. “I wished for my younger sister to come out with me. Mine was a much smaller affair than yours will be, I’m sure, but I think that it’s a common feeling no matter the situation. However, it is fun to get dressed up and feel grown up attending events on your own.”

“I doubt I’ll ever feel grown-up, Miss Bennet. I--I am not always very good at judging character, and I am not the most comfortable in company. I am very grateful that you are willing to take tea with me.”

“You are very grown-up, Miss Darcy, I can assure you of that. And it is a pleasure to spend an afternoon hour in pleasant conversation. Thank you for inviting us.”

Miss Darcy finally looked up, and Jane tried to give her most comforting smile to the young girl. She looked at the countess, sitting protectively next to her niece, and found the woman looking back at her with something near approval.

Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged a glance, and mutually rose, thanking their hostesses for a wonderful tea. Mrs. Gardiner nodded to Jane her approval, and Jane turned to Miss Darcy. “We would love to have you for tea next week. I hear you have an exceptional talent for the pianoforte. I’ve never been able to make it cooperate, but I love to hear what others can do with the instrument.” 

Miss Darcy blushed. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I would like that.” 

The butler held open the door to the parlor and saw them to the front foyer to re-don their wraps. Boisterous laughter drifted through the thick front door as the ladies readied themselves for the mid-April chill. The butler was reaching to open the door when it was pushed open by a fair-haired young man dressed in regimentals, tall, with a scarred face and a merry smile. The butler gave a respectful bow. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, good day. Your mother is waiting in the front parlor for you. I believe Miss Darcy was on her way to the music room.”

Jane stopped short. Fitzwilliam? Was this man any relation of Mr. Fitzwilliam? Jane tried to keep her expression passive. Perhaps it was merely a common name. Her mother and aunt did not seem startled, so clearly, it was no relation.

The question was soon put to rest by the appearance of the man himself in the entryway that the colonel had just vacated. Jane’s blood ran cold. What was going on?

Mrs. Gardiner gave Mr. Fitzwilliam a friendly smile and curtsey, and Mrs. Bennet followed suit. Jane belatedly remembered her manners and mumbled the proper greetings alongside her family.

“Ah, I forgot that Georgiana was hosting tea today. How was your afternoon, Miss Bennet? Will my niece be ready to face the ton next spring?”

Jane’s mind was whirling wildly, trying to remember if Mr. Fitzwilliam had told her that he was related to the Earl and Countess of Matlock. She recalled their conversation about his family, about how he was the youngest of his siblings and that he had a niece and nephews not much younger than himself. She thought back to his easy mannerisms amongst members of both trade and gentry, about the genial way that he played with the children and listened to them as if they were adults. There were no airs of pretension, no dismissive commentary about Mr. Gardiner’s occupation or his own role in the world. She had been told that he had a midsize estate in the north of Derbyshire---Derbyshire. She should have realized the connection. But why hadn’t anyone told her?

Fumbling, she muttered something to the affirmative, and dipped a much-too-shallow curtsey before fleeing through the door that he had left open behind him. She refused to look back. It was all too embarrassing. What Jane had said to Miss Darcy was true: she was not always the best judge of character. That much was plain. Why, why did she have to be so dense? Lizzy would have realized right away. Why didn’t Aunt Gardiner tell her? Why didn’t she think to ask?

***

Once they returned safely to Gracechurch Street, Jane went up to her room immediately, resolving to stay there for the remainder of her stay in London. It was clear that she was not cut out for the town atmosphere. As if she wasn’t already embarrassed enough, her mind took her back to the previous night.

After dinner, she had walked out onto the balcony for some fresh air. It was cold, but the way that the gentle spring breeze kissed her warmed skin, she found that she didn’t mind the chill. She had been about to go inside, when a couple had come through the doorway, arm in arm. The woman was unfamiliar, but Jane would know the warm laugh of Mr. Bingley anywhere. They passed her by, oblivious to the rest of the world. Jane should have left. But she stayed, frozen in the shadows of a planter situated next to the balcony doors. She listened as Mr. Bingley told the unknown, beautiful woman a story about his first horse, and how it got into his mother’s formal dining room. The story was an entertaining one, one that Jane remembered his friendly tenor telling her from beside the Netherfield fire when she was recovering from her illness. She remembered the way that his eyes lit up when he recalled his childhood home and the tricks he pulled on the servants, and the penance his mother made him pay for the pranks. She remembered the way he had smiled at her. It was the same way that he was smiling at this fashionable woman that clearly had been bred with elegance in her bones.

Standing there, the April cold finally reached Jane’s bare arms. She dashed inside, hoping that her quick exit had gone unnoticed by Mr. Bingley and his companion. Ducking her head, Jane hurried to the safety of her aunt’s side, hoping that no one would see the tears she could feel stinging her eyes. Mr. Fitzwilliam saw them. He’d been so kind. Kindness, Jane was learning, was no indication that someone was who they presented themselves to be.

Chapter Text

When Elizabeth returned from Kent, she went straight to Jane’s closed bedroom door and entered without knocking. Mrs. Bennet, for all she had grown over the past few weeks, was not above putting her ear to the door whenever she passed over the course of that afternoon. It was as if the girls knew that they might be overhead – she could only make out whispers, and the occasional faint exclamation. It was easy to distinguish which of her daughters those came from. Elizabeth always had a characteristic indignation to her tone.

Dinner that evening was muted. Mrs. Bennet had come to expect the silence from Jane, but never when Elizabeth was around. For Elizabeth’s part, Mrs. Bennet had always wished for her to be quieter than she was. Now, her daughter said scarcely a word and kept her eyes on her plate throughout the entirety of the meal. Had they been home, Kitty and Lydia would have covered for their sisters’ uncharacteristic actions, but the Gardiner children were too well-mannered to interrupt the adults over dinner, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner seemed to sense the same unease she did. Mrs. Bennet exchanged a look with Mrs. Gardiner. What in the world were they meant to do? 

After dinner, Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte, fingers drifting over the keys without any real purpose or melody. Jane sat near her, but they didn’t exchange a word. Mrs. Bennet was ready to throw her hands in the air in frustration. What was a mother to do when her children were clearly upset by something, but refused to come to her about it? What else was a mother for? 

Mrs. Bennet tried to remember the last time one of her eldest daughters had come to her for something. No memory surfaced. Jane and Elizabeth, since they had entered society, had kept their own counsel on nearly every topic. Every piece of information they had shared with their mother had been information she had pried out of them through persistent questioning. Jane told Elizabeth everything, and likewise, and Mrs. Bennet assumed that behind the closed study door, Elizabeth shared her life worries, whatever they might be, with her father. Worse, Mrs. Bennet hadn’t noticed.

There was a time, once, when she was her daughters’ ally. She could remember – they must have been young, perhaps eight or nine – when they were playing a game of hide and seek on a rainy day with Mary, Charlotte, and some of the other neighbor girls their age. She couldn’t remember who had been seeking, but Mrs. Bennet had walked into her morning parlor to prepare for calls when she realized that the room was not empty. She could hear two voices furiously whispering back and forth from beneath one of her couches. She paused, and by the time she realized who the voices belonged to, the whispers ceased as the owners of those voices realized that someone else was in the room.

It was at that moment that Mrs. Hill knocked on the parlor door and announced the presence of Mrs. Goulding and Mrs. Long. Mrs. Bennet quickly took a seat on the very couch that the whispers had been coming from, and bade Mrs. Hill to show the callers in. She took pride in her sturdy yet fashionable furniture, and had no fear that the girls might be crushed underneath the couch. If she was being honest, she was rather intrigued to see how long the girls would keep up the charade. 

The visit proceeded like any other, until Gertie Goulding came bursting into the room. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen at the time, still young, but old enough to know how to behave in company. She displayed no such decorum. “Jane, Lizzy, I know you’re in here!” she yelled, making a dash to fling aside the curtains and peek under tables, before realizing that not only was the room occupied with visitors, but that her mother was among them.

“Gertrude! Apologize this instant. Is this how a young lady behaves?” Mrs. Goulding scolded.

For her part, Gertie looked properly ashamed. “No, Mother. My apologies, Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Long. I did not mean to be rude.” The young girl sketched a clumsy curtsy.

Mrs. Bennet had nodded her forgiveness. A faint giggle snuck out from under the couch.

“Have you seen Lizzy and Jane? I’ve searched everywhere, and I can’t find where they’re hiding. It’s been an awfully long time.” Gertie asked, while still attempting to look penitent.

The giggles quickly stopped. Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “I’m sorry, Gertie, I’m afraid I haven’t seen the girls since you and Miss Lucas arrived this morning. Have you perhaps checked the dining room?”

Gertie shook her head, and after another curtsy, ran out of the room. Mrs. Goulding shook her head in exasperation. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with that girl. Absolutely no sense in her head. Her governess is at her wit’s end with her, and I have to say, I feel the same. How she ever expects to function in society when she goes tramping about without a care in the world, is beyond me. Be glad your girls are still young, Mrs. Bennet. They’re much better listeners when they’re young.”

Mrs. Bennet could have snorted. Lizzy, even then, was showing her headstrong side. Jane hadn’t yet gone shy, and so joined her sister in all sorts of unladylike pursuits that left their dresses muddy and embroidery forgotten. They most certainly did not listen to their mama. Yet, they were good girls. Good girls who were listening from beneath the very couch on which Mrs. Bennet sat.

“Oh, every girl has their challenges and their delights. But yes, I’m very proud of my daughters. They will get on well when their time comes, I’m sure.”

Mrs. Goulding and Mrs. Long departed soon after, and no one arrived for several minutes to replace them. Mrs. Bennet carefully rose from the couch and closed the parlor door, and then turned to face the couch with her hands on her hips. The front flap of fabric covering the open space beneath shifted slightly, as if someone had exhaled heavily behind it. Mrs. Bennet walked over carefully, bent down, and flipped up the fabric. She smiled, and then laughed when her eldest daughters shrieked at being discovered.

“Alright, girls, out you go. Gertie, Charlotte, and Mary have probably turned the whole house upside down looking for you,” Mrs. Bennet had said with a chuckle. 

Jane and Lizzy clambered out from beneath the couch, making a big show of dusting themselves off. Mrs. Bennet shook her head. Her silly girls. They curtsied, as they had been practicing with her during their lessons, and then ran out of the room, leaving their mother smiling behind them.They had only been gone a few seconds when Jane pranced back in. “Thank you for not giving us away, Mama.”

Mrs. Bennet’s smile faded with the memory, as her eyes refocused on the somber scene in front of her. What she would give to hear her daughters giggling once more, and to be in on the joke in some small way. To help them, even if they never knew, and never thanked her. She looked over at Mrs. Gardiner, who sat at a table helping her own daughter puzzle through a difficult French passage. Mrs. Gardiner looked up, catching Mrs. Bennet’s eye, and furrowed her brows. Mrs. Bennet shook her head silently, willing the tears away.

The time for her girls’ laughter and whispers echoing around Longbourn was quickly coming to an end. Mrs. Bennet was unsure if they were aware of it, and was unsure which of the men in their lives would be the ones to do it, but she knew her daughters needed to leave. She had been going about it the wrong way, but the truth was still there, for all to see. For their own safety and happiness, they needed to go. She only hoped that they would come back to her every so often, and perhaps ask her a question or two about married life. She could be of use to them then, Mrs. Bennet thought.

She stood up quickly. Her movements drew Jane out of her reverie, but Mrs. Bennet, for once, paid her eldest daughter no mind. She walked over to the writing desk, and withdrew a pen and paper. Her daughters needed her help. She might be able to talk to Jane, to try to understand what was going on behind the closed-off, perfect face. Jane would tell her what happened at the ball, and possibly more, if Mrs. Bennet pressed. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was her father’s favorite. Now, she could be his problem. For the first time since coming to London, Mrs. Bennet sat down to write a letter to her husband. Talk to Elizabeth , she wrote, or I will be forced to return from London early and assure her well-being myself . 

She harrumphed softly in satisfaction. That would take care of the Elizabeth problem, she decided. Now to deal with Jane.

Chapter Text

Jane stared at the dark shadows of the ceiling in her borrowed bedroom, alone. Elizabeth had returned to Longbourn three days after she had arrived from Kent, and Jane was beyond sorry to see her go. Jane knew her little sister better than anyone, and so she saw what her aunt and mother either missed or tactfully ignored – the utter confusion behind Lizzy’s expressive eyes. Whenever her sister lapsed into silence, Jane would look over and watch as her sister stared into space and seemed to see a scene play out before her. At its conclusion, her sister would shake her head slightly, and her brow would twitch into a momentary crease before she remembered her surroundings and schooled her expression. Whatever it was, her sister was hesitant to share, and Jane refused to push her. Lizzy would say something eventually. 

For her part, Jane could not find a place to start to tell her sister the story of all that had happened while she was away. When Lizzy questioned her, Jane had shaken her head and vowed that she was past any tender feelings she might have held for Mr. Bingley. It was partially true. When she closed her eyes at night, she no longer replayed the memories of his hands in hers while they danced. She did not think about the way his smile lit up his face when he laughed, and the delighted look of surprise he gave her when she was the one to make the witty remark. It was as if that part of her life had been a pleasant dream, one that she hadn’t written down, and thus was fading into wisps of half-remembered emotions. She no longer felt a clench in her stomach when she thought of him courting Miss Darcy, once she realized the young lady’s innocence and clear ignorance of the Bingley sisters’ plans. No, the only part that hurt now was the thought of the life she’d envisioned with him, the life she thought she was finally taking her first steps towards.

Jane picked at a loose thread at the edge of the bedspread, not tired in the slightest. Before the Netherfield ball, she had dreamt of a spring wedding, with warm sun streaming through the stained glass windows of the small Longbourn chapel. She had wanted a green dress for Lizzy, as her attendant, and something blue for herself. She would have asked the tenant children to pick flowers for her bouquet. She had imagined her mother’s protests about the wedding breakfast in the gardens, and played out how she might convince her that that was truly what she wanted. After the wedding, life would simply be aglow with all that was right with the world.

She had to stop thinking about it. She couldn’t go on like this, with the slightest thing tossing her emotions into a maelstrom of unsteadiness. She had to move past it, because how else was she supposed to function? There was no excuse for remaining heartbroken. Not all of these months later. Was she heartbroken?

Jane sat up and threw the coverlet off. She needed to do something, but what? She couldn’t go wandering the halls of her aunt and uncle’s home. Going outside was absolutely out of the question. Her gaze came to rest on a stack of paper and writing supplies that Lizzy had left out on a small side table. Jane had intended to write a letter to Charlotte the next day, but perhaps… she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper. However, as ideas are wont to do, once the notion had entered her mind, Jane couldn’t convince it to leave. 

There were so many things she wished to say to Mr. Bingley. So many questions she wanted to ask. When she was feeling uncharitable, she could think of a few names she wished to call him. A few months ago, she would have traded all of the Christmas presents in the world for him to return to Netherfield, walk into her mother’s morning parlor, and seat himself beside her for a conversation. Or simply, for him to return so that she could see him one more time. But now she had. She had seen him again and it had ruined what otherwise had been a perfect night. It had thrown her so far off balance that she failed to separate her feelings about him from the way that she felt about anyone else in her life, including the mortifying incident at the Matlock house. She wasn’t being fair to those who had been so kind to her. 

Jane climbed out of bed and walked to the table where the paper sat, feeling as if she was a particularly naughty child sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night. She lit a lamp, and pulled a stool over so that she might sit at the table. Hands trembling, she picked up the pen and ink.

Dear Mr. Bingley, she began. She squinted at the words. Crossed them out. Charles, she wrote instead.

The last time we saw one another, we were waiting in the entryway of Netherfield for my family’s carriage. You helped me with my wrap, and I was trying not to blush, or at least, not so that my mother could see. You asked me if I had any plans for the winter. I told you that I would be at Longbourn, but that we had nothing else set for the season. You smiled, and asked if you could call. You said, “I would like to do nothing with you, if you don’t mind the company.” I can still remember exactly how you smiled when you said it, too. 

Jane closed her eyes, feeling the tears already welling up. She took a long, slow breath, and steadied her hand. I suppose neither of us realized we would have other plans this winter. I think we can be forgiven for that lapse of manners, or at least, I’ll excuse my part in it. I had no idea, when we last spoke, that I would be spending the spring in London. As for what I’ve been doing, it’s far from nothing. I’ve been doing many things, the details of which I will not recount for fear of boring you with the banal existence of a tradesman and his relations, but the principal occupation of my days is simply sorting through my memories of this fall to find the place where I stepped wrong.

Where had she been wrong? Jane was used to the attention that some men paid to her, to the stares that they held too long and the grips they held too tightly on her hands when they danced, the way they drew closer than society deemed necessary. When that happened, she had always been the one to step back. She would break the stare and look down, pull her hands gently from theirs, and step away to a proper distance. But with Charles, she hadn’t done that. She hadn’t wanted to pull away when his legs brushed hers under the table by accident. She had been the one to stare when he blushed after that incidental touch. She had placed her hand in his.

When I think of our friendship, I know that I did all I could to show that I cared for you. Should I have told you, plainly, without hiding behind propriety and social graces? What kind of lady would I be, if I had done that? Perhaps a happier one, if it had helped you understand how I felt. 

I don’t pretend to be a poet, Charles. I’ve known too many in my short time on this Earth and even more limited experience to think that the multitude of words convey deeper feelings. Jane winced when she thought of the verses delivered to her at the breakfast table, in front of everyone, from the nephew of a family renting Purvis Lodge for the winter season, when she was fifteen. It was unkind, but the young man’s command of metaphor had been clumsy, albeit sweet and well-intentioned. Jane remembered him being quiet when they were in company, but verbose with the written word. Unfortunately, she had felt nothing for him, whether he used many words or none. She had looked at him as a friend, and although he had given her a small smile when she told him that at the next assembly, they had not been able to maintain their friendship. He avoided her from then on as studiously as he’d searched for synonyms to include in his poetry. 

I knew that I was falling for you from the very night that we met. I knew, when Elizabeth and I spoke that night, that there was a distinct possibility that you could be the one for me. I hoped. Oh, God, I hoped. And prayed, although I’m sure God shook His head in pity to hear it. Did I love you? I think I did, or I felt for you the closest thing to that emotion that I have ever known.

A lump rose in Jane’s throat. An angry one, if she was being honest with herself. She had fallen in love with a careless man. Was it right to blame Mr. Bingley for it? He wasn’t responsible for her feelings. Yet, he had encouraged them. Everyone, including Mary, who never said anything that wasn’t the absolute truth, had said that he had a particular preference for her. He had spent the entire night of the ball at her side. That had been real. Jane sniffed, and a tear fell. They were real, her memories. 

I know that you do not care for me. Your every action, or rather, inaction, shows that clearly. Your silence since November conveys your lack of intentions and inclination towards me with every day that passes. I’m doing my best to listen. I’m doing my best to hear what you are saying with your absence, and remove you from my heart. What I do not understand, what I cannot hear you say with your silence, is why you do not care for me. What happened? What changed? Jane could hear her younger self saying these words. She was much too grown-up for this flight of fancy, but she could not bring herself to be ashamed. Not here, alone in her empty room, with no one knowing that she was awake.

These are questions I cannot answer alone, and I know that I can never ask you if and when we meet again. So I sit with the knowledge that you do not feel the same for me that I feel for you, and I try to decide how I will go on. But it has been months, and God has not seen fit to provide an answer to the question I ask Him every night. So I am here asking you, knowing that you will be just as silent as you have been since November. 

Jane swiped at her cheeks and cleared her throat. She would not allow her tears to smudge the ink, because what she had to say was too important. She had to say it, or she would burst. I thought that you were a different kind of man than those I had met before. I trusted you with something that I’ve never trusted anyone with. I let you make me laugh and smile, and dance with me again and again. I saw you to be a good man – I know that to your core, you are a good man. You are considerate and caring, and you made me feel safe with you. I thought that I was safe to fall for you. I know that you are capable of loving someone, loving me, in the way I have always dreamed of being loved, because you looked at me and talked with me like I always dreamed someone would. Through you, I saw a version of myself that no other man has ever bothered to see. I thought that you saw me, for me. 

But now I think that I am coming to the realization that you are none of those things. Or, that’s unfair. You might be all of those things, and more, but not for me. Your absence has shown me that you are not the man I thought that I was safe to fall in love with, who would be the person I have been waiting for. Everything good I saw in you was because I was looking for it. I took the time to try and see you for the person you were, not your money or your manners. So how much did I really lose, if it was me all along?

This is a sentiment that does little to make me feel better, although it may return some of my pride. I have searched and searched for reasons why you left, and the only answer I have been supplied is that I am simply not good enough for you. Whether it was because of how I did or did not act, or the money I do or do not have, I am not good enough for you to take the time to see me how I saw you. I could never convince you of that, nor would I ever want to. I do not pretend to hold myself to the pillars of accomplishment that some do, and indeed, I would laugh to see myself try. My audacity, little though it has presented itself, was an unpretentious one. I had the audacity to love you.

This was not good enough for you, and so you left, and I am here, writing you an improper goodbye to try and find out the answer in my heart as to why. So I will close, knowing only you can supply the true answer. I will not wait to hear it. 

Her hand cramped painfully as she signed, I can only add, God bless you, Jane Bennet. She stared at the filled pages. Was that her handwriting? Jane lifted the sheets to read them again. Her first love letter. 

As she looked at the words, she felt the girl who wrote them slipping away like waves in an outgoing tide. She took a breath, the deepest one she’d managed since coming to London, and stood. She walked to the fireplace, with its sputtering flames, and paused. I don’t pretend to be a poet, this Jane from the recent past had written. I had the audacity to love you. The light from the fire outlined the words through the thin sheet. Love you. 

This Jane shook her head firmly. She held the pages to the grate, and tossed them in. The flames released a sigh at the touch of new kindling, and Jane crouched down to watch the words vanish. The lines were swept away one by one. The last - I will not wait to hear it.