Jump to new as of July 4, 2001
Jump to new as of August 2, 2001
Jump to new as of August 16, 2001
I
Dare I blame it on Spring, this restlessness I feel? All around me are signs of Earth's awakening and renewal; the newness of leaf and bud; the newness of lamb and chick.
And, is my heart yearning for...what? Would I, could I call it newness?
But I have nothing about which to be discontent. I have a father I love and respect. Dear Mama, though perhaps too often allowing her nerves to get the better of her, is nonetheless a loving, and in many ways, admirable woman. Mary and Kitty and Lydia are occasionally tiresome, but I have no doubt they will soon grow beyond that.
And Lizzy...my dearest friend, my steadfast confidant and most beloved sister.
One could neither wish for a better family nor a more comfortable home and situation; and yet...and yet...how to account for this longing I feel to awaken as the Earth awakens? To put forth new shoots; to blossom.
But that is too foolish...where ever did I get such a notion? I am merely anticipating spending more time out of doors after the confinement of Winter. New shoots, indeed! Well, I will not confide that to Lizzy. How she would laugh at my fancifulness.
There. I have explained it to myself and dismissed it. Yet it appears that no amount of walking about in the Spring air will dispel it. Not only does it linger but, to my shame...it grows. It has become an ache that I carry in the vicinity of my heart. It accompanies me to sleep each night and makes itself known at the moment I awaken.
Truth be told, I now find it difficult to put my head on my pillow and drop peacefully into slumber as, in the past, I was accustomed to do. Instead, each night while trying to find sleep, my thoughts invariably turn to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. I see their affectionate, easy manner with each other; the way the gentle touch of his hand on her arm conveys a sense of tender oneness; how her eyes light up when he comes into a room; how her voice softens when she speaks his name.
After yet another restless night spent vicariously with their complete happiness, I am suddnly struck with the realization that, without any overt action or words, they continually show their deep love for each other. Deep love? Oh those words cause the ache to become almost unbearable.
Finally I know for what I yearn so relentlessly. There is no escaping the answer...a deep, abiding love.
The answer gives no consolation. For how is such a thing to be had? surely not in my life as it now exists for such a love requires a precious object.
I cannot hold back a sigh. The unmarried gentlemen of the neighborhood have long been known to me and there is no one among them who has touched my heart in the slightest; nor is ever likely to. And how likely is a new gentleman to appear? Well yes there is an occasional visitor from Town here for the hunting; he or perhaps an old school friend of the curate might linger long enough to be seen at our Assembly. At least I am able to smile at the possibility of that's having the outcome I desire, nay say the truth, the outcome I ache for.
Since our visits to Town have always been confined to the area of the Gardiner's lifestyle, faint hope lies in that direction. Their circle of friends simply does not include single gentlemen with the exception of one many years ago. And nothing came of that. Oh how the mere thought of the Gardiner name brings on a deep, wistful sigh.
Jane...Jane this will not do! How have I let my serene acceptance of whatever life has brought my way slip so woefully! Yet, is it wrong of me to have the desire for love? And if the answer is yes, by what means will I rid myself of that which arose within my heart unsought and remains there, painful and beyond my control?
Whatever is in my heart, I must not allow it to show. Mama who misses much that I would wish she might see, nonetheless has a keen eye for what she perceives to be even a hint of the slightest change in my countenance. I do so wish she would show a care for me beyond my outward appearance. I grieve to think that her interest has ever been in what she considers my duty...to display a perfect face to the world at all times. Not the merest trace of a freckle or a frown must appear.
Were a hint of emotion to appear she would, I fear, take to her bed and feel betrayed and ill used. Dear Mama. I mean no criticism. You cannot help your nature and there are five of us to weigh you down with concern.
I wonder at what age I became aware of my assigned role to be the beauty of the family? It was never explained to me where, when and by what possible means was my beauty going to save Mama and my sisters from the dire consequences of Longbourn's being entailed to a distant cousin. In Mama's mind it was simply going to happen. There was no need to be bothered with trifling details. Why had I not thought of this as a burden before now? Perhaps because until now I had no need to be other than what was expected of me and to calmly await my fate.
Now my thoughts have circled back on themselves. Of what use to me are thoughts of change, of love? Spring is turning into Summer and the ache has become a part of me that I can ignore most of the time. Lizzy recognizes a shadow in my visage. Though she would not think of asking its cause, she betrays herself with a trace of additional tenderness and with fond looks which she thinks I do not see. Was ever a sister as dear as she?
Now Summer is drifting into Autumn. In years past I delighted in this season's throwing on a cloak of crimson and gold in bold defiance of Winter's power, however futile. This year, oh this year, in spite of all my efforts, I feel a great sorrow at seeing Spring's green hope that became Summer's bounty being slowly transformed into brown. Everywhere brown and brown and brown.
My increased attempts to bury my feelings only result in a near feverish gleam in my eye and what I perceive to be a tendency toward heartiness totally unlike my expected and acceptable demeanor. The harder my efforts to conceal the more I feel I am revealing. With no past experience to guide me, I can judge my degree of success only by Lizzy's reaction. Now I begin to see a look of deep concern in her eyes. I avoid her and Mama as much as possible.
Just now I saw Mama coming my way and I stepped into an alcove to forstall a meeting. Though out of sight, I could not fail to hear her speak.
My dear Mr. Bennet, she said, have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?
Finis
II
And there was more to be heard.
Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England
And even more.
Oh! single, my dear, to be sure!
Now Jane do not be a goose. Do not let your imagination run away with you merely because of your over hearings. This young man could very well be engaged or in love and about to be engaged. That, no doubt, accounts for it. He is seeking a manor so that when he proposes marriage, he would have a settled establishment to offer his beloved. His beloved. Gently, let that breath out very gently; do not let it become a sigh lest it be overheard. Yet I cannot overcome the irresistible compulsion one feels to return one's tongue to a tender tooth; my thoughts once more touch his beloved. Indeed the pain is still there.
Stop! Stop! Just consider this possibility. Mama could be entirely mistaken in his age. She is so eager for at least one of us - nay, be truthful - for me to make a prosperous marriage that she heard what she wanted to hear. He could, in reality, be an old, retiring sort of gentleman who wishes to live out what remains of his life in solitude in the quiet of the country. Well, if that be the case, he's chosen the right location. We are nothing if not quiet here. Hush now; do not let yourself sigh this time. Instead, imagine Mama's surprise when her young man of large fortune turns out to have a white beard and a cane and is quite deaf!
Oh now I must repress the chuckle I feel arising within me or surely Mama will discover I am here. Then she will insist that I hear the whole story over again with added embellishments and ecstasies and no end of pokes and prods and winks.
Dear Mama. No matter how many times I remind myself of your good intentions on my behalf, I cannot help but wince when I know what is inevitably coming and how uncomfortable I will feel and how long it will be before something distracts you from your raptures and draws your thoughts and attention away from me.
And now Papa is teasing Mama and she is vexed because she still believes every word he utters to be as serious as she considers her own words to be! She refuses to allow the possibility of his teasing. How little she knows him after three and twenty years of marriage! If only he would...
This will not do! This musing is causing me to think unkind thoughts of my parents. It is I who must find a distraction. One that will decidedly draw my attention and actions to a more productive pastime than that of over listening and allowing my mind to leap about in this troublesome way.
There is always a stocking to be mended or lace to be added; to be removed; to be tried on a different gown; to be carefully rolled and saved for later. Later will come and the lace will be used and to what avail? This will never do. I see handwork is not the place for controlling one's thoughts!
Autumn continues to devour summer but nothing else changes.
Here's a surprise! After all his protests to the contrary, Papa has called on the mysterious Mr. Bingley! We were no less astonished than Mama! I do so wonder about Papa's turn of mind. He paid the visit, announced it to us in his own good time and then refused any more information. What can he be thinking of? I know he loves to tease, but I thought perhaps my posing a delicate inquiry might draw a bit of information. We all know it is mama whom he most often chooses to make sport with. However, this time he was adamant and we were forced to rely on Lady Lucas for learning of Mr. Bingley's sterling qualities.
Of most interest was his intention to attend the next assembly. Most disheartening was her mention of his plans to bring a large party with him. That reminded me forcefully of my thoughts regarding his possible ladylove. Surely she and her chaperone would be part of that party. No amount of added lace will make a bit of difference. But this is ridiculous. Why should I care? His coming to our neighborhood is only a novelty to be discussed and re-discussed but cannot possibly have any effect upon our lives!
At least, according Lady Lucas' description, he is neither old nor infirm! Mama will never know that I considered that possibility, but I might share it with Lizzy since she's already begun teasing me. That might convince her that I held no designs on him.
Our brief glimpse of him when he returned Papa's visit only verified his youth. His heart was well concealed beneath a well-cut blue coat.
My thoughts were verified when Mama reported that he had been unable to accept an invitation to dinner due to the necessity of returning to London. Of course! He could not stay long away from the company of his heart's desire.
Mama insisted on our wearing our finest gowns to the assembly ball and it is easier to agree with her than run the risk of her having palpitations. As a result of her urgings, we sisters were all well turned out, as were most of the other attendees. The novelty of new faces in our midst has sent some ladies to the dressmaker and others to their lace boxes. We have all seen each other's gown so often that any change is very apparent!
Very soon we realized our best efforts were for naught. When we gazed upon the gowns of the only ladies in his party, Mr. Bingley's two sisters, we saw the latest in fashionable attire. Our best efforts could not conceal that we are indeed, country mice.
Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners.
He made a very favorable first impression!
When he was introduced to our family and requested the honor of a dance with me, I thought I might have seen a flicker of admiration in his gaze. Keeping in mind his possible impending engagement, I chastened myself and made every effort to show attentiveness but no excessive interest in his conversation. He does converse so easily and puts one so completely at ease.
But what a change has come over me! I am now completely convinced that his heart is not engaged elsewhere! Surely no man who was in love with another woman would request a second dance with one he'd just met. I cannot believe that of him. He must have realized that the whole room was abuzz when we took the floor a second time. He would not show such a marked partiality for me if he had already given his heart away. He is too open and good-natured to be deceitful.
Home at last with so many thoughts whirling in my head. Papa might as well have attended the assembly with us for Mama, in spite of his protests, regaled him with a moment-by-moment account of our evening. She considers it a triumph. I wonder.
His sisters were quite charming to me and will, I believe, make a pleasant addition to our neighborhood. Lizzy considers them aloof. No matter. She will soon see that they are as charming as their brother.
Their brother sigh. Try as I might I cannot stop thinking of him.
When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very much she admired him.
III
When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very much she admired him.
I made every effort to speak only what I felt to be true, but perhaps I did point out what I considered to be his excellent qualities with excessive enthusiasm and thus exposed my high regard for him. I had every confidence that Lizzy would not tease me, or at least not in front of the rest of the family and I felt that I must speak with someone or I should burst.
Also I am in need of advice. Am I making too much of his attentions to me? He did seem to look at me with a spark in his eye and a sweet, oh so sweet, expression about his mouth. What does that mean? If he had the same countenance while dancing with Lizzy, then it's to be taken as simply his good nature and, as such, betrayed no special feeling toward me.
I thought he appeared to attend to Charlotte's conversation with polite interest only. I saw no excessive attention there. His exchange with Lizzy seemed to be more lively, though whether he showed more than a casual interest in her was hard to determine. I tried not to stare and as a consequence I expect I alerted the entire room to my interest in them by my attempts at making disinterested glances in their direction!
Lizzy assured me that he was jovial when she danced with him but that it was quite apparent to her that he was only half attending their conversation because his thoughts were engaged elsewhere! She knew I would blush, and I confess, I did. But she refrained from her usual teasing manner by assuring me that he meets with her approval in all the particulars that make for an agreeable man. This is very important to my peace of mind for I trust her judgment far more than my own at this moment.
And his asking me to dance a second time surprised her not at all. But she somewhat spoiled my happiness by ascribing it to my being the prettiest girl in the room. That is exactly what I did not want to hear. I cannot forever be beautiful and after all, that is God's doing and none of my own. Granted, Mama feels that is all I need in order to secure my future, but I do not feel it is unreasonable to want more. Is that ungrateful and greedy of me?
Surely there is something more in me to be valued. If I find myself presented with the opportunity, I must put more effort into listening attentively in order to show my interest in Mr. Bingley's opinions; and I will smile as much a possible so that he may see that I have an agreeable nature. These seem to me to be worthy attributes and likely to be valued by a young man of his sensibilities.
Lizzy believes me to be excessively generous in my opinions of others. I cannot convince her otherwise. If that is, as she seems to think, a point in my favor, I cannot think of how I might turn it into something for Mr. Bingley to admire. Alas, one possible attribute that must remain unseen for lack of an opportunity for display! That bit of nonsense makes me chuckle.
Where are my thoughts leading me? This is foolishness. Since I have no idea of the degree, if any exists, of his regard for me, my only option is to wait and watch and be attentive and smile pleasantly. I do not think it a good idea to speak of these things any longer with Lizzy. She means well and persists in telling me I am too good, but that is an opinion of hers that I cannot agree with. Though I hear sincerity in her voice, such praise is embarrassing for how can I possibly deserve it.
I have just realized that the pain I carried near my heart for such a long time has disappeared without my notice. I wonder when? I think I know why. Mmmm, that gives me a warm feeling and I cannot help but smile.
So this is what it feels like to be interested in a man! But now I face a dilemma. How does one attempt to discover the extent of a man's interest? Not only do I have no experience in this area, which is excusable, but also I have no example to follow and no wise council to seek. At least not at home and Aunt Gardner who is always sound in her advice and can be relied upon to refrain from making a fuss, is miles away. Putting such thoughts in a letter is unthinkable.
It would seem that there are some things I must figure out for myself, in my own time. I only wish I knew how to begin.
As expected, Charlotte and Maria, accompanied by some younger Lucases, have come for the inevitable after-the-dance discussion or, more to the point, dissection. I believe I struck just the right note between being overly interested and, more telling, totally disinterested in the general opinions regarding Mr. Bingley. Mama was wont to go into raptures about our second dance but fortunately the conversation quickly turned toward Mr. Darcy's manners, or his lack of them and I was left in peace.
Since the introductions had been made, the ladies in our family called upon Mr. Bingley's sisters and they in turn returned our call. They grow more congenial toward me at each meeting. I cannot understand Lizzy's continued lack of warmth. What can she possibly see that is not agreeable and pleasing? She is as always light hearted in her disagreement with me but it pains me to observe that my beloved sister and the sisters of my bel... tha--that is of Mr. Bingley are not as compatible as I would wish them to be.
The days seem to fly by and are crowded with happy thoughts.
And now I realize that, since we first danced at Meryton, I have dined in his company only 4 times all told. So little time when counted in hours and minutes but the whole of my new life when calculated in terms of the joy I feel in his presence.
I have known him but a fortnight and yet...and yet in those few days I have become unrecognizable to myself as the Jane who was. I feel as if I had no existence before his coming to Netherfield. Everything that preceded my meeting him seems to have been in a previous incarnation and I am as if new born. This happy me bears no resemblance to the restless, discontent person of that former life.
Be honest Jane. In the privacy of your room and in your thoughts, you may at last express what you truly feel.
My heart is in the care of Mr. Bingley. I have given it to him with no greater expectation than that he will treat it with kindness. Ahhh, a bit of wistful thinking on my part for he is completely unaware of my gift. My greatest hope is that eventually he will return my affection and love. I must now and forever give up all thoughts of restraining my feelings when I am alone.
I am in love.
I am blissfully in love.
I am hopelessly in love.
I am in love for the first time.
Love. How do I know what love feels like? But what else could it be? Indescribable warmth suffuses my body when he is near or when he smiles at me from across a room. Or even when I hear his name spoken. The sound of his voice causes my heart to leap. When he turns his attention to me it pounds so violently that I am made quite weak and I wonder that he cannot hear it. Try as I might, I cannot stop my eyes from stealing glances at him when he is not near. My hand is barely able to bring a teacup to my lips when he is near. My first thought is of him when I open my eyes in the morning upon a glorious new day. His dear smile, his laughing eyes, his merry voice, his--oh his everything, accompanies me throughout the day and often causes a secret smile to hover upon my lips. And at the end of the day, as I await sleep, I tenderly say good night to each of his beloved parts. My last conscious thought is of him.
Blissfully. The whole world looks shiny and new and autumn blazes in colors I cannot put a name to for I never saw them before.
Hopelessly. I have no assurance that he returns my feelings but I could sooner stop an avalanche than stop my love from being.
The first time. Never before have I even approached the feelings that are now in my heart. How could I have dreamed such happiness was possible? I was truly afraid it might never happen to me, for what were my expectations really?
But it has happened and I cherish my new secret. I hold close to my bosom my discovery of an object for love and adoration. Now I must grow used to my feelings and learn to live with them.
And I have taken all the care in my power to prevent my family and my close acquaintances from observing in my face, in my voice, or in my manner anything new or unexpected that might give a hint of the state of my heart. With the exception of Lizzy, I feel I have succeeded with those who know me best. She has never spoken of it but she knows. She sees into my heart as clearly as if it were merely a bowl of water. I know, in spite of her tactful silence, that she is happy for me and will not be content until Mr. Bingley pays his addresses.
Oh dear! Oh no! I must put that so completely out of my thoughts that it cannot surface again. I must never never by any expression upon my countenance show that I anticipate such a thing. Though, surely he is able to read the extent of my regard in my eyes, as I seem to have no control over them when he is near! If he has not spoken, it must be for a good reason and I must remain patient, composed and cheerful.
Suddenly I am struck by powerful jolt. A good reason, indeed! Oh simple country bred Jane-- how could you have been so blind?
Here I've been telling myself that I've known him for only a fortnight and I have completely lost sight of the fact that he has known me for only a fortnight!. Why, these glorious days that I calculate as a new lifetime must appear as nothing at all to a young man accustomed to the fast exciting life of the city. Merely time enough to shake off the dust of Town, shoot a few birds, dance a few dances and dine a few times with pleasant people. Perhaps, one in particular might seem to him to be a bit more pleasant than others. But what does that signify? What can I have been thinking? How could I expect that he would form an attachment in so short a time? That I have done so is quite another matter. Is my distracted mind any excuse for my loss of reason?
No...emphatically no! Even a woman who knows herself to be in love must keep at least one foot planted firmly in reality.
Well that rude awakening has made me feel better on one score and quite unsteady on another. But reason prevails and I am ready to face each day with a modicum of common sense!
What's this? A letter has just been handed to me. It comes for me from Netherfield and I try to conceal the tremor in my hands as I read:
My dear Friend, If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. Yours ever,Caroline Bingley.
IV
I've decided to put the quotes from the book that I use at the beginning and end in bold print instead of italics since I use those so often. Also, it's necessary this time to distinguish a quote I've used within the body of the story. Bold is so...well...bold and not at all in keeping with Jane's gentle ways but I couldn't think of an alternative for JA's perfect words that I used. Enjoy! Peggy ;-]Author's Note: I seem to have picked up "Mama" and "Papa" from one of the P&P adaptations although I tried very hard to stay faithful to the book. I'm finding it a challenge to keep within Jane's head and within the book and if I've strayed in other instances it was unintentional.
No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to rain; and then you must stay all night.
Oh Mama and her never ending schemes. She has no notion of the humiliation I will suffer if the rain should commence before I arrive at Netherfield and cause me to appear on the doorstep sopping and unkempt. Can she not, just once, show the same compassion for the feelings of another that she demands for her nerves? I keep telling myself that she only acts from love but sometimes it is very difficult to accept that notion. I know I am showing ingratitude for her concern regarding my future. I will think of it no more.
There. I have turned my thoughts to Mr. Bingley's happy countenance and the warmth that comes over me is quite enough to offset the chilling effect of the rain that has begun to fall. No amount of warmth can undo the damage done to my hair when the hood of my cloak was caught by a gust of wind and left my head quite exposed to the elements. My cloak is also inadequate to fully protect my dress from the rain and my shoes and stockings are getting quite wet as well. I have become the bedraggled wretch that I so feared to be.
It was a sorry sight that was led into the sitting room where Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst awaited my arrival.
Mama would suffer terribly were she here to behold her beauty in my current state. I have no doubt it would bring on a serious attack of the vapors.
Now that dinner is over, the continuing rain has prevented my return home, just as Mama planned. However, my feeling quite ill was not a part of her scheme.
My indisposition was apparent to Miss Bingley and I am now tucked in bed in a guest room. I cannot but be grateful to her for her kindness.
Oh Mama, what would you think if you could see me now? Here I am, sneezing and shivering and red nosed and blurry eyed. But really this is an outcome you could not have foreseen for I am never ill. I only appear fragile. You know my constitution is quite as strong as Lizzy's.
I am thoroughly miserable and wish I were home in my own bed. Perhaps by concentrating my thoughts on Mr. Bingley's beloved smile I can forestall the tears that are so near to falling. His smile, mmmm, my eyes are moist but no tears fall. I feel sleep stealing over me. Goodnight dear smile. Good night beloved.
I met the dawn feeling much more unwell. In spite of that, my thoughts are entirely on Mr. Bingley. Oh what does he think of my foolish arrival on horseback? Can he ever again think of me as a woman of sense after such an ill chosen journey? He could not possibly consider my mode of transportation to be the choice of my mother. For what mother of his acquaintance would deliberately send a daughter off on horseback in threatening weather. My cheeks blaze; I cringe; I am covered in shame. If only I could flee this house and never be exposed to the scorn I feel must be his. It is the end of all my hopes and dreams. And the end of Mama's schemes.
I sneeze and weep and cough and sneeze some more and wish I were anywhere but here. Anywhere.
I was too distraught to realize how warm the room is and it wasn't until a maid came in to stir the fire that I realized that it had never gone out. Someone must have instructed that it be tended throughout the night. Do I dare to believe it was he? Could he have been concerned for my welfare and thus made every effort to see to my comfort?
How I wish I could believe that. But, no doubt he feels nothing but disgust for what must appear to him as an ill-conceived ploy by one who is trying to gain more of his attention. More likely, get her well quickly and get her out of my house are his thoughts. Oh my dearest one. I did not plan this. But you have no way of knowing that. I feel more dreadful than ever. My heart aches as well as my head.
Between bouts of wretched sleep, I recall writing a note to Lizzy and being surprised to feel her cool hand on my brow. My greatest desire is that, with her help, I can quickly dress, offer my profound gratitude to my hostesses and leave quietly without any contact with Mr. Bingley. It is not to be. The apothecary took away all my hope of a quick and unobtrusive withdrawal.
If Mr. Bingley, who cannot possibly visit me, feels any distaste toward me, it is not reflected in his sisters' behavior. I am pleased to see that Lizzy is beginning to think more highly of them. And I am truly gratified that Miss Bingley expressly asked her to stay for the duration of my illness. What unexcelled kindness. I do not deserve it.
It is my own fault that I am in this awkward situation. I should have been strong and stood up to Mama. If I had insisted upon making an excuse for declining the invitation rather than come here on horseback, Miss Bingley and of course Mr. Bingley, would have been spared all this.
I am greatly relieved by Lizzy's company. Having had no experience of illness since early childhood, I find myself surprised at my need to cling to her for...what? Comfort? Not exactly. Something akin to familiarity. My situation is so unexpected and so exceedingly uncomfortable that the presence of Eliza seems absolutely necessary for my peace of mind. That's it. She's an anchor for my storm tossed boat. Oh what foolishness! How ever did I think of such nonsense? I must be feeling better!
They are dining now and I am trying to focus my fuzzy thoughts on Mr. Bingley. Whatever he thinks of my misadventure, my love for him is undiminished. I might ever say it is increased when I think of the tender care I am receiving. It is, after all, his home and it is his sisters and his servants who are ministering to me. It comforts me to imagine that Miss Bingley is following his instructions and not acting on her own in her attentions to my welfare. Do I dare to believe I have forfeited none of his esteem by my unfortunate escapade? Lizzy alone can bring me the report that will increase my happiness tri-fold or put an end my dreams and hopes.
If only she is able to judge his mood, his true feelings about my crashing his house party in such a paltry way; upsetting the natural flow of his household; distracting his servants from their duty to his invited guests. Oh to be a fly on the wall and catch a glimpse of his beloved countenance; hear the tone in his voice. I believe him incapable of disseminating and if I have misjudged the source of the care I am receiving and he feels annoyance or resentment at my being here, I would be able to spot it at a glance.
Will Lizzy be able to give me an accurate report? I know his good nature would not allow him to make an openly disparaging remark about the questionable circumstances of my arrival. She has not studied every aspect of his dear face as I have. Would she be able to recognize slightly less of a sparkle in his eye? A minute diminishing of his ready smile? A single tiny frown line on his adored brow? Oh why does she not return? I am making myself dizzy with waiting and fretting. Since I fell ill here, I have wavered between hope and despair. And here am I, dreading the outcome, yet desperately wishing for her to appear.
I had no idea that love possessed such power to torture.
At last, Lizzy's account of dinner. Mr. Bingley's superior solicitude made my heart sing. He is not angry! He forgives me! His concern for my well-being is genuine. He has no wish for my hasty departure.
How quickly kind words spoken can dispel gloom. Unfortunately, they cannot cure a violent cold.
Another restless night and to add to my distress, this morning Mama paid a call. Had she agreed to my urgent request to be taken home, I could have borne her fussings and flutterings. Unfortunately, the apothecary intervened and again announced my need to remain undisturbed here. I could see that Mama delighted in his words and could barely refrain from crowing. Despite the turn her scheme has taken, she remains undaunted. I could not have thought that of her.
I know. I know. I..really..do..know. But knowing doesn't lessen my discomfort when I see her behavior at a time like this. When she feels she is promoting what's best for me, there is no end to her audacity.
Lizzy made light of whatever transpired when the Longbourn ladies joined the rest of the party. She would only say that Mr. Bingley was excessively concerned that I not be removed from Netherfield until I am fully recovered. She added that he is to give a ball and Lydia is to choose the date. Lizzy related that Mr. Bingley reminded Lydia that the date chosen should be for a time when I am well enough to attend.
Had she told me that Mr. Bingley ordered the moon to be fetched for my amusement, I could not be more surprised...or happier. His concern for me was spoken in front of my entire family. I hope Mama did not go into embarrassing raptures. Poor Lizzy would have been mortified if she did. Well Papa will get it second hand and much embellished. I wonder what his reaction will be.
Certainly it was nothing approaching a declaration of love but it was a declaration of..of something. Of caring. That's it. He showed clearly that he cares for my well-being. Surely that means he has some warm thoughts of me. Doesn't it? Or am making too much of this? I wish my head did not ache and my throat were less sore and I could think clearly about this. What ever it means, it is enough to give me a modicum of hope.
Lizzy looked in on me briefly and then returned downstairs. What an exceptional sister she is. I know it must be trying for her to be often in the company of Mr. Darcey, but perhaps this will give her an opportunity to get to know him better and improve her opinion of him.
I am determined to get well quickly. Mr. Jones' draughts do seem to be working an improvement. Tomorrow I intend to go to the drawing room for a brief while after dinner. What will Mr. Bingley think of me? My nose might still be red and I believe my skin is a bit drawn and somewhat pale. I haven't much voice. Here in this room I depend upon the chair cushion for support when I'm seated. I have no idea how long I will be able to maintain the erect posture required of a lady. Will I sneeze? Will I snuffle? Will my eyes go watery? Oh dear. I shall be a fright and if he hasn't found something in me to value besides my beauty he will be shocked and sorely disappointed. This is not the same Jane he last saw.
Why do I have these detestable thoughts that delay sleep? Even trying to think of all the things I love about Mr. Bingley only brings my thoughts in a circle back to tomorrow evening. If I can't sleep, I shall have dark smudges under my eyes and make my appearance even more dreadful.
I must have slept well for the smudges have not appeared. My head no longer aches; my throat has improved considerably. The night wrought wonders. The looking glass tells me that, though a bit pale, I look passably well.
Lizzy has insured that I am wrapped warmly and I have made it safely to the drawing room on legs only slightly wobbly from lack of use.
At last, the gentlemen have entered. Mr. Darcey gave me a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst a slight bow,
but diffuseness and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and attention.
V
The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone else.
Is this a dream? Am I really here, so tenderly cared for? Our previous conversations were never like this. Actually this is not a true conversation for he speaks only of my welfare and I cannot respond. There is a something in his voice...softer tones. I am near to fainting from the rush of emotions I feel at the sound of his words. Stop! I must not let my feelings get the better of me. After all, he would speak softly to any invalid, especially a woman. Any woman? Yes, I must confess, I believe it is his nature so to do.
Nonetheless, I feel quite incapable of speech; of any action, so strong are the flutterings of my heart.
At last Miss Bingley distracts his attention and he speaks briefly with her. I am gifted with but a moment. However, it is enough. I manage to pull myself together. His attention once more is returned fully to me, but I am quite recovered now and I smile. That seems to be all the encouragement he needs and he addresses me again. And with such a sweetness of manner that I give up trying to pretend that I do not feel that I am someone special to him. For I do.
My heart responds though my ears hear not what words are spoken. I smile when I perceive a pause and his words flow on, sincerely. I am vaguely aware that Lizzy is walking about the room with Miss Bingley.
My attention and that of Mr. Bingley is distracted by Mrs. Hurst's lively efforts at the piano. So much emotion is draining and I am exhausted. I realize if I am to be fit enough to return home tomorrow, as I desire, I must now excuse myself. Lizzy insists on accompanying me and tucking me in. Before she leaves my room, we agree to petition Mama tomorrow for the carriage.
In spite of the overwhelming pleasure I feel in his company, it would be unconscionable for me to remain in Mr. Bingley's house now that I am tolerably well.
For reasons of her own, Mama has refused the carriage for today. More of her schemes. She is determined upon Tuesday as a proper day for my return home. Tuesday! That is intolerable. How humiliating it would be to force my presence on his household one moment longer than necessary.
I would prefer to return to Longbourn by carriage rather than on horseback. Although I arrived as a sodden wretch, I am determined to quit Netherfield in a dignified manner, which unfortunately requires a carriage.
The desire to return home as soon as possible is equally strong in Lizzy. She urged me to apply for the use of Mr. Bingley's carriage. I have done so but, alas, much was made of my staying at least another day. It is not my wish and I am very uncomfortable at the thought of it, however, when one must beg for transportation, one would appear ungracious, nay callous, to insist upon the exact time of it's use.
My thoughts are intent upon making sure I appear to be completely fit to travel tomorrow. As a result, I am remaining in my room today, resting. I will again spend a short time downstairs after dinner. I expect that Mr. Bingley's duties as host will prevent his spending his time entirely with me. No matter. I have a treasury of golden memories of last evening that I may re-live at will.
Mr. Bingley's farewell was as earnest as his behavior has been since the evening I first ventured downstairs. I think I saw something more in his eyes. I am elated by thoughts of what that something might be...what it might become.
Miss Bingley's civility to Eliza and myself is all that I could have wished for from someone I hope I may see a great deal of in the future when we are much closer that we are now.
Dare I have such thoughts? No. It is too soon and I must wait for...for what? A sign? And were one to appear, how would I recognize it? Oh surely I will know. Women in the past have known when love appeared...where? In the eyes of their beloved? In his manner? Would he expect me to know without his speaking words of love? And how am I to behave? Show eagerness? No I cannot do that. I am certain he must see what is in my heart and if it pleases him and he feels the desire to return my love-he will. But...I venture to feel that a change is about to happen. I will not be so bold as to put a name to it, even in my thoughts. Instead I will remember how much pleasure his nearness has given me these past days. That is enough for now. Whatever is in my future...our future...will unfold in its own time and its own way.
I am quickly brought back to earth by Mama's disapproval of our return.
Well now, here's a distraction for Mama and she has finally ceased to alternately fuss over my health and scold. It seems we are to receive a visit from the very clergyman who is to inherit Longbourn. Poor Mama, it is a topic which upsets her terribly and I have performed my share of tending to her and trying to calm her nerves. If only I could tell her that I feel Mr. Bingley might possibly have a preference for me and perhaps she need not fear becoming homeless if Papa should die. But that cannot be. She would crow loudly throughout the neighborhood and I would be mortified. She will never know how much I long for her to be the kind of mother who would cherish and guard a confidence. If only...but futile wishes are of no purpose and only make me sad. I am determined to enjoy my thoughts of what might be-in quite a different and infinitely more pleasing direction.
A very strange thing is happening. Mr. Collins, for that is the clergyman's name, has begun to fawn over me. It is not my imagination and I am made exceedingly discomforted by his attentions. Even if my heart were not already given to another, it would be difficult for me to accept his flattery and attentions. It all seems so false and somewhat comical although he appears to be quite serious. It would be unkind to treat him with anything less than courtesy and I am trying my best.
As swiftly as it began, it has ceased. I observe that he now doggedly pursues Lizzy. I will be interested to see how she handles him.
At Lydia's suggestion, we are walking to Meryton. Her suggestions are seldom as easy to comply with as this one is. I see it as an opportunity for fresh air and mild exercise and a release from the discomfort I feel at home. Mama has a new bone to chew on and Lizzy does not appear happy.
A distraction has been provided which seems to please Eliza. We have been introduced to a new man who intends to become an officer in the militia quartered here. Our conversation is pleasant enough when suddenly, unexpectedly, my heart skips a beat. There, coming toward us on horseback is Mr. Bingley. I am all aflutter. I am torn. On the one hand, I wish we had stayed at home so that we could not be found in this common way, talking to officers on the street. But, on the other hand, how can I wish undone the sheer delight I feel at the sight of him.
In my heart, I know my first wish is the better one. And it is instantly confirmed by his saying that he and Mr. Darcy were on their way to Longbourn to enquire after my health. We could have received them properly there.
In spite of my awkward situation, he can see that I am feeling well and the warmth I feel on my face perhaps indicates that the walk has added a touch of color to my cheeks. To be honest, I expect my spotting him has put the color there, but no one is the wiser. I believe I am looking quite recovered.
However, I am puzzled. The air seems to crackle with tension. Mr. Bingley's countenance indicates only interest in me. Mr. Darcy's, when I can bear to allow my eyes to rove, appears unreadable. What can be the cause of this disquiet I sense?
What a disappointment, they remain but a brief while. I am left with regrets and happy thoughts in equal measure.
After a short visit with Aunt Philips, we returned home. On our way, Lizzy related that she had seen some very strange looks passing between our new acquaintance, Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Darcy. What ever can it signify? That must be what I sensed but it is beyond my powers to comprehend. Besides, I would much rather continue with my thoughts of Mr. Bingley's civility...and how well he looked on horseback.
Tis now the morning after an evening party at Aunt Philips' and my thoughts are fixed on how much more pleasure it would have given me if Mr. Bingley had been invited. My dreams of him were interrupted by Lizzy. She felt the need to confide in me some shocking information on Mr. Darcy's behavior, which was related to her last night by Mr. Wickham. I try earnestly to think of a way to lessen the appearance of villainy on the part of Mr. Darcy. Finally I give up and can merely remind her that only one side of the story is known.
It is impossible for me to believe that Mr. Bingley could continue in a close friendship with a man who behaved as badly as Mr. Darcy is accused of doing. I am sure there has been a misunderstanding but Lizzy has chosen to believe Mr. Wickham's story. It would be difficult for me to ask Mr. Bingley if he knows the truth of it. For his sake I dearly wish for the story to remain unknown to the neighborhood whether true or not. I could not bear it if he were to be made sport of by our neighbors for his friendship with a supposed villain. As dearly as I would love to be able to make things right, what can I do but simply suspend thought of it until such time as more information is available? It is beyond my power to do more.
I am in no mood to be distracted from the happiness I feel. It is still new enough that I awaken each morning ever more eager to see what the new day will bring. Today brought Mr. Bingley and his sisters to Longbourn. They came in order to personally invite us to attend their upcoming ball. What an unexpected compliment. My head swims with thoughts of another evening spent in the company of my heart's heart. And his sisters, of course.
Though the week before the event was rain rain rain, nothing could dampen my anticipation and expectations of pleasure. Four days; three days; two days; one day...and here we are.
Mr. Bingley is all attention. It is so...so unlike anything I have ever experienced before. How is it possible that I can see no change in him yet everything about him is different? It is as if he is showing me his feelings with every gesture; with every look; with every word. My entire body tingles at the touch of his hand upon mine when we dance. I am lost in his eyes; drowning in the affection I see there. His voice envelops and caresses me like a warm spring breeze.
I feel as if I have wings on my feet and could dance with him forever. The joy of this evening erases past doubts...fears...misgivings. I have no past only the promise of a loving future.
There are things I must consider...but not tonight. Not this night when I feel magically transported to a fairyland where only good can happen. Where the music is ethereal; where the dancers waft through their steps; where the stars are close enough to touch; where the food is ambrosial and the drink is nectar of the gods; where my beloved has eyes only for me.
Mama may laugh too loudly and speak too boldly; Lizzy may want me to question Mr. Bingley about Mr. Darcy; Mary may not be in good voice and Papa may embarrass her in front of the other guests. Those are things of the real world and they cannot take me away from this ephemeral place I inhabit this night. Tomorrow or the next day; but not tonight. This is the night I had not the capability to imagine and yet it is happening. To me...Jane, who would have been content with so much less. There may be other nights more grand, but this will always remain in my thoughts as my night of nights. The magical time when I allowed myself to believe my dreams could come true.
As much as I would wish it, there is no preventing even the most perfect of evenings from coming to a close. And yet we departed Netherfield in a coach made golden and jeweled by my lingering fantasy.
On the morrow our daily routine is interrupted by the most awful commotion. Mr. Collins has proposed to Lizzy and she has refused him. Mama is in a terrible state because Papa has upheld Lizzy's decision. Mr. Collins has accepted an invitation to visit the Lucas's and there's no peace to be had at Longbourn.
No matter. For the first time in my memory, I have no desire to try to calm the waters. Let the storm rage. I am sheltered and protected by the power of my memories. I float amid the stars in the velvety midnight blue sky, hand in hand with my heart's desire. Nothing else in the universe matters when his hand is touching mine.
My fantasies must sustain me as I have no expectation of seeing Mr. Bingley for a few days. I know he left Netherfield on the day after the ball to attend to business in Town.
When a letter was delivered to me from Caroline Bingley, I expected a possible invitation to dinner, no more.
When I broke the seal and unfolded the page, I was stunned by what I read...leaving to join her brother in town...no expectation of their returning...miss my friendship...Georgiana Darcy...beautiful...elegant...accomplished.
With trembling voice I read to Lizzy words that pierce my heart...
...My brother admires her greatly already, he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her in the most intimate footing, her relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?