November 1805-March 1807
Hertfordshire
Elizabeth
ElizabethconversedwarmlywithCharlotte Lucas. Though seven years her senior, Charlotte had a steadiness that Elizabeth admired. She had taken the younger girl under her wing, and in the few years since their first acquaintance, she had become both confidante and counsellor, ever ready with observations shrewd yet kindly delivered. Her practical intelligence, measured humour, and keen understanding of their neighbours made her an invaluable friend.
At two-and-twenty, Charlotte had been out in society for several years now—since her eighteenth birthday. Elizabeth sometimes wondered why her own mother had pressed her into company at so young an age, for she had not felt ready for such exposure. Now, however, she had found her footing and took pleasure in the amusements of the neighbourhood, with Charlotte and Jane at her side.
Miss Lucas sighed and leaned back against the finely upholstered chair.
“Is something amiss?” Elizabeth asked, her curiosity piqued. Her friend had been uncommonly quiet that evening, so unlike her usual manner.
“Mr Martin has offered for Miss Noland,” Charlotte murmured dismally. “I had thought for certain he would offer for me.”
“He has been very friendly. What do you make of it?”
Charlotte gave a slight lift to her shoulders. “It is likely he regards me only as a friend, and in my eagerness to see meaning where there was none, I deceived myself.” She was calm, but Elizabeth saw the hurt beneath her feigned indifference.
Elizabeth reached out and took her hand. “You are not so very old yet. There is time still for your happiness!”
Charlotte laughed in surprise. “To one so young as yourself, I dare say anyone past their nineteenth year seems a relic,” she teased. “Thank you for cheering me, Lizzy.”
“Oh, but I did not mean—” Elizabeth frowned, fearful that she had added to her friend’s pain. “I only meant—”
“I know. You meant to comfort me, and you have. I am not offended.” Charlotte pressed Elizabeth’s hand to set her mind at rest.
“Still, I ought to guard my tongue before my words go tumbling out unbidden.” Elizabeth grinned bashfully, causing Charlotte to laugh once more.
“Aye, that would be prudent. Now, tell me—has Mr Fiennes been a frequent visitor at Longbourn of late?”
Elizabeth made a face. “Aye, far too frequent, and I do not know why. He spends more time in my mother’s parlour with the ladies than in my father’s company, so it cannot be for male conversation.”
Charlotte’s gaze drifted across the room to where Mr Fiennes stood. “You take exception to the gentleman?” “He is handsome, well established, and possesses a considerable fortune. Such a match would be advantageous for your family.”
Elizabeth blew out a breath, her lips pursed in vexation. “I cannot quite name what I am feeling. His attentions seem…contrived. There is something beneath his happy manners that unsettles me, as though he hides a less agreeable nature.”
Charlotte laughed, yet to Elizabeth it seemed less like shared mirth than amusement at her expense.
“He stares atyoua great deal, Eliza. I had thought he would pursue Jane, yet he has scarcely looked in her direction this evening.”
Elizabeth frowned, a sense of unease stealing over her. “I confess I had not noticed his attention,” she murmured, her fingers worrying the fringe of her shawl. “When he calls for tea, he speaks with everyone but always contrives to draw me into conversation; he asks too many questions.”
“You are fortunate to have gained his regard.”
Elizabeth attempted to put off her friend with a laugh. “Such a silly notion. He is merely friendly, that is all. There can be no regard, for there has been no time for it to form. Besides, he is five-and-thirty—old enough to be my father!”
“Age has little to do with marriage,” Charlotte spoke with quiet resolve, her expression brooking no contradiction. “He possesses every requisite to recommend him as a husband. Most would not age him above eight-and-twenty, so youthful is his appearance.”
“That hardly signifies. I do not love him—I do not even like him particularly well. I shall never marry where there is no affection, and so his regard, as you call it, must wither and die for want of nourishment.” Elizabeth smiled in triumph, quite pleased with her turn of phrase.
Charlotte looked at her intently. “Remember your family’s circumstances, dear friend. You are young—only fifteen—and it would not do to cast aside a good match for sopaltry a reason.”
“You would not be so mercenary!” Elizabeth could not believe it of Charlotte.
“If my future hung in the balance, then yes, I would.” Charlotte turned to her with an air of solemn concern. “Remember what I have said, Lizzy. The world is not kind to ladies of our station, who have neither fortune nor prospects.” With that, she rose and crossed the room to the refreshment table, taking up a glass of punch.
Unhappily for Elizabeth, Mr Fiennes claimed the vacant seat only a moment later. “How do you do this evening, dear Miss Elizabeth?” He reached for her hand with practised warmth.
