“So Jane must fight for him!” cried Lydia.
“Perhaps, but Jane is not well-versed in the art of fighting, unlike you or Lizzy. I am convinced that if such a situation arose, you would fight for the man you wished to marry, while Kitty or Mary may take Jane’s hesitant road. But…”
They glanced at their father, who rarely hesitated to express his thoughts.
“Yes, Papa,” Mary said, suddenly the one most interested in a subject she had never shown any inclination for before.
“I am asking all of you to reflect on what I am telling you. Do not allow your heart to be the master of your life and it alone to plan and build your future. The heart is not always a reliable source of advice. Please, do notfallin love but rathersearchfor a man you might be able to love.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mary as if she had experienced an epiphany.
“Yes, dear!” Her father said, looking at her face, where understanding seemed to finally prevail. “The word ‘fall’ implies that one might tumble and suffer an injury. Falling is a singular action, whereas searching signifies a journey towards understanding and appreciating a human being.”
“Well, I do not intend tosearchforanyone or anything for a while!” Elizabeth jested, and Mary approved with a nod. At the same time, Lydia said nothing but obviously had an opinion. Finally, even Kitty seemed to have understood what their father wanted to tell them.
Chapter 6
The unexpected conversation they had with their father brought yet another change to the relationship between the sisters. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth decided to let them know what Jane had written to her.
They were all gathered in the drawing-room on a cold and rainy late February day when none had felt inclined to leave the house. The fire crackled in the hearth, and they suddenly felt an urging to resume the discussion from their father’s library.
“What might Jane be doing?” asked Mary, who, for once, did not have a book in her hand but a piece of lace she was futilely attempting to mend. Her lack of experience was evident, but Elizabeth understood that Mary joined in the activity simply to be with them and in the hope of continuing their conversation. This thought prompted her to retrieve Jane’s letter, which she had received the day before, from her pocket.
“I would not say she is well,” she said, unfolding the letter but not reading it immediately.
She began by recounting what had transpired during the early days of her eldest sister’s stay in London.
“Jane wrote a few lines to announce their safe arrival in London, and when she wrote again, I hoped it would be to share something of the Bingleys. I was utterly impatient to receive more news, but Jane had none. She had been in town a week without seeing or hearing from Caroline Bingley. However, she accounted for it by supposing that the reply to her letter to Miss Bingley must have been accidentally lost.”
“No!” cried Lydia, tossing the embroidery she had been half-heartedly working on into the basket. “How can she be so naïve?”
And although Elizabeth disapproved of Lydia’s tone, she found herself in agreement with her words. Letters were not lost; they had simply not been written. Jane was deceiving herself.
“London brings her no solace,” observed Mary. “But has she seenhimat last?”
“Not so far. She visited Grosvenor Street to call on theBingleys…all of them. She wrote to me again after that visit, and she did see Miss Bingley, who did not appear to be in spirits but who was glad to see her and reproached her for giving no notice of her coming to London—”
“What lies!” exclaimed Lydia again, proving herself more perceptive about human nature than her much older sister. “She told her she had not received the letter!”
“Yes,” continued Elizabeth. “She told her that her last letter had never reached her—”
“And Jane believed her,” said Mary, pity in her voice.
“Jane asked about their brother, and they assured her he was well but so much engaged with Mr Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. She then found out that Miss Darcy was expected for dinner. But, of course, Jane was not invited. Her visit was brief, as Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were going out. Yet again,she failed to see that these arrogant women did not wish to associate with her and had even less intention of letting her encounter their brother.”
“But she continued to hope,” said Mary, abandoning her lacework.
Elizabeth nodded. “Although I implored her in several letters to see the truth, and our aunt Gardiner also tried to persuade her.”
“I do not understand what happens in the houses of the rich,” Lydia said with mounting frustration. “How is it possible she did not see him? I would have done something—gone upstairs to seek him out or asked a servant to call for him.”
The sisters exchanged puzzled looks at these bold words, but then they smiled, for even though Lydia was brazen, she was right. It was inconceivable that Jane could have been in his house and not found a way to see him.
Elizabeth shook her head with deep sadness. The conversation had convinced her that only by sheer accident would Mr Bingley learn that her sister was in town.
“Jane tried hard to persuade herself that she did not regret the missed opportunity. Still, she could no longer be blind to Miss Bingley’s scheming. After waiting at home every morning for almost two weeks and inventing a new excuse for her absence every evening, the lady finally called. Still, the brevity of her stay and, more painfully, the alteration in her manner allowed Jane to deceive herself no longer. The letter she wrote will prove what she felt.”
“Read it, for heaven’s sake!” cried Lydia.
