“Not at all. Yet, I do wonder at it—the business with Mr. Bingley is not so far in the past that I thought she would welcome him to this extent.”
“I shall tell you what I told my aunt,” replied Elizabeth. “I cannot speak about Jane’s heart, but Icantell you that Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence has at least distracted her from thoughts of Mr. Bingley.”
“Then perhaps that is all we can hope.”
Charlotte changed the subject. “Lizzy, I have a request to make of you, if you will hear it.”
Curiosity piqued, Elizabeth nodded. “It sounds dreadful, Charlotte. How may I help you?”
“Nothing so horrible,” laughed Charlotte. “I should like to invite you to come to Kent to visit me in the spring. My father and Maria are to come—your presence would be as welcome to me.”
Surprised, Elizabeth turned to teasing. “Oh? Tell me, Charlotte, will Mr. Collins welcome the woman who rejected his generous offer?”
Though she appeared a little embarrassed, Charlotte did not hesitate to press her case. “Mr. Collins will not gainsay me. If you consider it, he may view the opportunity to show you what you gave up in rejecting him with no small measure of eagerness.”
The two friends laughed at Charlotte’s quip, Elizabeth reflecting that her friend was not incorrect. “Then he does not know about your invitation.”
“As I said, Lizzy,” replied Charlotte, “he will not protest. No man wishes to offend his new wife before he even meets her at the altar. The pleasure of inviting guests belongs to the mistress, does it not?”
“True,” said Elizabeth. “Then if Mr. Collins does not object, I should be pleased to visit you.”
“Thank you,” said Charlotte, appearing a little emotional. “As you know, once I marry and go into Kent, I doubt I shall return to Hertfordshire for some time after. I do not know how often we shall be in each other’s company thereafter.”
“Then we must use the time we have to its best advantage.”
For some time after, Elizabeth stood speaking with Charlotte, listening to her friend’s hopes for the future, her eagerness to have her own situation, and her relief that she would not become a burden to her brother. Elizabeth listened, commented, and offered her warm congratulations, knowing all the while that she could never have made the sacrifice that Charlotte had calculated, proven by her refusal of the man her friend had accepted. Though she wondered if her friend was not mad for accepting such a man as William Collins, Elizabeth would not say that to her and wished her the best in her future life, though she harbored the suspicion that the charms of Charlotte’s new situation would fade long before she wished.
At length, Lady Lucas called Charlotte away, leaving Elizabeth to move through the room. She spent some time speaking with Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam, but, sensing their interest in private conversation,she did not stay long. Mary went to the pianoforte and began to play Christmas carols, and Elizabeth stood singing with some of the other ladies for a time.
Then, when they had been there for perhaps half an hour, the soldiers of the regiment arrived, and among their number strode George Wickham. Elizabeth did not fancy herself in love—how could she be? Mr. Wickham had spoken to her on the street in Meryton, at her Aunt Philips’s card party, and on perhaps one or two occasions since. For much of December, he had been away on business, though what it entailed Elizabeth could not say. Now that he entered the room, however, his smile widening as he caught sight of her, Elizabeth reflected that the admiration of a handsome man was not an inconsequential matter. Mr. Wickham offered a few greetings with his fellows, but it was to Elizabeth that he soon turned his attention.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, bowing over her hand with a gallant flourish. “How lovely it is to see you tonight. I hope you have been well.”
“Very well, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth.
For a moment, she had thought he might kiss her hand, a liberty for one who did not claim a long acquaintance with her. As he spoke, Elizabeth understood he had touched no part of her heart, which was for the best, given his relative poverty. Though she did not know him well enough to understand him yet, she knew that a man possessing charm and good looks could touch the heart of many a maiden. Thus, it was for the best that she take her own counsel and guard her heart, for nothing could come of any friendship with Mr. Wickham.
BY THE TIME JANE METColonel Fitzwilliam at Lucas Lodge that evening, she knew she possessed a man’s admiration. The depth of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s regard was yet a mystery, but there was no questioning his interest. The greater question in Jane’s mind was her returning esteem.
It was a complexity Jane had not anticipated. As her recent history with Mr. Bingley suggested, Jane was capable of provoking a man’s interest—the greater question was her ability to keep it, a question that had persisted since she had reached marriageable age. Jane had always understood her looks drew the attention of men, but she had always pushed such things away as unimportant—what need had she for a man to admire her face but never develop a deeper connection? Marriage to such a man was a quick path to a life of misery.
Though Jane hesitated to think ill of another, the differencesbetween Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley were now apparent, and Mr. Bingley did not compare favorably to the man before her. Now that she could look back on the previous months, she realized that Mr. Bingley, though it was clear he was interested, had been enamored with her charms above all. Whether that infatuation would have developed into the connection she wanted to obtain, she could not say. Now, it appeared she would never learn whether it could.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, was different. He admired her and saw a woman he found pleasing, but his conversation was deeper, more mature than anything she had experienced with Mr. Bingley. The more she spoke with him, the more Jane began to understand that he was in situation and temper exactly the sort of man who would complete her. From there, it was a simple leap to wonder about his situation, whether he could support a wife, if he even wished to take a wife. It was fortunate for Jane’s peace of mind that he answered that question himself.
“I notice you are moving with greater ease, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Jane observed, noting that he was not leaning as heavily on his cane as he had been when he first came to Hertfordshire.
The colonel nodded and flexed his thigh. “It is improving to be certain. It will be some time yet before I am fit to ride a horse or return to my duties, but even the freedom to move about without this blasted cane would be a boon.”
Jane regarded him, wondering how to ask the question that occupied the most prominent space in her mind. She settled on an oblique reference. “You must be eager to return.”
The colonel chuckled, but the look he gave her suggested he understood what she had not said. “Not so eager as you might think. I am pleased to do my duty, but I cannot think of a man whoenjoyssoldiering whose mind is not unsound. If I were to sell my commission tomorrow, my mother would compose a paean of praise.”
This time it was Jane’s turn to read something into his comment. “Your mother must have been most distressed by your injury.”
“Most distressed, indeed. My mother’s coddling is the reason I am here—Mother considered me unfit to even dress myself in the morning.”
“Did she not protest your removal to Netherfield?”
