It had always struck Elizabeth that Jane, as a modest young woman, never expected any undue attention, while everyone around her knew what would happen when a man noticed her. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not exclude Elizabeth from the conversation, for he was just as interesting and gracious as he had been before, but it was not long after that he became engrossed in his conversation with Jane, and Elizabeth excused herself.
Standing a little apart, Elizabeth watched them, noting that their interaction appeared identical to that she had seen two months earlier when Mr. Bingley had bestowed all his attention on Jane. What was different was that Colonel Fitzwilliam did not focus on her exclusively, speaking to others when they approached, and appearing interested in what she had to say, rather than merely smitten by her beauty. It was like comparing a puppy to a full-grown dog—Mr. Bingley had attended to Jane’s every word, lapping it up as if a saucer of cream sat before him, while Colonel Fitzwilliam allowed her to speak, laughing with her, focused on her, while not looking at her as if she were more beautiful than Aphrodite.
“It appears our Jane has made a conquest,” said Mary later that evening, when the company had again gathered in the sitting-room after dinner.
Colonel Fitzwilliam kept Jane close as he escorted Mrs. Goulding to the dining-room, joking that he would have also taken her arm had he not needed the use of his cane. Throughout dinner, they had kept a steady conversation that had continued the moment the men rejoined the ladies in the sitting-room.
“Aye, she has,” agreed Elizabeth, her continued thoughts rendering her reply absent-minded. “To own the truth, I wonder if it is wise.”
“You speak of her recent experience with Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth turned a smile on her younger sister. “I do. You saw how quickly she came to esteem Mr. Bingley, and he left, never to return. Colonel Fitzwilliam is Mr. Darcy’s cousin and the son of an earl.”
“Except that this is but the first evening of their acquaintance,” replied Mary. “It is far too early to concern yourself with Jane’s happiness.”
The comment was apropos, and Elizabeth allowed it to be true. “Iunderstand that, Mary, but I would not have Jane hurt again.”
Mary nodded but said nothing further. In time, they drifted apart, Elizabeth moving among the company, speaking and laughing as was her wont, though her attention was often on Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Through careful scrutiny, she decided that though it was still their first meeting, Colonel Fitzwilliam presented the very picture of a man newly intrigued by a woman. Jane was harder to read as always, but Elizabeth noted at once the absence of the melancholy that had lingered about her like a storm cloud and wondered if Jane had not already felt the first stirrings of uncommon interest in her heart.
Then Elizabeth considered the man himself. For one, Colonel Fitzwilliam was not Mr. Bingley—while she could know nothing of his relations, she doubted he had a shrewish sister, and even if he had, she suspected his firmness of purpose was not in question like Mr. Bingley’s was. She also did not suppose he was a man looking for a pretty woman to adorn his arm for a few weeks and then withdraw when the location no longer suited his needs—there was something solid and dependable about the man that could not be misread.
The greater concern was his position in society and the opinions of his family about a match with the daughter of a minor country gentleman. Elizabeth could not know if their current amity would lead to a match, but she also knew the state in which Jane had existed since Mr. Bingley went away. It was only prudent for her sister to guard her heart, for he might have nothing more serious than agreeable conversation in mind, and even if he did, there was no guarantee he would ever act on any inclination he might have. Of perhaps greater importance, Elizabeth did not wish Jane to transfer her affection to another merely because of her depressed spirits—she was not the sort of woman to do so, but disappointment could provoke uncharacteristic behavior in anyone.
There was no proper opportunity to speak with Jane that evening, and Elizabeth would not do it in a crowded sitting-room where anyone could overhear. Yet Elizabeth resolved to have the conversation with her dear sister and ensure she approached the situation in a rational manner rather than an emotional one. It was, perhaps, little enough, not the protection she wished to provide for a beloved sister who had suffered disappointment. Jane was an adult and could make her own choices, but Elizabeth would not allow her to face whatever was to come without giving her all the support she could.
Chapter II
Jane Bennet was of so reticent a disposition that even those closest to her often struggled to understand her. Elizabeth, who could lay claim to being the one person in the world most intimate with her, was no different, though her long association made her better able to understand Jane than one who had just made her acquaintance. Elizabeth’s observations on the evening of the party at Lucas Lodge were uncertain; Jane appeared interested in Colonel Fitzwilliam and spoke to him with her usual civility, yet there was something in her manner that extended beyond what Elizabeth had seen, even in the earliest days with Mr. Bingley. It was still early—this Elizabeth understood— but she did not think a conversation with her sister on the necessity of guarding her heart was unwarranted.
The opportunity did not arise that evening, and it was not a conversation Elizabeth wished to have with her sister where anyone could overhear. That settled her determination to wait until she could get Jane away from prying ears. The following morning, as the family gathered for breakfast, it did not surprise Elizabeth to hear her mother extol the virtues of the good colonel, Mr. Bingley forgotten in the flush of excitement at the notion of another man paying her eldest daughter attention.
“What an excellent man he is!” said Mrs. Bennet, warming to her subject while her breakfast cooled untouched upon her plate. “Why, I do not think I have ever seen one so tall and broad-shouldered, so handsome and amiable. What good fortune it is that he singled you out, Jane!”
“He would bemorehandsome if he were wearing his regimentals,” giggled Kitty to her sister.
“I am not certain heisan officer,” sniffed Lydia—though without conviction. “Until he wears them in our presence, I shall reserve judgment.”
“That is curious, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet, eyeing his youngest with his usual brand of amusement. “What possible reason could the man have for inventing such a history, especially since, from what I understand, he is among us because of the dangers of his profession?”
Lydia had nothing to say and did not respond. Elizabeth knew her sister did not disbelieve he was a colonel, but the red hue of the militia officer’s coats had bedazzled her for so long she could see nothing else.
“Oh, there is no question he is a colonel,” said Mrs. Bennet. “There is no mistaking his manner of carrying himself, even though he is suffering from an injury.”
“With that, I cannot but agree,” said Mr. Bennet, his attention turned to his wife. “Tell me, Mrs. Bennet, for I am curious—have you already proposed to Jane in his stead, or have you contented yourself with guiding him, through sibilant whispers, to your eldest daughter?”
“Do not speak nonsense, Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I have done nothing of the sort. But you cannot deny he paid uncommon attention to our Jane last night.”
“Hmm, perhaps you are correct. There is one matter of which I am curious, for, as I recall, you were speaking to excess of Mr. Bingley only two days ago. Have you forgotten him already?”
“Mr. Bingley?” asked Mrs. Bennet as if she had never heard the name before.
“Yes, Bingley. You know, passably tall, impossibly handsome, the fellow who holds the lease on Netherfield Park.ThatMr. Bingley.”
“Why I should concern myself withhim, I cannot say. Mr. Bingley left without a backward glance, not even granting us the courtesy of a visit to announce his departure.”
“I do not propose that you concern yourself with Mr. Bingley.” This time, there was a hint of iron in Mr. Bennet’s voice. “Only that yourememberhim, at the least. The last thing our Jane requires is hermother pushing her at some man we have only just met becauseheis here, andMr. Bingleyis not.”
Mrs. Bennet did not respond, not having expected him to resist her schemes centered on the new man in their midst. Though Elizabeth agreed with her father without reservation, she spoke to support the colonel.
