A Second Chance
Chapter 1
Lizzie pulled a curl out of her coiffure, twisting it one way and then the other. Losing patience, she tried to pin it back with little success. Her hands were shaking. She examined her face critically in the mirror. For a recent widow of 28 years she didn't look too hagged. She straightened her skirts, gave up on her hair, and slipped on her dancing slippers. Peeking into the adjoining room, she saw that her son of six years was still awake, tossing. Her baby girl was sleeping peacefully in a ruffled crib.
The children's nurse came forward, "Now you go and enjoy yourself, I'm sure Ben will settle presently."
Lizzie walked towards the little wooden bed and gave Ben a quick cuddle. His eyes were very curious as he took in her raiment. "Mama, you look so pretty. You don't look like my mama."
Lizzie stifled a giggle and held her son gently by his shoulders. "Now Ben, you be good for Nurse Higgins, and tomorrow I will tell you all about the officers I will see tonight. Maybe I will even dance with one."
"Silly Mama. Soldiers don't dance, they ride horses and fight."
"Sometimes they do, but tonight they are dancing at your Aunt and Uncle's ball." Lizzie kissed him and went over to little Sallie. Kissing her fingers, she laid them on her baby's soft cheek. "Sleep well," she whispered.
Downstairs, Mrs. Bennett was bustling about her room, trailing her shawl, and sporting three enormous ostrich feathers on her headdress. "Oh my dear, there you are, I am about ready to leave, but your silly sister has decided her green dress does not become her and nothing would do but to change to her pink one!"
Passing her father's study, Lizzie went in and sat down. Mr. Bennett looked up from the book he was perusing. "Well?"
"Father, Mary has decided to change her dress."
Her father put down his book and said reflectively that since Mr Farrow, a new curate at the church, had come into the town, Mary was taking much more care about her appearance and dress.
"Yes," agreed Lizzie, "and she also seems happier." Grinning conspiratorially at each other, they went to the waiting carriage.
Rocking over the rough road on the way to Netherfield, Lizzie told herself that widows were allowed to go to dances, often went to dances, and sometimes even danced. Since her husband had died in a shocking accident almost three years ago, Lizzie had lost most of her eagerness for dancing. Having been pregnant and the mother of a three year old at the time of her loss had kept her occupied almost constantly, but having to be a mama at the same time as being a grieving widow had slowly helped her recover, and also meant that at no time could she sink wholly into despair. Now spending the summer with her parents, she was ready to take her first careful steps back into society.
"And after all," her mother was saying, "We must ensure that Mary sees as much of Mr. Farrow as we can manage. This seems to be a very good thing, and it would be a shame for anything to happen to ruin it."
Lizzie cast her mind back to her own first love, and then even further, to the first awakening of emotions that were never resolved, painful, and never fully realized. A dark figure with inscrutable eyes hovered at the edge of her consciousness.
Stepping into the ballroom, Lizzie felt a tap on her arm. "Lizzie Braithwaite, I am delighted you have at last put off those widows weeds and stepped out of the nursery."
Lizzie looked up and saw an elegant green gown that surely had cost as much as hers, her mother's, and Mary's combined. "Miss Bingley - I beg your pardon, Mrs. Lafarge - how lovely to see you." Lizzie intoned.
Although they had been family for many years, Lizzie found it hard to act naturally around her brother-in-law's sister. Her consequence and snide behaviour had not diminished with age. Although her looks had, Lizzie noted to herself with a self satisfied feeling. Mrs. Lafarge was determined to act the welcoming friend however, and kept Lizzie busy for some time. While chatting with her old acquaintance, Lizzie felt surprisingly alone. When she had had Tom beside her, everything was a game to be enjoyed, but now it all seemed a bit like a test.
Lizzie missed her husband. His joy and his sense of fun and unending energy. He had bounced into her life a little while after her sister Jane had gotten engaged to Charles Bingley. Fresh from the shock of Lydia's elopement and subsequent marriage - Lizzie still thanked the Lord that her uncle had managed to bring that about - Lizzie had been awash with longing for a man she could never have. He had been a mystery, and then had disappeared from her life abruptly. After that, she had seen him very infrequently and always in company. He was inscrutable, intense, grave, and silent, and thoroughly out of her reach, when Thomas Braithwaite had tumbled into town. Lizzie had happily fallen in love with him after a little persuasion on his part. He was uncomplicated to her complexity, and matched her intelligence with unbounded curiosity about everything. He was easy and sweet and not a very good horseman.
Jane was wearing a pale pink gown, looking beautiful. Having four children in four years had not changed her looks or figure in any discernible way. Her husband Charles was beside her, smiling happily at all his guests.
Having met Jane and complimented her on her gown, Lizzie moved further into the room.
(I know some of you may disagree with what I have done here, but I write from my heart, and this is the story it wanted to tell. many thanks to misspseudonymous for the encouragement and editing)
Please comment with any ideas, complaints, or just to say hi :)
