The Jane Plan – Chapter 11

It wasn't until after Jane left the bedroom, that Elizabeth gave up her pretense of sleep and rolled over. Bright sunlight made her wince. It didn't seem fair it was so brightly optimistic. She craved bleak and miserable weather that would match her mood. Instead, it had been nothing but one annoyingly clear, blue sky after another for the last two weeks.

Elizabeth knew she only had a few minutes. It was a failing for her to linger here, but she just needed a moment. A reprieve where she could dispense with the mask she'd worn ever since returning home. No matter how many times she'd thought about their predicament it was clear there was no solution. No way to fix what had been irreparably broken.

Soon the tranquility of the morning would be shattered, like a plate thrown against the stone floor, by her mother's morning-long wailing. Always a selfish creature, this crisis had magnified her mother's weaker personality traits. It would take hours before their mother would succumb to Jane's gentle entreaties and grace the rest of them with her presence, but Elizabeth would need to attend to what her mother would not. She directed the servants, organized the day's meals, and buoyed the spirits of her other sisters. She bit back criticism while Mary banged out pieces on the piano, which was infinity preferable to her other favorite afternoon pastime of sermonizing; and she faked concern over Kitty's unending sneezing, which threatened to wreak havoc on her sanity.

And, no day was complete without the daily trip to Meryton where she did her best to curtail her mother's frivolity while she pasted what she hoped was a convincing smile as they received congratulations on the upcoming 'blessed' event from eager shop keepers. She pretended to be supportive, pretended to be happy, pretended to care. She'd pretended so much lately she wondered if she could ever be able to stop pretending.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she removed her arm and stared at the familiar spiderweb of cracks in the ceiling above the bed. Anger flickered within her for a second before it too sputtered out. There was no energy to sustain being angry. Newly awake, and already exhausted. An all too familiar feeling lately.

It should have been a joyful time, Elizabeth knew, planning for a wedding for such a cherished sister. A time filled with laughter and anticipation. Harsh reality allowed for neither. It was true, there were moments where the sheer insanity of their situation would provoke a chuckle at the absurdity. Even her mother's eyes would shine with happiness as she became wrapped up in some aspect of Jane's big day, but these rare glimmers were always followed with her mother recalling the plight of her favorite. Thankfully, these well-timed performances were only for the benefit of family, far away from the public eye.

As much as Elizabeth was growing to resent her mother, dealing with her was not the worst part of her day. No, the worst part of her day was when Mr. Smith made his daily visits to see Jane. Glancing again out the window, Elizabeth prayed for a small hurricane, a torrential downpour. Something. Anything that would keep him far away at his own house.

Silently, the sun mocked her.

Even after the debacle of seeing Mr. Bingley again, Elizabeth knew she might have been able to still persuade Jane to reject Mr. Smith in hopes of a better offer. If not for Lydia's actions. Now, Jane no longer could afford a choice. There were no objections to offer any longer about love over practicality. The best the family could hope for was that once Jane was united in marriage with Mr. Smith, his respectability might help mitigate some of the damaged caused by their younger sister's elopement; at worst, Jane would at least be settled with a prominent family of the area.

Jane, of course, understood all of this. They day after their return from London found Mr. Smith on their doorstep. Within minutes of his admission, Mrs. Bennet created a moment of privacy and Jane did her duty. Something she had dreaded for so long had been accomplished within minutes.

Her mother wasn't done. Mrs. Bennet urged speed for the nuptials. No need to wait for Mr. Bennet's return from personal business in London. Even if her father had reason to object previously, now there was no question of his acceptance. Initially Mr. Smith seemed reluctant by Mrs. Bennet's suggestion of a very short engagement period of six weeks, but caved quick enough. After all, their mother had cooed, there was no need to wait for his new bride – he had children at home that needed a mother and it was not exactly as if he and Jane were strangers to one another.

"At least one of my daughters will have married well." Her mother had said woefully, after he left, before spending the next thirty minutes crying into her handkerchief about her poor Lydia. Steeling herself, Elizabeth took the seat Jane's flight to their bedroom had left vacant. She suffered her mother's nerves with perfect serenity. Whatever she needed to suffer to give Jane previous peace! Dinner brought her sister downstairs, her pale face splotchy, her eyes red rimmed. She could no longer argue with Jane about her decision. She could only now support, ease the way for her sister. Make the most of these too few weeks remaining.

One day's reprieve! That's all she wanted. And, not even for herself. For Jane! If only one person in the world deserved true happiness, it was her! She deserved to have a man who put her first. He thought only of her. Loved only her. Protected her. She didn't deserve a second-hand husband with a readymade family. A man who was marrying her only for convenience. She didn't deserve to be rushed to the alter. There should have been time for reflection, to savor such a momentous decision. But there was no time left.

Luckily, Mr. Smith was a gentleman. Every visit, he was polite, treated Jane with dignity and respect. He was prone to extended periods of silence, but perhaps, Elizabeth granted, he was a little shy. Even with more time spent in his company, she could not detect any weakness of character, and she watched the man with eagle eyes looking for a reason to object to him. But there was no apparent defect. He seemed reasonable, kind, if not a little stiff. She tried to console herself with the fact that at least Jane would be free of dealing with her mother. She would be distracted by running her own home, raising his children, to see what was going on in the Bennet household after her marriage.

She knew she should be relieved for Jane's sake. But she wasn't relieved for her. She was terrified. Prior to going to London, she had been worried for Jane. The effect of losing Mr. Bingley on her sister had been heartbreaking to watch. Her sister was of low spirits, had lost her appetite. It was what had driven Elizabeth to London after all! Driven her to plot her ill-fated plan. Again, she demanded her mind not spiral off into thoughts of him. She'd be loss if she let it! She detoured her thoughts back to her concern for her sister.

As the days progressed, Jane's smile became increasingly worn-out, threadbare, like a garment in need of replacement. Blue smudges had re-appeared and darkened under her beautiful eyes. And in those rare, unguarded moments, the stark grief which appeared! Since returning from London, neither sister had shared confidences, but Elizabeth knew Jane's burdens were infinitely heavier than her own. The tossing and turning was new. As were the nightmares that woke both of them. Jane's pitiful assurances she was fine were tearing a hole in Elizabeth's heart.

As they were out in the garden waiting on her mother before their daily walk into town, Kitty sighed loudly and said, "Lizzy, what is mother and father going to do about us?"

"Going to do about us?" Elizabeth asked.

"Aren't you worried? Father is upset and Mother is not well right now." Kitty climbed onto the small swing and pushing off said, "After all, they still have three daughters to marry off."

Elizabeth glanced up to her mother's bedroom on the second floor. In such a state, would her mother begin looking in real earnest for matches for her, Mary and Kitty? Even poor matches could be deemed provincial now. The thought made shivers go through her. As bad as Jane's predicament was, what choices were going to be made for the rest of them? Her father would be powerless in light of the present situation to ignore any eligible offer that came their way. And, once the truth was known, she shut her eyes.

"I guess it doesn't really matter," Kitty continued. as she swung, looking as young as her age suddenly. "None of us really had a chance to marry well anyway."

Only, that wasn't true. She had been given a chance to marry well. Very well. Twice.

*)*

Now, Elizabeth allowed thoughts of Mr. Darcy to fill her mind. What was he doing? How was he spending his time? Was he entertaining some beautiful debutant of the Ton? Had he invited one of them to the Opera in her place? Was she rich with impeccable connections? She had a real appreciation now for Jane's fear of seeing Mr. Bingley with another woman. She didn't think she'd ever feel quite comfortable in London without seeking him out on every street.
Even though he had disappointed her at the very last, Elizabeth wanted happiness for him. And, she was honest with herself, she wanted him to find a fine, sophisticated woman who had relations that would not embarrass him. A woman who would bear him healthy children and be a real friend to sweet Georgiana. Elizabeth would like to believe she would be happy if she saw him again, regardless of who his company was. She frowned. Would he feel happiness at seeing her? Would he snub her if they ever crossed paths in town again?
Even after she had misjudged him at Netherfield and wounded him in Kent, Mr. Darcy had approached her at the Haversham Ball. Made small talk. Waltzed with her. Went into the gardens with her, tried to warn her from danger. And, what had she done? Toyed with him, angered him, teased him, forced him to act. The kiss had been unexpected. As was his second proposal!

How she wished to turn back time and find herself on that balcony again. She wondered how he would have looked if she had accepted his proposal. Or, if she had ended their dangerous game and instead shared her concerns with him for her. Would he have volunteered assistance if she had just asked him to? He had agreed to not only remain in London but to assist her with her plans to find a suitor. Just to end his own suffering, he had assured her.

Before he left that day, Mr. Darcy invited her family to dinner. The next afternoon, he had brought Georgiana to meet her. His motivations were not secret. He wanted to be there when she got back from being out with Mr. Perceval. His jealousy had been on full display. Trying to tease him out of his bad mood had made him react. And, his actions had been surprising.

After he had licked her wrist, something she had never imagined anyone doing to her, she had pulled her hand back from him. "I don't believe you. I believe you are a rather determined flirt, Mr. Darcy."

"I am a determined man." He was warning her that he was not Mr. Perceval.

And, what had she done? She'd been no better than Lydia; she bated him, adding fuel to the fire that was burning up her body. "Is there a difference?"

"Oh, yes, Elizabeth. A determined flirt is only that. I am determined in all things."

Since leaving London, Elizabeth had fantasized so many times about how things would have evolved between them if Lydia had only remained at Brighton. How long would he have pursued her so decidedly? So, openly?

Time and distance away from him had brought a clarity to everything his proximity had clouded.

Mr. Darcy only had one man in mind for her. He had been determined to convince her that he was the ideal suitor. And, a tear streamed down her face, he had been successful.

*)*

Instructing the others to remain enjoying their dessert, Mr. Darcy had escorted Elizabeth to his library. Recognizing Mary's handwriting, she quickly tore open the letter with a sense of foreboding. He shut them in together. Alone in private.

Lizzy, Father instructed me to write to you of bad news which cannot be delayed! Colonel Forster arrived early this morning while the house was still in bed to inform us Lydia has gone off with Wickham! They left the previous night after everyone had gone to bed and were not discovered missing until morning. Lydia left Mrs. Forster a note saying she was eloping to Gretna Green, but soldiers in his regiment were emphatic Wickham had no such plans to marry.

Imprudent as the marriage between them would be, what little we know about this sordid affair does not give us any hope of one ever taking place. After searching an entire day, Colonel Forster believes they have continued on to London, and not to Scotland. We both know of Lydia's impulsiveness and wildness. Colonel Forster told father he feared Wickham was not a man to be trusted as he has heard more than one tale concerning debts and 'ungentlemanly' conduct. Oh, Lizzy, what an imprudent match!

Mother is ill and refuses to leave her rooms. I have never seen Father so angry! It is no wonder for when a daughter turns out so unruly and wanton; when she throws herself away on a man unworthy of her; what her parents must suffer.1 But surely you know, not only our parents will suffer, Lizzy! Once known, the rest of us will bear the stain of her immorality. It as Fordyce's warns, one young lady going astray shall subject her relations to such discredit and distress, as the united good of all her sisters shall scarce ever be able to repair. 2

In the morning, Father intends to leave for London with Colonel Forster to try to locate them. I fear they will need uncle's assistance to force a resolution. You know Father does not possess the resources to buy such a man on his own! Circumstances here with mother are beyond my ability and I beg you and Jane, make haste and return home. Your sister, Mary.

As she read the letter, Mr. Darcy had taken the seat next to her on the sofa. She finished the last line and looked up. It was clear he had been watching her with growing alarm. Tears fell, unchecked from her eyes, and he moved instinctively closer, puller her to him, wrapping her in a cocoon of care.

"Please don't cry." His voice was gravely. In a tone of gentleness, he begged her, as he stroked her hair with his hand. "Tell me, Elizabeth, what has happened so I can be made of assistance to you."

After such a sincere entreaty, it had been natural to tell him. She blurted out the horrid truth in shock. After all, who would understand better about Wickham's nature than Mr. Darcy? Who better to offer a solution to such a problem? His reaction was instantaneous. Quick. He dropped his arms from her, pulled back. His voice stern as his eyes searched hers. "Is it certain? She's with Wickham? Absolutely certain they eloped? They are married?"

"Yes, Lydia with Wickham. Only they did not go to Gretna Green as Lydia thought they would. They are here somewhere in London and it is feared yet unmarried." Elizabeth suddenly realized the gravity of her youngest sister's action, and she reached out for Mr. Darcy's arm for support. "Lydia will be lost forever to our family. What will become of her? She'll be all alone. She's so young. And unprotected."

Standing, Mr. Darcy paced for several moments in earnest meditation. The only indication of troubled thoughts was the hand that passed through his hair twice before lowering back to his side. Then, as if he had come to some sort of decision, he pivoted stopping in front of her. A haughtiness had spread over his features. "I wish I could offer you some consolation to your current distress, but we both know too much of the man in question and you are too intelligent for me to lie to you."

His honesty chilled her. There was no offered help. No assistance from his quarter. It was the first real indication of how dire their situation. It was difficult but she recovered her equilibrium. "My father is on his way to London now and will need my uncle's help. Mary has written that Jane and I are needed at home."

"Yes, you should leave London at once!" There was a hardness where there had just recently been concerned warmth. Elizabeth instantly understood the change in him. Her power was sinking; everything must sink under such a proof of family weakness, such a demonstration of the deepest disgrace. She made to rise, but he stopped her extending his hand. "Stay here. I will go fetch your family and bring them to you. While you explain what has happened, I will have your family's carriage brought round. Can I get you anything? A glass of wine?" She shook her head. "Are you sure? Truly you do not look well."

"No, Mr. Darcy, I am fine. There is nothing you can do."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I will bring your family to you so they can see to your comfort."

When her family joined her in the library, she was too distraught over Lydia, and his awful reaction to the news, to repeat the story a second time. Her uncle took the letter from her limp hand and read it aloud. By the time he finished, there was no time to process the information before Mr. Darcy returned to let them know everything was ready for them to depart.

Personally, he escorted them through the house and saw them to the carriage, efficiently removing her and her family with precision from his home. It was clear he was anxious to see them leave; she'd never before seen him so full of nervous energy.

His parting words made it apparent there would be no future meetings. "This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister from having the pleasure of seeing your family at the opera later this week. I will let her and Mr. Bingley know that urgent business has called you home. I will conceal the unhappy truth for as long as it is possible."

Of course, he didn't want his sister to know about Wickham! She did not trust herself to speak or look at him. She was grateful when Mrs. Gardiner said politely, "Yes, please be so kind as to apologize for us to Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley."

As the carriage jerked to a start, Elizabeth found herself desperate for one more look at him. He was taking the reins of his own horse from one of his servants and as tall as he was mounted easily into his saddle. She moved forward in her seat, heart pounding with hope. Of course, he would offer assistance. He was coming with them. Relief coursed through her. But when their carriage turned toward Cheapside, he rode on in the opposite direction toward London proper. Could he have been any more obvious? He wanted to distance himself from the association as quickly as possible. Hope, even the momentary kind, was a treacherously painful thing. In the dark swaying carriage, Jane's fingers closed once more around hers.

*)*

The sound of her mother warming up for her morning performance recalled Elizabeth to the present. She was out of time and her brief reprieve was over. Wiping the evidence of her tears from her face, she sat up in her bed. She did not need to see her reflection in the mirror to know she looked a mess. There was no going back. The news in the express had changed everything!

It was time she fully accepted her fate and stop this torment. She could not continue to hurt herself with this unhealthy preoccupation with Mr. Darcy. No more could she spend time thinking on a man, no matter how ideal, who was now forever out of reach. She had no time to waste on foolish regrets. She had to make herself presentable. After all of her other recent mistakes, she would not let Jane face the day, and all of its trials, alone.