Jane normally loved the window in her room at the Gardiners' that let early morning sunlight filter in from the back garden. But this morning, she buried her face deeper in the pillow and wished for nothing more than for a gloomy London day.
Her family was kind enough to not ask questions about the previous night. Even her mother, new to restraint as she was, chattered tactfully to Mr. Gardiner about fabrics over breakfast. The children, especially Rose, were curious about the ball, but were soon ushered off to the nursery for morning lessons with the governess. Ordinarily, Jane would have gone up as well to help, but she couldn't muster the energy.
Early afternoon found Jane with her feet curled up inelegantly underneath her in her favorite armchair in the front room. The book in her lap was one of Lizzy's favorites, and reading it made Jane feel like her favorite sister was in the room with her. Lizzy had read it to her countless times. The last time had been at Netherfield when she was ill. Jane flinched at the memory.
A knock came at the door and Jane hastily straightened her posture back into that expected of a lady, hoping that it was simply one of the staff looking for Mrs. Gardiner. She bade the person to come in, and the housekeeper stepped into the room. "Mr. Theodore Fitzwilliam, miss."
Jane's breath caught. The man had been all that was considerate the night before. He hadn't pressed Jane for details beyond expressing concern for her wellbeing, and hadn't spoken as his carriage conveyed them back to the Gardiners' home. Jane had been grateful for the quiet at the time as she gripped her mother's hand in the dark, but now she looked back with a blush at her rudeness. She had left the ball before fulfilling her promise to dance with him and couldn't remember if she had thanked him for the escort home.
The housekeeper was waiting for a response. "Thank you, Mrs. Froggatt. Could you fetch my aunt from the nursery? My mother might be with her as well."
The housekeeper curtsied and exited the room, leaving the door open behind her. Mr. Fitzwilliam stepped carefully in and bowed.
Jane rose and curtsied. She hoped that he couldn't see how she clenched the folds of her skirts in a desperate attempt to hide the shaking in her hands.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. Are you feeling better today?"
"Yes, thank you. And thank you for your kindness in seeing us home. Please, have a seat. I'm sure that my aunt will be down in a moment."
"It was my pleasure to do so, Miss Bennet. The ball was feeling a little stifling to me as well, so I was happy to leave when we did."
Jane nodded in agreement, and reached for something else to say. She found nothing. Silence fell between the two of them.
"What are you reading, may I ask?"
Jane looked at the book laying forgotten on the table next to her. "Oh, um… it's The Children of the Abbey. It's one of my sister Elizabeth's favorites. Have you read it?"
Mr. Fitzwilliam shook his head. "I haven't had the pleasure."
Silence reigned again. Jane looked to the floor. She wanted to explain, to try and excuse her rudeness of the previous night, but couldn't find the words.
The children burst into the room. "Mr. Teddy!" Seven-year-old Frederick ran to him, despite Mrs. Gardiner's call to mind his manners. Mr. Fitzwilliam merely laughed.
"How have you been, Mr. Freddy?"
"I lost another tooth! Look!"
"So you have! Then I suppose you wouldn't be interested in this then?" Mr. Fitzwilliam pulled a hard candy out of his pocket.
"Of course I would!" protested the young boy.
"Freddy, what do we say?" Mrs. Gardiner admonished her son.
"Please, Mr. Teddy?"
"Hmmm, I suppose. It would be a shame to let the candy go to waste."
He gave the candy to the grateful boy, and offered some to the others as well. Even Rose wasn't too ladylike and grownup to say no to the sweet.
The children peppered Mr. Fitzwilliam with questions. He did his best to answer all of them, giving updates on the animals on his estate, telling amusing stories of the people that lived and worked in the house and on the grounds (whom the children had apparently met on a visit the previous summer), and asking questions of their lives in return. He asked Rose about her French, Hugo about his Latin, Freddy about his reading, and Nathan about his model horses and soldiers. It was clear that he enjoyed the children's company, and they enjoyed his. As they settled in to visit, he agreed to referee a checkers match between Hugo and Freddy. The board was quickly brought out, and placed near Jane's seat.
Jane returned to her book. Mr. Fitzwilliam was just out of her field of view, but his voice, encouraging the boys as they played and gently teasing each one as they lost pieces to the other, made a kind of warmth spread through Jane's being. She admired his liveliness and his way of interacting with the boisterous children. He treated the boys with the same respect due to a business partner or a fellow gentleman, and it was clear that they adored him for it. With such an entertaining game going on nearby, she found it very difficult to concentrate on her reading.
A half-hour quickly passed, and Mr. Fitzwilliam began to make his excuses. Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet wished him a good day, and Nathan quickly extracted a promise of a checkers game just between the two of them the next time that he came to visit. With a bow, he left the room.
Jane screwed up her courage. Mumbling an excuse to her mother and aunt, she walked quickly into the hall. "Mr. Fitzwilliam?"
He was just taking his coat from the footman. "Thank you, Thomas," he said, and turned to face Jane.
Jane swallowed the lump in her throat. "I wanted to… I wanted… I'm so sorry. I wanted to apologize for not dancing with you last night. It's not that I didn't want to dance with you, of course, not at all. I mean, I did wish to dance with you. So I'm sorry that I was… that I was unable to keep my commitment."
She could feel her face getting warmer by the word, and stopped speaking.
Mr. Fitzwilliam smiled gently. "I am not offended, if that's what you are worried about, Miss Bennet. I can find social engagements like a grand ball such as the one last night to be tiring as well. I don't blame you for wanting to leave early. I was only concerned that someone may have caused you distress."
Jane looked to the floor. "Yes, um… something, well, someone did. I ran into a former acquaintance from home after supper."
"You don't need to tell me, Miss Bennet. You don't owe me an explanation."
"No, no, it's alright. It was an acquaintance that has made it very clear that they were uninterested in maintaining our friendship. But again, I apologize. I should not have insisted on leaving."
"As I recall, Miss Bennet, it was I who insisted on seeing your mother and yourself home. I do not remember you having much say in the matter, between Mrs. Bennet and I."
Jane blushed. "Thank you for doing that, sir. It was greatly appreciated."
He gave a small bow. "Always happy to be of service. I do hope, however, that you'll save a dance for me at the next event we both attend?"
Jane's heart fluttered to a brief halt. "Of course, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I would be happy to oblige."
She curtsied, and he bowed once more, bidding her farewell. Nodding to Thomas as the footman held the door open, Jane turned away, but not before noticing that he glanced back at her briefly as he descended the front steps and made his way to the waiting carriage.
Her mother's nerves came back in full force when an invitation arrived by footman to the Gardiners' door bearing the seal of the Earl of Matlock. Curling, delicate handwriting invited Jane, Mrs. Bennet, and Mrs. Gardiner to tea that Wednesday afternoon, on behalf of Miss Darcy and her aunt, the Countess of Matlock.
Jane tried to remember, from the previous fall, if Mr. Darcy had ever mentioned his noble relations. She didn't recall his ever mentioning it and her mother would have known if the word had gotten out. As uncharitable as it was, she was surprised that Miss Bingley had never told the people of Meryton in her efforts to stand above the rest. Did Miss Bingley know? She must, if the families were as close as she said.
Wednesday afternoon came, and standing outside the carriage with damp hands and shaky breath, Jane tried to remember that Miss Darcy was just a young girl, with whom she was excited to make an acquaintance. Miss Darcy was just another younger sister. Jane knew how to handle those well.
The grand house before her was not helping in her mission to remain calm. Neatly tamed garden boxes hung from the sills of tall, glistening windows. A fine, gleaming wood door sat, intimidating, at the top of the steps, framed by well-kept columns. Once inside, a maid in a simple, pressed uniform silently took their wraps before the butler led them to a parlor just off of the main hall.
Unlike their visit with Miss Bingley, Miss Darcy was waiting for them in the parlor, alongside the plainly-dressed woman from the modiste's shop and a tall, willowy matron dressed in an elegant, dark green gown. It suited her dark hair perfectly well, and her expression was cautiously friendly. The butler announced them and Jane felt the evaluating eyes of the woman in the green gown settle on her face.
"Aunt, may I introduce Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet? My brother met the Bennet family during his time in Hertfordshire, and I had the pleasure of seeing them at Mrs. Webley's a few weeks ago." Miss Darcy performed the introductions, and the trio of Gracechurch Street ladies curtsied. The woman bowed her head gracefully in response. "This is my aunt, Lady Helen Matlock, and my companion, Mrs. Annesley."
Miss Darcy indicated that the ladies should take their seats, and the housekeeper came in with an elaborate spread of tea and small cakes. The young lady served the tea in silence, while Jane wondered if she was meant to start the conversation. She felt completely out of place among the finely gilded furniture and simple, understated decor that spoke to the level of wealth that had clearly been in the family for generations. She didn't think that she was supposed to speak until the hostess began the conversation, but she longed for the comfortable simplicity of Meryton's drawing rooms, where the rules were more flexible and the consequences less dramatic.
Miss Darcy sat down and looked to her aunt for guidance. The woman raised an eyebrow delicately. "Oh, I'm sorry," Miss Darcy started. "How are you, Miss Bennet?"
Jane blinked. "I am well, Miss Darcy. And you?"
"Very well, thank you."
Jane was desperate to avoid the silence, but a look at her mother and aunt yielded no help. Her mother was struck speechless at her surroundings, face pale and hand clutching her teacup's saucer. Her aunt was staying silent, clearly aware of her rank amongst the women in the room. "Did your appointment with Mrs. Webley go well?"
"Quite well," Miss Darcy said brightly, apparently thankful for Jane's choice of topic. "My brother and I will be traveling back to our home in Derbyshire for the summer in early July, so I wanted to make sure that I had the appropriate wardrobe made before we left. It's my last summer before I come out, you see."
"That's a very exciting time in a young lady's life. Are you looking forward to your first season?"
Miss Darcy looked down at her teacup. Jane noticed that she was holding the handle so tight that her fingers were turning white. "Yes. It will be exciting to attend the dancing, I suppose. And my aunt thinks that I'm ready." She did not sound like she held the same confidence as her aunt.
"I remember being nervous about my coming out as well. It is very nerve-wracking, but when you have supportive people around you, it will turn out just fine."
Miss Darcy smiled weakly. "I do wish that someone else was also coming out with me. I love my brother, but some days I wish for a sister my own age just for someone to take the attention away."
Lady Matlock spoke up for the first time. "You'll do wonderfully, dear. We'll be right with you every step of the way, remember."
Jane nodded in agreement with the older woman. "I wished for my younger sister to come out with me. Mine was a much smaller affair than yours will be, I'm sure, but I think that it's a common feeling no matter the situation. However, it is fun to get dressed up and feel grown up attending events on your own."
"I doubt I'll ever feel grown-up, Miss Bennet. I-I am not always very good at judging character, and I am not the most comfortable in company. I am very grateful that you are willing to take tea with me."
"You are very grown-up, Miss Darcy, I can assure you of that. And it is a pleasure to spend an afternoon hour in pleasant conversation. Thank you for inviting us."
Miss Darcy finally looked up, and Jane tried to give her most comforting smile to the young girl. She looked at the countess, sitting protectively next to her niece, and found the woman looking back at her with something near approval.
Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged a glance, and mutually rose, thanking their hostesses for a wonderful tea. Mrs. Gardiner nodded to Jane her approval, and Jane turned to Miss Darcy. "We would love to have you for tea next week. I hear you have an exceptional talent for the pianoforte. I've never been able to make it cooperate, but I love to hear what others can do with the instrument."
Miss Darcy blushed. "Thank you, Miss Bennet. I would like that."
The butler held open the door to the parlor and saw them to the front foyer to re-don their wraps. Boisterous laughter drifted through the thick front door as the ladies readied themselves for the mid-April chill. The butler was reaching to open the door when it was pushed open by a fair-haired young man dressed in regimentals, tall, with a scarred face and a merry smile. The butler gave a respectful bow. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, good day. Your mother is waiting in the front parlor for you. I believe Miss Darcy was on her way to the music room."
Jane stopped short. Fitzwilliam? Was this man any relation of Mr. Fitzwilliam? Jane tried to keep her expression passive. Perhaps it was merely a common name. Her mother and aunt did not seem startled, so clearly, it was no relation.
The question was soon put to rest by the appearance of the man himself in the entryway that the colonel had just vacated. Jane's blood ran cold. What was going on?
Mrs. Gardiner gave Mr. Fitzwilliam a friendly smile and curtsey, and Mrs. Bennet followed suit. Jane belatedly remembered her manners and mumbled the proper greetings alongside her family.
"Ah, I forgot that Georgiana was hosting tea today. How was your afternoon, Miss Bennet? Will my niece be ready to face the ton next spring?"
Jane's mind was whirling wildly, trying to remember if Mr. Fitzwilliam had told her that he was related to the Earl and Countess of Matlock. She recalled their conversation about his family, about how he was the youngest of his siblings and that he had a niece and nephews not much younger than himself. She thought back to his easy mannerisms amongst members of both trade and gentry, about the genial way that he played with the children and listened to them as if they were adults. There were no airs of pretension, no dismissive commentary about Mr. Gardiner's occupation or his own role in the world. She had been told that he had a midsize estate in the north of Derbyshire-Derbyshire. She should have realized the connection. But why hadn't anyone told her?
Fumbling, she muttered something to the affirmative, and dipped a much-too-shallow curtsey before fleeing through the door that he had left open behind him. She refused to look back. It was all too embarrassing. What Jane had said to Miss Darcy was true: she was not always the best judge of character. That much was plain. Why, why did she have to be so dense? Lizzy would have realized right away. Why didn't Aunt Gardiner tell her? Why didn't she think to ask?
Once they returned safely to Gracechurch Street, Jane went up to her room immediately, resolving to stay there for the remainder of her stay in London. It was clear that she was not cut out for the town atmosphere. As if she wasn't already embarrassed enough, her mind took her back to the previous night.
After dinner, she had walked out onto the balcony for some fresh air. It was cold, but the way that the gentle spring breeze kissed her warmed skin, she found that she didn't mind the chill. She had been about to go inside, when a couple had come through the doorway, arm in arm. The woman was unfamiliar, but Jane would know the warm laugh of Mr. Bingley anywhere. They passed her by, oblivious to the rest of the world. Jane should have left. But she stayed, frozen in the shadows of a planter situated next to the balcony doors. She listened as Mr. Bingley told the unknown, beautiful woman a story about his first horse, and how it got into his mother's formal dining room. The story was an entertaining one, one that Jane remembered his friendly tenor telling her from beside the Netherfield fire when she was recovering from her illness. She remembered the way that his eyes lit up when he recalled his childhood home and the tricks he pulled on the servants, and the penance his mother made him pay for the pranks. She remembered the way he had smiled at her. It was the same way that he was smiling at this fashionable woman that clearly had been bred with elegance in her bones.
Standing there, the April cold finally reached Jane's bare arms. She dashed inside, hoping that her quick exit had gone unnoticed by Mr. Bingley and his companion. Ducking her head, Jane hurried to the safety of her aunt's side, hoping that no one would see the tears she could feel stinging her eyes. Mr. Fitzwilliam saw them. He'd been so kind. Kindness, Jane was learning, was no indication that someone was who they presented themselves to be.