Chapter 4:

"Are you fond of dancing, Miss Bennet?" he began lightheartedly, taking her hand and leading her into the middle of the dance floor. Jane could feel all eyes on her—on him. She was used to covering her feelings and acting ever the gentlewoman and she smiled softly, hiding confusion and in a way, her embarrassment.

Jane looked around for someone, hoping Mrs. Gardiner had been there but remembered it was Mrs. Caresol who had been accompanying her. She wanted a familiar face—comfort. She saw Caroline Bingley staring at them intently, jealousy barely hidden in her eyes. She could feel the murmuring around them—eyes watching closely—the recluse Viscount Crawley has singled her out, they seemed to say.

"Who is Viscount Crawley?" said Jane, looking back at her dance partner, not sure what questions she was even supposed to be asking. In their short acquaintance, they had developed a friendship of honesty and though former Jane Bennet would have smiled demurely and carried the conversation as light as possible, she could not help but ask.

"Miss Bennet, that is not a topic for dancing" he teased, smiling brilliantly. She wanted to stop dancing—what was he hiding? "You look pale, Miss Bennet"

Jane did not answer—she could physically not. He was hiding something and wanted to distract her with his teasing. She wanted to stop dancing, to demand answers, but she could not do that either. So she did what she knew best, she put on a mask. The calm, proper, beautiful mask that she was used to using infront of the ton. Immediately, he stopped—almost colliding against another gentleman. He looked as if she had slapped him. He regained his composure, begged his pardon, and continued dancing.

"That is the first time I have seen you hide your emotions while we have been together Miss Bennet, I hope I never have to see that mask again" he said softly and seriously, having seen her close herself off was more painful than the response he was dreading. "I am sorry, I hope you will find a way to forgive me"

"I cannot find the words to speak, please Mr. Dalligan, explain yourself!" she said, with a controlled urgency in her voice.

"I am Viscount Crawley, Dalligan is my mother's maiden name. I use it in the world of trade—it is an identity I treasure actually. And I am most glad that I met you under that name, for you saw me for who I enjoy being best" he said.

"You lied to me?" she whispered, feigning a smile, "A friend?" she said almost to herself, "We have spoken many times since we were introduced...you could not tell me? You would let me be embarrassed!" Jane wanted to scream at him but she retained the composure and perceived coldness she always had. There is a benefit after all to hiding one's emotions, she bitterly mused.

"When were you planning on telling me?" she asked, hoping his answer would be "Soon" but his silence suggested otherwise. "So you were not planning on telling me?"

"It was not serious" he said, referring to his name. She willfully misunderstood that he was referring to them. They were not serious—why bother telling her his name? Jane not fancied herself in love nor had she thought him smitten, but she knew there was a mutual affection, a friendship, an understanding of honesty, and it was now as if he had slapped her across the face.

"I am sorry, I am not feeling well, forgive me for ending our dance early, I must find my companion" she said quickly, raising a hand delicately to her forehead.

"No, please, let me explain" he begged, holding on to her hand. Her hand slipped from his and he smiled, putting on the mask that he was used to wearing, as if everything was in control, everything was quite alright.

"Thank you for the honor of this dance, Mr. Dalli—Viscount Crawley" she said, giving him a fake smile, curtsying, and walking away.

"Miss Bennet, are you well, my dear?" asked Mrs. Caresol, upon seeing Jane approaching her. Knowingly, Laura searched for Mr. Dalligan but did not see him. She let out a heavy sigh, she should have seen this coming. She wanted to comfort her but she could not say more—she could only imagine what had happened.

"May I take the carriage home, Mrs. Caresol?" asked Jane, "I am sorry, I do not feel like myself and would like to….leave" she said, struggling to find the right words and struggling to keep herself composed. After showing her true emotions and feelings, at least to him, she now felt herself struggling to breath in this facade.

"But of course, allow me to take you home" said Mrs. Caresol, linking hands with the young lady, a sinking feeling in her heart.

"Oh, I do not want you to leave early" said Jane, always thinking of others.

"Do not fret about me, darling, I will take you to the Gardiners, come, my dear" she said, gliding her away. She linked hands with Miss Bennet, patting her hand softly and motherly and they left the Ball.

Jane did not remember the ride home nor entering the Gardiners' residence in Gracechurch Street, nor her aunt's polite inquires about the ball, nor the maids help in getting undressed, nor her falling completely and utterly asleep.

Mrs. Gardiner noticed her niece was not looking well but had assumed she had simply felt unwell. She retired for the night and hoped the next morning would see her looking better.

PNPNPNP

"A visitor, ma'am" said a footman, disturbing Mrs. Gardiner's reading. She closed her book and looked up, inquiring for the name. "Viscount Crawley" he said, allowing a dashing gentleman into the room.

"Viscount Crawley" said Mrs. Gardiner, a frown on her face.

"Mrs. Gardiner" he said, looking abashed and not meeting her eyes.

"I believe I now understand my niece's headache better" she mused, motioning for him to sit down. "Can I offer you some tea?"

"No, I thank you" he said, looking nervous and as if he was about to be scolded, "I truly am sorry—I did not intend for her to find out in front of someone else."

"Sit, Viscount, please" she insisted, ringing the bell for tea to be brought. "I will call for Jane and give you two time to talk."

"Will she not be angry with you as well?" he asked, knowing Jane currently felt betrayed and it would not help to know that her aunt knew all along.

"It was not my secret to tell, Viscount" she said simply, standing up. "I will see if she is available to see you."

"I thank you" he said, looking more discomposed than she had ever seen him.

Madeline Gardiner found Jane Bennet writing a letter by the window in her room. She knocked quietly but upon no answer, let herself in. Jane looked surprisingly peaceful—she has truly grown, thought Mrs. Gardiner.

"My dear" interrupted Mrs. Gardiner.

"Oh Aunt, I did not see you, I apologize" said Jane, looking up to see her.

"Not to worry, my dear. I do come, however, with some unpleasant news, it seems you have a visitor downstairs" she began.

"I do not want to see him" she said curtly, reading the unspoken words in her aunt's eyes. Mrs. Gardiner let out a heavy sigh and approached her beloved niece.

"I believe you will feel better when you speak with him" she began, hoping to convince her niece.

"What did he tell you?" asked Jane, feeling as if her aunt knew more than she let on.

"Enough to know that you should speak to him. Let him explain—he has shown you he is a good man, allow him the chance to explain this misunderstanding, my dear" said Mrs. Gardiner. Jane took a deep breath and quietly acquiesced.

"Very well, I shall speak with him" said Jane, putting her letter down, standing up and straightening the skirt of her white morning gown.

PNPNPNPNP

A half a days journey away, Elizabeth Bennet was having an entirely different morning. Jane's letter three weeks ago had made an impression. Though she knew part of Jane's letter was tainted in pain, she began to understand Charlotte better. Jane on the other hand had understood Charlotte all along.

Charlotte had chosen security. Though Elizabeth judged her, the truth was that Charlotte never had a choice to marry for love. Jane was right—they both had had to make prudent choices. Elizabeth just hoped, nay she prayed, that could choose prudently to love.

It was with this backdrop, that Mr. Collins came into the parlor, frantically and out of breath, to announce the arrival of Mr. Darcy. He had arrived at Rosings the night before and was making a morning call to their humble parsonage.

Mr. Darcy had brought with him his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Charlotte had seen them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding:

"I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me."

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly afterwards the two gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire—paid his compliments, with his usual reserve, to Mrs. Collins, and whatever might be his feelings toward her friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely curtseyed to him without saying a word.

Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual way, and after a moment's pause, added:

"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?"

She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between the Bingleys and Jane, and she thought he looked a little confused as he answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went away.

"It was a rather odd morning call, would you not say, Charlotte?" teased Elizabeth, while all the men had gone. Mr. Collins insisted on accompanying them outside.

"I believe Mr. Darcy is taken by you, Eliza" said Charlotte, smirking at her dear friend.

"He barely spoke a word!" said Elizabeth, walking over to the window.

"You would be a simpleton to not take flattery that a man of his station is singeling you out, Lizzy!" said Charlotte earnestly, "I do wish for you a marriage filled with love, which I know is your dearest wish, however, Lizzy, you must also be sensible. It would not do to dismiss an opportunity based on a bad first impression and slander from a man you barely knew"

"Mr. Wickham is every part the gentleman! And Mr. Darcy also walks around filled with pride—did you not see his behaviour in Meryton?" asked Lizzie, turning around, staring incredulous at her friend. "Insufferable man!"

"Did you not consider that he may be reserved like Jane?" asked Charlotte. "And Mr. Wickham may act like an gentleman and be very charming, that does not change the fact that his disclosure was inappropriate for the degree of friendship between you."

Elizabeth opened her mouth but did not know what to say. For once, she listened. Perhaps Jane's letter had done more to her than she realized. Charlotte made sense—yet Lizzy was not ready to admit Charlotte was right.

"I implore you to not act impulsively with Mr. Darcy. You may be surprised during his visit at Rosings"

"Perhaps" murmured Lizzy, turning back to the window. "I will heed your advise Charlotte".

Charlotte smiled at her friend, hoping she truly would.

PNPNPNPNPN

What a better way to say thank you for all the lovely reviews than to give you yet another chapter :) I'm having so much fun re-reading this story, it was one of my favorites when I wrote it and I am now remembering why...

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!