Jane entered the drawing room of Netherfeild with Lizzy. The air of the ball, the buzz of people: She could already hear her mothers exclamations. It was already unbearable. Jane sighed and glanced at Lizzy.
Their relationship had definitely shifted, but Jane was willing to let Lizzy work her way through it. Jane felt the alteration of their relationship keenly in the midst of their tumultuous home. Lizzy had spent the rest of that day walking, but when she returned, she apologized. She may not like Mr. Darcy, but she could certainly agree with Jane on the loopholes of Mr. Wickham.
However, this had turned Lizzy introspective, and she spent long hours in silence, staring out the window into the rain, or in their fathers study. Jane had never seen Lizzy in such a contemplative state for so long, but for some unknown reason, Jane knew it wasn't about herself. So she dealt with their mother, sisters and Mr. Collins while Lizzy worked through her thoughts.
Jane watched Lizzy's eyes scan the crowds – not for Charlotte though.
"He had said that if either of them had to leave, it would most certainly not be himself. And yet he's not here," Lizzy said to Jane, still scanning the crowd.
"It certainly does not help his argument," Jane admitted, looking for Mr. Wickham. Lydia had, boisterously, called Mr. Denny over, who provided some excellent information:
"I do not imagine Wickhams business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here," Mr Denny said with a smile, directed at Lizzy. Lizzy in return pursed her lips in annoyance.
They went to find Charlotte quickly, Janes' mind cast a momentary wishfulness towards the Bingleys standing in the receiving line. Perhaps primarily towards a specific Bingley. Charlotte smiled at the pair of them, before glancing over their shoulders.
"There he goes Lizzy, staring at you again," Charlotte said with a low laugh. Jane glanced over to find, not to her surprise, Mr. Darcy leaning on the wall, casually glancing at their small group. "Jane, you must agree with me, for Lizzy utterly rejects my idea. I wholeheartedly believe Mr. Darcy fancies our dear Miss Lizzy." Lizzy glowed a bright red, and Charlotte turned to Jane with a quirk in her sensible, watchful brow.
"I believe," Jane said, "at the very least, he finds her fascinating. No one stares so at something they do not like."
"No," Lizzy admitted, "but they may very well stare at something they find disgustingly curious."
"Have you done something disgustingly curious, dear Lizzy?" Charlotte asked innocently. Lizzy launched into a list of her faults. She laughed too loudly, too frequently: She's a hoyden covered in mud, had a bookish, impish intellect, and was much too bold in her speech. And Jane heard Lizzy's actual complaint for the first time. Lizzy was forever compared to someone who was of a total disposition, and was found a failure for it. Jane held Lizzy's hand and looked at her. The movement had startled Lizzy out of her monologue.
"I wish Mama never used me as a measuring stick, for I am wholly inadequate to compare to. You are excellent just as you are, for those are the very traits I admire most about you," Jane said. Charlotte immediately added her support.
"To be otherwise would be inexcusably dull," Charlotte said, "and I know how you hate to be a bore." Jane felt her smile freeze on her face. "You're boring, dull as well as ignorant. Perhaps it's good, you speak little, for you have nothing noteworthy to say."
Jane watched Lizzy and Charlotte speak as if through a window, seeing their faces, but their voices incredibly muffled. She marveled at how quickly Lizzy recovered from her own setdown. How incredibly perspective Charlotte was to alert them to Mr. Darcy's apparent regard… What did Jane add to this conversation? Nothing, she hadn't spoken for minutes, and neither of them had even glanced at her. Looking back, she was on the outskirts of many conversations.
Jane glanced at the mercifully shortened receiving line. Charles met her eye and his smile shifted into that special one for her, as he conversed with the Robertsons. When his eye went back to them, the smile shifted back to normal. Jane blushed, and glanced away, accidentally meeting Mr. Darcy's eye.
Mr. Darcy held his gaze this time. Lizzy was correct, it was a disarming, calculating stare. She could very easily see Lizzy's perspective when she was the recipient of such a gaze. Perhaps it was how stoic the rest of his face was, allowing no emotion but cold indifference, that gave such stark contrast to the feeling in his eye. His head slowly turned to look at Charles, his gaze weighing Jane in consideration of his dearest friend. Jane's face burned in embarrassment and shock. She didn't want to see the conclusion he came to.
She turned her entire body to face her back to him. Lizzy and Charlotte noticed her movements and her face. "Jane! You must be more obvious in your regard toward Mr. Bingley," Charlotte said. Jane's face erupted into shockingly more heat.
"Don't you listen to her," Lizzy comforted, "if he cannot see your regard by now, he's a fool."
"We are all fools in love. And he might be nervous and needs encouragement," Charlotte concluded. "Nervous? Encouragement? But Charles always seemed so sure of himself."
"Jane!" Mama's voice rang above the din of the opening ball, "Oh Jane! Come here, Mr. Bingley will come for the first dance and doesn't need to have to look for you." Jane's face felt like it would melt off with such a proclamation, and hastened to her mothers side. If only to quiet the lady, who would not be silenced. Murmurs erupted around her, causing an agonizing embarrassment within her.
Thankfully, the matron was correct, and Charles did come for her. Mrs. Bennet gave her many winks and prods as Charles arrived. Her mothers typical effusions of Jane started up, and Charles smiled and agreed with the lady, before whisking Jane to the far end of the ballroom.
"I genuinely thought you would faint when your mother called you," Charles said with that special smile, "and then you would have to spend the night here again. For your health." Jane laughed at that.
"If my mother had her way, I might have. You found a very willing ally in the woman!"
"You know me, Miss Bennet, I'm always searching for allies. I need all the help and encouragement I can get!" Charles declared. The music for the first dance began, and they quickly had to fall in line. "There's that word again. Does he need encouragement? I certainly need piles of it."
"Perhaps, I would only put up a feeble resistance, for politeness sake," Jane said, in what she hoped was an encouraging voice. Judging by the light in his eye, it seemed to work, but that he might need more.
"You are all politeness," Charles laughed, "sometimes I wonder if you would reject anything, for fear of being impolite." The laugh helped maintain a polite gaiety in their conversation, should anyone be eavesdropping. But Charlotte's voice rang in her ears. "He might be nervous, and will not know what to do, if we do not help him along."
"I've never had an opportunity to be so impolite," Jane smiled at the man, "but with the happy manners you possess, I imagine all your requests are fulfilled with more than just politeness." Mr. Bingley laughed, but that spark of doubt and fear remained.
"As the son of a tradesman, I believe some people help me, so that they can get some monetary or business assistance later. I can hardly tell sometimes!" He grew a little quiet. "Caroline and Darcy" he continued, "tend to be rather pessimistic about everything. The issue is: They are normally correct about so many things, that it's hard to oppose them." Jane understood the feeling. Lizzy tended to be correct in so many aspects, that Jane started to assume that her word was law. Until recently, that is.
"I can only speak to my own experiences, but I will give you counsel, should ever you seek it from me, but I shall take care to never give it for the sake of politeness, but for the sake of… of…" Jane's face burned again. What could she say in a setting such as this? Affection? She could hear her mother crowing now, let alone if she heard what Jane had just said.
Charles seemed to have hope, with that sentence. However, with it left unsaid, his question of how tight the hold of politeness held on Jane was also answered. So, he had hope and also doubt. She could see the tightness around his eye and the forced nature of his smile. It caused her a great deal of sadness to see him struggle. So, she took a deep breath and whispered.
"Not for the sake of politeness, sir, but affection." Jane's face burned hotter than it ever had, and she turned her face, but a smile, which bloomed, couldn't be suppressed. Charles said nothing, but pulled her closer, still within politeness, but just barely.
By the time her courage came back to her, the dance was ending. She glanced up, with monumental shyness. Charles was held together by that special smile, but the mirthful look in his eye told her that he was barely contained. She had to laugh, as she found her own jubilancy and relief bubble up.
"How can I dance with anyone else?" he said quietly.
"At risk of being impolite, I'll just be counting down the dances until we reach the supper set," Jane admitted with a lightenness in her step.
OOXXoxoXXox
Shocked was the only feeling in Jane's mind.
She couldn't think of a word, let alone say one.
Mr. Darcy stood before her, awaiting an answer. He was not as easy to talk to as Charles.
"I-I, well-" She stuttered, and that damnable blush raced to cover her face.
"I believe you must accept me, or forfeit the remaining dances," he said. Jane closed her mouth, that she hadn't realized, had fallen open.
"Indeed," she said simply, taking his hand with a tremble.
The dance began and Jane went through the motions. Her mind had yet to reawaken.
"What are your thoughts on Bingley?" Mr. Darcy questioned.
"Good ones," Jane said quickly, her mind still frozen. Mr Darcy looked amused for a second.
"What are your mothers thoughts?"
"How is it possible you haven't heard?" Jane asked in residual shock, spying another flash of amusement. Even now, her mothers voice could be discerned. Or perhaps, Jane was just exceptionally aware of the voice.
"Indeed, I suppose, then, I must ask your motives," Mr Darcy said.
"Motives?" Jane asked, the cogs in her mind finally coming to work. "He is just shy, like I am." Jane clung to the thought, which was a feat, in the face of the imposing man. "Very bold question, sir, but as I said, we are very similar. It stands to reason, we should like similar people. I should ask you your motives for staring at my sister?" Jane said, searching his face. No amusement this time. They went a few turns of the dance in silence.
"Have I been that obvious?" Mr. Darcy finally said.
"Definitely not," Jane blurted, "Lizzy thinks you stare to find fault, and the town and my family rather agree with her." Mr. Darcy looked startled, but froze his mannerism to a more controlled mien.
"I mean no harm," he muttered, "and I don't find many faults. Though, I did try to find some in our earliest acquaintance," he admitted. Jane nodded
"Yes, I don't believe Lizzy has quite forgiven you for calling her tolerable at the Assembly." Jane said gently, quietly. Mr Darcy's face paled, and then reddened.
"I see," Mr Darcy said, glancing at Lizzy, who was dancing with an officer.
"Mr. Wickham didn't help your cause in her estimation either," Jane said, noticing his search examination of the officer with Lizzy.
"Wickham! He makes friends so easily, I wonder at him losing them so quickly," he said with venom.
"All they've seen, sir, is one man calling a girl tolerable at a ball and avoiding us at each interaction, and another man happy to seek out our company. What would you assume with that same information?" Jane tried to defend her little community, but her voice fell flat even to her own ears. Nonetheless, Mr. Darcy's gaze remained on the wall behind her.
"How is it that I have come to interrogate you, and yet I'm the one being questioned?" Mr. Darcy said. Jane felt that same streak of horror, but when she looked at the man, his eyes seemed soft, and his dimples made a shallow appearance.
"Perhaps, your feelings also mirror mine. The melancholy are usually drawn to the cheery soul."
"I never said I was melancholy," he refuted.
"You haven't said much at all. Had I not spoken first, would you have requested a dance from me?" Jane said. Mr. Darcy's ears turned red in shame, or guilt, but he shook his head.
"But you would still have asked Lizzy to dance?" she spoke the question, but it became more of a statement as she looked at the man. Now Mr. Darcy was a pale pink, and his eyes searched hers in consternation. Jane had to smile now, and she continued.
"We spoke half of the dance of my sister, sir. It would be a shame for nothing to come of it. I believe I've found my joy, why not try for yours?" Jane almost laughed, but realized what she had admitted.
Joy? Affection? These are new developments.
Mr. Darcy watched the confusion at play across her face. He had a strange understanding of how alien these vibrant emotions feel to a muted soul. He himself seemed at the mercy of storms of emotions that he had thought could only be negative. Grief of his parents, heartbreak over Georgiana, hatred and betrayal from Wickham. Now besieged by violent affection, admiration and… tenderness, he hardly knew what to make of it. Watching Jane face mirror his own struggles, he felt relieved of his questions regarding Bingley. But terrified of his planned dance with the witty Elizabeth.
Mr Darcy returned Jane to her mother, receiving a small squeeze on his arm from the gentle lady, before setting off to find Elizabeth.