An Unlikely Acquaintance

Part 1

"I think I enjoy the Twelfth Night ball the best of all!" Elizabeth Bennet exclaimed, dancing across the threshold into Jane's room at Longbourn, adorned with her mask. The two elder Bennet daughters were busily preparing for an evening of dancing and disguised merriment with their friends and neighbours.

"You said that about Boxing Day," Jane reminded her. "When we deliver gift hampers. And Christmas Eve, at the midnight service." She leant a little closer to the mirror to tweak a blond strand of hair and wishing, with a momentary pang of envy, that her poker-straight hair would curl just a little, as Lizzy's did so effortlessly.

"I suppose I did," Lizzy laughed, perching carefully on the edge of Jane's bed, to crease her new dress as little as possible, and examined her mask. "And I said as much on Christmas Day itself." She sighed, happily. "Wasn't it wonderful to see the Gardiners again?"

Jane stiffened, sensing what was coming next even before Elizabeth voiced her concerns.

"I am surprised you did not wish to go with them to London when they offered."

"When you insisted upon them offering, you mean." Jane turned in her chair to glare at her sister, still not entirely at ease with the way Lizzy had taken it upon herself to interfere in her life and drag their aunt and uncle into it too. She blushed at the memory, only imagining what sad story Lizzy must have spun to persuade them that poor, heartbroken Jane needed removing to London with all haste. We have all suffered disappointments in life, Jane, dear, Mrs Gardiner had begun, giving her hand a motherly, compassionate squeeze. What matters is how one moves on from them... Jane cringed, the feeling turning to annoyance she vaulted at her sister, her nearest and most deserving target.

"I wish you had not thought it appropriate to share with Aunt Gardiner how miserable I have been since Mr Bingley's departure." Jane paused, turning back to the mirror as if to reassure herself of the truth of her words by a glance at her reflection. "It is not at all true!"

"It is a little true," Elizabeth insisted, the smile slipping from her features to be replaced by an inescapable look of concern. "You were brought low before Christmas by the news of his leaving, and disappointed further by Caroline Bingley's incessant letters."

"She wrote twice!" Jane protested. "And one of those was merely a reply to a question I asked in mine!"

"Both times she took great care to reassure you that they were unlikely ever to be back in Hertfordshire," Lizzy reminded her, the hint of a scowl settling over her features. "I do not suppose on either occasion she even consulted her brother for his opinion. I do not for one moment think Charles Bingley left Netherfield willingly, not when he was so happy here!"

"You think, rather, that Caroline Bingley manhandled him bodily into the back of a carriage and kidnapped him to London?"

Elizabeth's face betrayed, quite plainly, that this was precisely what she thought had happened, and Jane laughed, unable to stay angry at her sister for very long.

"Ridiculous. You have read too many novels! They have turned your brain."

"At least I am using my brain!" Lizzy circled almost immediately back to the topic of conversation she had scarcely neglected mentioning whenever she and Jane were alone for more than a moment. "I still do not understand why you could not be persuaded to travel with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner back to London! It would have been the ideal opportunity for your path to cross Mr Bingley's once more, to remind him of all that he left behind him."

"He oughtn't to need reminding."

Jane whispered this, but alas, not low enough for Lizzy's canny ears to miss. She had sounded more bitter than she'd meant to, for over Christmas she had done a great deal of thinking and made what peace she could with the Mr Bingley situation. She might have lost her heart to him, once, but he had not been likewise enamoured, whatever impression he had given to that effect. Jane could never have left him without a word, but he seemed perfectly equipped to do just that and never to return, if Caroline's letter was to be believed.

I do not suppose he ever cared for me very much at all. Jane straightened, swallowing past a painful lump in her throat. So I will not sit around and mope over it. No, better she move on, as he was doing. Caroline's letters, though brief, had both taken care to mention - by name - several young ladies of her acquaintance and how enjoyable her brother found their company. Jane was no fool. She could well read the message Caroline intended to convey. Her brother was far happier in London, in the company of heiresses and society beauties. He would not need to return to Netherfield for some time to come and when - and if - he did, who was to say he would not come with a pretty new wife in tow?

"He is an idiot," Lizzy said, calmly disparaging the man she had spent the whole Christmas holiday roundly defending. Surprised, Jane turned to glance at her, and Lizzy hurried to explain herself.

"But I do not blame him! He is so good-natured it is quite possible to imagine him going along with any one of a dozen different schemes designed by his sister, whether he wished to or not." She drew in a breath. "And as for his friend."

The name Mr Darcy did not need to cross Lizzy's lips for Jane to know precisely which friend Lizzy meant. She bit her lip, wondering if her sister was aware that for every time she had mentioned Mr Bingley over the past two weeks, Mr Darcy's name had come up twice. If I did not know you better, Sister, I would think it likely that you missed Mr Darcy at least as much as you claim I must miss Mr Bingley.

Jane's expression remained studiously blank. To betray any kind of feeling in Lizzy's presence would be to invite more questions, more interference, and Jane could bear no more. She did watch her sister carefully, though, wondering if Lizzy knew that she spoke of Mr Darcy as often as most girls might speak of a beau. Jane wondered if she, too, had been quite so transparent in her affections for Mr Bingley. If only I had spoken of him a little less, Lizzy might not cling so vociferously to the notion that we belong together!

Jane sighed. She had enjoyed the attention Charles Bingley offered her, there was no denying that. He was handsome and charming and certainly far wealthier than the majority of gentlemen Jane had had the fortune to be acquainted with. And he had shown an interest in her, which had played at least some part in her growing affection for him, Jane could acknowledge that, now, with the time and distance to see things clearly. She had been alone - save for her sisters - for a long time and had begun to almost abandon hope of marrying. Her only prospective suitor, then, had been Mr Collins. She grimaced, recalling the bumbling, obnoxious cousin of her father's who had arrived in Hertfordshire shortly after Mr Bingley, determined to secure himself a wife - any wife - and prayed a silent, grateful prayer for Mr Bingley. In that instance, his presence had been Jane's saving grace, for Mrs Bennet welcomed him as a wealthier alternative for Jane's hand. Now, undoubtedly, her mother regretted having done so, for Mr Bingley was gone, Jane was alone and Mr Collins had lately married not one of Mrs Bennet's daughters but a neighbour. She had been somewhat stilted towards Jane ever since, as if the whole muddled mess was her fault and not an uncontrollable whim of fate.

"Girls?" As if she could sense the direction Jane's thoughts had turned, Mrs Bennet's voice breached the sanctity of the quiet room, summoning Lizzy and Jane downstairs to join the rest of their family ready to depart for the Meryton assembly that would mark the end of two weeks of Christmas celebrations. Jane did not mind it, though. She was ready to embrace a little normality in the hopes that to do so would put paid to any more of Lizzy's wonderings about the absent Mr Bingley. It does one well not to dwell in disappointment, Jane thought, recalling her aunt's advice once more and thinking, with a slight nod, that she had made a wise decision not to accompany her them back to London.

"Come along, Lizzy," she said, standing and making her way back to the door.

"Do not forget your mask!" Elizabeth called, reaching for the delicate adornment from Jane's bed and passing it to her, her eyes twinkling merrily. "It would not do for any prospective dance partners to tell your true identity, after all!"