An Unexpected Ally

Part 14

The spring sunshine peeped through the window of Jane's bedroom as she sorted through her wardrobe. She generally kept her clothes well-maintained, having been reminded often how her dresses would pass from her to her sisters and must be neat enough to be worn sometimes by two or three subsequent wearers before being consigned to the rag bag. She was careful by nature, though, and took pride in maintaining and making-over her dresses, seeing them rendered new and fashionable again with the smallest degree of attention.

That morning, she laid down the last of her dresses and turned her attention to a pile of ribbon and lace she sorted through, searching for just the right details to revivify an old bonnet.

"Jaaaannneee."

Lydia's shrill cry was audible long before she threw open the door to Jane's room without knocking and waltzed in, collapsing so suddenly and abruptly on the bed that Jane hardly had time to leap to her feet before being crushed.

"Oh dear, whatever is the matter!" she asked, with a merry laugh that soon dissolved into silence when Lydia groaned into the pile of dresses she was now wrinkling into oblivion. "Please don't destroy my entire wardrobe, Lydia. They shall be yours someday."

This was enough to bring Lydia to her senses, at least enough to rise to a seat and scowl down at the clothes as if their mere existence were an offence to her.

"I never get anything new!" she said, her lower lip jutting out in dissatisfaction. "You cannot imagine how it feels to always be dressed in other people's clothes!"

"Nonsense!" Jane said, reaching down to rescue her dresses and hanging them carefully on a hook out of harm's way. "The dress you are wearing now was made up special just for you."

"Last year!" Lydia sniffed, plucking at the puffed sleeves that had been her whole heart's desire when she had insisted upon them, but which had lately fallen a little out of fashion and were borne with undisguised disappointment by the youngest and most stylish - in her own opinion, at least – of the Bennet sisters.

"Here." Jane delved into her scrap bag, emerging with a pretty length of lace. She passed it to Lydia with a smile. "This is the very thing to freshen it up for spring, don't you think?"

"I suppose." Lydia let out a long sigh but was quick to snatch the lace out of Jane's hands before she could second-guess her generosity.

"I suppose you shall buy all new things for your trousseau," Lydia ventured, darting a sly look towards Jane's dresses. "None of these will be suitable when you are mistress of your own estate."

"Why ever not?" Jane laughed, running an affectionate palm across the brocade of one dress, a favourite, which had won her more than one devout admirer after being worn to an assembly for the first time.

"Do you love Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Lydia asked, changing tack and catching Jane by surprise by the bluntness of her question.

"Of course." She turned back to her dresses, strangely eager to hide her face from Lydia's eyes, certain that she might somehow see more than Jane meant her to in the shadows that danced across her features. "I should hardly have agreed to marry him if I did not."

"But you loved Mr Bingley."

Jane froze, turning at last to glance at Lydia and surprised by the genuine curiosity in her sister's eyes. Lydia was not teasing her, nor nosing around for crumbs of gossip. She frowned, rubbing her nose thoughtfully.

"Didn't you?"

With a low sigh, Jane freed her hands and sat back on the bed beside her sister, reaching for the lace that Lydia was twisting in her fingers and smoothing it out, before folding it neatly into a square.

"I thought I did," she confessed. "Or rather, I thought he loved me." She smiled, sadly. "I was perhaps a little too quick to trust my heart instead of my brain."

Lydia shook her head fiercely.

"One has nothing to do with the other! Love is something one feels, something one is consumed by. It can't be dictated to by logic or law."

"Law?" Jane arched an eyebrow and Lydia shrugged her shoulders, giggling.

"You know what I mean. I think people - and by people, I mean Lizzy and Mary, let us be clear - put far too much stock in doing what is right and proper, especially where love is concerned."

"You would prefer nobody think about anything at all but do precisely as they please?"

"Of course!" Lydia threw herself back on the bed again, staring up at the ceiling with a dreamy sigh. "I have said as much to Denny. If he should like to get married I should happily run away with him." She turned a wicked smile towards Jane. "Do you think we would make it as far as Scotland before Papa discovered us?"

"I think you oughtn't to joke about things like that," Jane said, primly. She knew Lydia was only teasing her but there was something so scandalous about the very idea of her youngest sister running away with anyone - however unlikely - that she did not like to tempt fate by talking about it. "And if Mr Denny has any sense he will not mention it again."

"He is avoiding me," Lydia laughed. "I think he was rather traumatised by the suggestion of our running away. He is quite convinced Papa doesn't like him."

"I don't think Papa does!"

"That's because Papa has eyes for nobody by Colonel Fitzwilliam." She pinched Jane's knee. "I think it's jolly lucky you like Colonel Fitzwilliam even a little because Papa wants him for a son-in-law and he would demand one of us marry him if you didn't."

"I think you are speaking nonsense, Lydia, and if you have come here only to plague me, I shall bid you adieu and go back to my work." Jane stood, returning her attention to her dresses for a long, quiet moment before Lydia spoke again. This time her voice was soft and serious and bade Jane turn back and give her her full attention.

"But you do like Colonel Fitzwilliam, don't you? You love him?"

"I both like him and care for him very much," Jane said, skirting carefully past love, which she was certain Lydia would notice and comment on. I cannot say for certain whether I love him or not! she confided to herself, biting her lip to keep from saying it aloud. I have no idea what it means to love anyone at all, or I should not have lost my heart so swiftly and completely to Mr Bingley. She bit down harder until she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. And I should not care that he has abandoned me absolutely.

"What if Mr Bingley came back?"

Lydia's question seemed to turn so swiftly in the very direction that Jane's thoughts had run that she was not sure, at first, that she had not spoken them aloud. It took her a full minute to formulate a reply.

"I doubt very much that he will." She smiled, surprised at the effort it cost her. "And even if he did, I have made my decision. I am happy with my choice, Lydia. Colonel Fitzwilliam is a good man and a kind one, and he cares for me very much. We shall make our life together and it will be a very happy one."

Lydia rolled over, the action muffling a loud groan.

"You do realise this means we shall forever be linked to Mr Darcy! He will be your cousin, Jane!"

"In-law," Jane clarified, her lips quirking into a smile. "And is he really so terrible?"

"Elizabeth will not be happy!" Lydia declared, wriggling herself upright and bolting towards the door, a mischievous smile on her face. "Which makes me rather more accepting of the idea."

She pulled the door closed behind her with a bang, thundering away to torment another of her sister and Jane's expression softened as she stared after her, pondering a secret she fancied she knew. Elizabeth rendered unhappy by a permanent and ongoing connection with Mr Darcy? I am not entirely sure I agree with that.