Love Never Fails

by Jennifer Joy

  Elizabeth crossed her arms. She would never answer for Miss Bingley’s faults. Those were hers and hers alone.

  “This I could forgive, but your defensive attitude toward your relatives’ conduct has discouraged Mr. Darcy at the same time it cast a negative light on Caroline in front of Colonel Fitzwilliam. I feel the need to do something drastic to see where their true emotions lie.”

  Miss Bingley would look bad without her help. She was as selfish as Lady Rutledge claimed her not to be.

  "I apologize for not fulfilling my role in your game to your expectations," she said, stabbing her tongue with her teeth at the sound of the sharpness of her voice.

  "What makes you think it is over? I have such high hopes for you." She looked genuinely sad, puzzling Elizabeth. With a scoff, Lady Rutledge continued, "You appear surprised that a single-minded woman such as me should take an interest in you."

  Single-minded? Was that how stubbornness was defined in her day? "I am. From the day I took up residence here, I have felt like little more than a pawn."

  Lady Rutledge shrugged her shoulder. "And so you are. But it is time for you to join your mother. I shall be able to convince my brother of the futility of my being forced to have a companion as soon as he returns."

  "If it was so distasteful to you, why did you agree to it?"

  She huffed, clearly done answering impertinent questions. "What can I say? I love my nephew and knew that he would have no peace unless I played along."

  Further puzzled at her acceptance of Mr. Bingley's concerns against her will, Elizabeth responded, "That was kind of you to do so on his behalf." With a curtsy, she bowed her head, "I thank you for allowing me to have a part in it. It was diverting."

  The lady’s face softened considerably. "You may go now. You will want to write to your relatives. I took the liberty of meeting with your mother, and she agrees with me that this is for the best. You will join her in Bath."

  Thus dismissed, Elizabeth turned to leave the room, her limbs numb. Would she be able to see Mr. Darcy again before she was forced to leave?

  She had just crossed the doorway when Lady Rutledge said, "I think you will be all right, Eliza. You must trust me."

  If she had been confused before, she was fully bewildered as she returned to her room. Her mind in the clouds and her vision blurry, Elizabeth rounded the corner and smacked into the butler, sending the silver tray with a package wrapped in brown paper clattering to the floor.

  "I am so sorry," she said as the butler scrambled to put everything back in its proper place. Once she assured herself that he was well, she went to continue to her room to begin writing her first letter. She would write to Uncle Gardiner.

  "Miss Bennet, this is for you," the butler called from behind her. He pushed the tray in her direction.

  "For me?" She had only received frequent letters from Jane and Aunt Gardiner, and the occasional message from Mother and Mary. She had no reason to expect that they would send anything for her.

  "Who is this from?" she asked.

  The butler, his stoic face revealing nothing in his expression, said, "A messenger boy delivered it. If there is a note, it might be inside."

  Not satisfied, Elizabeth asked, "Was there nothing in his dress or speech to indicate where the messenger came from?"

  "He was not dressed as a household servant would be, and the only words he spoke were those I repeated to you."

  "Thank you," she said as the butler continued to Lady Rutledge's room with what appeared to be some invitations.

  The weight and thickness of it felt comfortable and familiar in her hands. It had to be a book. She cradled it in her arm as she continued to her room.

  Unwrapping the paper, her breath caught in her throat and a sob escaped. Hurriedly, she hugged it to herself, swaying back and forth with it in her arms, petting the cover as if it were a precious kitten.

  Lowering the worn leather volume and sitting on the chaise by the window, she carefully opened the cover to the first page and traced her fingers over the letters written within. A teardrop landed on the page, blurring the name she could not stop staring at. Wiping it from the page and sniffing to prevent herself from ruining such a precious document, she dabbed her face with her sleeve.

  She lifted it out of the paper. There was a note scribbled in large, loopy handwriting on the inside of the brown paper.

  To my dearest Lizzy,

  I am ashamed to say that I only found this journal as I began packing for my new life with Mr. Carissimi. It seems unfaithful of me to have it now— especially when you stand to benefit the most from what is inside.

  Look through every page, my girl, and know that while I have at times reacted wrongly, it was done out of my concern for you.

  Yours Always in Affection,

  Mother

  Elizabeth folded Mother’s note neatly, setting it next to Jane’s on her writing table. Slowly flipping through the pages of her father's journal, a loose paper fell to the floor. It was an unfinished letter addressed to her. She stopped breathing as she read Father’s final words.

  Chapter 33

  Darcy stood against the wall in the large ballroom, trying to recall why he had decided to come against his better judgment. Several reasons had been presented to him, all of them rational and expected of him as a gentleman in society, but only one had convinced him. Elizabeth was to be there that night. He had not seen her in a week, being indisposed with a cold in his head. He did not want her to blame herself every time he sneezed, which had been often.

  He rocked up on the balls of his feet to better skim over the tops of the heads in the room. He had picked the perfect position with a view through the grand archway to the entry door where people filed into the already cramped rooms. He had refused every implication of a dance, not wanting to miss her.

  Georgiana nudged him in the ribs. "You look like a crane standing like that. Or a giraffe with its neck stretched to reach the highest leaves on a tree branch," she teased. She knew who he looked for. He had no secrets from his little sister.

  “Like Richard?” He pointed his forehead across the room to where their cousin stood in a similar posture.

  “Precisely,” Georgiana laughed, but soon covered her mouth with a horrified expression in her eyes. “He is not…? I mean… He does not…?”

  Darcy knew who Richard waited for, and it was not Elizabeth. “You need not worry on that account. He assured me that his sights are set elsewhere.” He did not tell his sister what a relief it had been to hear his fear rebutted.

  "I hope Miss Elizabeth likes me. Otherwise, it was silly of me to suggest to Aunt Helen that we return to town two weeks early. Do you think she will like me?" asked Georgiana, her voice trembling in her shyness.

  "How could she not?" he looked at her long enough to see her relief at his assurance before returning his sight to the door.

  "You must really love her," she said, her pointy chin tilted up to meet his eyes.

  "I will not diminish the power of such sacred words by saying them before they must be said and to who should hear them, Georgie."

  She smiled brilliantly. "It is as I thought. Nothing else would persuade you to come to a public assembly with its overcrowded rooms— much less convince you to bring me with you. I like the changes in you that Miss Elizabeth has brought on. You seem… softer."

  Darcy was spared from having to reply when the Bingleys entered the room. All of the Bingleys. Bingley held his mother's arm, and Miss Bingley walked with her father. Her dress was a touch more sedate than normal, complimenting her features instead of overwhelming them.

  Richard practically ran over to greet them, smiling wider than usual to the Bingley parents.

  "Am I seeing what I think I am seeing, brother?" Georgiana tugged on his arm in case he had not seen.

  Darcy chuckled. He would not have guessed it either had he not asked forthright.

  "Miss Bingley is the object of Richard's affections. According to Richard, she is �
��determined to leave her ambitions and improve her character.’” Darcy chuckled at his cousin.

  "But why her?" Georgiana covered her mouth apologetically. "I do apologize for speaking out, but I know your opinion of her."

  Darcy would have laughed at her sensitivity, had she not been so genuinely apologetic. "I reacted the same initially. She has done everything possible to make herself look undesirable to him, but all he sees is her potential and tenacity." He patted her hand and she relaxed.

  “Potential?” asked Georgiana.

  "He sees what we do not, Georgie. However, I do agree with him that once he gains her loyalty, she will make a devoted wife. If he can love Miss Bingley despite her flaws, then who are we to speak against the match?"

  "Richard is romantic and honorable. But do you really think he is in love with Miss Bingley? She is so…" She blushed, closing her mouth on her unfinished sentence.

  "That she is, but you know Richard. He always has enjoyed a good confrontation. She represents a challenge to him, and he is determined to win her. From what I see, he has met with some success."

  Sure enough, Richard extended his arm out to Miss Bingley. She accepted. He walked with a bounce in his step, his chest puffed out, and his head held high— as if he were escorting the Queen herself. Miss Bingley flounced across the floor, looking pleased to be seen with the distinguished officer. Darcy smiled to himself. They would manage well. That Richard would conquer the battle before him was not in doubt.

  Georgiana squeezed his arm. “Is that her?” she asked, looking up at him anxiously.

  He had been so distracted by Richard and Miss Bingley, he had looked away from the door.

  She wore a simple muslin dress, adorned with nothing more than her brilliant smile and sparkling eyes. She needed no feathers, brooches, or jewels when her very person exuded radiance and life. Especially tonight. There was a lightness about her he had not seen since their time together in Lady Rutledge’s library.

  His heart rose up into his throat at the sight of her. Breathing through his nose and out his mouth, he felt his whole body break into a sweat when her eyes met him across the length of the room.

  Elizabeth sensed him before she saw him. It was as if her eyes were pulled by magnets, the draw was so intense. And there he stood, arm in arm with a beautiful girl who looked to be the age of Lydia. Please, Lord, let her be his sister. She tried to recall past conversations for a description of her or any mention of when she was expected in town— anything to ease the wrench in her gut at the sight of the angelic creature beside him.

  "Stay with me, Eliza. I intend to keep an eye on Caroline tonight, and I need your help," Lady Rutledge said through the side of her mouth as she smiled regally to the ladies and gentleman crowding around them.

  The music started for the beginning of another dance, and Elizabeth searched the figures for Miss Bingley. She was not there.

  "Aunt Lavinia, Mr. Darcy is over there. Perhaps he has seen Miss Bingley?" she suggested, hoping to allay her fears before they grew within her and spoiled her evening completely.

  Lady Rutledge's lips pursed together. "Not yet. A lady must never approach a man, but must patiently see if he will approach her."

  What was she talking about? Elizabeth sighed, and with one more glance over her shoulder, she looked at Mr. Darcy before they passed by the grand archway in their search for Miss Bingley.

  After a few discreet inquiries, they found her surrounded by a circle of young ladies. Each seemed more determined than the next to dress more extravagantly than the other— except for Miss Bingley, who looked elegant in the midst of her garish friends. Elizabeth would have rolled her eyes at their vanity and snobbery, but Miss Bingley saw them and waved them over, welcoming them to her group with open arms.

  Elizabeth looked behind her. Surely, Miss Bingley's gesture was not meant for her. There was no glass in her hand. She had not imbibed too much.

  Touching Lady Rutledge on the elbow, Elizabeth inclined her head toward the waiting group of young ladies.

  "Oh, how delightful! You found her. Let us join them. Caroline and I had a lengthy discussion about her comments outside the gardens, and she is anxious to make amends."

  This would be interesting.

  When they drew closer, Miss Bingley took Elizabeth's hands into her own and welcomed her with a smile that did not appear to be fake. Pulling her into the center of the group, she introduced her to all of her friends. Elizabeth recognized some of the names. Others were new to her. They smiled sweetly at her, making her all the more confused. She responded as was expected of her, all the while bracing herself for the ridicule to come.

  Looping her arm through Elizabeth’s, Miss Bingley said, "Miss Eliza has become a dear friend of mine of late, and I just know that once you get to know her, you will feel the same."

  Elizabeth saw the reactions of disbelief among the ladies who had less control over their expressions than the others.

  With a pious tone, one intrepid lady asked, "I was under the opinion that you did not much care for your cousin." She drew out the last word, emphasizing it.

  Miss Bingley's retort was so immediate, she must have practiced it. "And who told you that?" she asked in a silky voice.

  "Miss Minerva Oliver told me she heard it from Mrs. Woodly who heard it directly from you." She snapped her fan shut and tapped it against her hand. If she was a friend of Miss Bingley's, she was not a good one. She took too much delight in contradicting her in front of others.

  Miss Bingley waved her fingers through the air. "I am surprised at you for believing everything you hear from Mrs. Woodly." She scoffed and turned toward Elizabeth and her aunt.

  Lady Rutledge, pretending to have not heard the entire exchange clearly, said, "Who did you say? Ah, Mrs. Woodly? You know, dear," she said in a confiding voice loud enough for all to hear, "you can only believe half of what she says."

  Elizabeth would have burst out in laughter at how well Miss Bingley and Lady Rutledge caused the ladies in their group to doubt what they knew all too well had been said.

  "Let us not stoop to harmful gossip. We are above that," suggested Miss Bingley, looping her arm through Elizabeth’s and pressing it to her side. She added, “Anyone who repeats even the slightest criticism against my cousin will answer to me directly.”

  Elizabeth did her best imitation of Mr. Darcy’s neutral expression. That must have been some conversation Lady Rutledge had with her niece.

  Miss Bingley’s friends did not look completely convinced, but a few did smile nervously at Elizabeth, and she did not feel like such a pariah.

  A booming voice behind her, who could only be Colonel Fitzwilliam, said, "Here is your lemonade, Miss Bingley." Addressing the rest of the group with a graceful bow, he continued, "I only apologize that I did not bring sufficient with me for the rest of your friends."

  Pleased to receive the attention of a charming colonel, the ladies gushed while Miss Bingley looked as proud as a peacock. Elizabeth watched her closely, seeing how her fingertips covered the tips of his and lingered a fraction of a second longer than they needed to. Could it be? Had the colonel turned her affections? He would be a worthy opponent— er, match— for her.

  As if she could read Elizabeth's thoughts, Lady Rutledge spoke. "Let us circulate, Eliza. There are still many other people I wish to see, and I am sure that the colonel would rather dance with my niece than converse with us."

  Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. "I like how you think, Lady Rutledge!"

  Miss Bingley smiled again. She really was quite handsome.

  Elizabeth willed Lady Rutledge to return to the room they had just passed. Maybe Mr. Darcy would still be there. But it was not to be. Continuing forward, they entered a room set aside for refreshments. A splendid table was laid out, and several couples milled about.

  "There they are. They sent word to me yesterday that they had arrived, but I did not expect to see them here." Lady Rutledge pulled Elizabeth further into the room, pas
sing the tables flowing with lemonade and punch.

  They stopped in front of a couple who looked to be close in age to, if not a bit younger than, Mother. The gentleman had a large, copper mustache with streaks of silver through his hair. His wife had fair hair the same color as Mr. Bingley's. Elizabeth did not need to be told who they were.

  "Brother, Susanna, you did not tell me you would be here tonight," chided Lady Rutledge as she kissed them each on the cheek.

  Mr. Bingley Senior— Elizabeth had to have some way of keeping the misters Bingley straight in her mind— laughed as easily as his son often did. "Lavinia! How glad we are to see you again, my dear sister." Looking between her and Elizabeth, he added, "You have not been making much trouble, have you?" He managed to look cheerful through his furrowed brow. Elizabeth could more easily understand the origins of Mr. Bingley's easy temperament.

  "Not much, John. Your son has made certain of that." Pushing Elizabeth forward, she presented her to her brother and sister-in-law.

  Mr. Bingley bowed gallantly. In a serious voice, he said, "I do hope, Miss Bennet, that my sister has not been too much of a handful. She keeps me on my toes on a good month, and I worried that she would pose a problem for my son, who is not so experienced as I am in her methods."

  Mrs. Bingley's eyes grew wide, and she nodded solemnly in agreement.

  Elizabeth laughed gaily. She liked the Bingleys.

  "Lavinia," said Mrs. Bingley, "you know our expectations of Charles. I hope he has not been too busy keeping an eye on you that he has neglected to seek a wife." Her final words faded down into a whisper and her eyes darted about to prevent any eavesdropping ear from hearing her plain speech.

  “Never fear, Susanna. He got Miss Bennet to stay with me until your return.”

  “Until our return? How did this come about?” asked Mr. Bingley.

  “I think it important for you to understand the version of truth I have spread. Miss Bennet is a niece of mine— a distant cousin to your children.” Did she really just wink?