She found Jane sitting by the fireplace, staring at the flames. For a moment, before her sister realized she was there, Lydia spotted a rare frown on Jane’s face and was able to read her true level of unhappiness.
Then, in a blink, Jane’s smile was in place, and she turned to greet her. “Lydia, did you need something, dear?”
Lydia tilted her head as she watched Jane and moved to lean against the chair across from where her oldest sister sat. “I was wondering why you turned so cold towards Mr. Bingley at dinner. Did he do something to upset you?”
Jane’s smile never slipped, but Lydia watched as her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose. Lydia had learned a while back that watching her sister’s eyes was the key to deciphering her actual emotions. She waited patiently for Jane to respond. She had a feeling that she might be the only sister who might be able to get away with questioning Jane without being immediately shut down. For all that she was close to Lizzie, Lizzie was too respectful of Jane's boundaries. Lydia, on the other hand, was fond of crossing boundaries.
“I was perfectly civil at dinner. Everything is fine. You do not need to worry,” came Jane’s calm response.
“While you might have been civil, you were by no means happy or as warm as you normally are. In fact, you were decidedly cold towards Mr. Bingley.”
Jane looked away from Lydia and back into the fire. Silence lingered in the air, creating an uneasy tension, before Jane finally broke it by saying, “I am sorry if I worried you. I was merely preoccupied with something.”
Flopping herself into the chair inelegantly over the arm, Lydia replied, “I can read you, you know.” Sometimes it was fun to go against the rules of being a proper lady. Once she could tell she had Jane’s full attention, she added, “I am not such a child anymore. I can tell the difference between distracted and upset and anger. You were angry tonight at dinner. In fact, I think you were upset even before dinner, but something between you and Mr. Bingley made it worse.”
Jane’s head shot up at those words and Lydia could see her gaze sharpen. She knew she had hit a nerve when Jane said, “I am only having an off evening. Besides, I doubt he could tell. People who are not my family are rarely able to decipher my moods.”
Lydia sighed and sat up in her chair correctly. Lydia knew her sister and Mr. Bingley had feelings for one another, but something was keeping them apart. She suspected it was Jane who was keeping things moving at a crawl. She could tell that it was hurting Mr. Bingley, and worse, it was hurting Jane. It was time to turn the screws, so to speak. She did not want Jane stuck being miserable when she could very well be happy. Lydia looked Jane right in the eye and said, “Mr. Bingley has stayed with the family after dinner every evening, but this evening, he made up an excuse and went to bed early. I do believe that he noticed and was, in fact, hurt by your behavior.”
Jane closed her eyes at her sister’s words. Lydia was right—Mr. Bingley had been able to tell. He had left to go to his room, and despite her cold behavior, Mr. Bingley had not once said or done anything that was ungenerous. She had hurt him, had distanced herself from him, and he had not completely deserved it.
Jane did not want to go into her feelings about their father with Lydia, but she felt she did need to explain herself to a certain extent. So before she could lose courage, Jane opened her eyes and blurted, “He called me beautiful.”
Lydia’s reaction was not what Jane had expected. Then again, Lydia was not what many people expected. Lydia laughed and said, “I am sorry, Jane, but you are, in fact, beautiful. There is no avoiding it.” Then, after laughing some more, she became serious and said, “As I do not see him going blind in the near future, if you want him to not comment on it, you will need to explain matters to him.”
It was odd watching Lydia, her little sister, counsel her. Lydia rarely struck her as a serious person. She was the sister most likely to flop in her chair sideways or laugh at inappropriate moments. It seemed, though, that as she was growing up, she had a serious, logical side. “But it sounds so ridiculous out loud.”
Lydia shrugged. “If he is the man for you like I think he is, then he will understand. If he doesn’t understand, then he is not the man for you. Either way, he does not deserve to be penalized for saying something that every other woman in the world would be flattered by.” Getting up, Lydia gave Jane a kiss on the cheek and turned to go.
Jane responded with a murmur. “I know. I just wish he saw the person I am inside.”
From the door, Lydia turned and asked, “How do you know he doesn’t?” Lydia's words landed on Jane's conscience like a sudden, forceful slap, causing her to almost miss her sister’s next comment. “Good night, Jane. Do not stay up all night worrying.” Then, with a soft click of the door, she was gone.
Leaning back in her chair, Jane sighed and resumed watching the flames. Now she felt upset and guilty. Lydia was right, though. She should not judge Mr. Bingley when he did not have all the information he needed. He had no way of knowing how she would react to that word.
But how to bring up that kind of conversation? “Mr. Bingley, you may have noticed that I reacted badly the other night when you called me beautiful. I hate that word, so please refrain from calling me that, and everything should go smoothly.” No, that just seemed wrong somehow. Eventually, Jane gave up trying to find a way to bring up such an awkward topic and went to bed. She knew that it was not a problem that would magically vanish on its own, but she was tired and needed sleep. It was a problem for another day.
By morning, Bingley had decided he could not become bogged down with discouragement. So it was with a determined heart that he got ready for the day. He would see Jane, but he would not let her pique from the night before upset his efforts. He had known going into the situation that he had an uphill battle. Experience had shown him that patience and reliability were key when it came to most things. Hopefully, they would also be the key to winning Jane’s trust. Somehow, he knew that he already had her love. It was odd to see both love and conflict in her eyes when he looked at her. He wasn't fighting just to win her heart, but also her mind, her trust, and her belief in the hope of triumphing over her past.
Thinking back, he remembered the dog he had adopted as a young boy of nine. She had been the most beautiful little thing that he had named Belle. Not a purebred dog, she had been some mix of breeds that had left her with a unique cream and gray coat. Though they had ended up being the best of friends, it had not started out that way.
When he had first discovered the dog, it was obvious that she had been mistreated. The first time Bingley had seen her timid tail wag, he had fallen in love, and he had been determined that they would be the best of friends. It had taken him some time to gain the dog’s trust, and why wouldn’t it? It had taken time and experience to taint her faith in humanity and goodness. Even that long ago, he had understood that it would take time to build both concepts back up. He had not given up, despite the time it took for Belle to grow to love him. Eventually, his efforts had borne fruit in a dog who loved him back just as powerfully as he loved her.
Rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, Bingley left his room and walked towards the stairs. Jane was not a dog, and it was probably wrong to compare her to Belle, but somehow the situations felt the same. Jane had genuine reasons to be hesitant about a relationship with him. He admitted to himself that until he met the Bennet ladies, he had never realized how cruel someone could be to their family, or for that matter, the precarious situations women often found themselves in.
He would carry on with his usual demeanor, remaining true to himself. In every circumstance, he would be by Jane's side, providing his loyalty and proving that he was not vindictive or unkind. He had enough confidence in them as a couple for the both of them for now. It was only a matter of time before he would prove himself to her. Smiling to himself, Bingley walked into the morning room and went to the sideboard to get himself a cup of coffee.
A startled “Oh” had Bingley turning to see Jane standing in the doorway. As always, his eyes drank her in like a thirsty man. Every hair was in place, but her normally glowing skin was a touch paler than usual. Concern led him to examine her appearance more closely. The pale blue dress she wore brought out the blue in her eyes but also drew attention to how red they were. It didn't take long for Bingley to deduce that she must have had a restless night.
Smiling kindly, he said, “Good morning, Miss Bennet. Would you like for me to fetch you some coffee or tea?”
Bingley watched Jane sigh and then smile. “Good morning, Mr. Bingley. Coffee would be lovely. Thank you.” It seemed to Bingley that her smile was genuine, if tired.
Abandoning the idea of his own coffee in favor of getting hers, Bingley added a good amount of cream and one lump of sugar to her cup. Delivering it to Jane, he waited until she took a sip and smiled at his work before going to get his own cup. Sitting down at the table across from Jane with his cup of coffee, he fortified himself with the potent brew.
Should he speak first? Come up with something random? What should he say? He had been so focused on coming up with some form of benign chatter that he almost missed it when Jane started speaking.
Jane watched Charles sip his coffee, trying to gather the courage to say what she knew she must say. She had gone to sleep struggling to determine the words she should use to apologize and try to explain herself. It had been a fruitless endeavor. Despite the ideal circumstances for an apology, she found herself unable to articulate her thoughts.
Could she just apologize? Would that work? It might, and it was the only idea that she had. Clearing her throat, she said, “Mr. Bingley, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. I have realized that my behavior could be seen as rude or, in Lydia’s words, cruel.” As Jane spoke, she couldn't bring herself to meet Mr. Bingley's gaze, fearing the pain she might see. Guilt eventually forced her to look up. If there was pain in his eyes, she deserved to see it. She had put it there, after all. As she studied his blue eyes, pain wasn't the only thing she saw—she also saw hope.
“You were having a bad evening. I would never dream of holding that against you. I would go so far as to say you do not need to apologize, but it is obvious that your apology is important to you.” Putting his cup down, he fidgeted with it for a moment before tightening his lips in a grim smile. “I too want to offer an apology.”
Leaning forward, Jane said, “No, I was at fault last night. I am sorry if you feel as if—” Jane stopped her protest when she noted the look on Mr. Bingley’s face. His smile had disappeared, and now he actually looked pained.
Mr. Bingley slowly reached out and lay his hand over hers where it rested on the table. “You cannot deny that something I said last night hurt you.”
Jane closed her eyes. She could only feel the warmth of his hand on hers. It took her a moment to open her eyes and find the ability to whisper, “No, I cannot deny it, but that is more my problem than yours.”
Squeezing her hand, Bingley said, “But I want to make it my problem. What did I say that hurt you?”
“You said that I was beautiful.” Jane looked down at her cup and watched the steam rise off the dark liquid.
