Page 6 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“I have sat with Caroline’s letter these few evenings.” The strings came free; Jane rested the bonnet in her lap. “And I have asked myself whether my feelings about her are just. Each evening I have concluded that they are, that Miss Bingley may never have felt a single generous impulse towards anyone outside her own connexions. And then by morning I find I am fond of her again. It is a failing, Lizzy, I know it is a failing. I promise that I am working to regard it as such.”

Jane’s misfortune, from a very early age, was that she was so generally admired for her beauty that almost nobody bothered to admire her for anything else. Elizabeth had long suspected that she was one of the very few people, even among her own family, who had troubled to notice Jane’s stout heart and keen mind. Jane made the choice to think well of the world, but she was not blind to its imperfections.

“Shall I tell you what I expect I shall do?” Jane asked.

“Please.”

“I shall be fond of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst until it becomes unmistakably clear that I should not be. And even then—for unlike Mamma, I suspect that day shall come—even then, I shall consider the evidence carefully and continue being fond of them for perhaps a fortnight more, on principle.”

“A fortnight seems generous,” Elizabeth said carefully.

Her sister’s smile was a wry one. “It is the minimum decent interval, Lizzy. Any less, and one is being peevish. Any more, and one is being a fool.”

“And at the end of that time?”

“By then I shall know what I think, and once I do, I shall be quite immovable.” She met Elizabeth’s gaze. “And I suspect that you will say, ‘Jane, really, you are too unkind,’ and I shall reply, ‘I know, Lizzy, but I did give them the fortnight.’”

They laughed at this comical reversal of roles. It was the first cheerful moment they had shared since Mr. Collins’s proposal and Miss Bingley’s letter.

“You truly are the best of us,” Elizabeth said, when she had recovered.

Jane did not answer at once. She had turned her face towards the window. “Am I?” she said. “Of late, I have begun to fear that I am the most cowardly.”

Elizabeth turned towards her, shocked. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Lizzy, you have twice refused to accept a man purely for security.”

“It was not difficult. Mr. Kendricks was a good man, but he and I simply did not suit. He was very sporting, which is fine, of course, but that was all he was. I do not think the man had ever read a book, not even at university. And as for Mr. Collins . . .”

They shared a glance and shuddered together.

“That is just what I mean,” Jane said. “You know what will make you happy and refuse to accept anything less. You have done so at significant cost to yourself, and I think that perhaps I ought, when required, to summon the courage to do the same.”

“Do you mean Mr. Bingley or his sisters?”

Jane was quiet a moment. “I like Mr. Bingley very much,” she said, still looking out the window. “I feel more for him than I have ever felt for any man. But given how his sisters changed towards me so suddenly, I should like to meet him again in London, among his own people. If I like him there, I shall know that these feelings are not merely the novelty of being singled out by an agreeable man. And if I do not, I shall have saved both of us considerable trouble, and I shall owe you a debt of gratitude for the lesson.”

“What lesson is that?”

“The one you have been teaching me for some time, Lizzy. That there is no harm in dreaming of my wedding, but first I must choose the sort of husband with whom I will be happy in the marriage. And that there is a great deal to consider in the choosing.”

“Do not take me for an example, Jane, for I doubt that I shall ever marry. I want so much.” Elizabeth thought back over her two suitors. “I need a man who has fortune enough to support us, of course. We all do. But I want a man who is clever and kind. Who is active.”

Jane nodded. Papa was a loving father, but he was not an active one.

“I would like a man who is protective of me but does not attempt to control me. Who is capable. And it would be agreeable if he were also handsome.”

Jane smiled.

“I want to feel something when we see one another.”

Jane’s gaze was serious. “Such as?”

“I do not know how to describe it—a spark?” Elizabeth sighed. “So you see, if this perfect man in fact exists, it is unlikely he shall ever make an offer to someone like me.”

“I think that you are wrong, Lizzy,” Jane said. “But we will face whatever is in store for us. Together.”

Elizabeth took her sister’s hand, and they sat in silence while a milestone went past, and another.