When Jane Got Angry

Jane could not help but laugh.

“If you’re rested enough, we can go back now,” Maggie volunteered.

Suddenly Jane was unwilling to face what awaited her at the Gardiners’ house. “Oh, Maggie, I have made a terrible mull of things.” She slumped against the bench.

The maid regarded her, tilting her head. “How is that now?”

“I yelled at Mr. Bingley’s sister and said terrible things about her—”

“Which were true,” Maggie said.

“But still, I should not have said them.”

Maggie’s brows drew together. “You should have pretended you believed her lies?”

Jane huffed out a laugh. “Not exactly…”

“But it amounts to the same thing, don’t it? If you don’t say what you know is true.”

Jane pushed damp strands of hair from her forehead. “I suppose. But I should not have accused her in such a way. Mr. Bingley must think me horrid and unladylike.”

“I don’t suppose he does now, miss. He was watching you like you was the sun and the moon and the stars—all at the same time.”

Jane’s heart skipped a beat. “He was?”

Maggie nodded furiously. “He even smiled a little. Good thing his sister didn’t notice, or she would’ve started screeching at him.”

“He smiled?” This was so far from what Jane had imagined that she could not fully picture it.

“Oh yes, miss! Biggest grin you ever seen! I wager he’s been wanting to say some of those things himself.” Maggie settled back against the bench. “He’s completely smitten with you, he is!”

These words produced a tiny thrill of hope in Jane’s chest, but she quickly pushed it away. Hope was dangerous. “You cannot know that.”

Maggie shook her head sagely. “My cousin Bernard was in love with this girl at the milliner’s shop. He wore precisely that expression on his face for months. It’s love, I tell you.”

If only she could believe the other woman’s assertion, but Jane did not dare. Still, she indulged in a little renewed hope. “Mr. Bingley did not seem disgusted with my behavior?”

“Not a whit,” Maggie assured her. “And he looked right troubled when you took off like a frightened rabbit.”

“Oh.” Jane’s temper might not have lost his respect but perhaps her retreat had.

As if she could read Jane’s mind, Maggie said, “Miss, the way he’s gone for you, there’s nothing that’ll make him change his mind.”

I hope so.

Maggie jumped to her feet. “I think we should return home, miss, and plan our next move.”

“Next move?”

Maggie shrugged. “Well, he’s bound to return to the Gardiners’ house, and you need to prepare what you’ll say and how you’ll dress and so on.”

“Very well.” Jane pushed herself to a standing position. If there was the slightest chance she had not yet ruined her friendship with Mr. Bingley, Jane would make every effort. “I pray you, lead the way.”

***

Bingley knocked on the door to Darcy’s study, waiting for the deep voice to call “enter” before pushing the door open. Darcy sat behind an ornately carved mahogany desk piled high with papers. “Bingley!” The other man smiled. “You arrived just in time to rescue me from my paperwork! I have already been at it for two hours. Have a glass of port with me and give me a reason to leave off for now.”

Bingley nodded but did not respond. Under other circumstances he would have found Darcy’s buoyant mood to be infectious, but today it grated on him. Oblivious, Darcy strode to the sideboard and poured them both crystal glasses of port. They settled into chairs by the fireplace, where Bingley basked in the warmth of the fire. The increasing cold outside had left him chilled.