Chances Come, Ney Mitch [snow like ashes series TXT] 📗

I knew that now was not the time to speak with Kitty about it, and perhaps she desired to not even mention it. For she was correct in feeling anything for him. Sir Aleck was ten years her senior, he was knighted, wealthy, and was certain to marry a woman who was of the highest in the ton. He was as much above us as Mr. Darcy was, and perhaps even more so. And yet, secretly I dreamed of Mr. Darcy one day choosing me. So, was I wrong to not believe that Kitty had a chance?

Yet, I was a realist. The sole reason that I believed that Mr. Darcy and I could have a match one day was because he had given me much encouragement. With Kitty, she had only been given a dance and it was to a man who was kind towards everyone. There was no partiality on his side, because he was partial to all.

After drinking her punch, she was claimed by Mr. Jenkins for the next set, and I excused myself from their company. Mr. Jenkins had seemed so eager to speak to her, that I sensed that he wanted to be alone with her. And that was a comfort to see.

A ball full of wealthy people was not the right time for her to be driven away by flights of fancy and fall in love so very quickly. All that there was for her here was the chance to increase her experiences and become acquainted with more people in the world. It was merely another night where she learned more about who she was, and not who she needed to marry.

For a moment, I wondered if she was the sort to even want to get married. Yes, we were always told that we must marry to save our futures, but on closer inspection, I wondered if Kitty even thought deeply on the idea. But rather, did she once entertain the notion because that was the only future that was laid out for us? Now that I thought about it, when did I ever hear Kitty speak seriously about getting married? She enjoyed the idea of falling in love, but that was for the fun of it all. Never did she speak of marriage. Who was my sister?

I was pulled out of these musings when I realized that I had no foundations for what I was thinking. After all, this was already a ball of errors occurring. My thoughts and theories did not need to be added to the mixture.

Chapter 15 The Deadly Sin

As I walked along the table, heading back to where Mr. Darcy was, I spied Miss Bingley, who was speaking with another woman. In that moment, I had recalled our conversation at the Netherfield Ball. That is the bitter irony of life. Sometimes, the happier moments slip away from us, but it is often the discussions you have with your enemies that are the conversations you remember forever. It is an egregious mistake on all our parts, but it is also a way of life.

And when glimpsing her, I recalled every word of our discussion. And of course, it had to be about Mr. Wickham…

Soon after Mr. Darcy and I had danced with each other, Miss Bingley came towards me, with an expression of civil disdain. Very soon upon seeing me, she attacked the subject of my generous feelings towards Wickham.

“So,” she began, “Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! Your sister has been talking to me about him and asking me a thousand questions. And I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward.”

At this moment, she laughed condescendingly at the idea of his low connections. Then she quieted down and continued her report. “Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to give implicit confidence to all his assertions, for as to Mr. Darcy's using him ill, it is perfectly false. For, on the contrary, he has always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favorite's guilt. But really, considering his descent, one could not expect much better.”

I had held my disdain for her interference internally and replied with civility that had a tinge of stiffness.

“His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,” I replied, but words dripped eventually with anger. “For I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself.”

She saw, in that moment, that she had gained no triumph over me.

“I beg your pardon,” replied Miss Bingley, turning away with derision. “Excuse my interference—it was kindly meant.”

Once she left my side, I turned away from her, indignant.

“Insolent girl!” I uttered to myself. “You are much mistaken if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see nothing in it but your own willful ignorance and the malice of Mr. Darcy.” Afterwards, I had gone off to speak to Jane about it, who also had no favorable report to hear of Mr. Wickham…

And now here I was, at another ball, and watching her from the outside, looking in. Miss Bingley was