I sit on the divan next to the picture window and stare down the front gravel drive. I’m not quite sure why I continue to do this every day. Each morning, mama voices her concern over our situation and how the entailment is no issue if I secure an engagement with him. Every time I hear the phrase pass from her lips, I slip back to the November ball. 

Where did it all go wrong? I always take care with my dress and have Sarah, our maid, put my hair up in a flattering look. Visions of that night pass in front of me and I recall the adoring gazes of Mr. Bingley. We are dancing and speaking the night away, like at every event before that one. I do everything I can to demonstrate my attentions toward him bar any improper actions. My forehead presses into the chilly and my breath fogs the glass as I recollect one specific moment. After the last dance of our first set, we stand to the side of the refreshment table. Parched, Mr. Bingley retrieves us two glasses of lemonade that sit in our palms. He is recounting a hunting story and, due to our height, he stoops down a little for me to hear him over the crowd. I still need to tilt my face up to match his eyes, and we are so close that if we lean a little further, our lips will meet. 

My fingers reach up to touch my trembling mouth. Even after all these months, I think of that time. Especially during my stay in London with the Gardiners. Sitting at the window like I am now staring at the street, hoping his carriage would pull up in front of the house. How disappointing only to have his sisters visit and tell me he is too busy with Miss Darcy. My teeth sink into the skin of my hand as I muffle the sobs that escape me. Hot tears slide down as I imagine Mr. Bingley smiling at a shadowy feminine figure. Miss Darcy is lovely, to be sure, and I wish her no ill. The image of Mr. Bingley being in love with her is just too much. 

I grieve, letting all of my emotions flood out of my body in the privacy of my tiny bedroom. As I finish, I glance at the drive, taking in the view instead of gazing aimlessly. The sky is dreary, gray clouds blotting out the blue. It looks like it might rain as it constantly appears during this season. This season…it is spring and there are signs of it even now. The giant oak tree in the yard has small buds along its branches, ready for the time to unfurl in the warm sun. Small green sprouts push up from the garden beds that mama tends to. My three month trip to London is long gone, and I have been at Longbourn these past two weeks. When did I last see him? It’s nigh on five months since the party. My stomach drops at the realization of half a year passing away with no progression.

I feel heavy as if lead bars are sewn into my dress, preventing me from rising. All this pining, mourning, heartache, for a man whose acquaintance equates to a whole two months. I am waiting longer for Mr. Bingley’s return than actually knowing him. Seasons waiting in front of the window, not going on day outings in case he comes to call. Only leaving at the push from Aunt Gardiner or her children. The pitying looks from my neighbors and family flash through my mind. The humiliation of not securing a proposal from a gentleman when being the so-called local beauty. 

Anger fills me, fists clenching in my lap as I process this epiphany. Outrage, at my mother, Mr. Bingley, his sisters, but mainly myself. No one holds my own emotions captive except me. My misery is my own doing.

Another sniffle slips out, but it’s a remnant of the previous outburst. A strange sense of peace resonates as I let go of the expectations. Mr. Bingley may or may not come back. Even if he does, there is no guarantee he will propose to me. Departing without expressing formal interest in courting me is the instant he no longer concerns me. This load I carry is gone. The ribbons tying it to me untwine, and I am a captive no more. All the stress of garnering the attention of this man evaporates, and laughter bubbles out of my chest. I’m crying again but I welcome it. Outside, a robin begins to sing and a few rays from the sun peek through the gray veil, brightening the land. Mary’s piano practice rings through the house clearly and the loud chattering of my other sisters pierces through the walls. The quietness of before departing, the muffler covering my ears slipping away to reveal the bustling life moving around me. 

Suddenly, for the first moment in a while, I want to join them. Not hide in my room or go down only when necessary. 

“Lizzy!” I call out, bolting from my chambers. 

Running down the stairs, I spot her, turning the corner into the foyer. 

“Lizzy!” 

She whirls around, confusion on her face. 

“Jane, dear, what are you yelling about?” She asks, taking my hands in hers.

I know I must appear a lunatic ranting at her when I hardly raise my voice to anyone.

“It is such a lovely day. I am hoping you will allow me to join your daily walk?” 

Her hazel eyes widen in surprise at my admission. Generally, it takes her cajoling me into accompanying her outside beyond the garden, and it must be shocking to hear me volunteer.

“Of-of course dearest. You know you can always come, but perhaps we should dress you more appropriately for the weather.” 

Then, I recognize I am standing in my house slippers without a bonnet or spencer. 

“Yes, how silly of me. Help me find my boots?” 

“Gladly.” She laughs with delight. 

Soon we leave Longbourn behind and are strolling arm in arm when Lizzy turns to me with a question on her lips.

“Not that I am unhappy to have you on this fine occasion, but Jane, you never wish to walk out with me when the weather is not mild. You cannot tell me that the chilliness of today is your ideal climate for climbing hills. Did you need to flee the house? Is something wrong?”

A knowing smirk spreads, but I replace it with my usual serene smile. No need to worry her with more uncharacteristic actions. I tighten my hold on her and stare into her eyes.

“Thank you for your concern, but everything is right in the world.” 

Concern rushes from her face and an understanding look replaces it. 

“Welcome back Jane.”