What Jane Austen Didn't Tell Us!. Austen Alliance
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Elizabeth remembered her envy when Jane, dressed in a beautiful new gown, made her entry into Society. Her Aunt Gardiner had sent the garment from London for Jane’s special occasion, and Elizabeth assumed that she, too, would receive a similar costume to wear to her first ball. When a small package arrived from town, she wondered how a gown could be contained in so little space. Alas, her aunt and uncle had sent their niece an exquisite leather-bound book designed for use as a personal journal. Vexed beyond endurance, Elizabeth tore the pages from the lovely book, regretting her temper only after she had reduced the gift to shreds.
Later, she begged her mother: “Please, please. Jane had a new gown, why cannot I have one?”
“Her gown is perfectly fine for you to wear, Lizzy. Do stop acting like a child.”
Oh, no! Now she would have to make do with Jane’s gown, altered to fit herself.
Stubbornly, Elizabeth decided not to be deterred from enjoying her first ball. She only wished to spend the entire night dancing and taking pleasure in the company, for rumor had it that John Masters would be there.
At the last moment, Jane could not attend, confined to her bed with a painful earache. All the better chance to shine at the ball, Elizabeth thought. Then, ashamed of such selfishness, she brushed it away quickly—something she had discovered helped her change moods.
Instead, she thought of John Masters. The young man was renowned throughout Upper Garvie for his skill with a chaise and four and his tall, striking figure. Elizabeth confessed to her friend Charlotte that Masters put her in mind of the bronze Apollo in her father’s library.
She could scarcely believe her good luck when a flurry of activity at the entrance to the ballroom resolved itself into John Masters. Elizabeth was glowing as the young man led her to the floor for the first dance, just as she had dreamed! He was an accomplished dancer and knew just how to address a young lady: “You are remarkably light on your feet and dance so well that it is a pleasure to be your partner.” Elizabeth blushed prettily.
Smiling broadly at the end of the dance, Masters indicated he would certainly call at Longbourn soon. Flattered, Elizabeth replied, “You will be most welcome, sir. My parents are pleased to entertain our neighbors.”
There were other very acceptable partners during the evening—everything conspired to ensure that Elizabeth’s first ball was delightful. When they returned home, her mother remarked, “You looked your very best tonight, Miss Eliza, you enchanted the local swains.”
Her father greeted his wife’s comments with a loud “Ahem!” and a quiet peck on Elizabeth’s cheek.
And so Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge there were times her mother knew just the right words to set one up!
True to his word, Mr. Masters paid a visit to Longbourn the day after the ball, riding up to the house on his majestic mount, Conqueror. “He is bee-u-ti-ful!” cried Lydia, spying from an upstairs window. But the younger girls were not invited into the drawing room where Mrs. Bennet received him with great courtesy. Mr. Bennet, forewarned of the possibility of the visit, had fled to the home farm.
“Oh, Mr. Masters,” Mrs. Bennet began, “you and Lizzy made such a handsome couple last night. I am so glad you were her first partner.”
Mr. Masters carried flowers that they assumed were for Elizabeth, but when Jane, feeling better, entered the room, Masters bowed and presented her with the blossoms: “I had hoped to have the first dance with you, Miss Bennet. In your absence I was most honored to partner your sister.”
Elizabeth could scarcely believe this was happening. It was my “coming-out,” yet it was Jane he wanted to dance with, Jane he wants to please now. This is insupportable!
She felt a flush rising to her cheeks. “We saw you arrive on quite a beautiful animal,” she said, surprised at the steadiness of her voice.
Masters gave her a proud smile. “Yes, Conqueror is quite my favorite. We are inseparable.”
“How wonderful, at least, that you are steadfast in some things.” Then, looking at neither her sister nor her mother, Elizabeth rose abruptly and left the drawing room.
Alone in her room, she threw herself on the bed and pounded a pillow. How could he humiliate me so? I was the one he danced with. I should have received the flowers, for the sake of politeness if nothing else!
Rising to her feet, she strode about the small room, picking up objects only to put them down again until a knock at the door brought her to a halt. The door opened slowly and Jane looked in, her expression anxious and distressed.
“Lizzy? Have you caught my indisposition? You left us so suddenly, and Mr. Masters left soon after. Mama made your excuses to him.”
Elizabeth whirled to face Jane. “How can I ever be happy when I am always in your shadow? What man will notice me while you are nearby?”
Jane, stunned by this utterly unexpected assault, burst into tears. “I was not even at the ball last night! Mr. Masters is at fault—he is the one who has offended you.” She took a deep breath. “Dear Lizzy, I love you. I would do anything in the world for you. I hope you know that.”
Elizabeth now found herself sobbing on Jane’s shoulder. “He insulted me, Jane, and I took it out on you with foolish jealousy.”
They sat for a moment in silence. Then Elizabeth said somberly, “I may always envy you your beauty, Jane, but never again will I hate you for it.”
When Elizabeth related what had happened to Charlotte Lucas, her friend frowned in thought. “Mr. Masters was less than serious in his intentions to either of you—and quite ungentlemanlike. Most young men must find a rich girl to marry, for even among the wealthy, younger sons must shift for themselves.”
“But in books, heroes do find true love with women who are poor but beautiful,” Elizabeth argued.
“In your novels, perhaps, Lizzy. But not in life.”
“That is so unfair!” Elizabeth fumed. “There must be true love in this world, else our greatest poets would not write of it.”
Her friend remained unconvinced. Sorely disappointed, Elizabeth walked slowly back to Longbourn, to find Mrs. Bennet in ecstasies! A letter had arrived from her London relations!
Mrs. Bennet’s brother, Edward Gardiner, earned a handsome income from the cloth trade in the Metropolis. He had married an educated woman, whom Mrs. Bennet regarded as a sister. The families often exchanged visits, but this letter contained a special invitation for both Elizabeth and Mary, the family musicians, to a much anticipated concert by a renowned female pianist and composer.
A smiling Jane embraced her sister. Recent disappointments were forgiven and forgotten. Mr. Masters, Upper Garvie, and Charlotte’s disheartening sentiments all sank beneath this evidence of Mrs. Gardiner’s generosity. Mary practiced her scales harder than ever. Elizabeth could think only of London and the novelty of the grand performance to come.
However, her impatience was unexpectedly diverted. While accompanying his wife and daughters to their customary Sunday service, Mr. Bennet, ready to doze through the sermon, listened instead with unusual interest to the visiting vicar. Astonished, he recognized the booming voice of an old schoolfellow, Everard Twill, coming from the bald-headed clergyman before him.
Mr. Bennet eagerly revived his old friendship, and the Bennet ladies soon took to visiting with the Twills, temporarily in residence at the Vicarage. Anne Twill, an orphan, lived with her uncle and his wife, helping with their eight children, and Elizabeth particularly enjoyed her company. They soon found much common ground in literature, agreeing that the Castle of Otranto was too absurd for words but that Pamela was quite satisfying.
By the time the Twills returned to their home in Winchester, the young women promised to correspond and were soon “Elizabeth” and “Anne.”
Several months later, the post brought disturbing tidings. Anne wrote in some distress that