Chapter Text
Lizzie glanced at Jane, who had not stopped smiling the whole way home from the wedding. "Well, I'm glad someone had fun tonight," she said, a little more sardonically than she intended.
Jane turned to her with wide eyes as they started up the walk to their front door. "Did you not have a good time, Lizzie?"
"Wow. No, I definitely didn't. I thought it was pretty obvious. Were you that distracted by the charming Mr. Lee's attentions?"
She assumed Jane was blushing even though it was too dark to tell. Before the conversation could get any further, however, their mother came bustling up the walk and engulfed Jane in a suffocating embrace. "Talking about your new beau, Jane? I don't blame you; he is quite a catch! I can't wait to tell your father all about it. Why he insisted on leaving right after the ceremony, I can't imagine." Pausing at the door, she turned and added, "Oh, help Lydia out of the car, won't you, dears? She might have had a teensy bit too much to drink."
Lizzie and Jane exchanged looks before heading back to haul their near-comatose sister out of the car – the result of a volatile combination of champagne and extra-sugary wedding cake. Between Lydia's antics, their mother's shameless gloating about Jane and Bing Lee, and the hideous non-pleasure of meeting William Darcy, Lizzie was thinking her father had the right idea in skipping the reception entirely. She should have gone with him when he caught a ride home with a neighbor.
Of course, now he was being subjected to a detailed recapping from their mother. They helped Lydia inside just in time to hear her gush, "Oh, and Jane! I swear, she rivaled the bride herself. The men couldn't keep their eyes off her."
"Hopefully the groom was an exception," their father said dryly, not looking up from his book.
"And Bing Lee," she sighed, positively blissful. "Every woman's eye was on him, but who did he pick to dance with? Guess!" Jane's face was a vivid red as she and Lizzie settled Lydia onto the couch.
Their father turned a page and said distantly, "I can't possibly imagine."
"Jane! Our Jane. Dance after dance after dance. Of course to be polite he had to ask a few other girls," she waved her hand in annoyance, "but none of them had more than one dance with him. Let's see – there was Charlotte, and Anna Lewis, and Gracie Peters, and – who was the other –"
"Enough," their father cut in, finally looking up from his book. "Did Bing Lee spend the entire night on the ballroom floor? If only he'd sprained his ankle after the first dance!"
Lizzie held back a snort of laughter. Their mother, undeterred, went on in a different direction. "And his sister is so fashionable, such an exotic beauty." Now Lizzie and Jane exchanged looks of horror. They would have to beg her not to use that word if she was around the Lees or, well, anyone else at all. "Did you see her dress? It must have cost her –"
"No." Their father held up a hand. "I draw the line at descriptions of clothing. You know that."
"Yes, dear," their mother sighed. "Well, I'm sorry to say that not all of Bing Lee's party was so likeable. That William Darcy fellow – looking down his nose at everyone! Oh, if only someone else had caught the garter. Poor Lizzie. No one asked her to dance all night, and then she was made to shuffle around with that sneering, uppity man."
Lizzie tried not to clench her teeth. "I didn't want to dance with anyone. It was by choice. And as for that forced, so-called dance –" She shook her head. "The less said about it, the better."
Another exaggerated sigh from their mother. "Yes, yes. How we're ever going to get you married, Lizzie, I can't imagine. But Jane – oh, Jane! You and Bing make such a perfect couple –"
"Come on, let's get Lydia up to her room," Lizzie said hurriedly, in the way of rescuing her sister. Jane cast her a grateful look, and they started toward the stairs with their little sister between them. Their mother's shameless effusions continued to ring out behind them.