A Fortunate Alliance

by Beth Poppet

  Perhaps Kitty would speak of her engagement on their way to Pemberley now, and all the fuss and frustration of a disappointed gentleman would be over by the time they arrived. That would be for the best.

  Nevertheless, on the chance that there was any unpleasantness to be avoided, Mr Bennet would make himself scarce until supper time and assess the beams or glowers from the safety of that sacred table where no one would dare make outburst or row. After all, this was not Longbourn, and there was enough rational stability in the male persons feasting there that the ladies would be hard pressed to upset the balance with exaggerated feeling over the soups and roasted fowl.

  Mr Bennet’s fears were realised to be unfounded, as all was cheer and conviviality at supper that evening, and every evening afterward. Kitty was even openly congratulated by Lizzy in the presence of all the Darcys’ guests, and Mr Bingley joined in the well-wishing with as much enthusiasm as the rest. Curious. Though not a thing worth investigating. These little passions and flirtations were best left to the womenfolk to wheedle out of the young men. Since there was to be no disruption to his quiet enjoyment of Pemberley, Mr Bennet gladly joined in the merriment by adding one or two jabs at Kitty’s expense, which in her current giddiness only made her giggle and sigh. Nothing so amusing as the scene his wife would have made, were she amongst them. Well, it would all come soon enough, when Mrs Bennet and Mary followed from their stay at Mrs Phillips’s.

  He felt he had made a lucky escape for the time being and allowed himself to be at ease. It was with great alarm and resentment then that he was interrupted from a delightfully dry and sleepy tome by the presence of Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley who did not ever step foot within this library and had the unmistakable look of a man who had something of significance to say.

  He did not speak his mind at once, but nodded his greeting, and roved his eyes over the room. Mr Bennet might have thought him in search of a particular title, but he took up the first book within reach and made a poor show of pretended interest.

  After several minutes of the only sounds pervading the room being the rustling of turned pages and the fidgeting of Mr Bingley, he swallowed thickly, turned to Mr Bennet, and spoke.

  “May I ask you something, sir?”

  “Well, well,” he said, one eye quirked upwards, “You are at liberty to ask whatever you wish, but your method of address makes me believe it must be some very serious question, indeed. Perhaps pertaining to the state of the colonies, or the sorry business of the opiate trade?”

  “No, nothing so… um… severe as all that,” he assured him, not catching the humour in Mr Bennet’s voice. “Though it is indeed a matter of great significance.” He attempted to smile in the easy manner with which he was accustomed, but Mr Bennet thought it appeared a struggle. “I had rather hoped to gain your approval on a matter very close to my heart.”

  There it was, then. He was not to escape the dramatics of a wounded heart after all. “Oh, indeed? Well, you know Kitty is to be married. I wonder what you could possible want with me.”

  “Yes, I am excessively pleased for Miss Catherine!” This was spoken with the natural joy that Mr Bennet expected of him. “How glad I am that she has found a good match. I’m sure they will both be very happy!”

  The book in Mr Bennet’s hand was set aside, as such a declaration only increased the suspense of why Mr Bingley sought an interview with him. “Then…” he dared not let his voice betray the hopefulness he felt, “Do you mean to tell me you have taken an interest in Mary?”

  “I… Miss… Mary Bennet? No, surely… no.”

  As much as Mr Bennet delighted in teasing the nervous fellows that came to court his daughters and had no lack of mockeries to make regarding the flustered refusal to consider Mary, he was too distracted with the mystery of it all to take advantage of Mr Bingley’s anxious state.

  Mr Bennet soon saw that such teasing was unnecessary in Mr Bingley’s case, as he continued in his flustered way without prompt or prickling. “Miss Mary is… an exceedingly thoughtful and prudent sort of girl. She is not, however… What I mean to say, Mr Bennet…”

  “Come, come, man! Spit it out! I’m well aware of Mary’s absurdities, and there’s no need to mince words over how silly she is. Kitty is a silly enough creature too, but you have already told me it is not regarding her that you would speak with me. Therefore, I beg of you to end this confusion and speak plainly. I have no other unmarried daughters, so what serious matter of the heart this pertains to I cannot readily guess, nor do I have the taste for riddles.”

  “It is Mrs Collins I would enquire after, and your blessing to ask for her hand.”

  “Jane!” Mr Bennet was wholly incapable of disguising the shock he felt to receive such a revelation. Mr Bingley was a kindly, compassionate sort of fellow, but he did not take him for the sort of man to pursue a widow with an infant son when so many younger, freer, and abundantly more wealthy women were within his grasp. Of course, he could not blame the man for passing over Kitty and Mary, but had he realised that there was any chance of Jane being considered… Well, perhaps he would have invited Mr Bingley into the library rather than fled from him.

  His long silence was mistaken for disapproval, and Mr Bingley’s nervousness was replaced with a downcast countenance.

  “You think me unworthy of her, I presume. It is true, I am not as physically… whole as I once was, and I walk already as one afflicted with gout. But I assure you, I mean to do whatever is within my power to make your daughter happy, for she is the dearest creature to ever walk this earth, and if she has no objections to the limp, and the prospect of some rather unsightly injuries, I should like the chance to ask if she might care for me enough to accept my proposal.”

  “My dear chap,” Mr Bennet exclaimed, “I think nothing of the sort! Your need to travel with a cane does not disparage you whatsoever in my estimation. I have always harboured a preference for you as a son-in-law, and I can think of no one more suitable than Jane to bring you into that position. By all means, you may marry her if you like, and more than welcome! I am only sorry I did not think of it myself.

  “I do ask one thing,” he hastened to add, partially to put an end to the overly vigorous way in which Mr Bingley shook his hand.

  “Yes, of course! I will do anything you ask of me!”

  “Don’t let Jane tell her mother the news until after you are certain I am not within earshot of her. Ah, better yet, have one of the servants run me up a note when Mrs Bennet is told, and I will remain in this sanctuary until the following mealtime.”

  Disregarding Mr Bennet’s avoidance of his wife, Mr Bingley asked with unrivalled cheer, “Then you believe she will accept?”

  “Mr Bingley, if Jane could accept Mr Collins for the sake of her mother’s happiness, I have no doubt of her ability to accept you for her own. I am no expert on the matters of romance, but you and Jane seem rather made for each other, now that I think on it. It is all in your hands to persuade her of that, now.”

  “Yes,” he nodded eagerly, “I shall do my utmost in that regard. Well,” he began, grinning from ear to ear, and looking as if he was soon to jump out of his own skin with excitement, “Should I…?”

  “Go, go!” Mr Bennet waved him off with an amused half-smile, already collecting his book again and readjusting his spectacles. “I doubt you need any of my advice in how to woo your intended.”

  “Then… I shall!” This was broken up between more hearty shaking of his prospective father-in-law’s hand. “Thank you, sir! Thank you from the depths of my heart.”

  Mr Bennet chuckled softly as he settled back into the giant chair and scanned the last few paragraphs he had read before the singular interruption occurred. He had not escaped the dramatics of a man in love after all, but all things considered, it was a rather agreeable conclusion, nonetheless.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jane’s return to society, joyous as it was for her family and friends, carried with it some unintended consequences for Mr Bin
gley. She was well beloved by many in the neighbourhood, and all those who had missed her company during her mourning period, along with those of her acquaintance who did not wish to appear unkind were eager to make her included amongst their guests. Being of a naturally obliging disposition, she accepted all the invitations she was able to.

  She was not singled out, nor too often away from Pemberley for many of Elizabeth’s friends were Jane’s as well, and the Darcys hosted enough families to dine and to stay for the hunting season as to keep a significant amount of the socialising at their estate. Elizabeth was more and more often indisposed, and would soon be entering her period of confinement, leaving Jane to take up the burden of maintaining their friendships.

  Mr Bingley was not forgotten, and Jane bestowed on him what smiles and conversation could be given in the passing moments of the drawing room scenes which put them together through the natural course of interaction, but his injury made further opportunities more difficult to arrange. Though he did his utmost to sit by her at mealtimes, she was too often being led into the dining room by some gentlelady or another who insisted that Jane sit with them for the duration of the meal, and Mr Bingley’s slowed gait forced him to sit much further away from her than either Jane or he desired. He began to miss their shared seclusion and the time spent together in the little library, though he immediately reproached himself for such thoughts as it was devilishly unkind to wish Jane back in mourning for his own selfish purposes.

  Besides, she was absolutely resplendent, mingling with her loved ones again and bearing their outpourings of affection with all the unaffected gratitude of an angel; dressed in sweet and simple styles that flattered her God-given beauty, rather than the required trappings of a bereft woman. She was beautiful in whatever she wore, despite what Caroline said regarding the mourning dress making her appear sickly. Nevertheless, her loveliness was now even more unsurpassed, and only increased Mr Bingley’s desire for a private interview.

  As the days stretched on, and still Mr Bingley had not found opportunity to press his suit, he considered writing a letter and requesting she meet him in some prearranged spot on the grounds, but after some thought it was decided to be not quite the thing. For as much as he knew Jane’s forbearance of others to be exceptional, he doubted his own ability to craft words prettily enough to capture her attention in any form other than amusement.

  His chance came unexpectedly, when he was not seeking her out at all, but had taken himself to a pretty spot near the house to watch Darcy’s dogs have a romp. Their playful exuberance made him miss Brutus and took his thoughts back to the happy day that his hound’s naughty ways had introduced him first to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as she was then. Delightful, how things had turned out for her and Darcy. Perhaps he should have consulted his friend first, before going to Mr Bennet. He did not suppose Darcy would have any serious objections to his asking for Mrs Collins’s hand. After all, he had overcome many personal obstacles to win the hand of Miss Elizabeth, but he had never asked him outright if he considered them a good match. And dear Elizabeth was the most charming and kindly woman he knew—save her elder sister, of course—but perhaps she would not like him as a brother.

  As these doubts began to worm their way into his head and make the dogs’ sport a trifle less amusing, a lilting of feminine voices caught his ear, and soon he could make out the figures of Mrs Darcy, Mrs Collins, and Miss Kitty Bennet strolling up the incline, arm in arm as they walked together, and seemingly in his direction.

  “You would not believe how improved Mary is,” Kitty was saying quite distinctly. “She still lectures and quotes dreary passages, but they are so less frequently meant to be biting. She’s nearly pleasant to be in company with. And the way she wears her hair, and actually smiles, Jane! She’s really almost pretty! I cannot make out that she has a beau, but I have trouble imagining anything else that would bring about such a transformation.”

  “I am glad that she smiles more, but you must not be unkind, Kitty!” Jane chastised, “Mary has a different way about her.”

  “I can well believe,” Elizabeth added, “that without Mama to constantly disparage her looks in comparison to the rest of us, Mary may well have improved. Or perhaps your perception of her has changed, being yourself engaged to a parson, Kitty.” This was spoken with an arched brow and playful smile.

  “George is nothing like Mary!” Kitty protested, “He is so agreeable, and lively! He is serious when he needs to be, and there are times his sermons make one feel quite appropriately ashamed of oneself, but he does not reproach one incessantly, or dwell on petty errors. Indeed, he is so thoughtful and sweet to me…” here, her voice faded into an indiscernible word or two, “and although I could hardly believe that a parson of all people could take interest in me, I know his compliments are honest. He is handsome, too!” she nearly squealed in her joy, “Nothing like Mr Collins’s boorish, homely… oh!” she cried, blushing furiously, “I am sorry, Jane! I did not mean…” she pressed her lips together in embarrassment, “I only mean that Mr Collins and I never really got on, you know, and Mr Evander is everything I could wish for.”

  “I am very happy for you, Kitty,” Jane redirected, chusing to ignore her sister’s slander against the deceased. “There is no need for comparisons. You should be content with your husband and love him dearly, no matter the manner of other men you may meet in your lifetime. But, oh…!” Jane was first to notice that they were no longer alone, and Mr Bingley was now near enough to enter conversation with them. She wondered that she had not noticed him sooner, but the bench he sat upon was slightly obscured by a broad and glorious old oak, and they had trudged up a little incline to reach him, which would have further obstructed their view.

  “Hello!” he called out, the moment she had spied him. “What a lucky chance this is!” He gestured to the empty bench, and Elizabeth obligingly took it. “I had just been remembering the first days of our acquaintance,” he grinned. “Mrs Darcy, you remember Brutus, and his dastardly tackle?”

  “Of course,” she laughed merrily, “I could hardly forget the dear hound that was the means of our early introductions! How is Brutus these days?”

  “As troublesome as ever,” Bingley announced, as if it were reason to be glad. “Even Darcy has given up hope of him ever becoming a real hunter, but I am so fond of him that I can’t bring myself to sell the lout for a better one,” he grinned. “Besides, I’m not exactly able to participate in hunts as I once was, and I’m almost glad of the excuse. He is a poor hunter, and I a poor chaser. We are quite the pair.”

  “Well, I am very glad you have kept him on,” Elizabeth beamed, “And the next time you come, you should bring him with you. You know we have space and kennels aplenty.”

  “I should like that very much, indeed,” he agreed.

  There was now a lull in the conversation. Mr Bingley smiled and looked from lady to lady, longing to impart some clever word or two that might draw Jane into conversing, but could conceive of nothing that would not also neglect the other ladies present.

  Elizabeth seemed to have some inkling of his quandary, for she glanced between Jane and the unsettled gentleman before announcing that she should very much like to stay a while where she was.

  “I would like to rest here and continue to wheedle information out of Kitty regarding her parson betrothed, but I do believe Jane was intending on returning to the house soon to fetch Henry from his nap. Mr Bingley, I hope you do not find me too bold as to suggest we part ways here.”

  “Please, say no more!” he grinned, eradicating any doubt Elizabeth might have harboured as to his intentions in getting Jane alone, “I would be most honoured if Mrs Collins would allow me to escort her back to the house.”

  Elizabeth caught Jane’s eye as the two set off, and it was a subtle mix of exasperation and amusement. Kitty was perceptive enough to discern her sister’s aim as well, and once Mr Bingley and Jane were out of earshot, she teased Elizabeth mercilessly for it; a light-hearted har
anguing that only made Elizabeth laugh the more heartily and return the teasing tenfold.

  As for Mr Bingley and Jane, their stroll began as might be expected; with all the little pleasantries regarding weather, mutual acquaintances, and the beauty of the Darcys’ grounds that must be got out of the way before anything of import could be spoken.

  “I am so glad that you and your sisters decided to come this way,” Mr Bingley at last broke from the expected courtesies. “It has been far too long since we last spoke together—I mean, truly spoke.”

  “Yes, I think… not since the Winstons came to dine,” she remarked.

  “Precisely! That was on the sixteenth, and therefore two weeks and a day ago,” he said with perfect calculation. “Do you know, I am never so happy as when we are able to speak like this? I have missed our conversations in the little library. I’ve been there a time or two of late, but it isn’t quite the same, you know.”

  “Have Mr Darcy and Elizabeth made changes to the library?” Jane asked anxiously, in all innocence.

  “Not a bit of it! Well, not that I can tell. You see, I never actually went there for the books, or the chairs, or... what else is in that library? Dear, me!” he followed, not intent on receiving an answer, “I don’t know that I’d even notice if the whole place were to be renovated! Perhaps…” he furrowed his brow and appeared deeply concerned, “Perhaps you think that terribly dishonest of me.”

  “Mr Bingley, I told you once before that I know you to be a forthright and honest man. I cannot imagine you being deliberately deceitful, but if there is something I might have misunderstood in any of our conversations, I beg you would tell me of it and put your mind at ease.”