The next few days were enlivened only by minor amusements. It rained frequently, and even when it paused the skies threatened, discouraging most exercise. Miss Bingley played the pianoforte, and occasionally Elizabeth did the same. Miss Bingley sketched, Elizabeth read, and Jane did needlework. Mr. Bingley’s uneven mood returned. He paced back and forth in his library. He practiced at billiards, and when he played poorly, complained vehemently. At one point he said he was ordering the carriage to go to London and then changed his mind. When they sat down to cards he was so distracted that he forgot which suit was trump, and then abruptly quit both the game and the room.
“We cannot play at whist with only three,” said Miss Bingley. “Jane, do you mind if I open the instrument?”
Jane said she would welcome some music, and Miss Bingley, after inviting Elizabeth to precede her, an invitation declined by Elizabeth, sat down at the pianoforte.
Jane put away the cards. “Something troubles him,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“He may have told you that it is something in the past, but whatever it was, it is obviously not forgotten,” said Elizabeth. “Only when you discover what it is will you be able to truly help him.” She was concerned for her sister, but at least now she believed that her curiosity on the matter had a better chance of being answered.
The next day, the rain was not so fierce, and the dullness of Netherfield was broken by a visit from Mrs. Bennet and her daughter Kitty. Even Miss Bingley was so tired of being cooped up within doors that she willingly joined them and partook of the conversation.
Mrs. Bennet and her daughter had brought more details about the demise of Miss King. The unfortunate had been buried in the north side of the local church. They also reported that Mr. Philips was advising Mr. Selby, who was now staying at the Meryton Inn. Furthermore, Hannah, the maidservant who had discovered Miss King’s dead body, was being questioned because all of Miss King’s jewelry, and even her jewelry case, were missing.
“Miss King had a lovely pair of amber earrings set in gold,” said Kitty. “Her hair was reddish, but those earrings were very pretty. She had a gold cross, too, and a chain to go with it.”
They all agreed that it was dreadful to contemplate that anyone could steal a cross, but Mrs. Bennet opined that if a thief was a thief, well, the thief was a thief. “But I cannot imagine what that girl Hannah would do with the jewelry. A woman of her station could not wear such things, and how could she sell them? No one would take such things from her without questioning her and wondering where she got them.”
“I have heard that there are ways to sell such ill-gotten goods,” said Miss Bingley. “Disreputable shops, managed by men who do not ask any questions. This Hannah could not expect to be compensated for what an item was worth, of course, but she could make a pretty penny.”
Everyone stared at Miss Bingley, and Mr. Bingley asked her exactly how she had come by such information.
“Louisa told me,” said Miss Bingley, referring to their sister. “Mrs. Hurst discovered that one of the jewelers that she had visited was engaged in these practices. He would purchase stolen items of jewelry, reset the stones so that no one could recognize them, and resell them. They were usually stolen by members of the lower class – maidservants, manservants, and so on.”
They discussed this for a while, then Elizabeth inquired: “Yet is it certain, absolutely certain, that Hannah took Miss King’s jewels?”
“Who else could it be?” asked Mrs. Bennet. “She is the one who discovered the body. She is the one who had the opportunity. And as Miss King’s maidservant, Hannah would have known exactly where the jewels were kept.”
Kitty, however, raised some objections. “But, Mamma, you know that Mr. Philips and Mr. Selby did not find the jewelry or the case in Hannah’s room, so there is no actual proof. It seems that Mr. Selby gave the case to Miss King himself, so he would have recognized it, if it had been found.”
“So she hid it somewhere else,” said Mrs. Bennet. “With a friend, perhaps, or the men did not find it because they did not know how to search through a woman’s possessions.”
“Poor Hannah,” remarked Jane. “Even if she took the jewels, it may have only been out of concern for her future.”
Miss Bingley was appalled. “Jane, please! Your sweet nature does you credit, but how can you have sympathy for a thief?”
Mr. Bingley defended his wife. “We do not know that Hannah is a thief. She may have been falsely accused. And in that case, I also have sympathy for her, Caroline.”
Although Elizabeth rather agreed with Miss Bingley in her suspicion of the maidservant, Elizabeth was pleased to see her brother-in-law speak so warmly on the subject, especially in defense of his wife. She also recalled a prediction that her father had once made: that all the Bingleys’ servants would cheat them and hoped that, contrary to so much of her own experience, that Jane’s and Bingley’s confidence in the goodness of human nature would be justified. Then another idea occurred to her. “Was not Miss King having financial difficulties? Is it possible that she disposed of her jewelry and her case herself in order to raise cash?”
Mr. Bingley was particularly struck by this suggestion. The others, save Mrs. Bennet, conceded it was possible, but Mrs. Bennet raised objections. “And what could Miss King have spent her money on but jewelry and other fine things? She did not need her money to live on; she had a home with her uncle in Liverpool, and she had her grandfather’s house here. It would not make sense to sell what she had, presumably for less, in order to purchase other jewelry and fine things. Besides, Mr. Selby had made her a present of a jewelry case, and she was just about to marry him! Do you think Miss King would part with that?”
Elizabeth admitted that her mother had a point.
“I barely knew Miss King,” said Miss Bingley, in a tone that suggested that she did not regret this, “but others did, and they may be able to report the last time that they saw her wearing her favorite jewels – the earrings that you mentioned, Miss Kitty, or the cross?”
No one in the Netherfield drawing-room had met with Miss King recently enough to report on the jewelry that she had been wearing, but Kitty said that Maria Lucas might know more. “Those amber earrings were very elegant,” Kitty remarked. “I wonder how much a pair like those would cost. Do you know, Mamma?”
As Mrs. Bennet could not recall the earrings in question, she could not know, but she told Kitty that she would have to ask her father for the funds herself, unless she wanted to pay for them out of her allowance.
Elizabeth decided that the next time she wished to make a present to Kitty, she would remember to consider earrings as a possibility, while Miss Bingley raised her eyebrows at the tenor of the discussion.
Miss Bingley was fortunate. The clock on the mantelpiece sounded and Mrs. Bennet realized that if she wanted to be at Longbourn in time for dinner, that she needed to leave immediately – and besides, she could continue scolding Kitty on the way home, if she so chose. She ordered the carriage and then said: “I hope it becomes dry before my sister’s reception. You will attend, Lizzy, will you not? My sister is counting on you. Mr. Bennet and I will not be there, but Kitty and even Mary should be.”
Elizabeth confirmed that she had every intention of attending Aunt Philips’s party, while Jane said that she would attempt to go, but her condition sometimes made evening parties a little difficult. Miss Bingley simply smiled and said nothing. Mr. Bingley said that he had business up in London, business that unfortunately could not wait – even though he had been postponing it all week.
CHAPTER IX
The following day was dry. Mr. Bingley went up to London, on business that he wished to complete before the child was born. He would stay with his other sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.
The ladies of Netherfield Park gathered to wish him well before his journey.
“I am glad you are here while I am gone, Elizabeth. You are good company for Jane.”
“And what a
m I?” inquired his sister.
“You are also good company for Jane,” said her brother diplomatically. “Between the two of you, I expect to find her in perfect health upon my return – which should be some time tomorrow.”
Jane told him to give her love to Louisa, and told him to be careful. They stood on the steps and waved goodbye.
“Do you know what his business is?” Elizabeth inquired, as they returned inside.
“I assume that he is negotiating the purchase,” said Miss Bingley.
“Purchase? Of an estate? Where?” Elizabeth demanded.
“I thought Charles wrote to Darcy about it. Did Mr. Darcy not tell you?” inquired Miss Bingley, delighted by Elizabeth’s obvious ignorance in the matter. Elizabeth felt her cheeks redden.
But Jane explained. “Lizzy, you know that Charles has long planned to make a purchase, just as his father intended it before he died. There is an estate under consideration, but its purchase is by no means certain, as so many questions remain open – whether or not the heir will sell and whether or not we can come to terms. With negotiations so delicate, we have not wished to talk about it – what if Mamma were to learn that we wish to move? She would be seriously displeased, and possibly for naught.”
“I understand,” said Elizabeth, and she did, but she was not happy to learn that she had been excluded from the confidence in this matter while Miss Bingley had not. Then she mentally scolded herself for being so silly: Miss Bingley was living with Jane and Bingley, which meant that these negotiations could not be concealed from her even had they wished to do so. As for Bingley’s correspondence with Darcy on the subject, the details could have been so trivial as to not make Darcy mention it – or he could have assumed that Jane would have written on the subject and that Elizabeth’s knowledge was more complete than his. And Jane, naturally reticent, would be reluctant to write down her hopes when a matter was not a fait accompli. “Indeed I do,” she reiterated, with such warmth that she convinced her listeners and almost convinced herself.
Miss Bingley, disappointed that Elizabeth was not more disappointed, excused herself, while Elizabeth and Jane seated themselves in the drawing-room and Elizabeth asked for more information about the estate under consideration. Jane explained that Rushburn Manor was in a county that neighbored Derbyshire – Elizabeth exclaimed that it would be wonderful to have Jane so close – but that Jane was by no means so sanguine about the purchase.
“Could that be the reason behind Bingley’s bad temper?” asked Elizabeth. “Because he wishes to make the purchase, and because it seems unlikely to happen?”
Jane did not think so. “We told ourselves that we would not expect it, so if we are disappointed, we would not be downcast.”
“Jane, just because a person, even Bingley, declares that he will not be distressed by something, that does not mean that he really will not. The desire for self-command is admirable, but few achieve self-command easily, no matter how earnestly it is wished. Disappointment on this matter could distress Bingley more than you realize.”
Jane considered Elizabeth’s words. “I believe that you are correct in general, Lizzy, for I recall how difficult it was for me to master my own temper when I believed that Bingley did not love me.”
“Dear Jane! You were never ill-tempered.”
“But Rushburn Manor is not the only estate that is expected to be eligible soon. The London agent informed us that there were several families who plan to sell over the next few years. Finally, Bingley made it clear that his being out of sorts was due to something in the past, not the present or the future.”
Elizabeth doubted. She believed that a man could profoundly desire to purchase an estate before his children were born, and that such a desire could make him ill-tempered if thwarted. However, she said: “Your superior knowledge of your husband prevents me from disagreeing.”
Jane continued. “Besides, despite what Caroline says, I do not think that Bingley’s trip to London today has anything to with the purchase of Rushburn, for the agent informed us that he would be touring properties in the north during the next few weeks.”
Elizabeth was certainly open to the possibility that Miss Bingley could be wrong. She introduced another idea. “Perhaps he is arranging a surprise for you or the child.”
Jane appreciated this happy notion, although she thought it would be better if Bingley consulted her first. “Still, if it is not too extravagant I will not complain.”
The day was fine. Jane took a nap shortly after noon, so that she would have strength to go to the Philips’s that evening. “I grow fatigued so easily!” During that period both Miss Bingley and Elizabeth decided to walk in the Netherfield Park shrubbery. They had not intended to walk with each other but then they discovered they were both heading in the same direction, limited to a gravel walk by the mud in most of the paths. So they endured, somewhat unwillingly, a half hour together – even though Miss Bingley encouraged Elizabeth to overtake her if she wished. “Please, Eliza, if you wish to walk ahead, do not let my languid pace detain you.” But Elizabeth was a little fatigued herself – too many days without exercise, she thought – and they civilly conversed about the weather, the path, and new fashions. They were both happier when they returned to the house.
Although Miss Bingley had seemed perfectly well in the morning, by the time they needed to dress in order to go to Mr. and Mrs. Philips’s, she had developed a terrible headache. “I do not know what has overcome me,” she said. “Perhaps I took too much exercise.”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile, for their exertion had been very little, but Jane was sympathetic. “Of course, Caroline; you should stay home and rest. Lizzy and I will give your excuses to Mrs. Philips.”
“Miss Bingley has developed a most opportune headache,” said Elizabeth, after she and Jane were both settled in the Pemberley carriage.
“Yes, very convenient,” agreed Jane. “Except this morning I heard her tell her maid that there was no reason to prepare her evening dress, and that she certainly would not be leaving the house today.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“And I warned Nicholls this morning that she would most likely be expected to prepare Miss Bingley’s favorite supper this evening. You do not feel slighted, do you? Miss Bingley would not have enjoyed herself much at my aunt’s, whereas we will be with family. The hours which will fly by for us would seem long to her.”
Elizabeth assured her dearest sister that she was not the least offended by Miss Bingley’s choosing to stay at home. Why should she be affronted, when it was an arrangement that suited everyone? She remarked on its being a fine, warm evening, and the fact that the nearly full moon should guarantee them a safe journey home later.
CHAPTER X
Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley entered the Philips’s apartment. Elizabeth surveyed the scene, with the familiar furniture, and the mostly familiar people. The ladies were almost all the same that she had known her entire life, and, compared to the days of when the last regiment had been quartered in Meryton, the gentlemen were unremarkable, at least at first glance. The absence of redcoats to brighten the room was palpable. But Elizabeth had learned to mistrust her first impressions – after all, she had first been charmed and lied to by George Wickham in this very room – and so she resolved on caution in forming any judgments.
Mrs. Philips pushed her way through her other guests to welcome her nieces. She hastily found a comfortable place for Jane, and then proceeded to present Mrs. Darcy to everyone at her party. Elizabeth, by virtue of her marriage to a rich man, had become a person of importance. She was treated, even by some of those she had known her entire life, with as much fawning deference as her cousin Mr. Collins had always shown towards his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Elizabeth hoped this would not continue. She hoped, even more, that she would not acquire the autocratic manners of Lady Catherine, dictating to everyone and expecting them to dance attendance. Still, her presentation to the guests was a formality that had to b
e endured, for the sake of her aunt.
Her aunt presented her first to Mr. Henry Clarke, who had been hired by Mr. Philips only a few months ago. Mr. Clarke was a tallish man of average looks, and as a clerk, had only modest prospects. These qualities explained why Mrs. Bennet had never ranked him among the first tier of potential suitors.
Aunt Philips was less prejudiced against law clerks, however, for she had married her father’s law clerk, who, due to his marriage, had inherited the local practice and was now the leading attorney in Meryton. Mrs. Philips described Mr. Clarke as the best clerk Mr. Philips had ever had. “Mr. Philips quite depends on him,” she added, as the young man moved in their direction.
“Really? What makes him the best?” Elizabeth inquired.
But when asked to provide particulars of Mr. Clarke’s talents, Mrs. Philips was at a loss. She mumbled something about his handwriting being excellent and his always being on time – both important attributes in a law clerk, Elizabeth supposed.
“Mrs. Darcy, I am delighted,” Mr. Clarke said after Mrs. Philips made the introduction. “I have heard so much about you.”
“Have you?” Elizabeth had seen Mr. Clarke before, when he had been simply called Henry, but she had heard little about him.
“Indeed, I have. You were celebrated even before you became Mrs. Darcy – praised for your beauty and your wit. I can see that your beauty, at least, exceeds the praise; I look forward to experiencing your wit.”
Elizabeth wondered who had praised her, and then realized it must be her aunt or her uncle or both. Mr. Clarke, she decided, was also skilled at flattery – that might account for the high esteem in which he was held by Mr. and Mrs. Philips – and at least this young man was not intimidated by her elevated social standing.
They conversed several minutes, discussing commonplace topics such as the weather, travel and London. Elizabeth decided, in that short time, that she could not see him as a suitor for Mary, even though she was certain that Mary would value penmanship and punctuality. Mr. Clarke was quick, whereas Mary tended to be slow. Mr. Clarke would make a better match for Kitty – Elizabeth perceived that Mr. Clarke enjoyed society, as did Kitty – but she was still not certain if they had much in common.
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