Implacable Resentment

by Jann Rowland

  “And if Mr. Darcy is involved . . .”

  “Then she might have a chance of actually having the marriage annulled,” finished Sarah. “He certainly has the standing and social clout to enable him to bring it to the church’s attention.”

  It did make a certain amount of sense, though Gardiner was still struggling to understand Sarah’s comments about Mr. Darcy’s supposed interest in Elizabeth. Though Elizabeth was a gentleman’s daughter, an alliance with her would be less than what society expected of a man of Mr. Darcy’s stature.

  “In that case, we had best continue our preparations to depart,” said Gardiner. “I feel a sudden desire to have an urgent discussion with my brother.” The contempt with which he referred to Bennet seemed to be matched by his wife. Or exceeded, if anything. But Sarah stayed focused on the important part.

  “And find Elizabeth. I wish we had not left her there.”

  “We will not make that mistake again,” replied Gardiner, taking her hands in his. “Until then, let us make certain to depart as soon as we can. It is time we returned.”

  Chapter XXII

  “No, Caroline, I shall not give way!” cried Bingley, standing and staring down at his sister with considerable pique. The breakfast table between them lay forgotten like so much dross. “I have proposed and given my word. I shall not back out now!”

  “But Charles—” exclaimed Caroline, her anger rising to meet his own.

  “No!” said Bingley. Lowering his voice and glaring at her, he told her, “Listen to me, Caroline. I will not have this discussion again. If you cannot stay silent, then I shall send you to Aunt Esther. Now, leave off!”

  Throwing down his napkin, Bingley stalked from the table. He headed for the entrance and called for his horse once he had exited the house.

  Outside, a blustery wind whipped about, its dreariness a match for Bingley’s mood sour mood. The ten days since Jane Bennet had accepted his hand had been difficult ones for a number of reasons. The fact that it was still not official had given Caroline ammunition to use against him, and her never-ceasing haranguing on the subject had worn on his nerves until he had finally snapped that morning. Of course Caroline would be the catalyst for such an unusual outburst.

  Within moments, his horse was saddled, and he began riding over the parched and windswept fields to Longbourn—and hopefully to the final sanction of his engagement.

  If Bingley was to be honest with himself, he was annoyed with the world and Jane Bennet as well, though such an emotion could not stand in the face of her intrinsic goodness. And Miss Bennet was indeed everything which was good. But her request on the night of the ball—though understandable due to what she endured in her home on a daily basis—had turned Bingley’s life into a nightmare of sorts. Not only had Caroline used the opportunity to badger him concerning the engagement—her latest inanity that morning had been to try to convince him that Jane was reluctant because she did not know how to tell him that she actually did not want to marry him—but he had also put off some business in London due to the fact that he did not wish to leave Miss Bennet behind. He feared Mr. Bennet would promise her to some other sycophant relation during his absence.

  He knew that Miss Bennet herself was not to blame. She had wished to keep their engagement a secret between them, as she was afraid of her mother’s reaction; given what Bingley knew of Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet had every reason to dread the histrionics which were certain to ensue. But the time had now come.

  Longbourn was the same as Bingley had left it the previous day. The estate was silent other than the sounds of animals in the distance, and Bingley thought it likely that Mr. Bennet was still keeping to himself in his bookroom, a hermit steadfastly refusing the company of those around him. Given the quietness, Bingley suspected that Mrs. Bennet was away from home; otherwise, he would likely have heard the woman during his approach to the manor.

  A few minutes later, Bingley was walking the grounds in the company of his angel, her sisters Miss Catherine and Miss Mary following them at a respectful distance, acting as chaperones. As they walked, Bingley listened to Miss Bennet’s conversation, which usually enthralled him, with only half an ear while he tried to determine exactly how to convince her that it was time to formalize the engagement.

  “Miss Bennet,” said Bingley, stopping to gaze into her beloved face. “Jane. I would like to formalize our engagement as soon as possible.”

  She looked at him and nodded. “Though I would almost wish to keep it from my mother indefinitely, I believe it is time.”

  Bingley returned her smile with a grin of his own; apparently, he had not needed to concern himself with her ultimate agreement. But he was curious all the same. They began to walk again, and Bingley said:

  “I know I have not much to offer, but surely you do not think your mother will disapprove of our engagement.”

  Miss Bennet glanced up with wild eyes before she noted his grin and returned it with one of her own. “You shall simply have to be persuasive since you are so poor a suitor.” She sighed and then chuckled. “Of course, it is much more likely that she will frighten you away than disapprove of you.”

  A chuckle escaped Bingley’s lips, but though Miss Bennet’s words were stated in a lighthearted fashion, there was an underlying tension in her manner which told Bingley that her words were not made entirely in jest.

  “I assure you that nothing can drive me away,” said he, looking at Miss Bennet with an earnestness of manner, trying to reassure her of his constancy. “Your mother may shout her acclaim from the rooftops for all to hear between here and London, and I shall not go away.”

  “Perhaps you should reserve your judgment until she has shown us off to every family in the neighborhood,” said Miss Bennet with a playfulness of manner he would have attributed to her younger sister.

  “Perhaps I should!” said Bingley in like fashion. But then the thought of what lay before him sobered him, and he turned to Miss Bennet. “I will approach your father this instant. Have you any suggestions on how I might make my application?”

  “I do not.” She sighed, and the grimace of lingering pain appeared before his eyes. “I do not understand my father. I never have. But given how he has behaved since Elizabeth went away, I doubt he will oppose you.”

  Bingley could only nod. A few moments later, they had returned to the house, and Bingley stood before her father’s door, contemplating what he would say to the man. He would brook no refusal on the matter, but he also knew that there was every possibility that the coming discussion would not be pleasant. Still, it had to be done.

  After rapping on the door sharply, Bingley was forced to wait, as there was no immediate response. It was only after he knocked a second time that he heard a voice from within demanding to know what he wanted. He decided that it was permission enough, and he opened the door and walked in.

  The sight that met him shocked Bingley to silence. Mr. Bennet stared at him through eyes sunken in a face which appeared weathered and worn. The man appeared to have aged substantially in just the few days since Bingley had seen him last, and as he gazed at the man he would have as a father-in-law, Bingley was struck with a certain dark satisfaction. Given the scarlet-lined eyes, the unfocused stare, and the lined, careworn face, he fancied that Mr. Bennet was paying for his sins in a most painful manner. A haunted conscience was no small burden.

  “What do you want?” was the man’s demand as Bingley stepped into the room.

  There was not much point in belaboring the matter. “I am here to ask for the hand of your eldest daughter in marriage,” said Bingley in a tone which demanded attention.

  Mr. Bennet peered up at him as if confused. He then shook his head slightly and turned away, rubbing his eyes as if he had not slept in a fortnight. “And I suppose you have already applied to Jane for her consent?”

  “I have,” confirmed Bingley. “Miss Bennet has done me the singular honor of accepting and making me the happiest of men.”

 
A snort escaped the elder gentleman, and Bingley stared at him in anger.

  “My cousin said that phrase to me over and over,” said Mr. Bennet, though Bingley wondered if the man even remembered that someone else was in the room. “I wonder how he feels about the matter now. She cannot be making it easy on him, I think.” He laughed then, though it was a sound which Bingley could only liken to the fraying of a rope to the point of snapping.

  It was best not to allow Mr. Bennet to continue to think of that situation, much though Bingley wished to give the man a piece of his mind.

  “Have I your blessing, Mr. Bennet?” prompted he.

  “I do not know what you think you might have done to punish yourself in such a fashion,” said Mr. Bennet, “but if you truly want to enter the married state, then you have my permission. I have two conditions.”

  Frowning, Bingley motioned for Mr. Bennet to continue, though the man was not even watching him. It did not matter.

  “First, you will leave this room and never return to it. Second, you will make the announcement to Mrs. Bennet without my presence. I do not wish to be subjected to the raptures of my wife,” his voice liberally oozed with contempt, “on the subject.”

  Bingley was affronted for Mrs. Bennet’s sake. He had no great opinion of her, and he was well aware that her ways could indeed be trying. But Mr. Bennet had married the woman, presumably with the full knowledge of her character. He was not an unintelligent man, after all. For a man to treat his wife with such contempt was so completely unpardonable that he almost wished to take Mr. Bennet to task.

  But there was nothing to be done about it. Speaking out in her defense would not bring the man to any repentance; he was much too far gone for that.

  “I will announce it to your wife when I return to the sitting room. Is that sufficient?”

  Mr. Bennet merely took up his brandy decanter and waved Bingley from the room. Bingley was only too glad to escape.

  He took a moment outside in the hall to compose himself. It was well that he would be removing Miss Bennet from the house, as it was obvious that Mr. Bennet had no desire to protect his daughters, if indeed he ever had. Some thought would need to be taken for the welfare of the other girls, and Bingley resolved to Darcy when the opportunity arose.

  Squaring his shoulders, Bingley marched toward the sitting room where his beloved waited. Miss Bennet caught his eyes as soon as he entered the room, and though Mrs. Bennet—who had returned in the interim with her youngest and silliest daughter in tow—immediately cried out at the sight of him, he smiled and nodded slightly at Miss Bennet, seeing her sag in relief.

  “Mrs. Bennet,” said Bingley, interrupting her before she could speak more than a syllable or two, “I have an announcement to make.”

  Mrs. Bennet did not even allow Mr. Bingley to say anything further. She screeched and launched herself at Miss Bennet, showering her with affection and exclamations of rapture and satisfaction about how important her daughter would be and claiming foreknowledge of the event. It was a most boisterous and happy celebration, and Bingley himself was the focus of much of it, excited as Mrs. Bennet was that her ambition had now been realized. It amused him and almost made him want to like the woman, for all her improper exclamations.

  When they finally were able to calm Mrs. Bennet, she immediately tendered an invitation to dinner which Bingley was forced to decline. Louisa and Caroline would need to be told of this development, and due to the snit Caroline had been in lately, Bingley decided it would do no good to delay.

  “But Mr. Bingley!” Mrs. Bennet fairly shrieked. “Surely you can spare us an evening for such a momentous occasion. If you would but tell me your favorite dishes, I shall have cook prepare them in your honor!”

  “Another time, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Bingley. It was clear that he would need to be firm with this woman. Miss Bennet, though she was certainly not weak, was so self-effacing and good that he could well imagine her deferring to her mother in fear of offending her.

  “But Mr. Bingley—”

  “Mama, Mr. Bingley has said he must go,” interrupted Miss Bennet. “He must announce our engagement to his sisters as soon as may be.”

  Perhaps there was more steel than Bingley had expected in his future wife. He caught her eye with an admiring look, relishing the fact that she blushed slightly before returning one of her own.

  “Then you must come tomorrow,” said Mrs. Bennet, stubbornly refusing to desist.

  In this, Bingley decided that he could afford to be generous with the woman. Regardless of what he thought of these people, they would be family, and he needed to establish the fact of their intimacy at the earliest opportunity. He could take stock of the situation at a later date and determine then whether to maintain any kind of relationship with them.

  “I will speak with my sisters when I return, Mrs. Bennet. I do not believe we have any fixed engagement scheduled for tomorrow, but I will confirm our attendance with a note.”

  His acquiescence spurred Mrs. Bennet on to ever greater frenzied fluttering, such that it was several more minutes before he was able to extract himself. When he finally insisted that he must depart, he was walked to the door by his angel amid her mother’s assertion that Miss Bennet must see her newly minted fiancé to the door. Though Bingley might have been offended on her behalf had the circumstances been different, he took it in stride, as it corresponded nicely with his own wishes in the matter.

  “I wish I was coming with you,” said Miss Bennet as she walked by his side to the door.

  “Just remember that your day of release approaches, Miss Bennet,” replied he. “But enough of this formality. As we are now engaged, I should like to call you ‘Jane,’ if you are in agreement.”

  She blushed a pretty rose color, but she nodded her head in shy agreement. Bingley was delighted. “And I expect you to call me Charles.”

  “I will, Charles.”

  “There is one more thing I wish to discuss with you,” said Bingley, his earlier thoughts returning to him. They reached the outer entrance and stepped out onto the portico, where a groom was waiting with Bingley’s horse. Bingley stopped Jane with a motion and paused to look into her eyes. “I am afraid for your sisters. They are left in the care of a woman with little sense and a man who seems intent upon killing himself with drink.”

  Jane sighed. “I am worried, too, particularly for Lydia and Kitty, though Lydia is headstrong and determined to walk her own path. With my mother encouraging her every step of the way, she will eventually do something to embarrass the family.”

  “Then we shall invite them to London to stay with us as soon as is practicable. Perhaps Lydia can be instructed on the proper way for a young lady to behave while there.”

  Turning to him, her eyes shining with emotion, Jane said: “You would do that for my sisters?”

  “Jane, they are soon to be my sisters. And I am certain that Darcy could be persuaded to assist as well. If we promise Lydia balls and parties, then I am certain she will be eager to accept and will feel equally loath to return to Hertfordshire.”

  “But that will leave my mother by herself,” fretted Jane.

  “With all due respect,” began Mr. Bingley carefully, wishing to state his opinion but not offend his fiancée, “Mrs. Bennet has, by her treatment of your sister, brought this upon herself. She and your father both have.”

  “I understand, Mr. Bingley. But the dutiful daughter in me tells me to honor my mother, regardless of the pain she has dealt in this life to my dearest sister.”

  “And it does you credit. But the person being so honored must conduct themselves in such a manner as to deserve that honor first.”

  “You are right, of course.” Jane paused and turned to look out across the drive, a pensive frown on her lovely face. “But if my mother should make amends . . . then we must forgive her and take her back into our society.”

  “If her amendments are undertaken in a sincere fashion.” Putting his hand to her chin, Bingley gen
tly turned her head until she was once again facing him. “Jane, I have no desire to slight your mother. But I have a very high opinion of your sister, and though I do not know her well, the fact that Darcy thinks so highly of her speaks volumes.

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy is not in the habit of brooking disappointment.” Bingley paused and laughed at his own words; they sounded dreadfully pompous. “I have never known Darcy to give up merely because an endeavor was difficult. I fully expect to learn that he has managed to free your sister from her predicament, and when he does, I expect they will marry. I would always wish for your sister to be comfortable in our home, and I would give her precedence over your mother. I do not know the details, but I suspect that it is not your sister who is to blame for this distance between her and your parents. Am I correct?”

  Jane nodded, though she was clearly unhappy about having to agree to such a critical assessment of her mother.

  “Miss Bennet,” began Bingley with compassion, “I understand your reluctance to speak of any censure of your mother, and it does you credit. Again, I do not know the details of this matter which your parents hold against your sister, but their behavior is not proper, regardless of who is culpable for whatever misfortune has befallen your family.”

  Straightening, Jane looked up at him with resolve. “You are correct, of course.”

  “In that case, we are decided. Once we are married, we shall attempt to be of use to your sisters.”

  “Thank you.” Her words were quiet, but they were also infused with feeling, and Bingley was pleased to bask in the approbation of his beloved.

  In a few moments, Bingley took his leave, happy with the way the day had gone. He was now engaged to his angel, and they were in agreement about their future efforts for her sisters. Now, he was only left to inform his own.

  As Bingley was riding away from Longbourn, he passed by the church and happened to notice that someone was entering. The man’s clothes indicated he was a cleric, and he almost appeared to be on official business.