Miss Bennet & Mr Bingley

by Fenella J Miller

Her uncle smiled at Jane. ‘Surely, my dear, you remember Mr Fox? He was forever at our door that spring that you and Lizzy came to stay.’

  Jane stared in bewilderment at this strange young man who appeared to know her. Who could he be? Surely she would remember someone so personable, after all she had not had so many beaus.

  ‘You do not recall me, do you Miss Bennet? I am Bertram Fox, we met when you were staying with Mr and Mrs Gardiner six years ago. I wrote you poetry.’

  ‘I do remember, forgive me, Mr Fox. You have changed out of all recognition, the only thing about your appearance that is similar is the colour of your hair.’

  He grinned, quite unabashed by her comment. ‘I must hope that you have forgotten the poetry, it was even worse than my youthful appearance. I can promise you I shall not be entertaining present company with anything I have written.’

  Jane remembered her sisters scathing comments about his verses. ‘I am relieved to hear you say so, such pastimes are best left to experts, such as Lord Byron, do not you think?’

  She held out her hand and he clasped it warmly. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Fox. I am in your debt. I do hope I did not hurt you when I fell.’

  He released her hand and bowed. ‘Miss Bennet, you certainly did not. I shall not detain you longer, I see that your carriage is waiting to take you home. Do I have your permission to call tomorrow to see how you do?’

  ‘I shall look forward to your visit, Mr Fox. I thank you most sincerely for saving my life.’

  Mr Fox bowed and stepped back onto the ice to glide back to join his party who were watching from a distance. Jane could not believe the small and insubstantial youth who had written her appalling poetry all those years ago could have metamorphosed into a charming and handsome young man.

  ‘I do not need to spoil everyone’s fun, I am quite content to sit here and watch the children enjoy themselves.’

  ‘Mr Gardiner is to remain behind with them, I shall accompany you home and then return to collect them.’

  ‘No, please, I am quite capable of travelling by myself.’

  Alone in the carriage Jane had time for reflection. Had this brush with mortality been a sign that she must move on with her life, be grateful that she had a life still to live? Whether it was a nudge from the Almighty, or not, she was determined to forget about her heartbreak and from now on make an effort to enjoy her visit to town.

  * * * *

  The following day Jane was waiting in the drawing-room when Mr Fox arrived. He seemed as charming as he had yesterday and soon she was conversing happily, giving him information about everyone at Longbourn. Naturally she did not mention Netherfield, or the reason she was staying in Cheapside on her own.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Fox, where did you get to? One minute you were writing me verses stating your undying adoration, the next you had vanished into space.’

  ‘I am afraid that I am not of independent means, Miss Bennet. My expectations are good, but I am at the beck and call of my grandmamma, it is from her that I shall inherit. I am sure you understand how these things work?’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I must dance to her tune whilst she is alive in order to live comfortably when she is not. I was called away by her, and by the time I returned you had gone home.’

  Jane thought this rather coldhearted. ‘But you are fond of your elderly relative? I cannot imagine there is not a serious attachment on both sides.’

  He smiled warmly. ‘I apologize, I must have sounded an unloving grandson. You are quite right, I could not bear to do as I do if I disliked her. She is a delightful, if demanding, old lady.’

  He stroked his waistcoat lovingly. ‘Do you know, she called me a popinjay when I appeared in this, and she gave it to me herself and I had only worn it to please her.’

  Jane giggled and took stock of the gentleman’s attire; his waistcoat was red and gold stripes, however, his jacket was bottle green and quite inoffensive, as were his inexpressibles and shiny Hessians. ‘I think her judgement a trifle harsh, sir, apart from your waistcoat there is nothing startling about your appearance.’

  Mr Fox grinned. ‘I must admit I have become inordinately fond of this lurid article, I love to see the shock on the faces of people when I turn round to greet them.’

  The morning call passed far quicker than Jane could have anticipated. When he departed he asked permission to call again the next day and she immediately agreed. He was delightful company, made no demands upon her, and was already a friend of the family. What harm could it do to get to know him and little better? For the first time in many weeks she had been able to forget her heartache. Her aunt and uncle were impressed with him too.

  ‘Could I ask you a special favour, I should be most grateful if you refrained from mentioning in your letters to Longbourn about my meeting Mr Fox again. I do not wish to raise unnecessary expectations; I am sure you know to what I refer.’

  ‘Of course, my dear girl, I fully understand your wish for discretion,’ said her aunt.

  But despite the need for discretion, Jane felt happier than she had in many days.

  The next morning Jane was woken by all four children who had escaped from the nursery in order to tell her some wonderful news. Lucy led her siblings, and was the one who shook Jane by the shoulder.

  ‘Jane, you must wake up, it is already past nine o’clock. We have something amazing to tell you.’

  Instantly alert, Jane pushed herself upright to be confronted by four eager little faces. ‘Good morning, children, I am tardy, that is quite clear. Now, what is it that could not wait until I came down?’

  The smallest child, Tommy, broke free of the restraining hands of Emily, who was, as second oldest, delegated to take charge of him. He dodged under Lucy’s outstretched arm and scrambled up onto the bed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘It’s snowing! It is, there’s lots and lots and lots.’

  ‘How exciting! I cannot wait to go out into the garden and build a huge snowman with you all. However, I think I might be cold if I came in my night gown.’

  Tommy squealed with glee. ‘Come, come, we don’t mind. You can put on your cloak and boots on top.’

  Lucy took charge. ‘Get down from that bed this instant, Thomas Gardiner. We have told Jane about the snow, now we must let her get ready.’

  Jane hugged the little boy and gently pushed him from the bed. ‘I have a favour to ask all of you, do you think you could do it for me?’ A chorus of assent greeted this question. ‘I should like you to run down and ask your mama, if I am not too late, if I may have toasted bread, tea and butter and honey for my breakfast.’

  The children scampered off eager to arrange her meal, they all knew that the sooner she breakfasted the quicker she would be outside playing with them. It was a long time since she had built a snowman and she was as eager as they to begin the task.

  Dressed warmly and armed with spades the intrepid party emerged into the rear garden to begin the construction. Jane had not been at there long when she heard her aunt calling her from the back door. She glanced round to see Mr Fox emerge with what looked like a basket of vegetables and old clothes under one arm.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Fox. You are most welcome here, I am unused to building snowmen. Let me introduce you to my cousins.’ Each child bowed or curtsied politely but then Thomas grabbed his hand.

  ‘What have you got there, sir? Are we having a picnic in the snow?’

  He dropped to a crouch, carefully placing the basket on the ground. ‘No, Thomas, my friend, here I have the garments this gentleman shall require as soon as he is finished. I also have a carrot for his nose and two onions for his eyes.’

  Jane watched him playing with the children, he was completely at ease in their company and very shortly her reserve dissipated and soon she was laughing as loudly as the children at his antics. When the snowman was complete she stood back to admire it whilst the children put on its muffler and cap.

  ‘I have so enjoyed this morning, Mr Fox. It was kind of you to give up your time to entertai
n the children.’

  ‘It was entirely my pleasure, Miss Bennet. I love children and I can see that you do to. However, my feet are solid and I am in need of a hot drink. I do hope my hard work merits such a reward?’

  ‘It does indeed, sir. Come along children, it is time to go in and get warm.’

  Elsie, their nursemaid, was waiting to collect them and whisked them back upstairs to get into dry garments. Her aunt was waiting to greet them both.

  ‘Mr Fox, I have mulled wine and hot soup waiting in the breakfast parlour. I do hope you can stay and join us?’

  Jane was pleased that he agreed, the more time she spent in his company the better she liked him. It was obvious that her aunt and uncle approved of him as well.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Darcy, I swear if I have to look at another statue or admire any more pictures I shall shoot myself,’ Charles cried flinging himself into an armchair. His spirits had been low ever since leaving Netherfield and although he had tried to fit in with his friend and put his gloomy thoughts behind him, enough was enough.

  ‘Good God! I had not realized how bored you were today; you disguised your feelings admirably.’

  ‘Georgiana was so happy to be there, I would not have dreamt of spoiling her pleasure in the occasion. She is a sweet girl, although she is rather too solemn. She rarely laughs out loud, and it was all I could do to prise the occasional smile from her.’

  ‘I expect she will grow out of her shyness; she enjoys your company, and I thank you for coming with us today. Now, let us go to our club.

  They went to White’s. They had no sooner settled themselves there when they heard the name Darcy spoken from an alcove behind them. Instantly alert, his friend sat up and deliberately eavesdropped on the conversation.

  ‘I believe that Miss Darcy is to make her come out next season; now she would be ideal for you, Winterton. She has an impeccable pedigree and over £100,000.’

  Charles recognized the speaker; it was an acquaintance of his, Lord Rivenhall. His companion answered immediately.

  ‘I do not take soiled goods, my friend. Did you not know I saw her last summer walking in Ramsgate, unchaperoned, and an officer from the militia with his arm around her waist. If she is already chasing officers, she will not do for me.’

  Darcy’s face blanched and his jaw became rigid. Charles knew what must come next. His friend stood up and stepped round to face the two gentlemen who had the temerity to slander his sister’s name. He addressed the man who had just spoken.

  ‘Sir, I overheard your comments. They are untrue and you will apologize immediately for casting aspersions on the good name of an innocent young lady.’ He glared down at the man slouched in his chair, waiting for the retraction.

  Slowly the gentlemen in question straightened until he was standing nose to nose with Darcy. ‘I retract nothing. I know what I saw. Are you calling me a liar, sir?’

  ‘I am. The lady is my sister, and I can vouch for her innocence. Such slander shall not be bandied abroad.’

  Rivenhall attempted to smooth the situation. ‘Darcy, I am sure there is an explanation. Lord Winterton is a friend of mine; he would not malign a lady unless he was certain of his facts. I expect it was not Miss Darcy he saw, but someone else entirely and it is a case of mistaken identity.’

  Winterton, a tall thin gentleman of aristocratic mean, shook his head vehemently. ‘I know what I saw. You shall apologize, Darcy, or name your second.’

  ‘I certainly shall not apologize. Mr Bingley shall stand for me. He will attend on you and the time and date can be arranged.’

  Lord Winterton nodded. ‘Very well, Rivenhall will you stand for me?’

  ‘Are you sure this is the best way to proceed, Winterton. Can the matter not be settled any other way?’

  ‘It cannot,’ Winterton said firmly.

  As they left the club, Charles recalled the dislike in which Darcy held Mr Wickham. His mouth became dry. Georgiana had indeed spent the summer in Ramsgate; had she become embroiled with Wickham and could this be what had caused the rift between this man and his friend?

  * * * *

  Two days after the building of the snowman Jane was eyeing the weather with disfavour. ‘Do you think it is going to snow again, Aunt Gardiner? Mr Fox is calling for me later in order to take me for a drive in the park. I shall be disappointed if we cannot go.’

  ‘The sky is overcast, but I do not think they are snow clouds overhead. If you wrap up warm, and put a hot brick at your feet, I am sure you shall come to no harm even if it does.’

  ‘In which case, I shall go at once and get ready.’ She paused at the door. ‘You were quite right to insist that I make more effort. I am beginning to feel more myself every day, the charming company of Mr Fox is expediting matters.’

  Muffled in extra clothing, including a red flannel petticoat that her aunt had produced from her own wardrobe, Jane scarcely recognized herself in the over mantel mirror. ‘Good gracious! I look quite stout dressed as I am. I do hope my strange appearance will not disappoint my escort.’

  Her aunt laughed. ‘I should think not, dressed in a flour sack you would still look lovely. It’s a great shame your pretty bonnet must be hidden under the hood of your cloak.’ A knock on the door heralded the arrival of Mr Fox.

  ‘I must not tarry, it is far too cold to keep his team standing.’

  A parlour maid already had the front door open and Jane ran lightly down the stairs. Mr Fox was waiting to hand her into his curricle.

  ‘Good day, Miss Bennet. I am glad to see you are well wrapped up, I should hate for you to be cold. You will observe that the unfortunate boy who was sent out with your hot brick is now obliged to hold the horses for me.’

  ‘I am sure you have given him recompense for his extra duties. I am so looking forward to this excursion, it is a long time since I have driven out with a gentleman.’ She smiled shyly as he assisted her on to the seat. ‘In fact, if I am strictly honest, apart from my father and uncle I have never been driven by a gentleman.’

  He chuckled as she hoped he would and by the time she had tucked herself under the rugs he was beside her, the ribbons in his hand.

  ‘It is not far to the park, and I doubt there will be many taking the air today. Have you ever driven, Miss Bennet?’

  ‘I have taken the gig around the neighbourhood on more than one occasion. It is something I always enjoy, but I must own, I prefer to be in the saddle them behind the horses.’

  ‘If the park is quiet, would you like to take the ribbons?’

  She viewed the spirited chestnut geldings who were tossing their heads and stamping their hooves in their impatience to be moving. ‘I should love to, but only if you think I am capable of controlling your team. Our docile mare is quite a different proposition to your animals.’

  Holding the reins was an exciting experience and she was sad when a group of riders and a few assorted phaetons, plus several curricles approaching meant she had to hand them to Mr Fox.

  ‘Thank you, that was a most enjoyable experience. Look, two of the riders are coming over to us, are they friends of yours?’

  ‘I am afraid that they are, would you object if I do not introduce you? I do not believe your aunt or uncle would wish you to be acquainted. They are a lively bunch, but harmless enough.’

  Jane felt a moment’s disquiet, but it was too late to complain as the men were upon them. She shrank back inside the protection of her hood and remained barely noticed, as the gentlemen exchanged pleasantries. She made an effort not to listen to their conversation but overheard something that filled her with trepidation. Surely Mr Fox would not be so foolish as to join in a race to Ryegate?

  Before she could voice her objections her companion snatched up the reins and flicked his whip. The horses sprang forward and she was forced to grip the side of the vehicle to avoid being tossed out.

  ‘Mr Fox, I do not wish to be involved in any races and especially not out of town. Driving unchaperoned in the pa
rk is quite acceptable, anything else is not.’

  He laughed and glanced across at her, his eyes glittering strangely. He was like a stranger to her, and she did not like what she saw. He ignored her protest and waved to his friends who were riding along beside. ‘Do not look so anxious, Miss Bennet, I’m an excellent whipster, you will come to no harm with me. It will be capital fun, my cronies have wagered a small fortune on the event. You shall be home before dark, never fear.’

  With that he turned his attention to his driving and she was left to hang on as best she could. At least it was small comfort to know she was unrecognizable inside her dark cloak. She had thought when she had first seen him this morning that Mr Fox, in his many caped driving coat, his beaver pulled down low over his eyes and his muffler tied several times round his neck looked a trifle rakish, but she had dismissed this as nonsense. She bitterly regretted her decision to accompany him.

  The first flakes of snow began to fall as he drove his curricle after the two phaetons, and Jane called out for him to stop but her words were whipped away by the wind. Too soon they had left the safety of London and were out into the countryside. The snow, after the first flurry, had stopped and the road was clear. The riders were ahead, the racing carriages almost out of sight. But a curricle pulled by matching greys edged closer. Jane’s heart skipped a beat. Surely the driver did not intend to overtake on such a narrow road? She screamed a warning and Fox looked round, to her horror, instead of giving way he slapped the reins and cracked his whip urging his team faster.

  Suddenly Jane found herself a passenger in a second race and knew it might end in disaster for one or both of the vehicles. Frantically she grabbed at his hands trying to make him give way, but he shook her off.

  ‘Relax, enjoy the experience, there are not many ladies who will have had the opportunity you’re getting. Concentrate on staying on the seat, I should hate you to the thrown out, I should not be able to stop and collect you until the race is over.’

  For a moment Jane thought he was serious, then he laughed at her shock, but did not rein back, in fact urged his team faster. Jane glanced sideways and froze, almost losing her grip. The curricles were racing wheel to wheel, the slightest error on either driver’s part and they would all be killed.