When Jane Got Angry

by Victoria Kincaid

  When Jane Got Angry

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Victoria Kincaid

  Copyright © 2018 by Victoria Kincaid

  Smashwords Edition

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter One

  Caroline Bingley is not my friend, Jane Bennet realized about five minutes into the woman’s visit at the Gardiners’ house. It was a startling realization. A disheartening one.

  Jane had called upon Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst at the Hursts’ house on Grosvenor Square not long after her arrival in London. With the reasonable expectation of a prompt return call, she had waited at home every morning for a fortnight, but Miss Bingley had not appeared until more than a month had passed. Even this slight Jane might have ignored if Miss Bingley had appeared at all pleased to continue the acquaintance—or at least penitent about her lateness—but the other woman had given only scant and insincere apologies.

  Although she should have been attending to the conversation, Jane instead was hearing the echoes of many conversations with her sister Elizabeth warning against believing in Miss Bingley’s regard. Jane struggled not to fidget in her chair as she recalled Lizzy’s words.

  Belatedly she realized the conversation had faltered to a stop. I must speak. But, heavens, what had Miss Bingley and Aunt Gardiner been discussing? Jane’s memory was entirely blank. “We are enjoying very fine weather,” she said hastily. Trite but unexceptionable.

  Aunt Gardiner blinked in surprise. Miss Bingley pursed her lips. “What has that to do with the fashion for long sleeves?” she sniffed.

  Jane shifted in her chair. “Er…well…it is pleasant to wear long sleeves in fine weather.” The palms of her hands were growing quite moist. What a terrible explanation!

  Miss Bingley shrugged disdainfully. “If you would call it ‘fine.’ It rained three days ago and ruined my slippers.”

  Aunt Gardiner gave Jane a sidelong glance as if to say, “This is your friend?”

  Jane raised her eyebrows in response, hoping to convey, “I may have been mistaken.”

  “It has been quite sunny and warm for the past two days,” Aunt Gardiner pointed out. “Particularly for February.”

  Miss Bingley flicked a bit of dust from her skirt. “Yes, unseasonably warm. One does not know whether to wear wool or linen or cotton. It is most disconcerting.”

  Her aunt rolled her eyes at Jane, who hid a smile. Was it even worth the effort of a polite conversation if a woman could complain about warm and sunny weather in February?

  Maggie, the Gardiners’ maid, set down a tea tray laden with biscuits on the drawing room table. Aunt Gardiner poured a cup and passed it to Miss Bingley, who took a tiny sip as if she expected they might have substituted dishwater for tea.

  Oh, good grief. Gracechurch Street might not be Grosvenor Square, but the Gardiners were hardly beggars in the streets. Even Maggie gave the visitor a scornful glance as she slipped from the room.

  Jane supposed she should share the maid’s disdain, but she could barely summon the energy for it. Every aloof look from Miss Bingley weighed on her, as if every time the other woman glanced at her, Jane grew smaller and more insignificant—until she was in danger of disappearing altogether. She had believed in Miss Bingley’s friendship, thinking her sincere, if a bit arrogant.

  Miss Bingley had been the one to solicit Jane’s company in Hertfordshire and treat her as the most intimate of friends. The complete alteration in the other woman’s demeanor was incomprehensible. Had Jane unwittingly given offense?

  No. Lizzy warned me. This is through no fault of mine. It was painfully clear her sister had been correct about Miss Bingley’s lack of regard.

  Her chest was hollow and achy; her eyes burned. Jane had not only lost a friendship, but she also had lost faith in her own discernment. What other errors in judgment have I committed?

  Had Jane been wrong about Mr. Bingley’s regard for her? She had hoped that an acquaintance with Miss Bingley would allow her to see the woman’s brother once more. However, if Miss Bingley is not my friend, I may never see Mr. Bingley again. The realization bore down on Jane, pinning her to her chair like an enormous weight.

  She tried to assemble a smile despite finding it difficult to breathe. Jane had slowly lost all hope of Mr. Bingley after he left Netherfield, but her arrival in London had rekindled those dormant embers. Now Miss Bingley’s disdain snuffed them out as completely as if they had been doused with water.

  The chances were never very good. Any hopes likely were in vain. This reminder did nothing to ease her breathing.

  Hitherto Jane had refrained from mentioning Mr. Bingley to his sister. She did not wish to appear overly solicitous of his company, particularly since Miss Bingley had spoken of his attentions to Miss Darcy.

  But now a spirit of reckless disregard took hold of her. If Miss Bingley indeed held Jane and her relations in such low esteem, perhaps the woman’s opinion did not signify at all. Jane might never see her again. “How is your brother enjoying London?” She heard the words issue from her lips, although she was still unsure from where she obtained the daring to express them.

  Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes as if unhappy that Jane dared to mention him. “He is quite well, thank you. I mentioned that you were residing in London, but he is much occupied with Mr. Darcy and his sister at the moment, or he might have called. He stays at Darcy House, you know.”

  He knows I am in London, and he has not called to pay his respects. Jane’s hands shook slightly where she clasped them in her lap, but she took pains to hide her discomposure. Drawing on her reserves of steadiness and her accustomed placidness of expression, Jane gave a bland smile. “How pleasant for them.”

  Miss Bingley’s smile revealed all her teeth. “Indeed. Charles is quite taken with Miss Darcy. I am extremely hopeful on that account.”

  Similar words in a letter had cut Jane deeply before, but now she wondered… If Miss Bingley had been deceiving Jane about her regard, perhaps she also been wrong about her brother’s affection for Miss Darcy.

  No, surely the woman could not be so awful. Would she actively work against her brother’s happiness? Nobody could be so cruel.

  And yet…Jane tried to observe Miss Bingley dispassionately. The other woman sat on the edge of the settee, as if she feared the entire piece of furniture were infected with fleas. As Aunt Gardiner attempted to engage the woman in conversation, Miss Bingley almost completely ignored her.

  Perhaps Miss Bingley was capable of scheming against Jane. Lizzy had proven correct about many other assertions about the woman. But how could Jane ascertain the truth? Without an opportunity to meet Mr. Bingley, it seemed a hopeless business.

  And yet…Jane was not quite ready to concede defeat. What would Lizzy do in such circumstances? Surely Lizzy would not simply surrender.

  Aunt Gardiner and Miss Bingley had reached a lull in their conversation. Imagining herself as Lizzy, Jane stepped in
to the breach. “You said Mr. Bingley was much taken with Miss Darcy.”

  “Y-Yes,” Miss Bingley said uncertainly.

  “Then I suppose they have danced at balls? Taken carriage rides together? Has he purchased her flowers?” A secret thrill pulsed through her body. Jane Bennet would not have been so bold, but Jane-as-Lizzy could be.

  Miss Bingley squirmed in her seat and coughed. “I…um…I do not believe things have proceeded quite so far. He did dance with her at the Harringtons’ dinner. But she is not out yet, so she does not attend balls.”

  Aunt Gardiner seized on this information. “Not out? Did Mr. Bingley secure permission from Mr. Darcy to court his sister?”

  Miss Bingley’s hands fidgeted in her lap. “I do not believe there has been any formal…”

  When Miss Bingley’s voice faded, Aunt Gardiner continued, “Miss Darcy is full young to be considering matrimony already. Does her brother approve?”

  Miss Bingley pulled herself to her full height and regarded the other woman disdainfully. “I have not discussed the subject with Mr. Darcy.”

  “But you have seen them together? Observed your brother’s partiality?” Jane said, feeling a bit giddy. Even Lizzy would not have been so bold.

  “I have not had the pleasure of observing them together very often,” Miss Bingley admitted. “But they have been much thrown together at Darcy House…I believe.”

  Aunt Gardiner regarded Jane with a triumphant expression. Indeed, Miss Bingley’s stammering explanations suggested that she may have manufactured much or all of her brother’s interest in Miss Darcy.

  Miss Bingley pulled her reticule into her lap with an irritated sniff, standing abruptly. “I am afraid it is past time for my departure. Louisa is expecting me to attend her for a bit of shopping.”

  Neither Aunt Gardiner nor Jane observed that Miss Bingley’s visit had lasted less than ten minutes. Both women rose to escort their guest to the door.

  “It was very good of you to spare the time for a visit,” Jane’s aunt said. “Perhaps our paths will cross again in London.”

  “Perhaps.” Miss Bingley’s lips were so firmly pursed that the words could barely emerge.

  They exchanged goodbyes as Miss Bingley all but fled from the Gardiners’ home. Then Jane and her aunt silently returned to the drawing room, where Maggie was cleaning up the tea set and biscuits.

  “I do not believe we should expect another visit from Miss Bingley,” Aunt Gardiner commented, smoothing the folds of her skirt.

  Jane sighed. “I realize now I was completely mistaken in her regard for me.”

  Her aunt nodded. “Likewise, her declarations of her brother’s devotion to Miss Darcy appear to be rather wish than reality.”

  “Perhaps.” The nervous energy that had sustained Jane for the visit suddenly deserted her, and she sank wearily into the cushions of the settee.

  “Unfortunately, Miss Bingley is one of the foremost gossipmongers in the ton,” her aunt warned. “She may have used you ill, but it still behooves you to remain on friendly terms with her.”

  “You need not worry on that account, Aunt. I remain on friendly terms with everyone.” She did not have the kind of resentful temperament that clung to real or imagined slights.

  “Of course.” Her aunt resumed her needlework but set it down after only a moment. “You must consider the possibility that Miss Bingley never told her brother of your visit.”

  Jane gasped. “Surely she would not—! That would be terribly wrong of her!”

  “Yes, but I do not believe the woman has dealt honestly with you, Jane.”

  Nausea roiled Jane’s stomach. “I suppose I must consider that.”

  Perhaps Mr. Bingley remained unaware of her presence in London. And perhaps the thought should give Jane a glimmer of hope, but the effect was the same. He might not be avoiding her deliberately, but she would never see him. London was too large to hope for a coincidental encounter. Even if he felt something more than indifference toward her, Jane would never know.

  Her eyes burned, but she bit her lip against shedding any tears. She had wept over Mr. Bingley enough.

  Chapter Two

  Much to Jane’s distress, Mr. Bingley still occupied her thoughts that night while Maggie helped her out of her day gown and into her nightrail. She looked forward to the silence of her bedchamber so she could give way to her feelings in solitude, and yet Maggie lingered. “Did you need something, Maggie?” she asked.

  At seventeen or eighteen years of age, Maggie was young to have such a responsible position. The Gardiners employed a housekeeper, a cook, a manservant, and a nurse for their four children. With such a small staff, the sole maid had a great deal of responsibility for cleaning, serving, and caring for Mrs. Gardiner and any female visitors. In a larger household, Maggie would have been a scullery maid, with the hopes of someday becoming an upstairs maid or housekeeper.

  Despite her youth, Maggie went about her duties with diligence and good humor. She was more prone to talking back or making cheeky remarks than most servants Jane had met, and she insisted on being called by her given name. But Aunt Gardiner seemed to be charmed by the girl’s impertinence.

  Aware of Jane’s scrutiny, the girl dipped her head but made no move to depart. “Begging your pardon, miss.” The girl bit her lip. “But are you, perhaps, sweet on Mr. Charles Bingley?”

  Jane’s eyebrows shot upward. Her mother would have chastised a servant for such forwardness. Not that Jane was surprised the maid had guessed the truth; servants were always eavesdropping and sharing gossip. But never had a servant asked Jane about her personal life.

  Recognizing Jane’s shock, Maggie started backing toward the door. “I’m sorry, miss! I shouldn’t have said anything. Never you mind—”

  The maid clearly had images of being sacked for her impertinence, but Jane was not so easily offended. She held out her hand in a reassuring gesture. “It is quite all right, Maggie. I was merely surprised. What prompted the question?”

  The girl’s hands twisted in her apron as she considered for a moment before speaking. “Well, I noticed what you and Mrs. Gardiner were saying today…and I couldn’t help but overhear some of what Miss Bingley said….”

  Jane was tempted to smile. She imagined that Maggie’s “overhearing” was not particularly inadvertent. “Miss Bingley did seem out of spirits today.”

  Maggie made an indignant noise. “She was awful, that Bingley woman. If my friend treated me in such a way, I would give her the back of my hand.”

  Jane could not quite picture it. “That would have shocked Miss Bingley,” she said.

  Maggie gestured wildly. “I don’t know how you stay so calm about it. Me, I’d be spitting mad by now. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Suddenly the accumulated tension of the day caught up with Jane; her legs could barely support her. Sinking onto the stool of the dressing table, she caught a glimpse of her drawn face in the mirror.

  Many other women would be angry, Jane supposed. Lizzy. Lydia. Her mother. But Jane was the sister who did not make a fuss. She did not demand. She did not protest. Papa called her “the quiet one.” Jane could be counted upon to bring Mama her tea when she had an attack of nerves. Or to mediate any dispute between Kitty and Lydia. To remain calm no matter what happened. That was who she was.

  Even when your friend was revealed to be false.

  Of course, none of this could be shared with the maid. “Are you at all acquainted with Miss Bingley?” Perhaps Maggie had heard some rumors; Jane could conceive no other reason to raise the subject with her.

  “No, miss. Not at all. But I am acquainted with Mr. Bingley’s valet, Joseph. That is to say, Mr. Harvey.” The girl colored faintly. She had red hair and the very pale skin that often accompanied it.

  Jane felt a faint spark of hope, although she did not know how Maggie’s acquaintance might benefit the lowly Miss Bennet. “I see.”

  “Miss Bingley gives her brother a world of trouble. He has
complained about her to Joseph.”

  “Do you know if Miss Bingley encouraged her brother to leave Netherfield?” The words were out before Jane could have second thoughts. She should not be gossiping with her aunt’s maid, but the question was one she often had wondered about—and it was such a relief to share her woes with a sympathetic listener. Aunt Gardiner attended to Jane’s anxieties, but she was very busy with her children—and often inclined to give advice about “forgetting” Mr. Bingley. Jane did not believe such a feat was possible.

  “I don’t know, but I can ask.”

  Jane said nothing, torn between her need to learn the truth and her quite proper desire to avoid gossip.

  She caught another glimpse of her wan reflection in the mirror. What did it signify? “No, it matters not. My path and Mr. Bingley’s are unlikely to cross again.”

  Maggie’s reflection—standing behind Jane’s—frowned. “Why is that?”

  “We do not run in the same circles, and Miss Bingley seems inclined to discontinue the acquaintance.”

  Maggie shook her head, making her red curls bounce. “Och, people of quality make everything so hard. If I liked a fellow, I would just go up and knock on his door.”

  Jane stifled a laugh. “Would that it were so simple.”

  Emboldened, Maggie stepped a little closer to Jane and lowered her voice. “I could ask Joseph about Mr. Bingley’s schedule so you might find him and speak with him.”

  Jane gave the maid a sad smile. “I thank you for the offer, but I could not possibly approach Mr. Bingley. It would be unpardonably forward.”

  “But if you was to know where Mr. Bingley would be, you could arrange to encounter him—all accidental like—with him none the wiser.” Such deviousness would never have occurred to Jane. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Maggie. “Like, if he was riding in Rotten Row one day, you could be, too,” the maid clarified.

  “I do not own a horse,” Jane said softly.

  Maggie waved this objection away. “That was just an example. He could be going any number of places. Gentlemen like him do, you know.”