by J P Christy
“Happily,” Elizabeth replied and followed her aunt.
“What did you think of the Scotts? Did you find the gentlemen to be at all intimidating?”
“No,” Elizabeth said, surprised.
“Of course, you may not be the best frame of reference, as very little intimidates you.”
“Jane seemed rather quiet, but if something is on her mind, she has not confided in me. I am aware the Bingleys cut her. While one never wishes to be snubbed, it is particularly insulting to be snubbed by someone whom one did not like in the first place.”
“I thought Jane had a fondness for Mr. Bingley.”
“Yes, well, I am speaking of his sisters, Caroline and Louisa.”
“I cannot say whether the Bingley ladies’ unkindness still devils her. Tonight, however, she seemed unusually quiet. Before you came, your sister was more willing to share her opinions.”
“Jane is an intelligent lady, but apparently I am too opinionated by half,” Elizabeth said.
Mrs. Gardiner patted her niece’s hand. “Jane needs to speak up for herself, if for no other reason than to accustom herself to the sound of her own voice.”
“Well, at events such as tonight’s dinner, I shall make a point of not answering until Jane has had her say.”
≈≈≈
From his study at Longbourn, Mr. Bennet could hear a lovely melody played softly on the pianoforte in the parlor; the style of playing made him think of his absent daughters. Did Lizzy and Jane arrive early from London? Surely, they would have come to greet me.
When Mr. Bennet went to the parlor, he was surprised to see Mary there alone. When she finished the song, he crossed to her and kissed the top of her head. “That was lovely, my dear.”
“I performed this song in just this style for Lady Lucas today. She said it was the best she had ever heard me play.”
“Your music was very soothing; I suspect Lady Lucas thought so, as well. How is her health?”
“Is it possible that headaches and nervous flutterings can be transmitted from one person to another? From Mama to Lady Lucas?” Mary asked in all seriousness.
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “If that were the case, would not everyone in our home be afflicted?”
“I suppose so.”
Mr. Bennet gestured for Mary to make room on the piano bench, and he sat. “I visited the Laidlaw family today. Mrs. Laidlaw’s nephew arrived recently.”
“So I have heard. Does he seem like a useful sort of boy?”
“Young Allen Ainsworth was pleasant and serious, although perhaps he assumed this demeanor because he was meeting the Great Lord of Longbourn,” Mr. Bennet said in sonorous tones. “But I would not call him a boy; he is at least twenty. He has just been ordained, but does not yet have a parsonage, which is why he is free to help his aunt’s family.” At Mary’s surprised look, he patted her hand. “Well, well, it seems your old father has stolen a march on you with this particular bit of gossip. I give you leave to dream of the young man.”
Shyly, Mary asked, “How does he look?”
“He’s no Mr. Collins,” her father joked, for the parson was a plain and pudgy fellow. “Ainsworth has ginger hair and a sturdy build. He is not so tall as Mr. Laidlaw, but he is just as pleasant. And were you to marry the fellow, your children’s appearance would not be an embarrassment.”
Mary blushed. “You are teasing me.”
“Indeed not. Should you marry Mr. Ainsworth and have his children, they would be perfectly reasonable in their looks. As for their manners, that is your responsibility—and I sincerely wish you good luck, for such an endeavor is far more difficult than you can imagine! Now, it is nearly nine o’clock—time you were abed.”
≈≈≈
Georgiana had scarcely spoken to Darcy since he had forbidden her to meet Elizabeth; thus, the afternoon teas he had enjoyed with his sister and Mrs. Annesley had not occurred since Saturday. On Monday night, Darcy attended his third ball in ten days, and he was in no mood for it. Was I wrong to forbid Georgiana to go to Cheapside? Fitz could have escorted her, and they could have conveyed my regrets and said I was busy. No, Elizabeth would have instantly seen such excuses as a lie. I am simply not ready to face her.
Darcy was not of a mind to dance or play cards; nor did he wish to return home. As he lingered near the refreshment table, uncertain what to do, a familiar female voice interrupted his thoughts. “We were just speaking of you, sir!”
Darcy gave a stiff bow when he realized he was facing Caroline Bingley, her sister Louisa, and Louisa’s husband, Clive Hurst. “How do you do? I do not see Charles in your party. Is he well?”
“My brother is always well. We Bingleys are blessed with healthy constitutions,” Caroline said, smiling. At one time, Darcy had considered this slender, fashionable woman to be attractive, but he had quickly discovered there was little in her that was sincere or kind. He did not fault Caroline for her ambition to rise above her family’s history in trade. But the way in which she went about it—her excessive praise of himself and his sister and her dismissive attitude toward any whom she thought beneath her—did her no credit. It was a mystery to Darcy how such an amiable man as Bingley had such an unpleasant sister.
“Charles is in Derwent,” Louisa said.
“Still? Is there some problem with the mills?”
“Charles has been blue-deviled for some months if you ask me,” Clive said. Caroline’s scowl at her brother-in-law was a reminder that no one had asked him; it was no secret she thought him an indolent man who lived only to eat, drink, and play cards.
“And how was Rosings, Mr. Darcy?” Caroline asked. “You are quite devoted to your family, sir. It is one of the qualities we admire most in you.”
Louisa nudged her sister with her fan. “Look, Caroline, sets are forming for the next dance.”
Glancing at Darcy, Caroline lowered her chin and regarded him in a flirtatious manner. Groaning inwardly, he offered his hand. “May I have the pleasure, Miss Bingley?”
“The pleasure is all mine, sir,” she said, taking his hand.
On that, we agree, he thought as he led her to the dance floor.
≈≈≈
May 7, 1811
Over breakfast in Cheapside on Tuesday, Mr. Gardiner asked his nieces, “So, off to Longbourn tomorrow—are you eager to be home and learn the news that never got put into a letter?”
“For those things, yes, and to see my sisters,” Elizabeth said.
“And Mama and Papa,” Jane said.
“Oh, Jane, I predict a difficult few days with Mama. You have returned without a fiancé, and I was a guest in the home of our cousin whose proposal I declined.”
“Muriel was not always so distracted. Your modest dowries and the entailment that will take Longbourn away when your father passes weigh heavily on her. I hope you know your Uncle Phillips and I will not allow you to be thrown into the hedgerows,” Mr. Gardiner said, quoting Mrs. Bennet’s favorite lament.
Mrs. Gardiner added, “As it is your parents’ responsibility to see you well-settled, your mother is understandably concerned.”
“She makes us feel that being married is more important than whom we marry.”
“Do you recall, Lizzy, what you told me when you had been out in Meryton society for little more than a year—you were not yet eighteen, I believe. You said only the deepest love would entice you to marry,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “And Jane concurred.”
Elizabeth could feel Jane looking at her but chose not to meet her eyes, thinking, We have seen the strife and unpleasantness that abound in a marriage with little love or respect. In a tone that both teased and challenged, she said, “I must blame you and Uncle Gardiner for my attitude, as yours is a marriage based on mutual affection and admiration.”
With a wink at Mrs. Gardiner, her husband asked his nieces, “Did you know my dear wife rejected my first proposal? At the time, she was being courted by a gentleman.”
“Surely you did not decline Uncle’s offe
r because he was in trade!” Jane exclaimed.
“Of course not,” Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “I declined him because he lived above his grandfather’s warehouse and was offering it as our residence.”
“I was eager because I was in love; I still am.” He winked at his wife and added, “But I did not realize that having a proper house was an important part of showing my wife-to-be I was serious. So, I told her I would return in six months—no more—with a house and another proposal.”
“He was back in four months and a week,” Mrs. Gardiner said, delighting in the memory. “I insist you take the credit due you, my dear Evan. You inherited a good little business from your grandfather, but you built it into a better one.”
“I still say that going to live with my grandparents after my father passed was the making of me. I was ten at the time. Muriel and Serena stayed with our mother and her new husband, but Grandmother Gardiner insisted only the presence of a spirited young boy would stop grandfather from being angry with the good Lord after my father died.”
“Is this the house you offered to Aunt?” Jane looked around.
“No. I had sufficient funds for a home, but I would not buy a place until Vivian approved it. As she would be my partner in life, I thought she should have a say in where we lived.”
“This is the fourth house your uncle showed me. The first was too far away from town to be convenient for business. The second was far grander than we needed.”
“It had beautiful grounds,” Mr. Gardiner recalled.
“But more than we needed,” Mrs. Gardiner whispered loudly.
“And the third?” Jane asked.
Exchanging glances, the Gardiners said as one, “Dreary.”
Mr. Gardiner looked around the room with pride. “This little house has proven to be an even better choice than I hoped. When I bought it, I did not know I would be purchasing the nearby warehouses within a few years.”
“I cannot imagine, Aunt, your parents would have a disparaging word for Uncle,” Elizabeth said. “But as they, too, were tradespeople, had they wanted you to marry the gentleman?”
“At the time I accepted Evan, I had two younger sisters at home. My parents were delighted with my choice. My father said, ‘Glad to know I won’t have some useless son-in-law who cannot take proper care of my daughter.’ For my dear husband had shown my parents his mettle.”
≈≈≈
When Fitzwilliam entered the breakfast room where Darcy sat alone having tea and toast, he discovered he was not expected. “Georgiana sent me a note yesterday asking me to take her riding. I assumed you were handling business for Pemberley, so you could not take her yourself.”
“She is scarcely speaking to me.”
“What did you do, Darcy?”
“Why do you assume that I am at fault?”
“Because Georgiana is always amiable. Were you being high-handed about some request?”
“As you well know, I bear primary responsibility for keeping her safe,” Darcy said sternly.
At the sound of the door knocker, Fitzwilliam asked, “What a busy morning. Has Georgiana invited someone else?”
Darcy frowned. “Not that I am aware. Regardless of whether she is speaking to me, it is clear I need to have a word with her.”
A moment later, the butler was at the breakfast room door. “Miss Caroline Bingley, sir.”
Darcy groaned. “She has brought me Bingley’s direction. Have her wait in the foyer, Ashton. I will be out momentarily.”
As Darcy fortified himself with a large swallow of tea, Fitzwilliam asked, “Shall I come, too, and guard your flank?”
“Please do. I intend for this to be a short meeting.”
When Darcy and Fitzwilliam reached the foyer, they found Ashton standing discretely by while Georgiana, dressed in her riding habit, listened to Caroline compliment her appearance with more effusiveness than sincerity.
“Good morning, Miss Bingley,” Darcy said.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Caroline curtsied gracefully; the gentlemen bowed in return.
“A pleasure, Miss Bingley,” Fitzwilliam said. Moving to stand beside Georgiana, he said, “Good morning, dear Cousin. As ever, I am at your command.”
“Mr. Darcy, I have the information you requested,” Caroline said coyly as if it were a secret.
“Your brother’s address? Excellent. Though I am sorry if I put you to any trouble. I confess I expected it to come by messenger.”
“Oh, no, sir. I wanted to make certain you received it.” Stepping closer, she offered a folded sheet of expensive paper.
“Thank you, Miss Bingley. Most kind.” As Darcy accepted the paper, she looked at him expectantly, waiting to be invited to stay for a morning call. He gave her an apologetic half-smile. “Alas, I was just going to change. Fitzwilliam and Georgiana and I are going riding this morning.” He glanced at Georgiana to see if she would contradict him.
“A morning ride—how delightful!” Caroline said. “Would that I had worn my riding outfit.”
Georgina quickly spoke up. “Alas, madam, we have a family matter to discuss and thought it might be pleasanter to do so during a ride in the park.”
“One of the lesser-used trails,” Fitzwilliam added.
“For privacy, you understand,” Georgiana said, nodding.
“Perhaps another day,” Miss Bingley said hopefully.
“I look forward to it. If our schedules permit, perhaps your brother can join us, too,” Darcy replied. The farewells were sufficiently polite that no one could be accused of rudeness; thus, Miss Bingley was soon gone. Georgiana looked a question at Darcy, but she did not want to be the one to break the silence between them.
Fitzwilliam grinned. “I believe that is the first time I have heard you deceive anyone, Cousin. Bravo!”
“Well, I thank you—I thank both of you—for maintaining my deception.”
“Now, will one of you kindly tell me what is going on?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Let us talk in the breakfast room,” Darcy said and headed down the corridor before anyone could reply.
As Georgiana and Fitzwilliam followed, she confided, “I am annoyed with Brother, and we are not speaking. But even so, I could not leave him at the mercy of Caroline Bingley.”
In the breakfast room, Georgiana requested hot chocolate, Fitzwilliam requested coffee, and Darcy requested a fresh pot of tea. Ignoring her brother, Georgiana told her cousin, “In a letter, Anne informed me that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in town to visit relatives. She sent their direction and suggested Brother take me to call, for she believes I would like Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh, I am certain you would,” Fitzwilliam agreed. When Darcy glared at him, he shrugged.
“Brother refused to go and said you were too busy to accompany me. He also forbade me from using Anne’s letter as my introduction.” Her glare dared Darcy to contradict her.
Meeting Fitzwilliam’s expectant look, Darcy scowled. “I merely said such a visit would be an intrusion on a family we do not know.” To Georgiana, he said, “It is not as if I forbade you from ever knowing Miss Elizabeth, and it is certainly possible that you might enjoy her company, but not today.”
“Of course not—it is too late! Miss Elizabeth and her sister, Miss Jane, leave tomorrow!”
“Has Jane Bennet been in town long?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Since January, Anne says.”
“I wonder if she has visited the Bingleys,” Fitzwilliam said, looking at Darcy.
“I cannot say; I am not responsible for the Bingleys’ social calendar,” he grumbled.
“As for meeting Miss Elizabeth, I see only one way to resolve this. Your brother and I will commit to introducing you to her within the next, say, three months—before September.”
Georgiana pouted. “Three months is a long time to wait.”
“As Miss Elizabeth is known and liked by Anne, Bingley, and myself, one of us will arrange the introduction if your brother does
not have time for it.” He looked at Darcy. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Darcy said in an unreadable tone.
≈≈≈
At the Gardiner house after dinner, the Bennet sisters were packing for their return home. Elizabeth said, “I have something to say. This is not a scold, merely an observation.” When Jane’s brow bore a frown of concern, Elizabeth lightly ran her fingertips across her sister’s forehead, trying to brush away the frown wrinkles. “Truly, I mean only for the best.”
“What is it, Lizzy?”
“Last night when young Mr. Scott asked you questions, you often looked to me instead of answering. So then, he would look to me for a comment. Sometimes I had nothing of interest to say, but you did. Jane, why did you look to me to answer first?”
“You usually have a clever remark or observation.”
“While I sometimes have a clever remark or observation, often I am merely impertinent. Keep in mind that a bell can be noisy without being musical.”
“You think I should speak up more,” Jane said; it was not
a question.
“I do. I spent my last week at Rosings with two ladies who were scarcely permitted to have an opinion between them. They asked me for lessons in impertinence.”
Jane giggled. “You cannot be serious!”
“Exactly my thought! But Anne and her companion—a delightful woman named Nora Jenkinson—and I were much in company during my last week in Kent. From our talks, I realized how much we ladies keep unacknowledged within ourselves and hidden from others. I am now a convert, Jane, to the custom of speaking one’s mind as politely as one can. Thus, I encourage you to speak up. If you wish to be known as more than just the ‘prettiest Bennet girl,’ and I believe you do, you must say what you think. You, my dear sister, are a voice worth hearing and a prize worth winning.”
≈≈≈
May 8, 1811
Although it was well past midnight, Darcy slouched in a worn, leather-covered wingback chair in his study, staring absently at the glowing embers in the fireplace. The best he could say about the dinner party he had attended hours earlier was that Caroline Bingley had not been present. The evening had been pleasant enough, but it did not register as a lasting memory.
