Chapter 16 News from Home
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NEWS FROM HOME
Guilt assailed Elizabeth as she approached the narrow house on Clements Street. The month since she left them seemed very long, and while she was faithful in replying to her sisters’ letters—which were really almost all Jane’s—she still worried they would not know how very much she missed them all.
It seemed terrible to her that she should be living in such luxury while her mother and sisters made do in the tight, darkened house she presently beheld.
Lady Catherine’s cook had been very good to her, making up a large basket of food for them.
As she knocked, she shifted the weight of it, appreciating the heaviness of it even as she thought her arms might fall off from holding on to it.
Jane met her in the entry hall, having clearly been watching for her sister from the front parlour window. “Lizzy!” Jane embraced her. “Oh Lizzy, how well you look! I should hardly have known you!”
That could only provoke her guilt further, even as she hugged Jane as tightly as she could with her free hand. “Do not be alarmed. Once I return Miss de Bourgh’s gowns to her, I will look the same as ever I have.”
“Come, let us take your basket to the kitchen. Mama is resting in her bedchamber—”
“She is? Is she ill?”
“I believe she is,” said Jane, “as can happen when one drinks too much wine. My uncle gave a dinner party last night, and I cannot tell you what hour she returned.”
Elizabeth hardly knew how to reply to that news. “Where are our sisters?”
“They are upstairs with the sewing.”
“Kitty and Lydia are mending?” Elizabeth enquired as she followed her sister down to the kitchen. “I must have been gone longer than I thought!”
Jane looked over her shoulder. “They decided that if Mary could get a husband at relief society meetings, then they might, as well. Not quite the assemblies and parties they are accustomed to, but at least they are helping someone.”
They chatted lightly while Jane took charge of the basket, putting things away in the pantry and exclaiming with delight over each item unpacked. While she did, Kitty and Lydia came down, Lydia pouncing immediately upon a package of sweetmeats.
“Come now,” Jane prodded. “We can enjoy that with some tea in the parlour.”
The sisters walked noisily to the parlour, Kitty and Lydia having each thousands of questions about Elizabeth’s life among the ton.
No, Elizabeth reported, she had not yet seen the Prince Regent, but yes, she had met numerous earls and ladies and even one duke.
No, Miss de Bourgh did not have diamonds on her dance slippers, although it was less likely from prudence than the fact that the thought had not yet occurred to her.
And yes, the balls were just as crowded as they read in the tattle sheets.
“My skirts and petticoat were absolutely destroyed at one of them,” she reported as they all took a seat.
“I could not even begin to guess how many people trampled upon them that night.”
Mrs Bennet entered the room as she said so. “Ah Lizzy! Well, I told your sisters not to expect to see hide nor hair of you, but how good you are to prove me wrong.”
Elizabeth rose and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I cannot think why you said so, Mama, for I told you—”
“But what about Jane’s news!” Mrs Bennet helped herself to a large serving of the sweets. “I knew she could not be so beautiful for nothing.”
“Jane’s news?” Elizabeth asked mildly. “No, I confess I have not heard it.”
A flush rose in Jane’s pale cheeks, and she busied herself adjusting the tea things on the table—a delaying tactic Elizabeth recognised at once.
“She saw Mr Bingley!” Lydia announced, apparently unable to wait.
“And he means to call on her!” Kitty added.
“Mr Bingley? Indeed?” Elizabeth asked, surprised. “Here in the neighbourhood?”
Jane nodded. “I met him quite by chance while on errands for my uncle. He was leaving a bakery.”
“And?” Elizabeth prompted gently after Jane paused.
“He was all politeness, of course,” said Jane. “He said he was glad to have met me, that he had often thought of our family and how we were managing in our…situation.”
Elizabeth sat back in her chair. “Ah.”
“It gets worse,” said Lydia ominously. “She told him just how dreadful it is for us.”
Elizabeth looked at her sister who passed a hand over her eyes before admitting, “I was…perhaps too honest. It did not help that I had worn one of my older gowns and my shawl with the hole in it.”
Elizabeth laughed but weakly. “Little did he know that you wore that shawl even before Papa died.”
“I do not see why you could not tell him we were more comfortable!” Mrs Bennet said. “You should have waited until he was more in love with you to let him know how destitute we are!”
“He knew already, Mama,” said Kitty. “He knew from that day when we all called at Netherfield.”
“But knowing a thing is not the same as seeing it with his own eyes,” Mrs Bennet protested. “I just think you might have made it sound a little better than it is.”
To this Jane only shrugged helplessly.
“But all is not lost,” Lydia hastened to add. “He still wants to call on her!”
“Well, that is very good, is it not?” Elizabeth offered.
Jane nodded, her colour deepening.
Elizabeth felt a surge of hope. “So surely that must mean—”
“It means he cares nothing for all this nonsense!” Mrs Bennet cried out, flinging her arms wide. What nonsense she referred to was unclear, so Elizabeth turned her attention back to her sister.
“I do not know what it means,” Jane said. “But I do know enough to hope for nothing.”
“Nothing!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “A man could go a long way and never see such beauty—”
“It is not only about beauty, Mama,” Jane said in a tone that told Elizabeth she had said so many times before. “Although I do not have any great opinion of myself anyhow.”
Elizabeth interjected, “There are beauties aplenty all over Mayfair, but not one of them has Jane’s sweetness nor her goodness.”
“As if any of those things will pay the coal man,” said Jane. “Mr Bingley pities me. Us. That is all there is to it.”
“Perhaps he does, but one cannot pity someone they do not care for, can they?” Elizabeth said, Lydia echoing her sentiments.
“Lizzy, you did not see them, his family and his friend. What will they say when they learn he is visiting a family living in Clements Street? What will I do if he brings us a basket? Die of shame is what!”
Elizabeth had not considered that possibility, but the idea of it made her cringe. “I doubt he would bring a basket,” she said.
“It is impossible in every way, and I shall not allow myself vain hopes and wishes,” Jane said firmly.
“And I pray my mother and sisters will not indulge in them either. We are nothing but burdens now, entirely dependent on the charity of others. I could not accept it from him, if even he offered it.”
“Surely you do not mean to refuse him?” Elizabeth asked. “You would surely not send him away before he calls?”
“No!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “I will see you turned out into the street if you do that!”
Kitty and Lydia both had a good laugh at that.
Jane pressed her hands to her face. “I only know that when he asked to call, I could barely manage a civil response. I said—I said he might, if he wished. But Lizzy, I should have discouraged him. I should have been stronger.”
Very staunchly, Elizabeth said, “If Mr Bingley wishes to renew his acquaintance with you, if he wishes to know you better, then that is up to him. True regard does not calculate pounds and shillings and—”
“But society does,” Jane whispered.
There was a sober pause in the parlour that not even Lydia dared breach.
“When is he to call?” Elizabeth asked finally.
“Tomorrow. I think it very likely he will not even come. I wish you could be here, Lizzy! I do not know how I shall manage it alone.”
“We will stay with you, Jane,” said Kitty, and Elizabeth ached for it even as her guilt was renewed.
How she longed to be there for Jane! But she had another lady’s romantic affairs to see to.
She looked around the cramped room, at the life her family now lived, and felt a fierce protectiveness rise in her chest.
It was not until later, when her sisters and mother had returned to their own occupations, and Elizabeth was nearly about to take her leave, donning her pelisse, that Jane said, “Hope is an awful thing, is it not?”
“I always thought it rather a good thing.”
Jane shook her head. “Where there is hope, there must be fear. I should far rather I had nothing to hope for, nor fear because the realisation of my fears is far more likely than my hopes. We already know he has his friends and relations to speak against me. It is a great deal for a man to overcome, no matter the strength of his devotion.”
How well did Elizabeth understand this! It would be better, far better, to simply accept where they were now and proceed accordingly without the slightest shred of promise for anything better. The reality was simply too disappointing.
“He will come,” Elizabeth said. “That you cannot stop. But it is to you to decide after that whether hope or fear will prevail.”