Chapter Meryton
Meryton
You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw who Mr Darcy asked to stand up at his wedding.
I will admit I have seen worms march in with more aplomb than Mr Bingley—but at least he was back and facing the woman he had abandoned without a word.
As for Jane, I have seen women stare at half a worm in an apple with much the same expression, so I judged his chance of forgiveness as less than auspicious.
I wondered what he was about, and by now, you must know that I put my back into discovering it (or my ear at least).
After all, half the reasons for Mr Darcy dissuading Mr Bingley were moot.
In his letter (and apparently his proposal) he had bemoaned the lack of dowries and connections, but the Bennets of Longbourn would henceforth be connected to the Darcys of Pemberley.
If those connections were inadequate for the son of a tradesman, I will eat my shoe.
The potential need to support a gaggle of spinster daughters had been eliminated between the end of the entail and the advantageous marriages of two of said daughters.
Mr Darcy was rich enough that he might buy both Longbourn and Netherfield just to guarantee his mother-in-law never lived within a hundred miles of Pemberley.
I happen to know that for the usual reason, which is the same reason I now have a soft spot in my heart for the man (he becomes sentimental when he gets foxed and has only one real topic when he is sentimental).
Where matters became interesting, was when the two discussed the Bingley sisters, who had been noted for their absence and the general sense of pleasantness thereby afforded.
Mr Darcy was staying at Longbourn in a (probably optimistic) bid to give his intended’s mother sufficient of his company to prevent her from inflicting herself upon them in London.
The poor man had gained his heart’s desire and so decided to tempt fortune, and I wished him well.
One fine day, the gentlemen were both detained at Longbourn by an inconvenient rainstorm after a day of hunting.
The bride was detained at Lucas Lodge for the same reason.
Jane was still giving the man short shrift (I had no idea whether he was deserving of sympathy or not).
Naturally, their only remaining option was to get disguised. Men are such simple creatures!
Somewhere between the discussion of the hunt, and when Mr Darcy started singing the version of “The Willow Tree” with the bawdy lyrics, they discussed the infamous Bingley sisters, and the revelations were shocking even to me (it had been some time since Collins by then).
It transpired that the ‘ladies’ were even worse lying knaves than I had given them credit for—or at the very least, one was a liar and the other a fool.
Most of what they said at the Netherfield ball was not aimed at me.
In my hubris, I believed I was the only one who could overhear, but they were aimed at Mrs Bennet.
She, of course, never holds her tongue long enough to eavesdrop, but Miss Bingley did not know that.
Mr Bingley had plenty of money to buy Netherfield, though why someone would buy an estate three miles from his mother-in-law is a mystery to me.
That said, if they did make a match, Jane’s most favourite relative would be in Derbyshire and her least favourite would be in Hertfordshire.
I would give five to one, if there was ever a Mrs Bingley, she would be Mrs Bingley of Derbyshire.
The shocking part of the exchange changed everything.
It turned out that Miss Bingley was trying to attach her brother to a woman of her choice, and she spiked the cannon of every woman her brother liked who was not her own choice.
He had a reputation of going through angels at a prodigious rate, but he had only recently discovered that his sister was responsible for most of them inexplicably withdrawing, and believe me when I say you would not wish to know the tactics the woman used to end his courtships without him being aware of her complicity.
Imagine Mr Wickham in a dress and you would be near the truth.
The best part was when he told Mr Darcy that he had given his sisters the big boot.
He told Miss Bingley she was on the shelf (probably true), and he released her dowry, leased lodgings for a year, and engaged a companion.
Then he told her she could be in the same room as him in future if she did not speak to him, but if she opened her mouth, he would cut her direct.
He also made it clear that the lease and her dowry constituted the last farthing she would see from him in her life, and strongly recommended she start hunting a man desperate enough for her dowry to tolerate her.
Mr and Mrs Hurst were similarly shown the door, and just to settle affairs, he sold his London town house and stayed with Mr Darcy.
I was so happy I danced around, and I suspect the gentlemen were alarmed when I overturned a stool, but since they had both lived in houses full of servants all their lives, they had an instinctive sense for when a noise was close enough to allow eavesdropping.
Once they decided they were safe, they compensated for the momentary shock by taking a medicinal drop of whiskey (you can tell by the sound of the bottle).
With the shocking news of Miss Bingley’s demise, I took several days to determine how I could remedy the debacle. I felt somewhat responsible for their separation (very well—entirely responsible if you insist), and I had to execute it perfectly. Finesse was required.
After considerable thought that lasted right up to Lizzy’s wedding, I awoke in the middle of the night with a plan fully formed in my mind.
I sprang from my bed the next morning excited with my plan and immediately executed it. It was to be the most trying and difficult operation of the entire saga, but I was committed! I would do exactly NOTHING!
I reasoned that they were both well into their twenties, far from green boys and girls. If they could not resolve it without my urging them, then they deserved to die alone and miserable after fifty years of howling loneliness (though I suppose there are other possibilities).
Much to my pleasure, Jane made him suffer.
Much to my pleasure, Jane made him work for it.
Much to my pleasure, he erupted like a volcano one day when she pressed him too far.
Much to my pleasure, she relented enough to actually start courting.
Much to my pleasure, they matched as well as they ever had.
Much to everyone’s pleasure, she made a beautiful bride.
After the wedding of the generally acknowledged most beautiful woman in Hertfordshire to the similarly acknowledged second most handsome man, all was well.
Speaking of volcanoes, I just happened to overhear the conversation when Mr and Mrs Bingley informed Mrs Bennet that he had purchased an estate in Derbyshire, twenty miles from Pemberley but three days from Longbourn. That was delightful!
Back in my bed I fell easily into the dreamless sleep of the just with one last thought:
? Jane is safe.