35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
April 1812 Hyde Park, London Jane
J ane Younge strolled through Hyde Park, her uncle’s footman following close behind. She did not often come to this part of town, but today she wished for a change of scenery. Uncle Gardiner was kind enough to grant her use of the carriage, and so she ventured forth.
Today’s ruminations lent themselves to self-reflection. Having been away from Longbourn now for four months, she had come back to herself, so to speak, after the departure from her true nature. She saw now that there had been nothing wrong with the way she presented herself to others. In fact, her deportment was preferable to that of her two youngest sisters. No, the gentlemen had been at fault. Their callous words and cruel game with her feelings were not gentlemanlike at all.
But she had come to these realizations too late. She had lost Mr. Bingley’s good opinion, and she could only blame herself. Her mother’s behavior might have contributed, but ultimately, Jane’s own actions had driven away the most handsome, kind, worthy man of her acquaintance.
Another consequence of her behavior was the loss of her friendship with Lizzy and Mary. Though they were not related by blood, they had been as close as sisters could be throughout their childhood, despite Mrs. Bennet’s wish to keep them from each other. Now Jane did not know if their easy manner with each other could ever be reclaimed. Only once had she written to Elizabeth, and she had not received any reply.
Perhaps Elizabeth has no wish to speak to me. Mama claims she and Mary will not return to Longbourn but will stay with their wealthy relations until they marry. Will I ever get a chance to make amends? She hardly knew.
She had not attempted to call at Elm House. Though she held an acquaintance with the family through Elizabeth and Mary, she knew when she was unwanted. Maybe I could write to her one more time, Jane mused. Or maybe Mary. I wish to apologize and explain. I can only hope they give me the chance.
Lost in her thoughts, Jane did not attend to her surroundings. She collided with a solid figure. “Oomph,” she said. Hands came to her shoulders, steadying her.
“Steady on, Miss Bennet! I am dreadfully sorry.”
She froze. It is him, she thought. Excitement and dread filled her in equal measures, and she felt her cheeks flush.
“It is Miss Younge, Mr. Bingley,” she whispered, mortified at having almost run him down.
“What?” he asked.
She dared to glance up. He did not seem angry; only puzzled.
“Miss!” Her uncle’s footman, Morrison, hurried forward. “Are you well?”
“I am,” she assured him. “Mr. Bingley and I are acquainted.” She turned to the gentleman. “Would you care to walk with me? I would appreciate a chance to explain.”
Mr. Bingley agreed and offered her his arm. It was more than she deserved, and she shot him a grateful look.
“Now, perhaps you can explain why your name is suddenly Miss Younge and not Miss Bennet.” He did not sound censorious, merely curious, and she obliged him with an answer.
A brief explanation of her mother’s first marriage and her subsequent marriage after being widowed cleared up the confusion. “I have been called Miss Bennet for as long as I can remember,” Jane said. “I suppose it never occurred to me until recently that the appellation belonged to another, and that it was disingenuous for me to continue its use.”
“Your honestly is to your credit.” Mr. Bingley hesitated. “How long have you been in London?” he asked.
“I have been with my aunt and uncle at Gracechurch Street since January,” she replied.
He did not speak at first. She glanced at his face again and saw furrowed brows. “Forgive me, Miss Ben—Younge, but I believed you to be good friends with my sisters. Why did you not call?”
“I did,” she replied. “Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst returned the call some time later. I am sorry to say that they made it clear that they had no wish to continue the acquaintance. I have not called upon them again.”
“I did not know,” he murmured. “Then again, I never thought to see you again.” He turned. “May I be candid?”
She nodded, knowing that his words would hurt her with their truth.
“I believed you wished to marry me only to secure your future,” he said. “Darcy and my sisters agreed when I brought up my concerns. Your manner, they said, spoke of fortune hunting tendencies, and your mother’s behavior confirmed it. Forgive me, Miss Younge, for my blunt speech.”
“You are not wrong to censure my behavior,” she replied. “I deserve to be chastised for it. I behaved in a manner very unlike myself, because I believed it was the only way I could win a man’s affection. Your enthusiasm for my company seemed to confirm it. After all, I had tried being myself only to fail miserably.”
“Then the lady I see now is who you truly are? I confess, you are very different.”
“If you mean that I am less demonstrative with my feelings, then yes, I am not the lady you met in Hertfordshire. In truth, what you see now is more in line with who I am. The Jane of old would have shriveled at the topic of our conversation, however, so perhaps I am something different from her, too.” Jane smiled shyly.
“I think I like this Jane,” he murmured, drawing his arm, and by extension her, a little closer.
Jane blushed again. “I am sorry for being anything less than myself,” she said. “You deserved a faithful iteration of who I am, and instead I pretended to be my mother. Or perhaps one of my sisters. My manner could have been mistaken for Kitty or Lydia.”
They came to a bench, and Mr. Bingley indicated they should sit. Jane did so, very aware of how close his body was. She felt a thrill at his company and her heart fluttered.
Despite her abnormal behavior, Jane had loved Mr. Bingley. She still loved him and being so close reminded her of what her actions had cost her. It is too much to hope that I shall be given another chance.
“Who are you, Miss Jane Younge?” he asked, turning to look at her. “Since we are being candid, I fell in love with the vibrant, beautiful lady from Hertfordshire. In my infatuation, I did not detect any mercenary tendencies. Now, you claim you were not yourself. I wish to know you . Please.”
Jane sighed. “My beauty is the first thing everyone notices about me. For years, my mother has claimed it will be her salvation. I would marry well for my looks alone. These months of reflection have taught me I am more than that. I have always been calm. Elizabeth calls me a peacemaker, and so I have been. In the past, I have always seen the best in people and their actions, even when their behavior goes against my views.”
“My sisters likely fit that,” he muttered. “Caroline and Louisa have always thought highly of themselves.”
“Perhaps their fortunes give them reason to feel that way,” she replied neutrally.
Mr. Bingley laughed. “I can see what you mean about seeing the best in people’s actions. Tell me, Miss Younge, were you true to yourself when we discussed our passions and pursuits?”
“Yes, although I spoke with more enthusiasm than I would typically display.”
“So, you like to ride and to embroider, then,” he said. “That is good to know, for I love a good gallop across the fields.”
He remembered, she thought in amazement. “I confess, I have not galloped across the fields,” she said aloud. “My horse, if you recall, is an old mare. Mr. Bennet never bothered to purchase proper mounts.” Elizabeth and Mary both rode proficiently, for their uncle had supplied them with horses and lessons.
They were silent for a time, watching a pair of boys chase a dog around the grass. Their nanny or governess stood off to one side, diligently watching her charges.
“May I call on you?” Mr. Bingley blurted suddenly.
She turned to him in surprise. “Nothing would please me more, sir, though I confess I never imagined you would pay me another moment’s notice.”
“Leaving Hertfordshire was the hardest thing I have ever done. I needed space to clear my thoughts so that I could decide logically. There were enough doubts as to your true sentiments that I did not return. I have no desire to marry where there is no affection. I am very aware that I am going against the advice of my dearest friend and the wishes of my family, but I could not care less; I sense you are remorseful and wish to begin again. I, too, would like to learn if my affections might be returned. Can I trust you to be true to yourself and honest with me?”
“You have granted me this chance, sir, and I will not squander it. Since we are speaking openly, I shall tell you that despite my behavior, I cared for you. I still do. It broke my heart when you did not return, and I castigated myself, for it was all my fault.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you for trusting me to try again.”
“Where might I call upon you? You mentioned an uncle on Gracechurch Street.”
“Yes, my Uncle Gardiner lives at 27 Gracechurch Street.” She pulled a card out of her reticule and scribbled the direction. “I am usually at home,” she continued. “My aunt’s days to receive callers are Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Then you may expect me on Thursday next,” he said, grinning broadly. “I hate to depart, but I have business with my solicitor. It has been a pleasure, Miss Younge.”
She agreed. Her name sounded delightful on his lips, much better than Miss Bennet had. They parted ways, and she and Jones returned to the carriage. The ride back to her uncle’s home was filled with hopeful thoughts.
New courage prompted her to write to Elizabeth again once she was back in her aunt’s parlor. If I can repair the relationship with Mr. Bingley, then surely I can do so with Elizabeth.
“Aunt,” she asked Mrs. Gardiner, “would you mind if I invited Elizabeth and Mary to tea on Friday?”
“That would be lovely. Pray, do so. It has been some months since we last saw them.” Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had always treated Jane’s stepsisters like their own blood.
Jane went to the writing desk and pulled a piece of paper in front of her. Suddenly, she did not know what to write. How do I apologize for my abysmal behavior? she wondered.
Dear Lizzy,
It has been some months since my last letter. I confess to disappointment that you did not reply, but I do not blame you. You have no reason to think well of me right now. I have behaved badly and can offer no excuse for my actions. If you would allow me to explain the impetus of my change in character, I would be much obliged.
There is too much to put in a note, so instead, I wish to invite you and Mary to tea on Friday. Aunt Gardiner has graciously agreed to allow me to extend the invitation. Please, say that you will come? I will tell you everything, and then if you choose to never speak to me again, I shall respect your wishes and cease importuning you.
I have missed you, Lizzy, and the closeness we once shared. It is unsettling to know so little of what you and Mary have been up to these many months. No doubt you have both charmed the ton and stolen many hearts. I confess to some petty jealousy, for everyone else has your company and I do not.
Please do me the honor of at least replying to my missive. I shall never rest easy until I know your mind.
Yours in love and affection,
Jane Younge
She sanded and sealed the missive, confident that her stepsister would read it before consigning it to the fire. Elizabeth had never had a resentful temper, and so Jane did not doubt that she would at least peruse the letter even if she chose not to respond.
Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. They dined at home. The children took their meal upstairs, leaving the adults to have their conversation. Jane mentioned that Mr. Bingley might call on Thursday. Her aunt and uncle exchanged concerned looks, probing Jane for details of her meeting in the park.
Jane had told her aunt everything when she arrived in London. The confessions held so long in secrecy were cathartic and helped her begin healing from the hurt.
“He is a very good man,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “It speaks well of him that he is forgiving and understanding. He will make you a very fine husband.”
“It is only a call, Aunt. Perhaps he will decide we do not suit, even after he comes to know me in truth.” Jane shook her head. Oh, how she hoped that would not be the case.
“You think that if it brings you comfort, Jane,” Mr. Gardiner said in amusement. “A gentleman will not go where there is no hope. He believes you are worth the effort, and that says much.”
Jane blushed but did not reply. Was she worth the effort? For Mr. Bingley, yes, but what about Elizabeth and Mary? Would they accept her olive branch as it was intended? She missed them very much and longed for the closeness they once shared.
Well, I shall know their thoughts in short order, she mused. Elizabeth would reply, of that Jane was certain. Whether it was favorable or not was debatable.
Conversation turned to Uncle’s business affairs, and Jane listened interestedly as he outlined his plans to purchase another ship. His clientele had expanded the last few years, and he had put off the purchase long enough. Grateful that they no longer discussed Mr. Bingley’s courtship, Jane sat silently, her thoughts drifting in other directions as Uncle Gardiner began speaking of logistical matters that held no interest for her.
Later, when she had readied for bed, she sat in front of the window. The streets were still busy, despite the late hour. Carts went here and there, the path lit by streetlights and lanterns. Jane allowed her thoughts to calm as she stared out into the night. After some time, she went to bed, blowing out the light, and drifted off into the most peaceful sleep she had experienced in months.