Chapter 25
Elizabeth tried to recall how closely she and Robinson had been standing when the carriage passed, how they would have looked to her mother and sisters.
Disgusted with how quickly her thoughts had turned to appearance when she had done nothing wrong, she straightened her shoulders and produced a smile she was determined to feel by the time the two of them reached the carriage.
“Mama, I did not know you intended to come into the village, or I would have waited for you.” Her mother’s narrowed eyes flickered between her and Robinson, but Elizabeth refused to allow any guilt to dampen her smile.
They had been discussing important business.
There was nothing wrong with that. In fact, considering how her family would be impacted, they ought to expect Elizabeth to consult with Robinson.
It was the reason he was in Father’s employ!
Jane replied, “You left in a hurry without telling anyone where you were.” As Elizabeth often did.
What of it? Thoroughly convinced of her rightness, Elizabeth met her withering glare.
If only her sister understood, she would not disapprove.
Jane added, “Hill suggested that you might have gone into Meryton to call on Aunt Philips.”
Ah! Dear Hill! Grateful for the reasonable explanation, Elizabeth said, “I apologize for causing you concern. I wished for some fresh air and exercise, and I have not called on Aunt in some time. Given the gravity of recent events, I wished to ascertain whether she has heard any talk about us.” Now that she said the words aloud, she realized the intelligence of Hill’s suggestion.
If the Bennets were being gossiped about, Aunt Philips would know.
She could be a helpful ally to squash any of it, so they would do well to appease her with a friendly call.
“Why would people talk about us?” Lydia asked, perplexed. Her ignorance was evidence of how ill-prepared her sisters were for the dreary future ahead of them.
“Did you intend to call on my sister in the company of your father’s secretary without a chaperon?” asked Mama, more to the point. “If your intention is to prevent gossip, you have a peculiar way of going about it.”
Unaccustomed to her mother’s censure and with her confidence already wavering, Elizabeth faltered.
She opened her mouth, but no explanation came.
All she could think of was how devastated her family would be when they had to leave Longbourn…
unless Mr. Darcy made an appearance. Her stomach clenched.
Robinson spoke. “You are right to insist on a chaperone.” Elizabeth could not prevent her gaze from snapping to him.
He was supposed to take her side, not her mother’s.
“These are dangerous times we live in,” he continued, “and as an attentive mother, it does you credit to concern yourself over the welfare of your daughters.” Elizabeth could not rightly argue with that, though she wished to.
Good sense prevented her from saying a word.
“Ah, well. Lizzy is with us now, and we shall see her to my sister’s.” With that, Mama turned away from him and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm to jerk her away, turning her daughter’s farewell into an unseemly squeal.
Elizabeth knew she frowned, and she could not help it. Mama’s manners were too dismissive. Robinson was in every way kind and gentlemanly. Had her mother no expression of gratitude to spare for him seeing Elizabeth safely to Meryton when the world was fraught with so much peril? Apparently not.
Mama marched them past him with nary another word, only stopping when she spotted the Bingleys approaching from the other direction.
“Ah, there is Mr. Bingley and his fashionable sisters.” She raised her arm to wave.
At the same time, Mrs. Hurst pointed at something at the other side of the street.
Elizabeth did not see anything noteworthy by the butcher’s shop, unless one considered the profusion of flies to be significant, but Miss Bingley saw what her sister did.
The two practically ran to get a closer look, leaving Mr. Bingley standing alone and scratching his head until he noticed Mama greeting him.
He lifted his hat in a hearty salutation, eyes crinkling and teeth showing as he closed the distance between them. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bennet.” His eyes landed on Jane and stayed there. “What a pleasure it is to see you and your lovely daughters on this fine day.”
Jane stiffened, her smile pinched. Mama, content with Mr. Bingley’s happiness at their presence, smiled enough for the both of them, as did Kitty and Lydia, who always smiled at handsome men.
A hiss was issued from across the street. “Charles!” They all looked to see Miss Bingley in the doorway of the butcher’s shop, her waving motion either intended to swat at the flies or summon her brother; one would have difficulty determining which was true.
Mr. Bingley sighed and looked awkwardly about. Finally, his smile fully faded, he lowered his voice. “If you require any assistance, I would consider it an honor to be of help.” Apparently, word had spread. Elizabeth had known it would happen but had not supposed news would travel so quickly.
“I assure you, Mr. Bingley, we are in no need of assistance.” Either Mama feigned ignorance, or she had not yet comprehended the extent of their ruination.
With a bow of his head, Mr. Bingley placed his hat atop his head, smiled at them once more and, with some hesitation, crossed the street to join his sisters.
Mama puffed out her chest. “To think that he, the son of a tradesman, might be useful to us, a family with connections in the first circles!”
The look Jane shared with their mother left a sour taste in Elizabeth’s mouth. “I am certain his offer was given with good motive.”
Ignoring her, Mama pulled her into the haberdashery. “I wish to see if anything new has arrived from London before we call at my sister’s.”
Mrs. Long was there, as were Mr. Wren and Miss Gray.
Each of them mumbled a greeting and left the haberdashery, the bell on the door echoing louder in the empty space they left behind.
Elizabeth’s heart sank. Granted, the Hertford bailiff was known to many in Meryton, and the customs official would have been easy to identify with his formal manners and somber expression.
She had not expected to be treated like a leper by her neighbors, however.
“Perhaps we ought to go to Aunt’s directly, Mama.” But her mother would not hear it. Not when there was a new shipment of lace and fabric to admire.
The shopkeeper wrung his hands together and watched Mama finger his new wares, clearly uncomfortable and bound to say something regrettable.
Once again, Elizabeth tried to persuade her mother to depart…
to no avail. Finally, Kitty asked for two lengths of ribbon to trim her new bonnet and embellish her gown.
At that, the shopkeeper began placing his newly arrived ribbons on the wall behind him, out of reach, and tucking the lace under the counter, where he stood at guard.
“We are no longer able to offer credit. Payment is due with your purchase.”
Kitty reached for her reticule, poking about inside until her lip protruded in disappointment. “We left the house so quickly, I forgot to put my pin money inside.”
Mama clucked her tongue. “Come, come, Mr. Rokesmith. We have been your best customers over the years. Surely, on our honor, you can make an exception.”
He shook his head, widening his stance as though to prove how unbending he intended to be on this subject.
Elizabeth understood his predicament, understood his decision, but like the dawning of a new day, she felt anger rise within her.
Had she been less concerned about her family’s reputation, she would have raked Mr. Rokesmith over the coals.
Had she not paid him in full only last week?
Had she ever failed to pay? Not once! And he would not allow for her little sister to purchase an inexpensive frippery that would bring her joy and add little to his account?
A brush of wind fluttered the curls around her face.
Before she knew what was about, she saw Mr. Wickham slip a five-pound note to the shopkeeper.
“Surely the most distinguished family in the area deserves greater understanding. Take this offering as a mark of goodwill and let the ladies purchase what they wish.”
Elizabeth had not noticed Mr. Wickham enter the haberdashery. While his gesture was generous, her face burned at the exchange and the exclamations of pleasure emanating from her mother and sisters. “Mama, please, can we go to Aunt Philips’s?”
“And disregard Mr. Wickham’s kindness? I could do no such thing! No, we shall stay here until we have spent every penny.”
Face burning with renewed intensity, Elizabeth faced the window overlooking the square and listened to them fawn over yards of luxurious lace, colorful shoe roses, fringe, silk stockings, and buttery soft kid gloves.
She wanted to run home, face buried in her hands, but she had committed herself to call on Aunt Philips.
She dreaded to hear her worst fears confirmed there.
If Mr. Wickham had doubted Mama’s ability to spend five pounds—a generous sum by any account—then he hid his surprise well when, in less than an hour, every penny was gone.
Triumphantly gathering their wrapped purchases to better presume over anyone who might doubt their standing at Longbourn, Mama thanked him once again.
She extolled him as a gentleman, proclaiming that he did the house of Darcy credit in the hearing of Mr. Rokesmith.
She brought her stream of praise to a resounding crescendo with an invitation to dine with them the following evening.
He received her compliments graciously, explaining in a tone meant to be overheard by the shopkeeper that he would be delighted to accept after his return from town.