Chapter 8 Brewing up
Piccadilly Street, London
Mrs. Gardiner
Five minutes after entering the millinery shop, Mrs. Madeline Gardiner realized the futility of the endeavour.
The primary purpose of this shopping expedition was to distract Jane from her incessant thoughts of Mr. Bingley.
To Jane’s credit, she tried to put on an appearance of enjoyment, but Mr. Gardiner knew her too well to miss the distinction between genuine pleasure and mere pretence.
Mrs. Gardiner loved each and every one of her nieces, but she had a special affinity for the two eldest, Jane and Elizabeth. In her eyes, those two are the living embodiments of how a young lady should be. Witnessing one of them struggle in this manner was truly distressing.
I know not what can be done to lift her spirits. I can no longer bear to see her like this.
She was never one to cast blame aimlessly.
Unlike Elizabeth, who readily accused Mr. Bingley's sisters and his friend for everything, Mrs. Gardiner possessed sufficient understanding of matters of love and heartache to discern the true culprit.
Neither Miss Bingley nor Mr. Darcy spent as much time with Jane as someone else did.
If Mr. Bingley had no intention of fulfilling the expectations he raised, he should have refrained from spending time with Jane.
His conduct was far from gentlemanly. He ought to be held accountable.
As if I'll ever get an opportunity to question him on this matter. If he possessed the courage to face Jane, he would have accompanied his sisters during that visit. I can't imagine he's that oblivious to the affairs within his own household. After all, he's the master of the house.
God, how I would like to see him at least once.
Sometimes, wishes do come true. Just as they exited the shop, she observed her niece suddenly freeze, staring at a gentleman who appeared equally stunned.
Well, that was quicker than I anticipated.
Bingley’s Town House, London
Caroline
The day she was supposed to face the consequence for all her actions, and create further consequences for others, Miss Caroline Bingley woke up so late that she had to completely skip her breakfast. She immediately enquired after her brother, only to learn that he also skipped his breakfast and went out.
His valet hinted that her brother is visiting Hatchard for the day.
Hatchard? What is Charles doing in Hatchard? He is not a bookish type, unlike his friend.
The thought of his friend brought back some other recollections.
She quickly went down to the front parlour to see if there were any letters that would derail her plans.
Satisfied that there was no new letter from Miss Bennet, which she wanted her brother to remain unaware of, she decided to stay in for the day. There was nothing to do outside anyway.
Louisa and her husband were visiting Mr. Hurst's aunt and would not return until the next evening. Mr. Darcy was still in Kent. Dear Georgiana was staying at her aunt Matlock's, Lady Matilda's, London home. Caroline, apprehensive of Lady Matilda, could never visit Georgiana there.
God, this has all the markings of a boring day.
She was in for a surprise.
Hatchard, Piccadilly Street, London
Bingley
When his sister was inquiring about his whereabouts, Bingley was endeavouring to complete the first page of the book he held in his hand. His thought process was somewhat similar to his sister's.
Good heavens, what am I doing here? Who am I to read such a philosophical book on such a morning? Thank God Darcy is not here. He will never let me hear the end of this.
The issue was that he had grown tired of White’s, the gentleman’s club, his usual refuge from the confines of home.
He had spent the majority of his time there over the past three months, all the while thinking about one particular lady from Hertfordshire.
He pondered her so intensely that he began to have visions of her everywhere he looked.
It was as if he conjured up her presence in every nook and corner of that establishment. He practically had to flee from there.
But I came to the wrong place. Me and Books! I will never find my answers here.
He was wrong. The moment he stepped out of the shop, he saw his vision standing opposite the street.
He observed her reaction when she recognized him – the shock, the pain.
He also noticed another elderly lady who also stared at him.
Bingley had the presence of mind to realize that, this time, it wasn't just an illusion.
More importantly, he understood that the sole answer to all his questions stood right across the street from him.
Darcy was correct to express his reservations about my marrying Miss Bennet.
Even my sisters were right to caution me about Miss Bennet’s lack of suitability from a materialistic standpoint.
But I was wrong to heed them. It was I who fell in love with Miss Bennet.
It was my heart that was stirred by the radiant warmth of her spirit.
It was I who raised her expectations only to flee from her.
I deserved every moment of suffering that I have endured these past four months.
If there is even a sliver of a chance for her to forgive me enough to return a fraction of the love I hold for her, I will fight for her.
There comes a point in a man's life, a moment, when he decides to grow up. For Mr. Charles Bingley, this was that moment. He held his head high and confidently crossed the street towards the lady he loved with every fibre of his being.
Brighton
Wickham
When one man decided to grow up in life, another was busily digging his own grave.
Wickham couldn’t believe he had revealed his plans to run away tonight to Miss Lydia Bennet. It was a slip of his tongue, a moment of recklessness. All he wanted was one more hour of enjoyment with her. He should have achieved it without spilling his secret.
What a fool I am?. She is a chatterbox. Everyone will know of my plans before the evening is out.
While he was pondering his next course of action, the chit herself solved the problem for him.
“You are leaving ? No, I won't let you go without me. All this time, you said you loved me. I love you too. We can run off together and marry in some church. Oh, it's so romantic. I will be the first one to marry in my family,” Miss Lydia was screaming.
Wickham had absolutely no intention of marrying her. She had nothing to offer him. All he sought from her was amusement and pleasure, well, more pleasure than what he had managed thus far.
"You must keep your voice down, lest someone overhears, and no one will be able to leave tonight," pleaded Wickham. He observed the young lady looking around in fear, drawing near to him to whisper. As she leaned in, he unabashedly peered down into her gown.
Dear God, the girl's suggestion does hold some merit. I need not marry her, but she can be a pleasurable companion for a while.
“Oh, I forgot that in my excitement. I can wait for you at our regular meeting place. I will pack my bags and be ready on time. You just need to come there,” the girl whispered, leaning in further. Wickham saw his self-control quickly disappearing.
“How old are you? Sixteen? No church will let you marry without your father being present,” Wickham tried to be the voice of reason for once, though his heart was still roaming inside the young lady's gown.
“I know that, but we can marry in Gretna Green, you will have to come up with your carriage,” she was not yet ready to accept defeat.
A carriage? What carriage? Where is the money for that? Here I was hoping to find some milk wagon to get to London. And she is talking of Scotland and carriages. Does she even comprehend how far it is to Gretna Green?
Then it came to him. A solution.
I can travel in a carriage after all. Who needs money?
Rosings
Richard
“Finally!” Richard whispered to himself when he saw Miss Elizabeth coming around the bend.
Richard was at the end of his patience. The past twelve days had been frustrating.
He knew his cousin walked with Miss Bennet every morning.
All he wanted was to get a chance to talk alone with Miss Bennet, so that he can try to change her perception of his cousin.
However, his aunt was making it difficult.
He couldn’t recall a time when his aunt had exhibited such a keen interest in the management of her estate.
She was presenting new ideas and projects daily, effectively preventing them from venturing out even for an hour. Even Darcy was fatigued by day's end.
As he bowed before the smiling countenance of Miss Bennet, he contemplated how much he had gleaned about estate management in the past twelve days.
I've learned more in these last twelve days than in my past five visits with Darcy. I doubt I'll ever have the chance to utilise all this acquired knowledge.
Little did he know at that moment that nothing one learns in life is truly unimportant.
Piccadilly Street, London
Jane
If someone had told the people of Meryton that Miss Bennet, the ever proper Miss Jane Bennet, failed to curtsy to a bowing gentleman, no one would have believed it. But it was the truth. She was in such a state of shock that she didn't even realize the impropriety she had just committed.
Dear God, how lean he looks. What has happened to him? Could he have contracted some illness? Is that why he didn't come for me?
All her questions remained unanswered because she couldn't utter them aloud. Even when Mr. Bingley asked her to introduce her aunt, she couldn't find her voice.
Thankfully, her aunt stepped forward to take matters into her own hands.
Mrs. Gardiner
Mrs. Gardiner waited for her niece to speak, but after a while, she realized that Jane was never going to say anything. She decided to take the initiative.