17. Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
February 1812 Gracechurch Street Elizabeth
M r. Bingley arrived, his expression detailing his frustration to the ladies gathered in Aunt Gardiner's parlor. "Caroline attempted to waylay me again," he groused. "Ever since learning I have been calling upon you, she hovers needlessly, asking me to escort her here and there on a whim to prevent my going out alone. Her actions do nothing to further her aims and only seek to frustrate me."
Jane patted his hand sympathetically but offered no solution. They were not yet engaged, though Elizabeth thought it would be any day now. When they were, her sister would voice her opinions more readily. Last night, as they lay in bed, Jane had whispered her thoughts to her dearest sister.
"I will not have Caroline in my house," she said earnestly. "It is clear she holds me in no regard, and I will not be made to feel a stranger in my own home."
"Brava, Jane," Elizabeth whispered back. "She will usurp your rights as mistress—you know she will. But you must speak to Bingley about it. Will he have the fortitude to refuse his sister a home?"
Jane had not answered. When she made no reply, Elizabeth encouraged her to ponder the situation before accepting a proposal.
"She has become unbearable!" Bingley continued, throwing his hands in the air. "I cannot abide her any longer. Though I have been staying with the Hursts until now, I am searching for another town house to purchase. I shall remove myself from Caroline's presence as soon as may be—and she will never be welcome in my home as anything but a guest again!"
It seemed Jane would have no need for that discussion with her beloved. Miss Bingley's machinations had backfired. Instead of convincing her brother to abandon Jane, she had pushed him more fully into the 'unacceptable lady's' arms. Elizabeth smirked, watching Mr. Bingley sit very close to Jane. He offered her a single hothouse flower, likely purchased from a street side vendor on his way to Gracechurch Street. Jane blushed prettily and took the bloom, pressing it to her nose and inhaling the scent.
Aunt Gardiner caught Elizabeth's eye and nodded. She stood. "I must go see to something with Cook," she said. "Elizabeth, will you accompany me?"
It sounded very much like something Mama would say, but Elizabeth agreed without complaint. Perhaps a few minutes alone would be all Mr. Bingley needed to propose to Jane.
Elizabeth almost collided with Sally in the hall, who offered her a missive and an apology as she stumbled a little.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, taking the letter from the maid. "Do you mind if I go upstairs and read this, Aunt?" she asked.
"Charlotte Collins is a diligent correspondent," Mrs. Gardiner said, raising an eyebrow. Skepticism written on her face, she nodded her agreement and continued to the kitchens.
I shall have to tell her everything soon, Elizabeth thought as she climbed the stairs. There was too much evidence that the person she exchanged letters with was nearby. Her aunt was not unintelligent and had likely deduced that much already. How long her curiosity would be kept at bay remained to be seen.
She broke the seal almost as soon as she had closed the door, going to the bed and sitting upon it. The familiar scrawl comforted her, and she began to read.
Dearest Miss Elizabeth,
Your letter reached me at a most opportune moment, and I find myself thoroughly engaged by the reflections you so graciously shared. It is with both warmth and a certain sense of regret that I now think of our brief meeting at Hatchard’s. Had I known how much you would cherish our conversation, I would have done all in my power to extend it, to allow us both the space to speak more freely and without interruption. I, too, find myself remembering that moment, and wonder what words we might have exchanged had we both been afforded a little more time. I look forward to the day when I might be able to converse with you at length, without the constraints that the world too often places upon us.
As for your kind words of gratitude, I must assure you, madam, that my good opinion of you is unwavering. If anything, the humility and honesty with which you have written strengthens it. Your sincerity is one of the many qualities that has made me so grateful to count you as a correspondent, and, in time, I hope—though I must be patient and take nothing for granted—that our friendship may continue to deepen and flourish. The gift of your continued regard is one I will treasure always, and I thank you again for your openness and for the kindness you have shown me in your words.
Your concerns regarding Mr. Wickham, however, trouble me greatly. I understand the weight of your thoughts, and I share your unease. The man’s charm, as you say, is most disarming, and for too long, I have dismissed concerns that his presence in circles such as ours may lead others astray. My cousin is amongst the most vocal in this regard. He holds a deep dislike for Wickham and has pressured me for many years to do something about the miscreant. The matter is not one to be taken lightly, for as you rightly note, Mr. Wickham’s ability to deceive, though it may have served him well in the past, is not a trait to be trusted. His conduct in the past has been, as I have shared with you, less than honorable, and I agree with you completely that such behavior cannot be permitted to continue unbridled. I now have only to castigate myself for allowing him to go unchecked for so long.
It is clear that you have no desire to cause scandal, yet you find yourself in a position where silence might lead to greater harm. Your fear of speaking out is understandable, given the reluctance of your father to engage with such matters seriously, and I fully comprehend your hesitation to burden others with information that could bring undue distress.
I have been caught in a difficult place—bound by the need to protect those I care for, but constrained by the memory of the boy who was my friend—who my father loved as another son. Upon reflection, I believe it to be my duty to share my knowledge. It is the honorable way forward.
Should you find yourself with other concerns, know that I am more than happy to assist in whatever way I can. Should you need me to speak further on the matter or to lend my support in any way, I am at your service. I would never wish for you to feel alone in this, Miss Elizabeth, and together we might find the best way onward.
After such heavy musings, I must confess that I found your anecdote about the hot chocolate most delightful, and I am pleased that such a small experiment turned out to be such a success. I must admit, I had my doubts when I first read of your drink being altered with vanilla ice, but your reported result is truly unexpected! I shall have to try it myself at Gunter’s next time Georgiana persuades me to take her there. Pleasure can be found in the most unlikely of places, and I find a certain charm in these small indulgences. I daresay that a cup of hot chocolate enhanced with vanilla ice might make for a most agreeable treat. When the opportunity presents itself, I hope we may share in such a pleasure together.
I look forward with eager anticipation to our next meeting—whether by letter or in person—and I remain, as always, devotedly yours.
With the greatest respect and warmest regards, Fitzwilliam Darcy
His words comforted Elizabeth, though she wondered what this 'way forward' meant. Is he to ride to Hertfordshire and proclaim Mr. Wickham's sins? I do hope not—he would not be well received! Panicked, she went to the writing table and readied a piece of paper. All thoughts of Jane and an imminent proposal fled her thoughts. Mr. Darcy needed a reply post-haste.