Chapter I #2
“Yes, I believe we all apprehend that much,” said Mr. Bennet. “It is fortunate that Wickham is gone, for your silliness in the company of the officers rose to prodigious proportions when that man was present.”
Elizabeth did not disagree. What had prompted Mr. Wickham to depart she could not say, but not long after Christmas, he had resigned his commission and disappeared, and no one in the neighborhood had seen him since.
While she had thought him an amiable man, Elizabeth’s heart had remained untouched, but the girls had lamented his absence since the moment of his departure.
The sitting-room in Longbourn then devolved into its usual factions.
Mrs. Bennet crowed about the family’s good fortune and the wedding breakfast she was already planning, but Mr. Bennet watched Jane, waiting for her to speak.
It was not in Mrs. Bennet’s nature to wait for a response, so her next words came before Jane could say anything.
“Oh, but this business of Jane refusing such a kind invitation is all nonsense. You must go to London, Jane. I am certain that Miss Bingley means to present you to her brother at the first available opportunity. You will have no better supporter than Miss Bingley.”
Despite her previous thoughts on the matter, Elizabeth found she could not dispute that claim. Why Miss Bingley had altered from her obvious desire to separate Jane from her brother Elizabeth could not guess, but it seemed she had. The question was whether the Bennets would appreciate her reasons.
“I shall return to my room for a time,” said Jane, rising to her feet.
Mrs. Bennet, to the surprise of no one, took this as proof of Jane’s compliance. “Of course, you must return to your room. You should gather your effects, Jane, for you must depart at once. And do not forget to write to Miss Bingley.”
Though Mr. Bennet regarded his wife, he said nothing, as was his wont.
Jane fixed Elizabeth with a look, and knowing what it meant, she followed her sister from the room.
As they left, Elizabeth could hear her mother muttering about wedding breakfasts, letters to town, and money to purchase new gowns for Jane when she arrived in London.
That Mr. Bennet did not agree was evident in his grimace, but he still refrained from comment.
Jane’s bedroom was a haven from the storm brewing, a place to retreat and take stock.
It would be a refuge if Mrs. Bennet did not barge in and inundate them with her entreaties that Jane must go to London.
For the moment, she was occupied with her schemes, leaving the sisters to their tête-à-tête.
That was nothing less than a boon, for Mrs. Bennet would not appreciate their discussion if she knew the substance of it.
“Well, Lizzy?” asked Jane when they were ensconced behind Jane’s stout door.
Jane crossed to the window, looking out, then turning back to Elizabeth. “Unless I am mistaken, you have some thoughts about this morning’s visit. Will you not share them with me?”
Elizabeth considered the question before responding. “My opinion does not signify, Jane. The only opinion that matters is yours.”
Jane’s soft smile told Elizabeth that her sister had expected her to demur, which was curious.
Elizabeth had never been shy about sharing her opinion—not with Jane, and not with anyone else.
Yet Jane knew her well enough to apprehend that she would take care not to respond with haste in such a situation as this.
“Perhaps it is, but I would have yours all the same. Since I suspect you wish to hear my opinion first, I shall give it.”
Jane paused to think about her answer. “I wish to believe that Caroline means well.” Jane fell silent, then her expression turned wry. “Or perhaps I wish to believe that no harm can come from accepting kindness offered in sincerity.”
“That is strange, Jane,” said Elizabeth, “for it sounds like suspicion.”
Jane sighed. “Perhaps it is. As you know, I have always considered Caroline my friend. However, I cannot overlook her behavior. There is something she did not tell us—that much was obvious.”
“More than something, I should say,” replied Elizabeth.
“In my opinion, Miss Bingley shared but a little—there is far more under the surface. I would also point out that in my experience with Miss Bingley, I do not think sincerity is a strong feature of her character when strategy would serve better.”
Appearing curious, Jane asked: “What do you think she means by it?”
“I am certain that I cannot say.”
Elizabeth smiled and offered her hand to her sister. “Jane, I do not imply that you are deficient or incapable, but your propensity to see the good in others is not a mystery to me.”
“And I own it without disguise,” replied Jane.
“Let us remove everything that happened before from the table,” said Elizabeth.
“Discount my observations of Miss Bingley and your friendship with her, and think only of Mr. Bingley, the attention he paid to you, his departure, and Miss Bingley’s shocking appearance.
Mr. Bingley left near the end of November and was content to remain in London.
Miss Bingley also appeared content to remain away.
That she has come to Hertfordshire to implore you to go to London does not accord with her previous conduct. ”
“Might Mr. Bingley not have mentioned a desire to see me again?”
It was a weak question, and Jane understood it the moment it left her mouth. Elizabeth, not wanting to distress her sister, was careful in her response.
“Jane, a man who is desperate to see a woman does not send his sister to make overtures. He makes them himself.”
“Then what do you suspect?”
“That is the mystery,” replied Elizabeth. “All I suggest is that you do not take her overture at face value. A little skepticism can be a healthy thing, and if that is beyond you, I will settle for staying alert.”
“That is excellent advice,” replied Jane with a nod. “If I am honest, I still wish for clarity with Mr. Bingley.” Jane turned away, her color rising just a little. “I do not necessarily hope for a return of his attentions, but I also cannot spend forever wondering if I imagined everything.”
Elizabeth softened with affection for this, the best of her sisters. “I shall not lie to you, Jane. I do not trust Caroline Bingley. But I trust you. If going to London will give you peace—even if that peace brings pain—it is worth the risk.”
Then Elizabeth showed her sister a mischievous grin. “Perhaps you may go. But that does not mean you must go alone.”
Catching Elizabeth’s meaning at once, Jane leaned her head against her shoulder. “I would welcome your support, Lizzy.”
Henry Bennet was not a man who wasted time considering what might have been. What if was a concept he found perfectly useless—what good did it do to agonize over paths not taken and wish it were different? No one could change the past. It was better to look to the future.
Concerning the matter at hand, Bennet knew his wife was a silly, flighty creature who had little sense, less discernment, and no restraint whatsoever.
Perhaps he should have taken her in hand years before and taught her at least a little of these things.
But he had not, and in keeping with his philosophy, Bennet did not mean to berate himself for paths not taken.
When Lizzy and Jane descended and announced their intention to go to London, the expected tumult drove Bennet back to the quiet of his study. That did not end the matter, of course, and he had not expected it would.
“Oh, Mr. Bennet!” exclaimed his wife when she entered his study without knocking—again. “Since Jane and Lizzy are to go to London and attend events of society, we must do something about their wardrobes. What they have here is not fine enough for the society in which they will move.”
In this, his wife was not incorrect. Fashionable society could be judgmental and even cruel at the slightest provocation.
The dress of another was a prime example of this, for it was visible though subjective.
Bennet had no wish for the girls to be embarrassed by some haughty society lady, but as usual, his wife gave no thought to economy or whether their finances would withstand such expenses.
Before responding to that question, however, he was curious about another matter entirely.
“Tell me, Mrs. Bennet,” said he, “why you have not protested Lizzy’s going to London.”
Mrs. Bennet regarded him, perplexed. “Why should I?”
“That is the question I cannot answer.”
“It is simple, Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Bennet.
“Since there are few prospects in Hertfordshire, the girls must go to London. Lizzy, if she does not rattle on like she always does, might catch a husband too. Even if she does not, she can keep that odious Mr. Darcy company while Mr. Bingley focuses his attention on Jane.”