Chapter II
Gracechurch Street was a stark contrast to Longbourn, one that impressed itself upon Elizabeth within moments of stepping through the door.
This had not been unknown to her, but it had never struck her with such force as it did at that moment.
The house on Gracechurch Street reflected the character of those who called it home, being orderly, comfortable, and governed by quiet good sense rather than noise and assumption.
No one could call Longbourn tranquil and keep a straight face.
Mrs. Gardiner was an especial favorite of the eldest Bennet sisters, who both viewed her as a wise elder relation, dispensing excellent advice and comfort in equal measure. She met them at the door smiling, and she did not withhold her humor.
“Jane, Lizzy,” greeted she as they stepped from the carriage. “How wonderful it is to see you, though I will own to a little perplexity. Jane, did you not decide against staying with us only two months ago?”
Though she appeared a little shamefaced, Mrs. Gardiner drew her into an affectionate embrace. “I must suppose you have a tale for me, and I will own that I am impatient to hear it. Let us settle you first, then we can attend to the purpose that brings you to London.”
“We did mention something of it in our letters, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth.
“Yes, you did. Yet I believe you owe me a more thorough accounting of what has happened and what you hope to find here. I shall not press for more details than you wish to surrender, but I hope you will oblige me.”
“Of course, Aunt,” agreed Jane.
Before long, the sisters retired to the bedchamber they had always used when visiting.
The townhouse was not large, though Mr. Gardiner could afford a larger house if he chose—thus, Elizabeth and Jane always shared a room when they stayed in London together.
They assisted each other in changing their gowns and putting hair to rights, and after splashing a little cool water on their faces, they descended to face the inquest.
“You are droll, Lizzy, as usual,” said Aunt Gardiner when she used those words to describe their aunt’s interest. “I hope you do not see me so.”
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth warmly. “It is no surprise you want to know what brought us here.”
“I know what you said in your letters,” was Mrs. Gardiner’s gentle reply. “What I do not know are the particulars.”
Mrs. Gardiner gave them a soft smile. “Your letters included minimal details, while your mother’s letter spoke of balls and parties, imminent proposals, and handsome gentlemen. Is Mr. Bingley on the edge of proposing to you, Jane?”
This last she said with amusement bordering on irony. The question provoked the desired effect, for Jane blushed and looked away.
“No, Aunt, that is premature.”
“That is for the best,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Now, shall you not tell me what has brought you here in all this state?”
Mrs. Gardiner listened as they spoke, saying little but for a few clarifying questions. When they finished speaking, she considered all they said before she offered her perspective.
“That your Miss Bingley was the source of your invitation I already knew, for your mother spoke of it in her letter. I find that detail more interesting than reassuring.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jane with a frown.
Mrs. Gardiner waved her off. “No, Jane, I shall say nothing more for the moment. To guess at her motives when I do not even possess the benefit of Miss Bingley’s acquaintance would not be fair at all.”
Then she regarded them both shrewdly. “May I suppose that Miss Bingley intends to visit soon?”
“That is what she promised,” said Jane. “I should write to inform her of our arrival.”
“Very well, Jane,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “You know where the supplies are.”
Jane wrote her letter and dispatched it with a footman soon after, and by late afternoon there was a reply from Miss Bingley. Mrs. Gardiner’s assertion proved correct—Miss Bingley’s note promised that she would visit on the morrow.
Though Madeleine Gardiner had not made Miss Bingley’s acquaintance, she suspected she knew the woman—or at least her type—very well.
There were many such ladies in London, ladies who had little claim to the breeding that would grant them entry into the highest circles of society.
Almost without fail, such ladies affected a haughty demeanor intended to mimic those of higher society, looking down on those they had no right to disdain.
Madeleine was not disappointed. The housekeeper had scarcely announced her before she entered with the assurance of a woman accustomed to being expected.
Miss Bingley presented the very picture of a sophisticated society woman, but Madeleine had the impression that she had managed her visit carefully.
She was gracious, attentive to Jane, but there was a sharper edge beneath the display.
Its nature remained difficult to determine, but Madeleine suspected it was less performance than urgency.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Gardiner,” said Miss Bingley.
The woman curtseyed and offered all the necessary compliments; Madeleine sensed what she was not saying.
As the daughter of a tradesman, Miss Bingley was a woman who was even lower in society than Madeleine Gardiner.
She was also one who wished to forget or ignore that fact.
Why she deigned to visit such a place as Gracechurch Street she could not yet determine, but Madeleine was certain it would come out in due time. No one could maintain a facade forever.
“Your home is quite comfortable, Mrs. Gardiner,” said Miss Bingley, her tone modulated with care. “Rather quaint, indeed.”
That one word quaint was doing far more work than Miss Bingley had intended.
It carried a faint sense of condescension, a suggestion she had accepted the arrangement rather than welcomed it.
Jane and Lizzy had noticed it too—Elizabeth’s watchfulness was a little too sharp, while Jane’s composure was a little too careful.
After a few moments of such domestic conversation, Miss Bingley turned their attention to society.
“I cannot say how pleased I am that you have consented to join us in London, Jane,” said she with a smile for Jane that Madeleine did not think feigned.
“Now that you are here, I must introduce you to my acquaintances. It will not be long before you will gain acceptance—many will wish to be known to you.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, her voice tinged with just a trace of challenge. “Do you suppose we shall become accepted at once? After all, we Bennets have not frequented the sitting-rooms of London.”
The look Miss Bingley directed at her was nigh incomprehensible to Madeleine. In part, it suggested that Miss Bingley looked on her with some emotion that was not friendly. When she spoke, however, Miss Bingley did so without a sneer, without hesitation, and with every appearance of amity.
“We are not so judgmental, Miss Eliza,” said she. “Your characters will guarantee acceptance, and my recommendation—and that of my brother—will win over any naysayers.”
It was the first time Miss Bingley had referenced her brother. Elizabeth seized the opportunity to gain more information.
“How is Mr. Bingley?”
“My brother is well,” said Miss Bingley, still giving nothing away. “Perhaps we should speak of what comes next.”
“For our part,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “that involves shopping.”
She offered Jane and Lizzy a fond smile. “While my nieces have always dressed well, they have never participated in the season. Thus, they lack a certain mode of formal dress they will require in London.”
Though Miss Bingley hesitated, she nodded after a few moments of consideration. “Yes, that is prudent. While I have no doubt of your acceptance, ensuring your clothing is unremarkable will be essential.”
“You are welcome to accompany us, Caroline,” said Jane with her usual diffidence.
Miss Bingley appeared to consider this, then she shook her head. “I have every confidence in your taste and judgment, Jane—there is no need for me to attend you. I have calls I must make tomorrow.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
The conversation moved to other topics, leaving Madeleine to observe the young lady. While she could not resolve what the other woman meant, she did not think Miss Bingley had been forthcoming about her reasons for her behavior.
“Now,” said Miss Bingley, “we should discuss the coming days. As you are unknown in London, there is a progression we should observe to ensure your introduction proceeds without issue.”
“You have many acquaintances?” asked Elizabeth.
Miss Bingley pierced her with a look, seeming to suspect that Elizabeth was questioning her position. It had not been that, but knowing she was the daughter of a tradesman, though Miss Bingley would not acknowledge it, Elizabeth had thought to gain some notion of her true position.
“I do not lack acquaintances, Miss Eliza,” replied Miss Bingley. “Of course, my brother has many friends—you will become known to them also. Then there is Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, not having expected the gentleman’s name to arise between them.
“Yes,” said Miss Bingley. “He is Charles’s close friend, after all.”
“It was my impression that Mr. Darcy did not enjoy society.”
Miss Bingley offered a brief smile and nodded. “That is an accurate picture of Mr. Darcy, to be certain. Yet his position is such that he cannot ignore the season. Mr. Darcy attends, and some of our invitations derive from his influence.”
It was all Elizabeth could do not to raise her eyebrows in surprise—she had never expected Miss Bingley to acknowledge it. “The grandson of an earl, as I recall,” said Elizabeth.
“And the nephew of one,” agreed Miss Bingley. “Mr. Darcy also has other connections to the nobility older than those to his Fitzwilliam relations.”
Miss Bingley shrugged. “That is not our concern, of course—Mr. Darcy’s relations inhabit a lofty sphere, one that will overlap because of his friendship, but not often.”