Chapter VI
Patterns began emerging with greater clarity in the following days.
As the modiste delivered their gowns, they could now attend evening events in all their new finery.
They had not attended a ball yet, but through Miss Bingley and—Elizabeth suspected—Mr. Darcy’s influence, they received invitations to parties, dinners, poetry readings, music performances, the theater, and other such amusements.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sometimes attended with them, for Mr. Gardiner also had many friends among the gentry, but not always.
“Do you suppose that Miss Bingley welcomes our presence?” asked Mrs. Gardiner on one occasion when Jane made some small comment on the subject.
Jane frowned, appearing troubled, but time in London had taught her just a little more cynicism than she’d ever had before. “Miss Bingley has been friendly and obliging,” said she, though her words came with some hesitancy.
“Yes, Jane, she has,” agreed Mrs. Gardiner.
“Yet Edward and I are not of the gentle sphere. Edward directs his business, which does not make us acceptable to all, though some do associate with us because of his success. Miss Bingley, though she has decided you will suit her brother for some incomprehensible reason, is still conscious of others watching. She associates with us because she must.”
Jane sighed, but she could not disagree with her aunt’s assessment. Elizabeth remained silent and watched it all, knowing Miss Bingley was not misleading her sister, but concerned for her all the same.
They continued in this fashion for some days, accepting calls and invitations, attending meetings that appeared random but did not feel so.
As their participation in such society continued, Elizabeth noticed several things about what was happening around them, and about Mr. Bingley’s behavior in particular.
“He is attentive to Jane,” said Elizabeth to her aunt one morning after a party. “But he does not always appear to be present.”
“What do you mean?” asked Aunt Gardiner, intent upon Elizabeth’s answer.
“It is difficult to say,” replied Elizabeth. “When in Hertfordshire, he fixed the entirety of his attention on her, excluding everything else. Here, his attention wanders.”
At her aunt’s raised eyebrow, Elizabeth said: “He is not rude or careless, Aunt—I cannot imagine Mr. Bingley being so. It is as if something else pulls his attention, calls to him, or distracts him. I do not think I can explain it better than this.”
Mrs. Gardiner considered this for several moments. “Do you suppose he is divided?”
Elizabeth frowned. “Do you mean divided loyalties?”
“Not as such,” said Mrs. Gardiner through pursed lips. “To own the truth, I hardly know what I suspect. Perhaps only that Mr. Bingley appears uncertain of his direction.”
For a time, Elizabeth did not wish to consider the implication of what her aunt was trying to say, but the more she watched Mr. Bingley, the more she began to suspect that her aunt had the right of it.
Then something happened that altered her perception.
It was a bright early March day. Elizabeth and her aunt had gone to Bond Street for a little shopping—Jane had elected to stay at the house on Gracechurch Street and play with the children. After visiting a few shops, Elizabeth found she was not quite ready to return to Gracechurch Street.
“The weather is too fine to return home at once.”
“You have expressed an interest in visiting Hyde Park before, Lizzy,” said Aunt Gardiner, the sparkle in her eye telling Elizabeth her aunt knew how welcome such an activity would be. “Perhaps we should take a turn.”
“As you know,” replied Elizabeth, “I would never reject such a sensible suggestion.”
“If it is sensible I have no notion,” replied Aunt Gardiner, fixing her with an affectionate smile, “but I am pleased to indulge you.”
They turned their steps down Oxford Street and entered the park through Cumberland Gate.
Once inside, they made their way toward the Serpentine.
Hyde Park was as beautiful as Elizabeth had imagined, and though it did not compare to the wilds in Hertfordshire she was accustomed to, she found it an acceptable substitute for the moment.
“Your love of nature has always been a source of much wonder to me, Lizzy,” said Aunt Gardiner when they had walked for several moments.
“It is not unknown to you,” replied Elizabeth, keeping her eyes on the foliage around her rather than her aunt.
“No, it is not,” replied she. “But it is amusing all the same.”
“It is something that brings me joy, Aunt,” said Elizabeth, at last turning to Mrs. Gardiner.
“I am never so happy in the city—I much prefer the wild beauties of the country to anything London offers. What are sterile gardens and cobbled streets to paths and wild greenery left as God intended them?”
“What, indeed?” said Mrs. Gardiner with a smile. “I must say, Lizzy, that I find your surety most stirring. Perhaps I shall convince Edward to purchase an estate.”
Elizabeth regarded her aunt with no little curiosity. “Can Uncle afford an estate?”
“Not at present,” said Mrs. Gardiner with a smile. “Someday, should his business continue to grow, that may become a possibility.”
“Do you have a location in mind for your dynastic ambitions?” teased Elizabeth. “Shall you join us in Hertfordshire?”
“No, indeed!” exclaimed her aunt. “It must be Derbyshire—no other county will do.”
Curious, Elizabeth said: “I recall something of your affinity for that county. Did you not spend some years there?”
“When I was a girl.” Mrs. Gardiner paused, considering something. “As you know, my father was a parson. What I have not mentioned is that his parish was in a dear little town not five miles from Mr. Darcy’s estate, Pemberley.”
Elizabeth regarded her aunt, now uncertain. “Then you were acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”
“No, I was not, for we moved in very different circles.” Mrs. Gardiner gazed out at the park, though Elizabeth was uncertain she saw any of it.
Gentlemen rode in Rotten Row while ladies with parasols walked and called out greetings. The breeze over the water stirred Elizabeth’s hair and provided ample wind for the children sailing toy boats.
“I knew Mr. and Mrs. Darcy when I saw them, but I was just a village girl, not one who warranted much attention from such exalted people.”
“If you will forgive me, aunt,” said Elizabeth, “I do not think you could ever be ‘just’ anything. Should such people consider you that way, I do not think they are worthy of you.”
“That is kind of you to say, Lizzy,” replied Aunt Gardiner, patting Elizabeth’s hand. “The Darcy family were always kind—I never felt beneath their notice. But they do inhabit an exalted sphere. You have seen enough of Mr. and Miss Darcy to recognize both truths.”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” replied Elizabeth, distracted.
They walked on for several moments, Elizabeth continuing to enjoy the park while her aunt’s attention appeared to be focused inward.
They were not the only walkers enjoying the park that morning, for the park teemed with walkers, though it was not yet the fashionable hour.
As Elizabeth did not care for such things, she allowed herself to enjoy the day, wondering what the park would be like when summer arrived.
“Lizzy,” her aunt’s voice interrupted her reverie. “Look. Is that not Mr. Bingley?”
Following her aunt’s outstretched hand, Elizabeth saw a man and a woman.
The man was, indeed, Mr. Bingley, for his shock of red hair announced his identity, if his tall stature and pleasant features did not.
The woman was unknown to her—she was of medium height, with brown hair of a shade lighter than Elizabeth’s, and though it was difficult to tell from the distance, appeared pleasant-featured.
She was not dressed with the polish of high society, but neither was she improper.
There was nothing vulgar in her manner—only a natural fashion that made no attempt to impress.
Their path intersected Elizabeth’s, and as they had already reached the crossing, they continued, each absorbed in their conversation, never looking up.
For a moment, Elizabeth considered hailing Mr. Bingley, but something held her back, some sense that she had no interest in the confrontation that must follow.
Not that Mr. Bingley would become angry, of course—but Elizabeth did not wish to meet him now, not when he was walking with a woman, and Jane was nowhere nearby.
Before long, they had moved a sufficient distance down that path that Elizabeth knew he would not espy them by chance. She turned to her aunt.
“What do you make of that?”
Mrs. Gardiner pursed her lips. “It is difficult to say,” replied Aunt Gardiner.
“Did you recognize the woman?”
“No, she is unknown to me.” Mrs. Gardiner watched as they disappeared down the path, then said: “It may be nothing, Lizzy. She may be some acquaintance or another, one known to him but of no particular significance.”
“They did not appear indifferent acquaintances, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth. “She did not take Mr. Bingley’s arm, but they were walking close together, and their attitude betrayed their ease with each other.”
“Yes, I dare say you are correct.” Taking her arm, Mrs. Gardiner directed them again along the path. “Come, Lizzy—it is near time we should return home. Let us talk as we walk.”
Silence fell between them despite her aunt’s suggestion, and Elizabeth considered what she had seen.
Though she knew she needed to take care—seeing Mr. Bingley walking in a park with a woman was evidence of nothing, after all—Elizabeth could not help but wonder whether matters were not becoming clearer.
“I wonder if this is evidence of what is distracting Mr. Bingley.”
Though Mrs. Gardiner nodded, she did not respond at once.
“The question is, what do we tell Jane?”
“It is best, I should think, to tell her the truth,” replied Aunt Gardiner.
“Aye, the truth is always desirable,” said Elizabeth. “How much of the truth is too much?”