Chapter VIII
Clara Whitcombe.
The first time Elizabeth heard the name, she was uncertain what she should feel.
Perhaps anger on Jane’s behalf might have prevailed had her sister not already spoken of her intention to resist all Miss Bingley’s machinations.
As it was, Elizabeth’s primary response was curiosity for a woman who appeared to have provoked everything that was now happening through no fault of her own.
“Her name is Clara Whitcombe,” repeated Elizabeth, glancing at Jane who was watching with interest.
“Yes, Lizzy, it is,” said Aunt Gardiner, showing amusement at Elizabeth’s caution.
“And how do you know?” asked Jane.
“Because, Jane, I have made her acquaintance.”
For a moment, no one in the room spoke. Jane and Elizabeth were curious while Mrs. Gardiner appeared a little self-satisfied at the ability to bring this information to them.
Mr. Gardiner, who was also present, watched with interest and not a little softness for Jane.
The sisters had explained Jane’s new epiphany to their relations, who had commended her for her sense.
Now they were bringing news neither sister had expected to hear.
“It seems you will not explain until we beg you for it,” said Elizabeth, giving her aunt a mock glare.
“Not at all!” laughed Mrs. Gardiner. “I will tell you, though the story is not entirely mine.”
“That is my cue to explain what I know,” said Uncle Gardiner.
“Mr. Whitcombe is an acquaintance of mine here in London, though he is not someone I know well. For years, he was a man of business in town with a high degree of success. A few years ago, he performed some service for the crown, and though I do not know what it was, I know he received a handsome reward. It was enough to purchase an estate.”
“Then he is now a gentleman,” said Elizabeth.
“He is,” agreed Mr. Gardiner. “Unlike most of the tradesman class who achieve that status, he did not sell his business—he still manages it, though I understand he is not as much involved with the operation. His estate is in Essex at a convenient distance from London.”
“Allowing him to return to town should the need arise,” surmised Elizabeth.
“Very good,” said her uncle with approval.
“Then you learned about Miss Whitcombe through your business contacts?” asked Jane. “How do you know it is she?”
“Not through Mr. Whitcombe,” said Aunt Gardiner. “This is where I may take up the tale—Edward had only a superficial involvement in the next part.”
“Please do not keep us in suspense, Aunt,” exclaimed Elizabeth, certain Mrs. Gardiner was teasing them.
“Oh, very well,” said Mrs. Gardiner as if put out, though the gleam in her eye belied any asperity.
“As you know, we are active in society, though at a level consistent with what we have attained. Yesterday, while you were out at the evening party, we were invited to a dinner. The Whitcombes were in attendance.”
“Did you recognize her?” asked Elizabeth. “The distance was great—it surprises me to learn your eyesight is that keen.”
“Perhaps it is well that I surprised you,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “It would not do if you always understood everything about me with complete clarity.”
Elizabeth only rolled her eyes. Jane, for her part, waited without comment, though Elizabeth thought she detected just a hint of impatience from her imperturbable sister.
Above stairs, Elizabeth could hear one of the children calling for the nurse, while the rumble of carriage wheels reached her ears from the street outside.
None of this caught her attention—she waited for her aunt to overcome this need to tease them, knowing any further comment would provoke further delay.
“Miss Whitcombe was present with her father—she is his only child, and her mother has passed on. Though I did not recognize her at once as you so ably pointed out, Lizzy, something about her struck me as familiar.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s expression became amused. “Do you recall Mrs. Abernathy?”
“Of course, Aunt,” said Jane.
Elizabeth grimaced. “Who could forget Mrs. Abernathy? When I visited last year, she attempted to match me with her nephew, Ambrose.”
“And a callow youth he is,” chuckled Mr. Gardiner. “But we were not talking about Ambrose Abernathy.”
“Mrs. Abernathy is not only intent on marrying her nephew to a pretty young woman,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “She is notorious in certain circles for being exactly what she appears to be—a busybody who makes it her business to know everything about everyone.”
Elizabeth shared a look with Jane. “Can I suppose she mentioned something about Mr. Bingley and Miss Whitcombe?”
“To say she mentioned something is so inadequate,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Rather, it was a long dissertation on how handsome, tall, and amiable Mr. Bingley is, how Clara should snap him up at once before someone else does it first.”
They all laughed, for it was Mrs. Abernathy to the smallest detail.
Elizabeth well recalled the comments, Mrs. Abernathy’s absolute inability to imagine that her nephew was not a catch that made him desirable the length and breadth of London.
It was the only time Elizabeth could remember cutting her visit to her beloved relations short—she, Elizabeth Bennet, who boasted of her courage in the face of any attempt to intimidate, had fled London from an inveterate busybody!
“How did Miss Whitcombe take the advice?” asked Jane.
“If advice it was,” was Mrs. Gardiner’s sly reply. “But she handled it with more grace than others I could name.”
“That is not true at all!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “At least Mrs. Abernathy is trying to arrange Mr. Bingley and Miss Whitcombe—she was trying to wrap me up and gift me to her stuffy nephew.”
Mrs. Gardiner laughed and patted Elizabeth’s hand with affection. “Then you may rest easy, Lizzy—Mrs. Abernathy knows you are in town, but you are now quite unsuitable for her dear nephew. She has her eye on a much bigger fish.”
“Thank heavens for that!” said Elizabeth with feeling.
“Can we not return to the tale?” asked Jane, a little plaintively.
“There is not much more to tell,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “I had the good fortune to speak with Miss Whitcombe for a few moments.”
“And what can you tell us?” asked Elizabeth.
Mrs. Gardiner shrugged, but it was not apathy.
“She was an estimable sort of young woman, in my opinion. Miss Whitcombe is passably pretty, engaging, not as witty as you, Lizzy, but not deficient either. In short, she was a good sort of girl. Her coloring is like Jane’s, though you do not look at all alike.
She does not appear to be grasping or even especially ambitious beyond her place.
I believe she is sensible, steady, and unpretentious. ”
This was far more than Elizabeth thought to hear—she had considered waiting for a few more days and then demanding Mr. Darcy tell her what he knew.
It was well that she had not descended to that, for now that she thought about it, Mr. Darcy had commented that he had suspicions, but Elizabeth wondered how much he knew about Miss Whitcombe.
“Do you know anything about her history with Mr. Bingley?” asked Jane.
“Little enough,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “No one at the gathering said anything of it, and I could not ask for obvious reasons. If Mrs. Abernathy knows anything, she exercised uncommon restraint.”
“Which almost certainly means she knows nothing,” replied Elizabeth. “If she knew, she would not hesitate to speak of it.”
“Well, now you know.” Mrs. Gardiner turned to Jane. “Can I assume this news alters nothing?”
Jane smiled. “It does not. Knowing Miss Whitcombe’s name does not make the situation anything other than what it is.”
“Good for you, Jane,” said Mrs. Gardiner, pleased with Jane’s sense. “It is always best to make a man prove himself—if Mr. Bingley does not, you are better off without him.”
“Did you require me to prove myself?” asked Mr. Gardiner, watching his wife with a half-smile.
“Of course, I did.” Mrs. Gardiner appeared insufferably prim. “Do you not recall my father’s interrogation?”
“I always suspected you put him up to that,” mused Mr. Gardiner.
Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a look and burst into laughter. It was the sort of banter that rarely occurred at home; Mr. Bennet’s humor tended toward sarcasm while Mrs. Bennet was far too flighty. It was one of the reasons she loved staying with her aunt and uncle.
“That is the reason for Jane’s presence in London,” said Elizabeth, sobering.
“Lizzy,” said Jane, a note of warning in her voice.
“No, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “I know what you will say, but I suspect it is the truth. Miss Bingley does not approve of Miss Whitcombe because her family rose from trade and she wishes to rise in the world. You are not her first choice, but as she failed with Miss Darcy, you were the available option, the one Miss Bingley could present and have some hope of turning her brother away from a woman she considers unsuitable.”
Though Jane was uncomfortable with Elizabeth’s blunt assessment, she did not reply. Mrs. Gardiner, however, did not hesitate to agree.
“And Mr. Bingley is not drawn to her because he is misled, but because he finds something with her that suits him.”
“But Miss Bingley cannot simply sweep her aside,” said Elizabeth. “Unless I am no judge of the matter at all, she has tried and failed.”
“Wealth and standing would not sway Mr. Bingley,” murmured Jane. “I know enough of him to understand that.”
“Then you understand the shape of this invitation,” said Uncle Gardiner. “What you do with that knowledge is of the utmost importance.”
“I remain unmoved,” said Jane. “Caroline’s game is of no interest to me—I shall be civil to Mr. Bingley but no more unless he gives me an unmistakable sign of his constancy toward me.”
“That is sensible,” replied Aunt Gardiner.