Chapter XVI
What awaited Jane and Elizabeth upon their return to Longbourn was no mystery to either sister.
Mr. Bennet would release his wit while secretly pleased for their return, Mary would express quiet pleasure while focusing on her own concerns, and Kitty and Lydia would be the same girls they had always been—loud, brash, and unable to control themselves. And then there was Mrs. Bennet . . .
“Jane!” exclaimed she the moment they alighted from the carriage.
“What news do you bring? You have been most closemouthed since going away to London.” Mrs. Bennet directed a glare at her husband.
“Had your father not forbidden it, I would have gone to London to ensure everything proceeded as it should.”
Mr. Bennet made no response to her charge, directing his attention to his newly arrived daughters. “Perhaps it is best to let them refresh from their journey before we demand long and dusty accounts of their doings in London.”
Though she appeared mutinous at the notion, Mrs. Bennet allowed them to retreat to their rooms, though Elizabeth knew she would not remain patient long. Long before she might have wished it, Elizabeth descended in Jane’s company for the accounting.
“Now, Jane,” said Mrs. Bennet, “what news of Mr. Bingley?”
“There is little to say of him, Mama,” replied Jane. “In London, we learned the truth—Mr. Bingley has made his sentiments clear to a young lady long known to him. There was never any chance of him choosing me.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at them, aghast. Then the wailing began.
“Oh, my poor nerves! You went to London to secure Mr. Bingley, and now you return bearing news of his defection? We are all ruined, destined to be forced from our home the moment your father is in his grave!”
“Thank you for my part, Mrs. Bennet,” said their father. “I do not feel the icy hand of death reaching out for me just yet.”
The lamentations continued for some time, for Mrs. Bennet was indefatigable, lamenting Jane’s failure, an entire season in London wasted, Elizabeth’s refusal of Mr. Collins, and everything else that crossed her mind.
Several times, Jane tried to interject, to tell her mother their other news, but Mrs. Bennet was not to be deterred.
At length, Elizabeth decided there was no recourse but to interrupt—there was no reasoning with her.
“If you would listen to us,” said she, raising her voice so her mother could hear her, “you will understand the truth of the matter.”
Mrs. Bennet faltered, blinked, and stared at Elizabeth uncomprehending. This was opening enough for Elizabeth to make the important communication.
“In three days, two gentlemen will take up residence at Netherfield, Mama. The gentlemen are Mr. Darcy and Mr. Harrington.”
“Whatever can Mr. Darcy have to do with Netherfield?” demanded Mrs. Bennet.
“Nothing,” replied Jane in a fashion most like Elizabeth, “unless you count his recent attentions to Lizzy as nothing.”
For a moment, Elizabeth thought Mrs. Bennet’s eyes would bulge out of their sockets.
The declaration was enough to render the entire family silent, as all eyes found Elizabeth.
While she might have preferred a more measured manner of relating this information, that their mother was now silent was the salient point.
“Tell me, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, “do I understand Jane correctly? Has Mr. Darcy, a man we all know to be proud and above his company, been calling on you?”
Lydia snorted. “Impossible! Why, we all know that Lizzy was not handsome enough to tempt him.”
Even Elizabeth’s glare at her youngest sister did not cow the girl. “Yes, Lydia, he has. There were extenuating circumstances that affected his behavior when he was last here. Mr. Darcy has made amends.”
“And this Mr. Harrington?” asked Mr. Bennet, turning to Jane. “Is he related to the Harringtons of our neighborhood?”
“Distant cousins, or so I understand,” replied Jane.
“Do I misread the situation, or is he coming to court you, much the same as Mr. Darcy is here for Lizzy?”
“We have not progressed to the courting stage, Papa,” replied Jane. “Yet Mr. Harrington has made his interest clear.”
“Well,” said Mr. Bennet after a moment of silence, “your time in London was better spent than we all thought. The result is unexpected, but I doubt any of us will complain.”
Mrs. Bennet did not understand. One truth made her keep her own counsel—that she had sent two daughters to London to secure one engagement, and while that engagement had not happened, her daughters had returned with two promised suitors following.
It did not take her long to do the math, though calculations had never been her strong suit.
Or perhaps she had just decided to wait and see what happened—such patience was not like Mrs. Bennet at all, but the Bennet sisters decided with peculiar philosophy to take what they could get.
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Harrington arrived at Netherfield as promised, and at the first possible moment, they presented themselves at Longbourn.
The surprise of all present, even with the sisters’ assurances, was enough to prompt Elizabeth to laughter.
The gentlemen did not delay proposing to walk out, and the two eldest accepted without hesitation.
“There seems to be something curious happening at Longbourn,” said Mr. Darcy as they walked, taking a short path leading to the north, Jane and Mr. Harrington following behind, leaving enough room for private conversation but staying close enough to provide mutual chaperonage.
“And what is that, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, suppressing her mirth.
The gentleman regarded her for several long moments. “Miss Elizabeth, is my perception amiss, or did your mother not care for me when I was here in the autumn?”
“You are not incorrect, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “My mother thought you a proud gentleman who cared nothing for those beneath you.”
Mr. Darcy winced, but pressed on. “Today she appeared almost unable to meet my eyes. Is the news of my interest in you enough to provoke such a large alteration?”
“Mama is trying to understand, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, unable to contain herself any longer. “From her perspective, Miss Bingley’s actions in drawing us to London all but ensured Mr. Bingley would propose to Jane. Yet we have returned, and then you and Mr. Harrington have appeared.”
“Will she oppose my suit?”
Elizabeth shook her head and settled her free hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm. “No, Mr. Darcy, she will not. The moment she becomes convinced you are in earnest, she will become your firmest supporter.”
“That is a relief,” said the gentleman, sounding sincere.
“Then, of course, you may be tempted to flee,” said Elizabeth. “My mother will do everything she can to secure you.”
Mr. Darcy thought about this for several moments. “I am not unwilling, as you well know, Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps there is something we may do to induce her to allow matters to proceed as they will?”
“If you can manage that, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth wryly, “then you are a worker of miracles.”
Having seen something of Mrs. Bennet’s behavior when confronted by Bingley, her zeal was not unexpected.
Darcy, as the man known to her, was her primary consideration—Darcy attempted to convince himself that was the only reason and not his greater consequence.
Though he did not appreciate her methods or her behavior, esteem for Miss Elizabeth kept him from “fleeing in terror” as she had suggested he might.
Miss Bennet and Harrington received similar treatment from the Bennet matron, though it was more subdued.
In time Darcy understood—Mrs. Bennet had always considered her eldest the most beautiful of her daughters and the most likely to fulfill her mother’s fondest wish and find a husband.
As such, she did not need as much guidance.
Thus, her attentions to Darcy and Miss Elizabeth were therefore more insistent.
But Mrs. Bennet also had an ulterior motive, one Darcy was to discover a week or two after taking up residence at Netherfield.
“Lizzy and Jane will be down in a moment,” said Mrs. Bennet that morning.
Darcy and Harrington had engaged them to ride to a picturesque spot known to Miss Elizabeth for a picnic.
As he knew they were not fastidious women, Darcy suspected another hand guiding events.
A moment later, when the youngest Bennets distracted Harrington, and Mrs. Bennet turned to Darcy, his supposition proved correct.
“Mr. Darcy, I wish to understand something.”
“Of course, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Darcy. “How may I assist?”
“I am curious about Mr. Bingley. Do you know anything of what occurred in London?”
“Yes, I am familiar with it—I was there, after all.”
“Then perhaps you could explain to me how Jane went to London at Miss Bingley’s particular recommendation, yet came home without an engagement to Mr. Bingley. And how did Mr. Harrington come into the picture?”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bennet,” said Darcy, stifling his amusement, “but is Harrington somehow deficient or less than Bingley?”
“Not at all!” cried Mrs. Bennet, aghast that he would think such a thing. “It is just . . .”
The woman struggled for a moment, then gave up. “It is just all so unexpected.”
“Then let me ease your mind, as the answer is quite simple.” Darcy smiled at her, warmer than anything he had ever offered to Mrs. Bennet, who, after all, was a silly woman. “There is no mistaking Miss Bingley’s intentions. However, Bingley did not agree with her.”
Mrs. Bennet watched him, still not quite understanding. “Did not Mr. Bingley make his sentiments known to his sister?”
“At the time in question,” replied Darcy, “Bingley did not know his sentiments yet.”
“Then he decided while Jane was in London,” said Mrs. Bennet.
Darcy did not need to answer—Mrs. Bennet said nothing further, though it was clear she did not understand. A moment later, the ladies descended, and they set off on their horses, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth in the lead with the others following.