Chapter I #2
If Darcy was truthful with himself, he wondered if it was justified to pull Bingley away from his lady love.
Darcy might think her indifferent, and Miss Bingley might consider her beneath them—a novel definition, considering Miss Bennet was the daughter of a gentleman while the Bingleys descended from a long line of tradesmen—but Bingley was an adult and could make his own choices.
If he chose Miss Bennet despite the deficiencies of her situation, and even despite her lack of affection, what was that to Darcy or anyone else?
Miss Bingley would deplore it and even had a stake in her brother’s choice of wife, but she could not forbid him.
The alternative was to wait in London and do nothing while Bingley potentially made a grave error, to listen to Miss Bingley’s moans of impending doom.
Another alternative was, of course, to quit London altogether and make for Pemberley—retiring to his estate would allow him some distance from Miss Bingley, not an insubstantial consideration to be certain.
When he thought about it, however, Darcy realized that he could not just retreat and leave Bingley to his devices.
Had Darcy thought Miss Bennet welcomed Bingley for any reason other than her mother’s insistence, he might have considered otherwise.
As it was, the mistake that Bingley might make warranted Darcy’s interference in this matter, and he was determined to be of use to his friend.
Bingley might still ignore his advice, but at least he could truthfully say that he had done his best.
With a sigh, not truly wishing to return to Hertfordshire, Darcy turned his attention to the practicalities and summoned his butler.
As he had decided to go to Hertfordshire, he knew there was no point in waiting.
Best to be about his business at once and give himself the best chance to persuade his friend.
“MR. BINGLEY!”
The Bennet matron’s greeting was very nearly a shriek, though the man in question did not appear to concern himself with her excitement.
The grin that adorned his face was familiar to them all, for he had worn it every time he was in company the previous autumn, and more particularly when he was near Jane.
“How good of you to call on us, Mr. Bingley. It has been far too long since you visited, and you are quite a dinner in our debt as I recall. There was some talk in the village that you meant to quit Netherfield entirely. How pleased we are that the rumor has proven false.”
“No truth whatsoever,” said Mr. Bingley, keeping his genial smile fixed on his countenance. “Business took me to London after the ball. It was longer than expected, and the season had a hand in preventing my return before now, but I am here and have no intention of departing any time soon.”
Mrs. Bennet’s beatific smirk informed them all how agreeable she found his assurances. That Jane greeted the prospect with equal enthusiasm was evident in the color staining her cheeks and the shy smile she had fixed on Mr. Bingley the moment he entered the room.
Elizabeth did her best to hide the smugness she felt at predicting Mr. Bingley’s return.
A man so much in love as Mr. Bingley could never be kept from the object of his affection forever, regardless of the efforts of his sisters and his friend.
But the satisfaction of being correct was nothing compared to the happiness Elizabeth felt at seeing her sister’s melancholy disappear in favor of hope for the future.
“Tell me, Mr. Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet after inviting him to sit, “have the rest of your party also come to Netherfield?”
The slight tightening around Mr. Bingley’s mouth informed Elizabeth of his response before he said anything. “No, Mrs. Bennet. My family and my friend remain in London.”
“Oh, that is unfortunate,” said Mrs. Bennet, as usual oblivious to any undercurrents in another’s speech. “When your excellent family joins you, I hope you will bring them around to visit us, for we should be pleased to continue our acquaintance.”
Mrs. Bennet paused in thought, then with a sour expression added: “Of course, Mr. Darcy is welcome, should he deign to return to the neighborhood.”
The sardonic smile Mr. Bingley showed surprised Elizabeth—the man appeared to have caught something of Mrs. Bennet’s disdain for Mr. Darcy and was amused by it. Elizabeth was not certain what that meant for the subject at hand, but it was interesting, nonetheless.
“If Darcy comes, I shall be certain to pass on your regards.”
“Excellent,” said Mrs. Bennet, sitting back and appearing for all the world like a creature well satisfied that her purpose was advancing.
Mr. Bingley stayed far longer than politeness dictated, but as Mrs. Bennet said nothing—Elizabeth was certain her mother would have been pleased had Mr. Bingley stayed twice as long as he did—he seemed to feel no need to depart.
Elizabeth amused herself with a book, but she paid little attention to it in favor of Mr. Bingley and Jane.
What she saw heartened her as much as any of their previous interactions.
Mr. Bingley was as attentive as he had ever been, confining his conversation to Jane unless addressed by another.
When Mrs. Bennet spoke, as she did a few times, he responded with his typical enthusiasm, then turned back to Jane.
The one thing Elizabeth had not seen before was the earnest conversation that passed between them, one that took several minutes and appeared to canvass disagreeable subjects.
During those moments, Mr. Bingley was serious, speaking to Jane with an intensity she did not think she had ever witnessed before.
Their conversation thereafter returned to the previous tone and left Elizabeth wondering what had passed between them.
At length, Mr. Bingley rose and took his leave, though he could not escape without Mrs. Bennet making one final plea to keep him there.
“Shall you not stay and dine with us, Mr. Bingley? Surely it would be better than dining alone.”
“Thank you for your kind invitation, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, offering her a bow. “Another time, I shall be happy to accept. For tonight, I believe it is best that I return to Netherfield to see to the estate.”
“Then tomorrow, perhaps?”
Mr. Bingley smiled. “Thank you. I shall be happy to accept your invitation for tomorrow.”
With those words, Mr. Bingley went away.
It is no less than a certainty that a woman living in fear of the hedgerows and sensing the possibility of salvation in the form of a man paying attention to her eldest daughter will speak of that man to excess when he is not there.
Mrs. Bennet did not disappoint. After Mr. Bingley’s departure, she spoke at length of her expectations, Mr. Bingley’s handsome mien, the man’s coat, trousers, demeanor, happy manners, and anything else that crossed her mind.
Had the paeans of praise come from Jane as the focus of the man’s attentions, it might have been excessive enthusiasm.
From Mrs. Bennet, it was nothing less than gauche.
“Tell me, Mrs. Bennet,” said her husband that evening at the dinner table, when she had carried on at some length about Mr. Bingley, “are we to be regaled with stories of Mr. Bingley’s perfections at all hours of the day and night, or is today special?”
“What nonsense!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet with nary a hint of irony. “Why, I have no notion of what you are saying.”
“Only that you have spoken about Mr. Bingley without cessation since the moment our dinner touched the table.” Mr. Bennet directed a sardonic grin at his wife.
“Perhaps you should save us all the trouble of hearing of the man every waking moment and simply invite him to stay with us at Longbourn. At least then, we would only see the man, not hear praises of him from dawn until dusk.”
“Stay with us,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Do not be ridiculous, Mr. Bennet. Mr. Bingley cannot stay here. Why he would wish to is beyond my ability to understand—no one would choose Longbourn over Netherfield.”
“You may be surprised, Mrs. Bennet,” said he, not at all concerned with the insult to their home. “Regardless, perhaps you will give us all a reprieve and not speak of Mr. Bingley for the next five minutes. I think even Jane would welcome the time to reflect.”
Whether Mrs. Bennet understood her husband’s suggestion as a command or if she realized belatedly how much she had been speaking of Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth did not know.
For the rest of their meal, she was quieter, much to the entire family’s relief.
After dinner, they retired to the sitting-room, and while she did not practice silence, she at least had less to say.
“Well, Jane?” asked Elizabeth when the sisters sought the privacy of Jane’s bedchamber that night. “Matters with Mr. Bingley appeared as warm as they ever were.”
Jane smiled and nodded, though she was distracted. “I dare say that Mr. Bingley will not go away again,” agreed Jane. “And you were correct to expect his return.”
“I am pleased you have acknowledged it,” replied Elizabeth. “Did he say anything of what kept him from returning to Netherfield?”
The way Jane hesitated, Elizabeth knew her supposition was correct. She did not press, instead preferring to allow Jane to come to the point in her own time, or not at all if that was what she wished. Elizabeth was pleased when Jane decided to confide in her.
“It was the interference of his family and friend,” said Jane at length.
Elizabeth did her best to avoid appearing satisfied at having predicted as much. “Did he say what arguments they used?”
With a sigh, Jane sat back against the headboard. “Mr. Bingley did not tell me everything, but he told me enough to infer there were some strong objections to his attentions to me.”
“Of course, the daughter of a gentleman is not enough for Miss Bingley.”
Under usual circumstances, Jane would have objected to Elizabeth’s statement, but on that occasion, she only nodded.
“Yes, that much appears to be true. From a certain perspective, you can understand their hesitation, Lizzy, for I cannot bring a large dowry or connections to the nobility to a marriage.”
“No, you cannot, Jane,” agreed Elizabeth, “but your situation is not without its benefits. The most important factor is Mr. Bingley’s opinion—if he decides in your favor, all discussion must cease.”
“Without a doubt,” agreed Jane.
Elizabeth watched her sister, knowing she had not yet said everything. “If you will pardon me, Jane, I do not believe such arguments would keep Mr. Bingley from your side. Did Mr. Darcy take a hand, or was there something else at work?”
“According to Mr. Bingley, he questioned only the depth of my regard.” Jane smiled and added: “Though he was in error, you must acknowledge that I do not display my feelings openly—it is no surprise that Mr. Darcy did not see my regard.”
“Perhaps,” said Elizabeth, unwilling to attribute anything good to that man. “But it was not his place to judge. To say as much was officious at best.”
“I suppose it was,” said Jane. “Yet I cannot resent the gentleman for stating his opinion. Miss Bingley’s actions, however, are another matter altogether.”
“What did she say?”
Jane sighed. “Miss Bingley told her brother that I had not written to her. Furthermore, she claimed a knowledge of my sentiments, informing Mr. Bingley that I had told her in confidence that I did not welcome him.”
“How did he discover it?”
“Miss Bingley carelessly left my correspondence where Mr. Bingley could find it. He was disgusted when he realized his sister was lying to him.”
Offended on her sister’s behalf, Elizabeth said: “I am not surprised she would stoop to falsehood, Jane. Though I do not wish to add to your distress, I have always considered her high in the instep. Miss Bingley, though she professed friendship, never considered you good enough for her brother.”
“In that, you appear to be correct.”
Silence fell for several moments, each sister considering the situation, the gentleman who had returned, and those who had remained behind.
Now that she had the account from the man’s mouth, Elizabeth knew her sister could no longer doubt the truth of Miss Bingley’s character, and for that, she could only be grateful.
“Then what do you think of the situation?” asked Elizabeth when it appeared her sister was not inclined to speak again.
“If you are asking if I will trust Miss Bingley, the answer is no. Not until she proves herself to me; given her offense, it will take some time before I shall take her expressions of friendship as sincere.”
“That is the most unforgiving speech I have ever heard from you, Jane. Good. I would not have you misled by Miss Bingley again.”
“I shall not, Lizzy.” Jane paused. “To own the truth, I do not anticipate having Miss Bingley as a sister. How can I be comfortable with my husband’s sister in my house when she has proven herself to be this calculating?”
Elizabeth was not certain whether to be more surprised at Jane’s clear understanding of the potential problems or her assertion that she would be Mr. Bingley’s wife. When she voiced this thought, Jane gave her a serene smile.
“I do not know that Mr. Bingley will propose, Lizzy, but his return without his family and such tales on his tongue is suggestive, do you not think?”
“Yes, I do. But you have a habit of insisting a man is paying no special attention to you.”
“In this instance, I think that is now beyond dispute.”
Jane shook her head. “With respect to Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley all but assured me that he will not listen to his sister. Though he did not speak openly, I understood that his sister would not hold sway in his house. With that, I must be content. While she may live with us, I shall be the mistress of the house, and Mr. Bingley will check her if she becomes too bold.”
“Then I cannot be happier for you, Jane,” said Elizabeth.
She rose to kiss her sister’s cheek, then, with a smile, she returned to her room.
Though Jane had not said as much, she suspected that not only had Miss Bingley not returned with her brother, but she was not welcome at Netherfield for the moment.
That was good, for the woman could make trouble if she were to come unannounced.
As for Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth could not say. If the gentleman came, Elizabeth suspected that Mr. Bingley would not turn his friend away. Mr. Darcy, no doubt, would wish to change his friend’s mind. Thus, Elizabeth would not be surprised if the gentleman came to Netherfield when least expected.