Chapter 19 #2
“Why is that, Miss Bingley?” Elizabeth finally interjected. “These sorts of situations are common, I believe. What makes it special is that Jane and I have a stronger bond of affection than most true sisters.”
At that, Jane smiled at her, while Miss Bingley looked displeased and immediately replied, “I am sure all brothers and sisters believe their relationship is stronger than that of others, but that is not always true. Take Mr Darcy — he heard about Georgiana’s marriage only after she eloped—”
“Caroline, desist!” Mr Bingley interrupted her harshly.
“Mr Bingley, I believe it is time for us to return home,” Elizabeth declared.
She was annoyed by Miss Bingley’s impertinence and frustrated that she could not reply as sharply as she would like to.
It was strange that the lady knew so many details about Miss Darcy’s marriage; she assumed Mr Darcy had discussed it with Mr Bingley, who had unwisely and maybe unwittingly passed the information on to his rude sister.
Mr Bingley insisted on accompanying them back to Darcy House, but in the carriage, Mr Bennet asked whether it would be an imposition to travel instead to the Gardiners’ house on Gracechurch Street.
He had left several items there, including his reading glasses, which he anticipated needing in Mr Darcy’s library.
Agreeing immediately, Mr Bingley gave the instruction to the coachman and settled back against the upholstery.
As soon as the carriage had changed direction, he began to apologise.
“I am truly sorry for my sister’s indiscretion. She has the tendency to dispense with politeness when her curiosity is piqued, and her questions can be intrusive, but her intentions are good.”
“There is no need for apologies, Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth responded, although she was not as persuaded as the amiable gentleman about his sister’s motives.
“We have nothing to hide. Our family’s situation, though a little difficult, is no secret.
However, Mr Darcy would certainly be upset if details about him or his sister were discussed and shared publicly.
More discretion, especially from friends, should be expected. ”
“I know… It was my fault for discussing Miss Darcy’s marriage with my sisters. They were good friends before, you know, and I…they were concerned about her, so I tried to put them at ease.”
“If they were friends, I trust your sisters have kept the matter private and not discussed it outside your family,” Elizabeth warned. Such an expectation was hardly realistic, as Mr Bingley’s sudden blush proved.
“You have a lovely house, Mr Bingley,” Mr Bennet said, wisely changing the subject.
“Thank you, sir. It was bought by my late father. He also insisted I should purchase an estate, and I intend to do so. Leasing one would be a good first step.”
“I cannot agree more.”
The two gentlemen continued the conversation while Jane listened with interest. Elizabeth put on a polite smile and nodded a few times at what seemed to be appropriate intervals, without actually listening to the discussion.
Much more interesting to her was the information betrayed by Caroline Bingley.
Especially as it seemed the details had become public knowledge despite her husband concealing most of what had truly occurred.
Without even knowing her new sister, the girl’s young age and the circumstances around her elopement, to a man related to their family but seemingly beneath them and clearly despised by Mr Darcy, sounded troubling.
The roads were crowded with carriages and people, and they made slow progress.
After spending several minutes barely moving forwards, Mr Bingley’s coachman took a turn, evidently choosing a longer route that would avoid the busier thoroughfares.
Elizabeth gazed out at the unfamiliar streets, a strange mixture of impressive buildings and modest houses.
People mingling on the narrow road also seemed from a variety of social circles.
New housing brought new social categories, and the square they were lining boasted some well-maintained homes.
Her eyes were drawn towards one particular house, similar to several others in a row, yet utterly different; in front of it was Mr Darcy, embracing a woman whose head seemed to rest against his chest.
She had only seen his features from the side, but his shape and his garments alone were familiar enough for her to recognise him beyond a doubt.
The woman’s face was completely hidden in his embrace, and Elizabeth’s eyes widened with disbelief while her heart began to beat wildly.
Her head was spinning, breathing became difficult, and a ball of ice seemed to grow in her stomach.
What was happening? He had said he was going to speak to Mr Wickham.
What was he doing in that part of town, embracing a strange woman?
On the street! If he…at least he could have gone inside!
Dazed and overwhelmed by a distress she could not control, Elizabeth struggled to keep up the appearance of composure, relieved that her companions had failed to observe her husband; at least she did not have to bear their questions and speculations, and even worse their attempts at compassion.
Her reason and common sense warned her that she might be making too much of it, that regardless of that woman’s identity, there could be an explanation for his actions, actions that would not affect her.
There could only be two possibilities: either Mr Darcy was having a secret dalliance with a lady friend, which would not be unusual — it was even expected of a gentleman in his situation — or that woman was his sister, which was hardly probable but not totally impossible.
If he had found Miss Darcy, why would he have embraced her there, in the street, instead of bringing her home?
Mr Wickham was nowhere to be seen, so he could not oppose it.
Were there other obstacles that kept her away from her brother?
If so, then Mr Darcy should at least admit it to his wife if she asked him, should he not?
Confronting him about what she had seen appeared to be the easiest way to obtain answers.
Whether he provided them willingly or not would itself determine what she was to believe.
Unaware of the rest of the journey or the quick stop at her uncle’s house, and lost in her own reflections, Elizabeth startled when at length the carriage stopped in front of her own home, and Mr Bingley handed them out.
Their party entered the house together, three of them chattering joyfully and Elizabeth, feeling miles away from them, carrying a heavy burden of mistrust and doubts on her shoulders.