Chapter 11
Elizabeth
Elizabeth felt as if the world had tipped sideways, shattering her view of reality.
Until the moment he had grabbed her, Mr Bingley had seemed exactly as he had always appeared: gentlemanly, open, affable, courteous, caring.
She had somehow assumed that he planned to propose marriage to Jane and that he had a grand gesture planned, some sort of marvellous surprise that would bring happiness to Jane and therefore to all the Bennets, to the Hursts, and—she assumed and dearly hoped—to William.
But then—
It had felt like an attack. Mr Bingley had grabbed her arms, pulled her close, and bent his face towards hers.
This betrayal was far worse than Richard declaring that he loved her in an almost-empty city park. Mr Bingley’s seizure of her person was truly unforgivable.
Elizabeth had used the knee-to-groin defensive move she had learnt from her uncle—although she had always thought that such a move would only be necessary if a strange man had ever attempted to importune her.
It seemed unendurably sad that she had had to use it against someone she had once hoped would be her brother.
And poor Jane! Elizabeth’s elder sister had been so much happier because she had dared to show Mr Bingley her warm feelings for him.
But that happiness had only lasted a day—and to think that it would be her who would have to kill off Jane’s feelings, prevent the proposal they had been certain would soon occur, end the dream of the two couples living near one another, possibly raising their children with many get-togethers… .
When Elizabeth reached the safety of the crowded room, Jane hurried to her, saying, “You look dreadfully upset, Lizzy. What has occurred?”
A moment later, the Hursts were at her side as well. Louisa cried out softly, “What has he done?”
Mr Hurst murmured at nearly the same instant, “I promised Darcy! And I failed!”
Elizabeth did not know what words to use but decided that any honest words were going to hurt Jane terribly; there was nothing for it, she must just whisper the truth: “Mr Bingley grabbed my arms, and he tried to kiss me! I—I fear I have injured him, but I regret to say that he deserved it!”
The moment she murmured those words, she remembered that some people might assume that she was “soiled goods” and that she must marry Mr Bingley.
Of course, William would not hold that opinion—and there would be nothing that could force her to marry the betrayer she had so recently hoped would become her brother!
But—she sent a glance around the room and noticed that no servants or guests were nearby.
She swept the small circle around her with an intense gaze and said, “I expect that not a single one of you should ever say even a syllable of what I just related to you. I should not be made to bear the whispers that I have been somehow damaged because a man took a hold of my upper arms!”
Louisa widened her eyes and answered, “Of course not!”
Jane appeared to be in pain, of course, but she said fiercely, “Not a syllable. I will never say a syllable to Mr Bingley again, of course, but I will also not speak of this event to anyone!”
Hurst nodded and said with fervency, “I meant to be so careful that Bingley never had the opportunity to do anything improper, but I was given what I had assumed was an express, the black edges telling me that there had been a death—but that was all a ruse, I now realise, in order to distract me from what I had meant to do—to protect you! But of course I will tell nobody.”
Elizabeth said firmly, “I will inform William, but no one else.” She tentatively reached out to Jane for a hug; her sister hugged her back but pulled away rather quickly.
At that moment, two men were ushered into the room. They were tall and broad and very strong looking, and Carter announced, “Miss Elizabeth, these two men have an important message for your eyes only.”
Carter bowed, looked around the room, probably seeking his master, and having not succeeded, he left.
Elizabeth stretched out her hand for the written message. Of course she immediately recognised William’s neat, evenly slanted hand, and she stepped a bit away as she opened and read the note.
My dearest Elizabeth,
Do not trust Bingley, and do not go anywhere with him alone or with just one woman.
I am returning to you tomorrow before noon—I hope!
—but in the meantime, I believe you can trust Hurst, and you can very certainly trust these two footmen, named Stanley and Rogers.
I am sending them to you as protection until I can join you.
Always yours, F.D.
Well! The fact that William knew something was “off” in regard to Mr Bingley would certainly make it easier for her to break the news to him. She felt a gush of longing for her intended, and her knees almost buckled from emotion alone.
“Madam, are you well?” one of the footmen asked.
Elizabeth squared her shoulders and replied. “Yes. I was briefly overcome, but I am well enough now. Would you please tell me your name?”
The burly young man had medium brown hair. “My name is Rogers, madam. This is Stanley.” He waved at the man with reddish blond hair.
“I am happy to make your acquaintance, Rogers, Stanley,” Elizabeth said. “I believe my family is ready to return to Longbourn. I assume you are to go along with us?”
“That is correct,” Stanley said. “But I would appreciate you introducing us to Mr Bingley first.”
Elizabeth had not heard anything from the balcony, and certainly Mr Bingley had not walked—nor hobbled, nor crawled—back into the room. She was not certain what to do.
Hurst spoke up, “Mr Bingley is indisposed at the moment.”
Stanley seemed to consider that for a second, and then he asked, “Are you Mr Hurst?”
Hurst smiled and said, “I am Gerald Hurst.”
Stanley nodded and said, “Thank you, sir.”
Rogers said, “We will meet Mr Bingley another time, then. Turning to Elizabeth, he said, “Lead the way, madam.”
“Do you have a note for my father, as well, Rogers?”
“We did, and we delivered it into his hands at Longbourn before coming here.”
Good! Elizabeth was not certain what she wished to tell her father; with Darcy having written to him ahead of time, she was convinced that she and Jane would likely be able to sever their relationship with Bingley without ever having to explain anything.
She firmly informed her mother and sisters that it was time to leave, and the fact that Hurst had just announced to all the diners that Mr Bingley was suddenly ill gave credence to her statement.
The exodus back to Longbourn looked quite grand, with the Bennet carriage flanked by two strong body-guards.
It had taken everything Elizabeth had not to peek out at the balcony before she left. She assumed Mr Bingley was either unconscious from the pain she had inflicted on him—He deserved it! she reminded herself—or sitting and pouting, unwilling to be seen by others.
The next morning, Elizabeth felt that waiting until noon for William to arrive would be unendurable.
To distract herself from the wait, she checked on Rogers, who had slept in a guest bedroom on the second floor, three doors down from where she and Jane shared a room, and on Stanley, who had been shown to the back parlour by Hill, on orders from her father.
Both men claimed to be well rested and fed.
Stanley reported that he had “gone the rounds,” indicating with his finger tracing a large circle that he had inspected the house from the outside, or perhaps that he had inspected both the house and the grounds.
Rogers had been very straightforward that he would be in whatever public room Elizabeth chose to be in, and if she was refreshing herself or in her own bedchamber, he would be nearby.
After checking on the guards, Elizabeth wondered where Jane was.
Her sister seemed to be bearing up incredibly well, but Jane’s stoicism troubled her greatly.
Jane had not cried last night, in the privacy of their bedroom, as Elizabeth had expected.
When Elizabeth asked with concern how she was feeling, Jane had briefly stated that something about Mr Bingley had given her pause, and she now knew that feeling was not a product of her own shyness, but was grounded in intuition about his behaviour.
Jane then shushed any further questions.
Where is Jane most likely to be? Of late, two places Jane often frequented were the herb garden and the still room.
Wishing for a walk, Elizabeth walked the gardens first and found no evidence of her sister.
Then she went back to the house, entering by way of the kitchen, and she navigated her way to Longbourn’s small still room.
There Jane was, surrounded by evidence of much recent work.
There were little labeled jars neatly arrayed on one shelf, and several glass vials, bowls, and the funnel were all arranged on the table where Jane worked.
Elizabeth noted that the small notebook where receipts and notes were kept was laid open, pen and ink near-to-hand, and many bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling.
“You—you have harvested all this? And made all these?” Elizabeth waved her hands to indicate the herbs and the filled bottles.
“Yes,” Jane said softly. She gave no additional information, but that was not unlike her usual demeanour, so Elizabeth simply responded with praise for her industry.
“Are you—?” Elizabeth halted the question on her lips as she noticed pain flashing on Jane’s face.
Jane said, “I will be fine as long as people do not walk around with pity on their faces and concerned questions on their lips.”
“You are everything wonderful, Jane.” Elizabeth thought hard and decided that her sister well knew what she needed, and that she was in the still room, alone, because this was soothing to her. She said, “I love you, Jane, and leave you to your herbs and potions. Let me know if you need anything.”
Elizabeth consulted the clock in the parlour, and she was disappointed that so little time had passed.
However, her mother was there, checking several lists.
They were undoubtedly lists concerning preparations for the wedding breakfast. “Put me to work, Mama,” she said.
“After all, we have only one more week.”
Just as she had hoped, she was kept very busy.
At ten minutes ’til eleven, Elizabeth heard a knock on the door.
It was not quite polite visiting hours, so she did not think it would be the Hursts—and then her stomach plunged as she wondered if Mr Bingley would dare to show his face there!
But she heard Hill’s footsteps, the creak of the door opening—and then William’s beloved, rumbling voice.
She leapt to her feet and, followed by a grinning Rogers, rushed to the entrance hall. When she saw Will’s tall frame and broad shoulders, she fairly hurtled into his arms.
“Elizabeth! Lizzy love! Are you well?” She heard the catch in William’s voice as, holding her firmly, he asked, “Is all this emotion just from missing me? Or worrying about Richard? Or Bingley?” his voice dropped to a whisper on the last name. “Did something untoward occur?”
Elizabeth just kept shaking her head and clinging to William; finally, upon his last question, she positioned her mouth at his ear and breathed, “Later.”
Then she reached out a hand to Georgiana, who stepped closer to hug Elizabeth and exchange greetings.
When the two ladies separated again, Darcy took Elizabeth’s hands in his own, and without a care for Hill or Georgiana or Rogers, or anyone else who might come into the hall, William kissed Elizabeth, and she felt certain that the world was once again on solid footing.