Chapter Gracechurch
Gracechurch
My dear Jane,
I know not if this will make you feel better or worse, but I cannot contain the knowledge.
Colonel Fitzwilliam told me it was Mr Darcy who convinced Mr Bingley to abandon you.
I imagine his pernicious sisters had a hand in it, but the colonel assures me Mr Darcy was the principal architect.
I plan to have a ‘headache’ this afternoon to avoid going to tea at Rosings, then I will either work out a way to avoid the hated man for another two days, or more likely invent an excuse to return to Gracechurch Street early.
I do not know if I should tell you this in a letter or in person; or tell you at all for that matter; but I simply cannot hold it within anymore.
Mr Bingley is a spineless worm, and Mr Darcy is either malevolent or misinformed, but at least now we know.
Jane Bennet’s relationship with her sister Elizabeth was different from that with everybody else.
Whenever she received a letter, she imagined her sister sitting beside her, speaking.
It did not particularly distress her that reading the letter brought Elizabeth’s voice, expressions, and impertinence to her mind so clearly she could almost smell her scent.
Jane could perfectly well bear her sister’s ghost any time Elizabeth decided to join her.
No other authors inspired that reaction, but she was always happy and comforted when she read one of her sister’s letters.
At least she had been until this one! It, on the other hand did not improve her mood in the least!
It culminated months of suspicion, speculation, and heartbreak.
There was ever so much more in the letter, yet that one paragraph stuck in her mind, like Lizzy sitting and repeating it over and over, though it was not as distressing as it might have seemed.
To have the final confirmation was, in the end, something of a relief, and she was surprisingly less heartbroken than she had been.
There was something to be said for finality.
Her sister’s ghost was momentarily replaced by her father, which was not much of a comfort, but his words, while not particularly amiable, at least showed his character.
Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions.
Perhaps Mr Bennet thought he dispensed good fatherly advice, or more likely his sardonic wit, but anybody except Jane recognised the inherent cruelty of the sentiments.
On reflection, Jane thought her father paradoxically right.
It was time to quit crying like a green girl and get on with her life.
So, she had been abandoned! She was neither the first nor the last woman to suffer such a fate, and Mr Bingley was no longer worthy of her sentiments.
If he wanted to pay court to the haughty Miss Darcy, she was welcome to the spineless worm.
Yes, spineless worm! She liked that, and thanked Lizzy’s ghost most politely.
Jane debated whether it was good or ill fortune that she was alone in her aunt’s parlour when Lizzy’s letter arrived.
It confused her, for the beginning bore no relationship whatsoever to the note her uncle had astoundingly received a week earlier.
Lizzy had apparently attached herself to another family, to journey into the north counties with no notice whatsoever.
Even more curious, her new friends seemed to lack a surname, a direction, or precisely even which county she would travel to. It was quite vexing.
Lizzy was well known to be forthright and honest to a fault, but her manners were the best of any woman Jane knew.
She could never in her life distrust her sister, so she knew something was amiss.
Lizzy would not have engaged in such strange behaviour without good reason, and Jane was certain her sister would enlighten her when the time was right.
When Jane received the letter, it took half an hour to work out what must have happened through the simple expedient of eventually checking the dates.
This letter was written the day her sister left Kent.
It arrived by regular post, so it seemed that Lizzy, perhaps in distress or confusion, must have forgotten all about it when she departed.
Jane desperately wanted to write Charlotte to discover what had gone amiss, but spreading idle gossip about her sister would be the worst of all possible actions.
It would do no good and could do great harm.
To Jane’s chagrin, she realised she did not trust her cousin Collins to refrain from reading his wife’s letters, nor did she want to make Charlotte choose between her friend and her husband.
The correspondence with her sister must therefore be kept confidential.
Lizzy said Charlotte was informed, and there the matter rested.
If it was safe for Lizzy to write more explicitly, she would have done so.
If Lizzy had gone to so much trouble to disappear unobtrusively, Jane was inclined to believe it was for the best of reasons.
She had finally regained her equilibrium and, somewhat surprisingly, looked forward to returning to Hertfordshire, when the announcement of quite possibly the last person in the world she might have expected shocked her anew.
“Miss Anne de Bourgh, ma’am.”
A lady is tested when the unexpected happens. You should be able to comport yourself reasonably well no matter the surprise
Jane had always endeavoured to follow her Aunt Gardiner’s advice, and now was the time for the lessons to prove their worth.
She stood with more grace than she felt and offered a kind curtsy to the unexpected, disconcerting, and possibly unwanted guest. Her curiosity piqued, she finally managed a mostly proper greeting.
“Miss de Bourgh, what an… unexpected pleasure. Will you take a seat?”
“I thank you, Miss Bennet. I apologise for intruding without proper introductions. I hope you might forgive me.”
“Of course. You know my sister, so it is proper enough. Shall I ring for tea?”
“I thank you, yes.”
The young lady took a seat, and Jane endeavoured to fill the interval with the idle and pointless banter expected of such occasions.
From Elizabeth’s letters, she expected Miss de Bourgh to be pale, sickly, and cross.
She was prepared to dislike her, insofar as she was prepared to dislike anybody.
It was therefore a surprise to find the young heiress well-mannered, polite, and easy.
There was something compelling in the young woman.
Jane dared not guess whether Miss de Bourgh was always thus, or only when she escaped her mother, whom Lizzy had described as a vulgar busybody.
Of course, it was possible Lizzy was mistaken.
It would not be the first time her sister fell victim to her own prejudice or was overly enamoured with first impressions.
The ladies continued with the usual civilities for ten minutes while awaiting the tea service, and found they got on well. Naturally, neither said anything of consequence, nor were they likely to do so, but they appeared to possess a natural affinity.
Finally, the young heiress asked, “Miss Bennet, I know my coming here was an imposition, and I hope your aunt does not mind. As I was in company with your sister recently, I hoped to make your acquaintance without undue distress.”
Jane wished to think the best of her new companion, yet still regarded her suspiciously, having not entirely abandoned her faith in Lizzy’s judgment.
Her unexpected appearance after her sister’s disappearance could hardly be a coincidence.
Something was afoot, but Jane knew not if she were prepared to unearth the problem, or how to proceed if she did.
She finally answered, “I do not mind. We have several mutual acquaintances: my sister, my cousin, and of course your intended, Mr Darcy.”
Jane watched the young lady closely as she spoke that name, and she had no idea whether she was gratified or saddened to see her flinch.
Miss de Bourgh took a moment to compose her thoughts. “May I clarify a matter?”
“Of course.”
“I am not, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be engaged to my cousin Darcy. I have an… enthusiastic mother whose ambitions… do not match mine. Neither Darcy nor I have any inclination towards matrimony.”
Jane studied the young lady, trying to discern exactly what she meant.
“I apologise. I, of all people, can understand mothers’ ambitions.”
Jane knew not whether she should be mortified by the admission, but in such cases, the question usually supplied the answer.
Given Mr Darcy's fastidiousness, and her presumption of similar traits in his cousin, Jane expected censure.
She did not expect the response she received.
Miss de Bourgh simply started laughing and carried on for quite some time until Jane finally overcame her embarrassment and joined her.
When they finally could speak somewhat sensibly again, the young lady spoke.
“Miss Bennet, I… well… I missed my chance to know your sister better while she was at Rosings—entirely my own fault, mind you. Miss Elizabeth certainly put my mother in her place, leading me to believe she has certain… experience with… difficult mothers.”
That brought Jane into an easier bout of laughter, and the young ladies broke down a barrier they had not known was there. They had felt a kinship without explanation, but now that they had something clearly in common, perhaps they could be more at ease.