Chapter 11
“What is to be done with the beef? That is what I would like to know,” harrumphed Mrs Bennet for the dozenth time that afternoon. “I should never have purchased such a large joint if Mr Bingley and his party had not been expected for Friday supper.”
“Mrs Hill says it will keep well enough hanging in the shed in this weather,” Elizabeth reminded her mother with a sigh. “It means only that we shall have enough meat for next week as well as this, and need not order a joint for Sunday.”
“What do you know of housekeeping, Miss Lizzy?” Mrs Bennet dismissed her.
“It is not so simple as you seem to think to have one’s plans thrown up in the air like this, with so little consideration.
Do not think either that I have forgiven you for refusing Mr Collins and sending him off in high dudgeon.
When I think that I could have been ordering wedding clothes and linens, oh! It is such a trial to my poor nerves!”
Elizabeth studiously ignored her mother’s personal criticisms, having decided that it was best to think and speak as little as possible about Mr Collins in order that he be soonest forgotten.
Charlotte had thoughtfully removed him to Lucas Lodge for luncheon after that awful proposal, and Elizabeth had not come downstairs until he had departed for the coach.
Still, at least this personal drama had taken Mr Collins’ mind off calling on Mr Darcy, she supposed.
“Miss Bingley did write with their apologies,” Jane broke in, her voice reasonable although her face was sad. “Mr Bingley had urgent business in town. It is not as though they have withdrawn for mere caprice, or without notice, Mama.”
“Urgent business in town!” snorted Mrs Bennet, as though she did not give much credence to Miss Bingley’s note. “What manner of business can take a man from his home indefinitely? And only a few weeks away from Christmas too.”
“Caroline Bingley’s note did not say that they were leaving indefinitely,” pointed out Elizabeth, who saw Jane’s distress, although her mother appeared oblivious to it.
“It only said that her brother had been called away to London on urgent business and she could not say yet when they would return.”
“Indefinitely,” Mrs Bennet repeated with a firm nod. “It means the same thing, Lizzy, and you cannot deny it. Well, I shall have to rearrange everything, and with only Hill to help me, I do not know what I shall do.”
“Come, let’s leave Mother to it,” Elizabeth suggested softly to her older sister as Mrs Bennet rang the bell for the housekeeper. “There is nothing more to be done here.”
Jane nodded, and arm in arm, they proceeded from the parlour upstairs to Jane’s room.
“I am sure it must be something very serious and urgent to make Miss Bingley write as she did,” Jane observed earnestly on the stairs.
Elizabeth nodded as comfortingly as she could, although she did not herself have much more confidence in Miss Bingley’s word than Mrs Bennet.
“I heard little of Mr Bingley’s own spirit in the note from his sister when you read it aloud to us,” she commented.
“Well, Caroline wrote it,” Jane replied with a shrug. “That is to be expected, I suppose.”
“The tone seems odd to me, having met Mr Bingley several times now, and being as sure as you of his good manners and amiable temperament,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head.
“I would expect his sister to have conveyed his apologies and his assurance of returning soon, especially to you, Jane.”
“You should not think that,” Jane demurred immediately, but Elizabeth was firm.
“Yes, I should. He had eyes for no one else at the Netherfield ball, and I have no doubt that Mr Bingley’s principal object in dining with us was your society, not the size of Mother’s joint of beef, nor the dubious entertainment of Mary on the pianoforte.”
“Mary does not play ill,” Jane objected to this mild criticism of their middle sister.
“Nor does she play well, although every note might be correct,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. “Mary plays with more attention to the written score than to the music experienced. That is why no one wishes to listen.”
Closing the door to the bedroom, Jane gave another long sigh, a sound that told her sister that the disappointment of Mr Bingley’s departure would not be easily laughed away. Her eyes shifted to the unfolded message still sitting on the dressing table.
“May I read the letter myself?” Elizabeth asked. Wordlessly, Jane put it into her hands.
Dearest Jane
Urgent business calls my brother away to London this very day, and it is decided that we shall all join him. I cannot say when our party will return to Netherfield. This unfortunately means that we will be denied the pleasure of seeing you for supper at Longbourn on Friday.
From this evening, I shall be at Grosvenor Square with my sister and Mr Hurst. I hope you will write to me there, for the only thing I shall miss from Hertfordshire is your company.
Yours ever
Caroline Bingley
Elizabeth regarded the paper rather longer than it had taken to read the few lines it contained.
“It is very short,” she remarked, choosing her words with care for Jane’s feelings. “I would have expected more explanation from Mr Bingley, considering his regard for you and his attentiveness at the ball.”
The message was indeed short, and rather pointed.
It seemed to contain little of either the regret or courtesy Elizabeth would have expected the Bingley party, or at least Mr Bingley, to express in cancelling his engagement at Longbourn.
In fact, in its brevity and final slight on the neighbourhood, the letter was almost rude.
“It is short, but then, such messages often are between mere acquaintances,” Jane returned. “Nor can I find fault with Mr Bingley for attending to his own business.”
“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth sighed. “Mere acquaintances do not look upon one another as Mr Bingley looks at you! I am sure of it.”
“No, please say no more. I cannot let myself read so much into his absence any more than his presence, whatever you or Mother choose to believe. Mr Bingley is a good man and an amiable neighbour. That is all, Lizzy.”
Seeing that Jane found it easier to believe that Mr Bingley did not really care for her, rather than think him and his sister discourteous, Elizabeth let the matter drop.
Still, as she returned the letter to the dressing table and offered to brush Jane’s hair, Elizabeth remained convinced that there must be something extraordinary behind the Bingley party’s departure.
∞∞∞
Lacking Elizabeth’s sensitivity or tact, Mrs Bennet was still grumbling about Mr Bingley’s precipitate departure at supper.
“Well, Mr Hill has cut that joint in three. Still, we shall have nothing but beef for weeks,” she observed with a huff of indignation as Mr Bennet carved the meat.
“Truly, such hardships are a trial,” observed her husband with a straight face and amused eyes. “Beef for weeks. How will we manage, eh, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth smiled but shook her head slightly, hoping that Mrs Bennet might drop the topic if not encouraged. Immune both to her husband’s teasing and her daughters’ lack of enthusiasm, however, her mother continued on the same theme.
“My hope is for Mr Bingley’s speedy return, ideally without his unpleasant friend,” Mrs Bennet pronounced. “Thinking it over, I am quite convinced that this sudden removal from Netherfield was all Mr Darcy’s doing. Mr Bingley had no reason for it, did he?”
“You can’t know that, Mama,” Jane protested. “We cannot guess at his private business.”
“There, there, Jane,” her mother clucked. “I make no criticism of your Mr Bingley. I blame only Mr Darcy.”
“How so, Madam?” enquired Mr Bennet cheerfully, to Elizabeth and Jane’s dismay at the prolonging of the conversation.
“I should be very interested to hear how you deduced so much from so short a message. A more likely construction is that Mr Bingley’s bank required his signature on some unexceptional but important document, but no doubt you are wiser than I. ”
“I believe that Mr Darcy could no longer bear the gossip about his birth and therefore removed the whole party to London for his own selfish reasons,” Mrs Bennet replied triumphantly. “Mr Bingley would doubtless rather have remained near to Jane, unless he were persuaded by someone else.”
At these assertions from her unthinking parent, Jane had begun to look quite ill. Elizabeth attempted to catch her mother’s eye, but Mrs Bennet could not be turned from her course.
“A true gentleman would not be so self-serving and rude, would he?” the older woman continued.
“The rumours about Mr Darcy seem increasingly likely to me, given his behaviour. Did you know, the latest thing I heard from Mrs King was that he was really the son of a gypsy who once called at Pemberley?”
“No!” Jane burst out with uncharacteristic vigour, her cheeks flaming with distress.
“Mr Bingley himself has assured me that all the rumours circulating about Mr Darcy are a vicious, spiteful, and false campaign by an unknown enemy. Mr Bingley is a trustworthy man who knows the Darcy family well, and I will take his word over that of Mary King’s aunt! ”
Elizabeth nodded in solidarity with her sister, while Mr Bennet chuckled loudly at this righteous eruption.
“Well said, Jane! Yes, the bank is the more likely explanation, I believe.”
His wife looked daggers at him and at both of her elder daughters, indignant at being scolded in such a fashion, but then her face softened.
“No doubt Mr Bingley has his reasons for supporting his friend, Jane. I am only glad to know there is such a confidence between you two, that Mr Bingley can give such reassurances. Let us hope he proves his trustworthiness with a speedy return to Netherfield Park.”
Before Jane could protest any further, Lydia gave a theatrical groan and put down her knife and fork.