Chapter 6
Drawing Room
Longbourn
Noon
Mrs. Bennet enjoyed entertaining guests, and had filled her drawing room with as many chairs, sofas, and settees as it could reasonably hold.
Today was one such day when nearly every seat near the fire was in use.
Mrs. Bennet and four of her daughters, with only Elizabeth absent, had gathered to drink tea with their houseguest, Mr. Collins, with the welcome addition of the Lucas ladies.
Lady Lucas sat near to Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins by the fire, while Charlotte sat beside the window, and Lydia and Kitty and Maria giggled together in one corner.
“It is very wonderful to have a daughter engaged to such a fine gentleman as yourself, Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet said smugly.
“On the contrary,” Mr. Collins said with a broad smile on his plump face, “it is my very great honor to have won the hand of such an admirable lady as your second daughter, Madame. Indeed, I am confident that Lady Catherine will be most pleased with my choice. You must know that before I left for Hertfordshire, my esteemed patroness did me the honor of telling me that I should marry, and soon. Truly, she said that I should choose an intelligent lady who could make a small income go a long way, and…”
Jane glanced around the room as the heir of Longbourn droned on and on, as was his custom. Lady Lucas was clearly bored, Charlotte looked phlegmatic, Mary was calm and quiet as usual, and the two younger Bennets, along with Maria Lucas, were in a corner giggling and murmuring amongst themselves.
As for herself, she was nearly sick with anxiety. She was the only one in the room who knew the truth; that Elizabeth had run away, that Mr. Bennet was trying to hunt her down, and that there was no engagement between her next younger sister and the admittedly tiresome Mr. Collins.
If that were not enough, she had her own heartbreak to contend with.
The day before, only two hours after learning that Elizabeth had run away, she had received a note from Caroline Bingley, informing her that the Netherfield party was returning to London and that her brother was in love with Georgiana Darcy.
The man she loved with all her heart was in love with another woman.
Just the thought of that made her throat clog and tears form in her eyes, and she turned her head and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
When she turned back, Charlotte Lucas was gazing at her with a worried expression, and Jane’s stomach twisted.
The older ladies were not perceptive, and the younger girls were all too involved in their own interests to pay attention to boring, serene Jane, but Charlotte was a very intelligent and observant young woman.
She managed a weak smile at her friend, and Charlotte deliberately looked away, just as the door opened to reveal the butler, Mr. Simmons, with a most unexpected guest at his heels.
Jane was on her feet in a second, her mouth gaping open, and Charles Bingley smiled adoringly at her.
“Mr. Bingley,” the butler announced and withdrew.
“Oh, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Oh, how wonderful to see you today. Did you return to Netherfield recently?”
“I returned an hour ago, and my first act was to rush over here. I have missed you all very much.”
He said this, and his eyes were on Jane, and she felt as if the sun had come out after a dark and gloomy day.
“Oh, how delightful,” Mrs. Bennet said, her expression triumphant. “Do sit down, will you not, and enjoy tea with us?”
Their visitor hesitated and then turned an uncertain look on Jane. “I was wondering if perhaps I might have the honor of speaking with Miss Bennet alone.”
Mrs. Bennet leaped to her feet as if stung by a bee. “Speak with Jane … oh my! Of course, of course! Jane, my love, I believe the sitting room … that is, the fire has not been lit. I will send Sally to light it. Come along, come along!”
***
East Sitting Room
Ten Chaotic Minutes Later
Little spurts of welcome heat reached out into the cold room as the freshly lit fire licked at the tinder strewn across the stacked logs.
Jane barely felt the chill; every nerve alive as she sat perched on the edge of the chair closest to the fire, her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze fixed on Charles Bingley where he stood in front of her.
Though she presented her usual outward demeanor of serenity, her heart was pounding with an almost painful hope, mixed with uncertainty.
“Miss Bennet,” Charles Bingley said solemnly.
“I love you and wish to marry you, but only if you care for me in return. I want you to be happy as my wife; I do not want you to marry me simply because of financial concerns. If you do not truly care for me, please reject my offer, but if you do care for me, I beg you to do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
She rose to her feet, a trifle shakily, and reached out her hands toward his. He took them, and she found herself tightening her grip like a drowning woman clutching a rope.
“I do love you,” she said quietly, her blue eyes fixed on Bingley’s brown ones. “I love you with all my heart.”
Bingley was already a handsome fellow, but these words caused his expression to transform into unadulterated joy. “Oh, Miss Bennet. Jane! You have made me…”
“Wait,” she said, pulling her hands away and blinking away tears. “I need to tell you something before … our family is in great trouble.”
Poor Mr. Bingley’s face was going through whiplash now, from worry to incandescent joy back to worry. “What is it? What is wrong?”
Jane cast a hunted look toward the door, which was reassuringly closed, and gestured to the chair across from her. “Let us sit down, and I will tell you everything.”
He obeyed, and she lowered herself into her chair and, in a low tone, explained the situation with Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins.
Her lover’s expression shifted from concern to dismay, and when she finished her speech, her heart beating rapidly, he said, “I am grieved to hear about your sister. That is a … well, I confess to being appalled. I have only met Mr. Collins once or twice, but I can well understand why Miss Elizabeth would not want to marry him.”
“Exactly,” Jane said, and she lifted her kerchief to dab her swimming eyes.
“Lizzy would be miserable as the wife of Mr. Collins, and I know she will not marry the man, but our father … I have never seen him so determined or so angry! And if he finds her in London, and I pray he does because she is not safe alone, he will bring her back, and the news will quickly get out that Lizzy ran away to avoid marrying our cousin. The gossip will spread everywhere and…”
“I do not care about any gossip,” Bingley said flatly.
She looked up at him hopefully. “Truly?”
“Truly,” he vowed and reached out his hands again, and she leaned forward to take them.
“I love you, Jane, with all of my heart. I do not care about gossip and whispers so long as you wish to be my wife. I love you.”
Now her brimming eyes overflowed, and she gulped and said, “Thank you. Oh, Charles. Thank you! Yes, I long to be your wife more than anything!”
***
Gregson House
Half Moon Street
Later
Georgiana’s ivory-gloved hand lay in the crook of Darcy’s arm as the siblings mounted the steps of their Great-aunt Gregson’s small house. Darcy patted the delicate hand on his arm before reaching up to lift and rap the knocked firmly against the oak door.
A note had been brought around to Darcy House quite early, from Mrs. Gregson.
Darcy had pounced on it enthusiastically, and scarcely waited for the door to close behind the butler before breaking it open to scan the contents.
Mrs. Gregson was pleased to report that Miss Bennet had slept well and awoken entirely refreshed, and that she had also prudently agreed that an obfuscation of identity was called for.
Mrs. Gregson was delighted to inform her great-nephew that Miss Elizabeth Wantage was staying with her as her companion for some time, and the two ladies would be glad to entertain visitors.
It had not taken Darcy long to decide that a visit to Half Moon Street was in order.
Not only did it behoove him, as the head of the Darcy family, to pay appropriate attention to his elderly great-aunt, he felt responsible for Miss …
Wantage, now, as well. Since he had taken her under his protection, it was his duty to see to her security, and though he knew well that his kind-hearted great-aunt would take good care of her, he still needed to personally ensure that she was comfortable and contented.
He had suggested to Georgiana that she, too, might like to visit their great-aunt, who was a gentle soul and would not resent Georgiana’s shyness.
His sister had agreed, and he had spent the time waiting while she changed into warmer attire, pondering if he should explain Miss Elizabeth’s complex circumstances.
Better to not, he decided; as far as Georgiana was concerned, Miss Wantage was Great-aunt Gregson’s companion, and nothing more.
He had perfect trust in his sister’s discretion, but she was already shy in company, and he saw no need to add to her anxiety.
If she did not know of Miss Bennet’s harrowing escape from an unwanted marriage and subsequent name change, all the better for everyone.
The door to the home opened, breaking into Darcy’s thoughts and revealing Mrs. Gregson’s butler, who welcomed them inside. A pair of maids assisted the siblings to remove their outerwear, whereupon the butler guided them to the sitting room, opened the door, and announced them.
Darcy walked into the room arm in arm with his sister and found himself smiling at the view of Elizabeth and Mrs. Gregson, who were seated on two chairs near the fire. At the sight of the Darcys, Elizabeth rose to her feet while Mrs. Gregson remained seated, as befitted her age.
“Georgiana,” Darcy said immediately, “may I please introduce you to Miss Wantage? Miss Wantage, my sister, Miss Darcy.”
Miss Bennet and Georgiana curtsied to one another, and the former cast a grateful look on him even as she said, “Miss Darcy, it is an honor to meet you.”
“I am pleased to meet you as well,” Georgiana said in a soft voice, her eyes lowered to the carpeted floor shyly.
“It is wonderful having you visit, my dears,” Mrs. Gregson said. “Sit down, both of you, please.”
Darcy guided his sister to a small settee near the two ladies, and Mrs. Gregson said, “I declare, Georgiana, you have grown since I saw you last! You look more like your mother every day.”
Georgiana blushed at these words and lifted her eyes to her great-aunt. “Do I truly?”
“You are the very image of her, though she was not as tall as you are,” Mrs. Gregson said fondly.
“I am glad I look like her,” Georgiana whispered, and Miss Bennet said, “I am sorry that you lost your mother, Miss Darcy.”
“Oh, thank you,” Georgiana murmured, looking down again. “She died when I was only four years old, so I have only a few memories of her.”
“Lady Anne was never very strong,” Mrs. Gregson said sympathetically, just as two maids entered with tea.
Darcy watched as Miss Bennet poured for them all, and was startled, and pleased, when she remembered how he liked his tea, no milk and one lump of sugar.
He accepted the hot liquid with pleasure, and his eye fell on a book sitting on the small table near the fire.
“Were you reading Robinson Crusoe, Miss B … Wantage?” he asked.
“I was,” Miss Bennet said. “It is one of my favorite books. Have you ever read it, Miss Darcy?”
“I have,” Georgiana managed.
“The author was a fascinating person, though not always entirely wise,” Miss Bennet continued, turning her face on Darcy. “Did you know that he once managed to turn being pilloried into a celebration of his writing?”
“Yes,” Darcy said with a chuckle and, in response to the confusion on Georgiana’s face, explained, “In the early 1700s, Mr. De Foe, who had not yet written Robinson Crusoe, wrote a satirical pamphlet about the Church of England which was unfortunately taken seriously. The Crown was not amused, and he was arrested and sentenced to stand in the pillory for an hour a day for three days in a row. Fortunately, his supporters merely threw flower petals at him instead of any rubbish and sold his books. It was actually something of a triumph.”
Georgiana’s shyness had given way to goggle-eyed amazement. “Truly?”
“Yes,” Miss Bennet said with a soft laugh. “The man was a brilliant author but not particularly wise in his choices.”
“I would say not!” Georgiana said.
“My dear girl,” Mrs. Gregson said, “I do not remember how old you are. Fifteen, sixteen?”
“Sixteen,” Georgiana said.
“I understand from your brother that you play very well on the pianoforte,” the older lady continued.
“I like playing very well,” the girl agreed.
“And what of you, Miss Wantage?” Mrs. Gregson said, turning a cheerful face on Miss Bennet.
“I play, but not very well,” Elizabeth said, her brown eyes dancing. “I like to walk, and read, and stare out of the window thinking about nothing in particular, too much to practice my playing as often as I ought to.”
It was on the tip of Darcy’s tongue to argue this statement.
He remembered, very well, watching and listening to Miss Bennet some weeks ago when she played and sang at Lucas Lodge in Meryton.
She was, as she said, not an excellent player, not like Georgiana.
But she was real. She did not pose. She did not pretend. She sang for joy and with sincerity.
But of course, he could say none of that in front of Georgiana, as he was pretending that he did not know Elizabeth Bennet.
A clock chimed the hour, and he realized it was time to leave. He rose to his feet, and Georgiana rose with him, and they bid farewell and made their way out of the sitting room and down the hall and down the steps and into the carriage, which had returned when he had instructed it to.
“Miss Wantage seems very nice,” Georgiana said as the carriage jolted into motion.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I am happy for our great-aunt, that she has a pleasant companion.”
“I agree.”
Silence fell for a few minutes, and then Darcy said, “Would you be interested in visiting our great-aunt regularly? I feel as if we have been neglecting her somewhat, and as you said, Miss Wantage seems very pleasant.”
“I would like that,” Georgiana said immediately. “Miss Wantage is lively but does not make overly clever remarks that confuse me, and Mrs. Gregson is always kind.”
He found himself smiling. He would be able to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet consistently.