Chapter Twenty-Three #3
When she passed by her father, Elizabeth overheard Miss Bingley pressing Mr. Bennet about it, as if afraid he had indulged his ward’s sister with such a costly purchase.
Elizabeth glanced over at Jane, who clung miserably to Charlotte, and she was struck by an idea.
Without a word of courtesy to the harpy, Elizabeth linked her arm through her father’s and dragged him unceremoniously away from Miss Bingley, who scoffed in indignation.
“Say that you gifted Jane the piano. Nobody need know you are her father. Say that you wished to do something for the other child of your poor, late friend – blame me, if you like, and say that I pressed you to do it.”
Her father gave a bark of astonished laughter. “Are you so keen to inherit Netherfield that you wish Miss Bingley to strangle me forthwith?”
Elizabeth gritted her teeth, fairly hissing at her father.
“Why should she object to how you spend your fortune? You are not even wed yet. Is Jane nothing to you, sir? Look at how wretched she is over the speculation this has brought her; whoever sent the gift did more harm than good. You might do her a kindness in easing that harm.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “You have a sensible mind and a good heart, my Lizzy, and I think you are perfectly right. Poor Jane, it is the sort of thing I ought to have done for her.”
Elizabeth threw him a face that made it plain she did not disagree. She took her father’s arm once more and led him to the center of the room. She raised her voice, drawing the attention of the whole party. “Listen, everyone – my guardian has played a great joke on us all.”
“Yes, yes,” he agreed, seeming to revel in their mischief. “I sent the pianoforte to Miss Fairfax; it is very near her birthday, and it is as much a gesture to the memory of her late father, my old friend. But I find I cannot be so selfless when I hear so many others given the credit of it.”
Jane stepped forward and took her father by the hand, then stood up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, sir. Your generosity means the world to me.”
Elizabeth could see that Jane meant this, that she was relieved to put an end to the chatter. Jane turned to Elizabeth next and gave her a gracious nod. “That was very well done of you, Lizzy.”
It required considerable forbearance for Elizabeth not to remark that Mr. Churchill had done Jane no favors by exposing her to so much gossip; instead she merely nodded back at her sister, and then gestured to Miss Bates, who had begun thanking Mr. Bennet prodigiously for his kindness.
“I had not anticipated that result, but I cannot repine it, either.”
The sisters stood together and watched for several minutes as Miss Bates spoke merrily with Mr. Bennet; she was chiefly praising Jane, and Mr. Bennet listened to her with what appeared to be sincere and eager interest. Elizabeth and her sister did not speak again before dinner was called, but she hoped that they had at least reached a truce at this reminder of why they had come together.
Elizabeth was seated near Emma at dinner, and her friend was eager to share the secret she had not yet been able to reveal. “You will no doubt perceive a notable omission in our invitations this evening.”
Elizabeth looked up and down the table. “Oh! The Eltons; I had forgotten about them entirely.”
“Well, happily, we are at perfect liberty to do so, for they have gone away.”
“I recall Miss Elton was soon to visit an aunt – has Mr. Elton gone away, too?”
“He has fled, Lizzy, after I was obliged to refuse his proposal on Saturday night! After we departed Milton Hall, he paid me his addresses in John’s carriage; it was utterly mortifying! He actually offered himself up as an alternative to Mr. Bingley, as if he were any better! What an idea!”
“He must be uncommonly sure of himself! Otherwise, he has taken leave of his senses, and I am sure you could never love a man who was out of his wits.”
“No, indeed,” Emma agreed. She shared a vastly entertaining account of her conversation with the parson, who had informed Mr. Woodhouse after church on Sunday that he would be obliged to spend several weeks in Bath. “Good riddance,” she huffed.
“I shall not gloat over having told you so,” Elizabeth teased her. “I shall be content that now Mr. Bingley will only need to duel one rival.”
“Duel? A rival! Oh, Lizzy, do not tease me so wickedly. It is a pity that when I finally meet Frank Churchill, who has long held a fascination for me, I should be already betrothed, and against my will, but Mr. Bingley has not yet been roused to sufficient frustration, I fear.” Emma narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth. “You do not like him, do you, Lizzy?”
“No, I do not think Mr. Churchill is especially fascinating. Perhaps my opinion of him has been shaded by how his aunt behaved when I met them briefly in Weymouth. She is a demanding and self-important woman with little interest in those she deems beneath her; I cannot think well of the gentleman who chooses to be under her thumb.”
Emma looked stunned for a moment and then blinked. “Oh dear, she rather sounds just like one might describe me when I am an old lady, for then I shall surely give everyone far more trouble than I do now.”
Since her friend appeared contemplative, Elizabeth pressed her advantage.
“Mr. Bingley also has an unfortunate relation – perhaps more than one – however, they hold little sway over his decisions and actions, and shall likely diminish in importance when he has a wife. He strikes me as the sort of gentleman who would cater to a wife’s preferences with pleasure; Mr. Churchill is less predictable, and he is certainly less manageable while his aunt pulls the strings. ”
Emma again appeared to seriously consider Elizabeth’s musings. But then she shook her head and broke into a wide smile. “Lizzy! You are a sly creature, but I see what you are about. Has he enlisted you to woo me for him?”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth said. She glanced down the table, and Mr. Darcy was seated near enough to hear them, though he perceived her gaze and endeavored to give the appearance of distraction.
When he finally looked back at her, Elizabeth smiled as she told her friend, “I can promise you I am not in league with Mr. Bingley.” Almost imperceptibly, Mr. Darcy smiled too.
The rest of the evening was unremarkable.
Miss Bingley did little to expose her vicious character, for Elizabeth and her conspirators had done little to provoke the harpy.
The gossip about Jane’s pianoforte eventually waned, now that the mystery had been solved, and Jane looked more comfortable, though she spoke little with Mr. Churchill.
Elizabeth could not be entirely satisfied with the night, for there was no dancing after supper, and she had done little toward accomplishing anything of which she could be reasonably proud.
Indeed, she scarcely knew how anything was to be sorted out unless she and her sister fully reconciled and enlisted their friends in far more mischief than they had yet attempted.
The first was a daunting task, but the second would surely prove a gratifying reward.