Chapter Four #3
“Yes, indeed,” Miss Bingley agreed. “Pray, what age are you? Nineteen! Ah, that accounts for the youthful bloom about you! Why, we are nearly the same age. My sister is only a few years older, but to me she is an old married woman! Do I not always say so, Louisa, and wish for a friend my own age. Come and sit beside me, Miss Steele, for I wish to examine your hair – so beautifully styled!”
Miss Bingley gestured to the small chaise where Jane sat, which might barely admit a second.
Jane moved to one side to make way for Miss Steele, tipping her face down to hide her mortification.
Miss Steele sat down very close to Jane, then shifted herself about as if getting comfortable, her hip bumping into Jane’s and pushing her further to one side, until she nearly toppled over.
Mrs. Jennings frowned at this, cast a wary glance at Elizabeth, and then beckoned to Jane.
“Come and sit with me, dear Jane. I daresay you must have many tales to tell me of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, from your time together in Hertfordshire. They are so very keen to befriend a new acquaintance that you must have been quite intimate after two months together in the country!”
Elizabeth wished to leap from her seat and applaud the woman for such tactful insolence, and Jane was visibly heartened by this subtle defense.
Grinning, Elizabeth observed, “I daresay London must be a positive influence on Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Here they are perfectly at ease and amenable to befriending those beneath them.”
Mrs. Jennings pressed her lips together – Jane had reminded her with uncharacteristic vehemence not to speak of their fortune to Miss Bingley, though it was clear the woman was wishing to rub Miss Bingley’s face in the revelation.
Elizabeth had no doubt that the superior sisters would hear of it eventually and not with any pleasure, but to speak of it themselves would only provoke them to suppose that Jane sought Mr. Bingley’s approval.
Miss Bingley smirked at Elizabeth. “You understand me perfectly, Miss Elizabeth. I fear I have not the disposition to be agreeable to the sort of people we encountered at Netherfield, but in London I find that I can be just as charming as Charles is to everybody he meets. I hope I have a keen eye for those who would make excellent friends, and I should never call you beneath me, Miss Steele.”
“It would be shockingly rude!” Mrs. Hurst nodded her agreement and fidgeted with her bracelets, which Miss Steele proceeded to admire.
Mrs. Jennings fretted once more. “Miss Elizabeth only means that she and Jane are the daughters of a gentleman, and of course their company is sought after by everyone in their village. Oh, Charlotte, Meryton was such a charming village! And Lucy, I am sure you would have liked it very much!”
“I have heard from Mrs. Dashwood, who is vastly contented to be at her childhood home,” Mrs. Palmer agreed, oblivious to the tension.
“Do the officers of the regiment still receive a hearty welcome there?” Mrs. Hurst offered Jane a condescending smile.
Before Jane could answer, Miss Bingley trilled with laughter.
“You must not take this as an inducement to hasten thither, Miss Steele; surely you have the good sense to aim higher, however charming certain officers may be, and I should not like to part with you when I look forward to seeing more of you.”
“I should like that far better than any country village,” Miss Steele agreed. “The Miss Bennets have one another, but my own sister is still in Devonshire. Mrs. Palmer’s sister, Lady Middleton, has taken up the notion of playing matchmaker for Anne.”
“And you must desire some friends who will do the same for you! Well, leave it to me, Miss Steele,” Mrs. Hurst replied.
“We are in perfect accord,” Mrs. Palmer told her friend, clapping her hands.
Mrs. Jennings laughed heartily. “Perhaps your sister had no wish for your assistance, Mrs. Hurst?”
Miss Bingley blanched and grimaced before finding some new excuse to praise Miss Steele while slighting Jane and Elizabeth.
Mrs. Jennings remained a staunch defender of her two young guests throughout the visit, and though she was clever enough to perceive the superior sisters’ determination to insult Jane, she began to strain decorum as she parried their barbs, until it was evident that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were perfectly willing to mock Mrs. Jennings along with her charges.
Mrs. Palmer remained unaware of the venomous undertones of their conversation, while Miss Steele reveled in her own advantage.
At last the visit ended, and Elizabeth had never been happier to leave a place – just as she felt after every occasion of parting with Miss Bingley.
Unfortunately, Jane realized as they descended the front steps that she had forgotten her reticule.
Elizabeth accompanied her back into the house, and the two sisters fell silent at the sound of derisive laughter.
“It is pathetic, Louisa! Pursuing Charles to London, how desperate! The poor chit has no idea that he falls in love with half a dozen insipid maidens every year! At least there is little chance of Miss Steele getting her claws in him, for she is not fair and dull, as he prefers, else I would never have encouraged her.”
“But at least Miss Steele has a look of wit about her, and she has some connections to boast of. The Palmers are vastly wealthy, so it may be a worthy acquaintance to pursue. And if it will put Jane Bennet in her place, so much the better! I should willingly condescend to befriend Miss Steele if it will teach Jane Bennet her own insignificance.”
Miss Bingley gave a haughty laugh. “Miss Steele is certainly willing to be a party to the Bennet chits’ humbling – I should like to learn why she despises them.
What is it they say? The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Oh, yes indeed! I could see it in her eyes that Miss Steele wishes to give them a set-down!
For that alone, she deserves the reward of whatever we can do for her. ”
Jane brought her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide as she stood frozen in the corridor. Elizabeth reached out and took her sister’s arm, tugging her toward the door. “Come away, Jane,” she whispered. “We will retrieve your reticule another time.”
Jane nodded and began to tremble. Elizabeth wrapped an arm around her sister as they hastened down the steps, where the rest of their party were waiting. Mrs. Jennings wished to visit a friend in Cavendish Square, but Elizabeth begged off.
“I have a sudden megrim, and it is not far to your house, Mrs. Jennings, though it is in the opposite direction – but we will make haste.”
Mrs. Jennings gave a nod of understanding, and patted Jane on the shoulder.
“It is very good of you to attend your sister – but you are the dearest girl in the world! And have a care for Jane, Miss Lizzy! Well, Charlotte, Miss Lucy, we had better be off. But I ought to warn you not to put yourself forward with Lady Sinclair, for she does not like that sort of thing. Her sons will be sorry not to meet my lovely heiresses, but another time they are just the sort of girls to please the young lads.”
As Mrs. Jennings mercifully ushered her daughter and Miss Steele away, Elizabeth and Jane set out the other direction, and it was indeed but a short walk back to Mrs. Jennings’s house.
Jane hugged herself, barely holding her composure as they hurried down the lane, and Elizabeth hovered protectively close to her sister.
Neither of them were paying much heed to what was going on around them, until they were accosted by a strange man.
He hurried toward them from behind, and grabbed them each by the arm, sending them all careening backward as a carriage sped past them, right where they might have stepped in their distraction.
Elizabeth stumbled, and a kindly older woman moved forward to brace her as the gentleman steadied Jane and ascertained that she was well.
“Forgive me for giving you a fright, though I confess you quite scared me out of my wits,” he said.
“I have no wish to see two lovely ladies trampled in the thoroughfare.”
Jane only gaped at the dashing fellow, whose dark curls hung askance in his face after his daring rescue.
Elizabeth smiled between the gentleman, the old woman, and a young lady who was clearly her daughter.
“We owe you our warmest thanks – my sister and I were wool-gathering and not at all conscious of our surroundings.”
The gentleman still held Jane by the elbows, for she had shed a few tears in the chaos of their near-calamity.
He stared silently at her, in the way that men often did.
Elizabeth pursed her lips as she smiled, hoping that her sister would take heart from the handsome stranger’s evident admiration, after the cruelty they had just endured.
“And after I promised our chaperone that we would return home safely,” Elizabeth said with a rueful laugh. “You have our thanks, sir.”
He did not look away from Jane, but the young lady bounced forward and introduced herself to Elizabeth. “I am Sophia Hatchard. My brother John is too distracted for introductions, it seems.” She gave a playful wink.
“Elizabeth Bennet, and my sister Jane – she has a terrible megrim at present, and we ought to be going.” Elizabeth glanced over at her sister, who was murmuring softly to the gentleman, who leaned forward to hear her.
It nearly appeared as if he was enjoying the scent of Jane’s hair, which she had washed in rose water that morning.
Elizabeth glanced back at the girl, who appeared about the same age as Lydia. “Hatchard – like the bookstore?”
“It is my late second husband’s establishment,” the older woman said with a proud but friendly smile. “I cannot recall ever seeing you there before.”