Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MRS. BENNET FINDS OUT
Mrs Bennet had been greatly distressed to learn that not only had Mr Collins left without proposing to any of her daughters, but that Mr Bingley had also gone to London.
Her agitation only worsened when another letter arrived from Caroline Bingley.
This one alluded to her brother’s engagement to Miss Georgiana Darcy.
Unlike the first letter, Jane had been unable to keep her mother from seeing it, for it had been delivered to her while she sat in the drawing room with her mother and Elizabeth, and Mrs Bennet insisted upon reading it.
Among other things, Miss Bingley had asserted that once her brother was in London, he would have no desire to leave it again.
Jane, however, could not fathom how Miss Bingley knew he had already departed Netherfield, for Mr Bingley himself had said he had not corresponded with his sister before the ball.
Mrs Bennet, wringing her hands, declared that it must be true.
“Oh, Jane, my poor, dear Jane! She says he will not return—he will marry Miss Darcy instead, and then where will you be? All your chances quite ruined! I told you he admired you, did I not? Now see what comes of it! Nothing at all. He has left for London and will not return to Netherfield.”
“Mama,” Jane said gently, “please do not distress yourself so. He and Mr Darcy both intend to return next week. Mr and Mrs Hurst are still in residence at Netherfield; we have heard nothing of their departure. Mr Bingley told me himself at the ball that he had business in London for a day or two and that he would return as soon as it was done.”
Jane’s hands trembled slightly as she folded the letter, even as she hoped Elizabeth had not noticed.
“Then why would Miss Bingley write so?” Mrs Bennet pressed, her voice rising shrilly. “She would not say such a thing if it were not true. Brothers listen to their sisters, and she will keep him away from you forever!”
“Remember, Mama,” Elizabeth said, hoping to ease the distress that troubled both her mother and Jane, “I told you that Miss Bingley was sent away from Netherfield and is not even in London. She is angry with her brother and likely seeks to make mischief for him by writing such things. I would not place too much confidence in her assurances. The gentlemen will return as they have promised.”
Mrs Bennet groaned aloud, half convinced, half despairing.
“Oh, if only I could go to London myself and demand the truth of him! I cannot bear the suspense. To think—I might have had two daughters married, and now it will all come to nothing! Your father would not allow me to push Mr Collins towards one of you girls, and now he is gone. He will marry someone else, mark my words, and they will throw me from Longbourn before your poor father is cold in the ground. Your father has declared that none of the militia officers might visit here because of the rumours that some are not gentlemen. How am I ever to see my daughters married if no suitors are permitted to enter through the door?”
“You must not worry so, Mama,” Jane replied, darting a quick, almost reproachful look at Elizabeth as if to forestall contradiction.
“Miss Bingley cannot persuade her brother to remain in London when she is in Scarborough herself. Besides, there is no certainty of my marrying him. While he has paid me particular attentions, he has said nothing that could be taken for a courtship.”
Mrs Bennet clasped her hands and moaned.
“No certainty? Fiddle-faddle, Jane, men do not look at girls as he looked at you unless they mean to offer! He will be back, you will see—but what if that woman persuades him otherwise? Oh, I shall be undone if she succeeds!” she wailed, immediately calling for Mrs Hill to fetch her salts.
Elizabeth said nothing, but Jane saw the way her sister’s expression tightened as though she longed to speak. No doubt Lizzy believes she understands the matter better than any of us, Jane thought, but even she cannot know what passes in a man’s heart.
When at last Mrs Bennet was led from the room to recover from her nerves upstairs, Jane turned to Elizabeth. Her hands were folded too tightly in her lap, her smile forced.
“Lizzy,” she began with a careful calm that belied the unease in her eyes, “I wish I could share your confidence about Mr Darcy and his eventual return to the area. But, still, his character—” she faltered, then pressed on—“his character is not so easily cleared in my mind. You speak with such certainty of your information, yet I cannot help but recall what Mr Wickham told me twice now. He seemed reluctant to speak, but sincere. Can it be wise to disregard his words entirely?”
Elizabeth visibly stiffened at her words.
“Jane, I have told you before—Mr Wickham cannot be trusted. Mr Darcy has confided to me his entire history with that man, and it proves the lieutenant to be anything but a good man. Yes, Mr Darcy was proud—haughty even—when first we met, but I have since seen a very different side of him. His conduct contradicts every one of Mr Wickham’s claims, and even you must have noticed how differently he behaved at the Netherfield ball than he did when he first entered our society.
Even if I did not know his tale to be false, I would still trust what I have seen for myself of Mr Darcy.
I cannot believe Mr Wickham has spoken the truth at all. ”
Jane interrupted gently, her voice soft but edged with doubt.
“So you trust Mr Darcy’s account—and believe that what you have seen is enough to know him fully.
But Lizzy… can you be certain he is not deceiving you?
How can a man alter so completely in so short a time?
His pride has not vanished; it is part of him still.
Pride, even in the best of men, can blind them.
You were so certain you hated him a mere fortnight ago. ”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, her voice rising with uncharacteristic sharpness.
“You think I am the one who has been blinded?
By what, Jane? If I disliked him at first, it was for good cause—but more than that, it was because he had wounded my own pride.
I have admitted as much. Yet since then, I have seen more of him—acts that speak louder than words.
Do you know that he has cared for the tenants at Netherfield, that he gave aid to old Mr Smith when no one else would?
When Miss Bingley struck at a maid in a fit of temper and refused to pay for the apothecary, it was Mr Darcy who bore the expense after Mrs Nicholls and I had done all we could. These are but a few instances of many.
“I may have misjudged him initially, but do you truly think I cannot now distinguish pride from honour or arrogance from integrity?” Elizabeth’s colour rose as she spoke, leaning forwards with a fervour that made Jane’s heart sink.
Jane felt as though she had been struck by the accusation from her sister.
“No, never that! Only… feelings can cloud judgement. You say you see him differently now, Lizzy—perhaps even care for him—but what if that care blinds you? What if you no longer see him as clearly as you once did? What if what you believe you understand of him is, in truth, mistaken?”
For a moment, Jane’s voice faltered, and she debated saying more, something that might ease whatever this was between them.
She did not wish to be at odds with her favourite sister.
Her gaze dropped to her hands in contemplation, twisting her fingers in her lap.
Uncertainty flickered across her face before it was carefully smoothed away, replaced by her usual composure.
Silence stretched, heavy with everything left unspoken. At last, Jane reached for her sister’s hand. “Pardon my intrusion, Lizzy. I only wished to protect you.”
Elizabeth gave a small, weary smile but said nothing. Jane could not tell whether it was agreement or frustration, only that her sister’s silence felt heavier than any words.
“Jane, Mr Darcy has known Mr Wickham his entire life,” Elizabeth said, her voice earnest, and Jane knew that she was doing her best to convince her.
“His father gave that man every advantage, and Mr Wickham squandered them all. Worse, he has repaid kindness with ingratitude, treating Mr Darcy shamefully—and still he maligns him at every turn. That alone speaks volumes of his character. I cannot comprehend you, Jane. Less than a month ago you urged me to forgive Mr Darcy for his slight against me, and now our positions are reversed. Did you not tell me that Mr Bingley himself vouched for his friend? Who, I ask you, has vouched for Mr Wickham in your eyes?”
Jane’s expression tightened, her hands knotting together in her lap. “There is truth in his eyes when he speaks,” she murmured, her voice low. “I cannot think him false—not in this. Why would he lie to me, Lizzy? What profit could there be in deceiving me?”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “Very well, Jane. Believe what you will. But some of Mr Darcy’s business in town is to retrieve evidence of Mr Wickham’s debts.
When he returns with the receipts in hand—when he proves Mr Wickham for the liar he is—will you believe him then?
Or will you still cling to your favourite when he is sent to Marshalsea for debts he cannot pay? ”
Jane’s lips parted as if to answer, then closed again.
Her gaze dropped to her clasped hands, her brows drawn in distress.
“I do not know, Lizzy,” she admitted at last, her voice trembling.
“I only wish to think well of people, to hope for their goodness. If I am mistaken… I could not bear to see you hurt.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened at these words; still the tension in her voice lingered. Jane could not tell whether her words had eased her sister’s anger or deepened it.