Chapter 28
Bingley took care of what business needed doing in town, and eight days after Darcy’s wedding, was on his way to Margate.
He had arranged a room at the same hotel Darcy had stayed at when he visited.
He wasn’t sure how long he would stay, but he vowed he wouldn’t leave without Jane’s agreement to marry him.
Nothing but her absolute refusal could cause him to depart sooner.
Maybe they could even marry at the seaside.
They could go on to honeymoon nearby, perhaps in Ramsgate or Brighton, and avoid excess travel.
But Jane would probably not wish to marry without Elizabeth there, and he knew the Darcys would be visiting The Lakelands through the end of July.
He shook his head of his fanciful ideas and told himself to focus on getting Jane’s agreement first. Everything else could be sorted out later. After checking his appearance for the fifth time, he made his way to the Bennets’ little blue cottage.
“Mr. Bingley! How nice to see you!” called Mrs. Bennet from the front garden where she was snipping flowers with a small pair of shears. She held a basket over one arm and waved to Bingley with the other. “I shall be in momentarily. Jane is around the back with her father.”
He thanked her and made his way around the side of the house, thinking that Mrs. Bennet really was an uncommonly pretty woman, especially for her age. It could only bode well for his future with Jane.
“Mr. Bingley! You are welcome to Margate,” cried Mr. Bennet as he came around the corner.
Jane turned to face him and blushed, greeting him softly. She thought he looked happy and nervous, or maybe it was just her imagination.
Bingley joined them for tea. Mr. Bennet invited him into the discussion they were having on a book Bingley had luckily read while at Cambridge.
“Do you think Reginald should have yielded to his friend?” asked Mr. Bennet, referring to the protagonist in the story.
“His friend’s judgment was sound, and he was certainly in possession of more information, which Reginald should have taken into account.
But I cannot think it good to so wholly surrender your own judgment, regardless of the closeness of the relationship.
” He looked at Jane as he said the last, his eyes serious and steady.
“I must agree, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane. “While it is good to acquiesce to a friend, especially when they are in need, acting against our own judgment for someone else’s sake, I think, would rarely lead to a good end.”
The couple smiled at each other and Mr. Bennet leaned back with a grin. His little Jane was going to be quite all right.
Mrs. Bennet joined them then and invited Mr. Bingley to stay for dinner, to which he gladly agreed, as he would each night for the next several days.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were happier than they had ever been.
Well, perhaps they had been happier in the first blush of love, when she was seventeen and he seven and twenty, but this was different.
That had been heady and passionate, full of big dreams and starry eyes.
But now, both quite settled in middle age, they knew one another better.
And while Mr. Bennet still did not think he had chosen wisely, he was beginning to think he had not chosen badly, either.
If he took the trouble to look, he was able to find attributes worthy of affection in his wife.
The two were often found taking walks along the shore at sunset, or she would read to him as he rested his eyes in the shade of the back garden.
She put flowers in his room and he complimented her regularly, telling her how the sea air was making her complexion positively glow and what a good job she had done in dressing their girls and (almost) maintaining the new budget.
She basked in his praise and thrived on his attention, not wondering about the cause of his change in behavior but only grateful for the result. Such was her nature.
Jane watched her parents with a wary eye.
She couldn’t help but feel all of their camaraderie would end soon, and she waited, sadly prepared to comfort her mother when it did.
She didn’t mind attending her mother, and she was moderately pleased that others found her presence comforting, but she did have her own pursuits and her mother did have three other daughters at home.
Jane simply didn’t understand why she should always be the one to give consolation.
Surely it was a skill that would benefit her sisters?
Was it not something everyone would have call to do at some point or other?
For the first time in her twenty-two years, Jane felt resentment at always being the responsible, comforting one.
Sometimes, she thought it might be nice to just be Jane, without having to tend to those around her.
The thought was so foreign it left her very unsettled.
She told herself she was worrying for nothing.
Her mother had been remarkably calm this entire journey.
It was only her own innate sense of responsibility, and perhaps an inability to trust all the new ideas and feelings she was experiencing, that made her anxious for the future.
Sometimes, though she would never tell him this, she wished her father had never begun his mission to educate and civilize his daughters.
She saw the benefits, and was beyond glad not to be mortified by Kitty and Lydia in public any longer, but she could not be happy that her own ideals and beliefs had undergone such a radical change, and were undergoing it still.
Her rational mind told her it had been likely to happen at some point regardless, but she could not be comforted.
Just for a little while, she would be unhappy about it.
Then she would smile and go about her day, thinking of it no more.
After all, she could not change the world.
Mr. Bingley proved to be a constant suitor.
He came to the cottage most mornings shortly after breakfast. For a fortnight, he accompanied Jane on slow walks by the shore and organized outings for the entire family to visit nearby gardens and ruins.
He even hired a boat for the afternoon for all four Bennet sisters, which could have only ended in disaster and, in fact, did.
After four dripping, disgruntled girls made their way back to the cottage, Bingley returned to his hotel with a silly smile on his face he could not remove, no matter how hard he tried.
Somewhat to his own surprise, he dearly wanted to join the Bennet family.
Yes, Mrs. Bennet was louder than she ought to be and was entirely too in awe of status and wealth, but the latter described more than half the women he knew.
Her other embarrassing behaviors had been tempered of late and she was not cruel, something he couldn’t say for many other women of his acquaintance or even in his family.
The Gardiners were amiable and intelligent people and he could picture many nights spent in entertaining dinners full of lively conversation.
Mr. Bennet was a congenial fellow, though a bit dry for Bingley’s tastes; he was a more straightforward man.
He didn’t manipulate those around him or pretend to feelings he did not have.
Despite their differences, Bingley found the older man’s company stimulating and enlightening, and he enjoyed playing chess with such a skilled opponent.
The Bennet girls would make excellent sisters, Bingley decided.
They had been great fun on the water. Even after the boat tipped and they were all sprayed with sea water, they had laughed and maintained their spirits.
It was only as the wind picked up and they were cold and shivering that they had become grumpy.
Even then, they weren’t half as bad as Caroline on an ordinary day, without the inducement of a near-dunking.
He knew they had small dowries, but he intended to copy his friend Darcy and suggest Jane’s portion go to her sisters. With both he and Darcy as connections, surely the other three would find decent husbands. Even if only one of them married, supporting two women would not be terribly difficult.
He shook his head to clear his imaginings.
He had not proposed yet and Jane had not accepted.
He could kick himself for not proposing at the Netherfield ball last November as he had thought about.
Just as he was about to whisper the sweet words into Miss Bennet’s ear, his sister had approached demanding his assistance with some problem or other.
The moment passed, and now here he was, having chased his love to Margate, desperately waiting for a sign that she would be amenable to a proposal.
“Good morning, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane sweetly as Bingley joined her on the terrace after breakfast.
He smiled at her widely. “I have news,” he said with restrained enthusiasm, tapping a letter against his palm.
“Oh? From your sisters?” Jane asked.
“From Louisa. She tells me Caroline has met a gentleman at the house party. He has shown an uncommon amount of interest in her and asked Hurst about her situation. My brother says he believes a proposal is imminent.”
“After so short a time? Is that wise?” Jane asked, concerned.
“Normally, I would say no. But Caroline seeks an advantageous match, not a romantic attachment. I believe she would be comfortable with being nothing but friendly with her husband.”
Jane shook her head. “I know it is the way it is often done, but I cannot imagine doing so. It must be very strange to live in such close quarters with someone you know so little of.”
He shrugged. “Probably, but everyone has different expectations and they will come to know one another better soon enough. And he is not a total stranger. They have met at dinners and balls in the past, but nothing ever came of it. He is a friend of Hurst’s, which relieves my mind in terms of his suitability.
I would not agree to marry my sister to a stranger, but a respected friend is another matter. ”
Jane nodded. “Your care does you credit, sir.”
He looked away. “I wish I could agree, Miss Bennet. I feel I should have done much more long ago.” He looked down, a chagrined expression on his face.
“I am not naturally forceful. I can manage my servants and take care of my business, but I do not like to force issues with those who should know better, and I do not like to practice strategy on people.”
“I believe you’re saying you are honest, Mr. Bingley,” said Jane with a soft smile.
“Perhaps. Caroline would call it otherwise,” he said quietly.
“I think it is refreshing,” said Jane. “Who wants to constantly worry whether others are trying to manipulate us or force those who would rather not into good behavior?”
“You are wise, Miss Bennet. Strategy is best left to the chess-board. I prefer my interactions to be simpler.”
She smiled and he took her hand in his.
“For example, when I admire a woman, she will know it by the way I hold her hand, and have eyes only for her.” He looked at her meaningfully and she blushed scarlet.
“I will be straightforward in my addresses, but patient and in tune with her desires. She will know how cherished she is by how I give her all of my time, all my attention,” he kissed the back of her hand slowly, “all my heart.”
Jane gasped, her breath coming rapidly.
“Miss Bennet, say the word and I will cease speaking this minute,” he whispered urgently.
She swallowed loudly, but said nothing, her eyes wide and her lips parted.
“Miss Bennet, Jane, I must tell you how much I love and adore you. I loved you in Hertfordshire, but that was as nothing compared to what I feel for you now. I promise to treasure you above all else. Will you do me the very great honor of being my wife?”
Jane’s heart practically leapt out of her chest, and she wanted to fall into his arms, but she forced herself to stop and think rationally for a moment.
She closed her eyes, feeling his hands tighten around hers.
Could she rely on him always? Would he be able to stand his ground against his sisters and officious friends?
Would he be a true head of the family, or would she be constantly prompting him to lead and exhausting herself in the process?
An image of Mr. Walker came to mind. He was more like Mr. Darcy: dependable, predictable, reliable, and very in control.
And yet, she felt nothing when she thought of him.
No butterflies in her stomach, no hitch in her breath, no gooseflesh on her arms. He was pleasant and good company and nothing more.
Finally, after Bingley was sure he had aged five years, she slowly opened her eyes and smiled angelically at him.
“Yes!” she cried.
The word was barely out of her mouth before he stood and pulled her up with him, embracing her and spinning around. They laughed together and Jane felt tears of joy on her cheeks. He tenderly wiped them away with a handkerchief and she laughed nervously.
“I must go to my mother,” she said.
“I’ll go to your father,” he replied.
Smiling at each other again, they went into the house.