Chapter 5 #2
I coughed, and almost spat out my tea—the effrontery, her brazen falsehood.
I saw Jane blush at the thought that Mr. Bingley held affection for Miss Darcy, beyond that for herself.
Miss Bingley was certainly not a simpleton—she did not doubt her brother’s affection for Jane.
Yet she wished him to make a connection which, mayhap, could secure her a place at the heart of London society.
Abruptly, I stood. “My apologies, but I believe I am unwell—something is caught in my throat and refuses to be dislodged.”
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were all that is considerate, the carriage quickly called for, and Jane and I were on our way back to Longbourn.
“Lizzy, whatever are you at?” admonished Jane. “That was almost uncivil, for us to depart so soon after being invited to tea.”
“I could not endure the falsehood, Jane, that Mr. Bingley admires Miss Darcy. Why, the girl is but fifteen years old, not yet come out in society. The gall of the woman!”
“B—but Caroline has always been so kind to me.”
“Of course, Jane. You are all kindness and consideration yourself. But she wishes him to marry someone from the ton, so she herself can rise in society through his connections. She fears his affection will lead him to make you an offer, and her ambition will be diminished. No, Jane, I will not have it!”
I represented to her as forcibly as possible what I felt on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect.
Jane’s temper was not despondent, and she was gradually led to hope that Bingley held a true affection for her—that he would, shortly I hoped, come to Longbourn and answer every wish of her heart.
Perhaps I was prescient, or perhaps Mr. Bingley had heard his sisters’ arguments against marriage, and decided the contrary—for the very next day, Mr. Bingley called, and alone.
We sat in the parlour for some time, with Mr. Bingley increasingly agitated, until Mama and I took it upon ourselves to depart on some excuse to consult Mr. Bennet on the correct pronunciation of the words epitome and hyperbole, which Mrs. Bennet insisted should rhyme with tome, a book, and bole, the base of a tree.
On returning to the drawing room, we discovered Jane and Bingley standing together over the hearth as if engaged in earnest conversation.
Had this led to no suspicion, the faces of both as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other would have told it all.
Not a syllable was uttered by either; and I was on the point of going away again, when Bingley, whispered a few words to Jane, and ran out of the room towards Papa’s library.
Jane could have no reserves from either Mama or myself, and instantly embraced us with the liveliest emotion, declaring that she was the happiest creature in the world.
“‘Tis too much!” she cried, “by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! why is not every body as happy?”
Thus was Jane, my sweet sister and Mama’s lovely daughter, engaged to be married. I had lost my dearest companion.
* * *
Congratulations on the engagement came from Miss Bingley, but strangely, they were not delivered in person, only by a single sheet of elegant, hot pressed paper. It came from Netherfield, but the lady herself had departed that day—the morning of Mr. Bingley’s proposal.
“What am I make of this,” said Jane, “that she should leave on the very day her brother becomes engaged to be married?”
What could I say to a dear sister? That Miss Bingley thought that the Bennets were neither rich enough nor grand enough for her; that she had been determined to secure Miss Darcy for her brother, and, having failed in that endeavour, had likely returned to London in order to pursue Mr. Darcy.
“Yet the Hursts remain,” I said, “so you will be free to visit Mr. Bingley, with Mrs. Hurst as his hostess.”
Jane immediately brightened, for she was not one for melancholy. Indeed, having won the affection of the brother, she scarcely needed to concern herself with the pique of the sister.
An invitation was sent to Netherfield, inviting the party to celebrate the engagement at Longbourn, which was, of course, accepted with alacrity.
Mr. Bennet was assisted into his chair at the foot of the table, with Mrs. Bennet at the head.
It was a small party, expanded by our aunt and uncle Philips, who were the first in the neighbourhood to be informed of the happy event.
Naturally, the talk turned to the wedding, for which the timing was perfect: soon spring would relieve the dreariness of winter.
A day was decided on, and plans were made for the wedding itself—as was traditional for the Bennets, a simple ceremony in the Longbourn chapel, a simple wedding breakfast with the closest families in the neighbourhood and those from the north who could attend; and then Jane—Mrs. Bingley—and her husband would leave on their wedding tour.
As the evening wore on, Lydia begged me to make Jane divulge every detail of Mr. Bingley’s proposal; Kitty, wide-eyed, clung to Jane’s arm, sighing at every mention of affection and love; even Mary, usually inclined to moralise, contenting herself with a soft, approving smile.
Mama sat very still; I noticed that there were tears in her eyes.
Tears of joy, no doubt. I saw her glance at the three chairs that sat empty against the wall.
She looked at me, and we shared a moment of reflection and intimacy.
Both of us, I am sure, thinking of those dear, sweet souls who, perhaps, in another life, saw their lovely sister blessed with such felicity.
Papa was very quiet, never once allowing the pain from his joints to interfere with Jane’s happiness. When the visitors took their leave for the night, as soon as they were gone, he turned to Jane.
“Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman.”
Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his goodness.
“You are a good girl,” he replied, “and I have great pleasure in thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy that every servant will cheat you; and so generous that you will always exceed your income.”
“Oh no, sir!” exclaimed Jane, kissing him once again. “Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be unpardonable.” She paused, her brow slightly furrowed. “Mr. Bingley never mentioned it, but is he aware of my dowry?”
“Indeed, I informed him, after he asked for your hand. He said that it would remain your jointure, secure to your wishes in the marriage settlement. He confessed that his sister, Miss Bingley, had attempted to persuade him that your fortune would only be released upon Mrs. Bennet’s decease.
From where she had that notion, I do not know.
But he replied that it made no difference to him—that he was marrying you for your generosity of spirit, your good-heartedness, and unwavering kindness; your beauty, he said, was but a bonus. Your fortune inconsequential.”
Jane blushed. Truly, she had found a man who exactly suited her.
* * *