Chapter 30
Thirty
Mid-September
It took Charles Bingley above a fortnight to complete all the arrangements in London necessary to place the control of his sister’s dowry formally into his uncle’s care.
For several consecutive days he met with solicitors and bankers, determined to ensure every detail had been properly settled, and afterwards spent another day or two engaging a secretary to assist with his correspondence going forward.
Before leaving Scarborough, his uncle had offered the advice in a manner that could scarcely be mistaken as gentle.
“Charles, you write worse than a schoolboy still in leading strings,” he had scolded whilst attempting to decipher the notes his nephew had hastily scratched upon a page.
“How do you expect anyone to read this when it resembles Sanskrit more than English? If you cannot be troubled to write legibly, then at least have the good sense to employ a secretary for your business correspondence. And your personal correspondence, as well—that is, if you wish anyone to read it.”
At the time, Bingley had laughed, though not without some embarrassment, for he could not deny the justice of the rebuke.
Darcy had made similar observations often enough over the years, as had others, although generally with more restraint and tact than his uncle had shown.
Yet now, reflecting upon all that had occurred, Bingley found himself less inclined to laugh away such criticisms.
He was resolved at last to conduct himself as a gentleman ought—with steadiness, purpose, and the ability to manage his own affairs.
Darcy, he thought, was perhaps the best example of such a man he had ever known, even though Bingley had enough sense to know that imitating his friend in every particular would only end in failure.
No, Darcy had been born to the life of a great landed gentleman and trained for its duties from childhood.
Bingley, by contrast, had only begun trying to become such a man within the last few years.
Still, he could no longer deny that he had spent far too much of his life drifting along whilst others made decisions on his behalf.
He had trusted too easily, questioned too little, and yielded too often merely to preserve harmony.
The painful revelations concerning Caroline had only forced him to acknowledge truths he ought to have recognised long before now.
Employing a secretary seemed, therefore, a sensible beginning.
The next step was returning to Netherfield.
It had been many months since he had abandoned his leased estate, another decision for which his uncle had not spared him criticism. Indeed, the older man had appeared almost personally offended by the matter.
“You leased a respectable estate in a pleasant neighbourhood,” his uncle had declared, “and then fled it because your sisters wished for town amusements and were not satisfied with those of the gentry they found in the country. Doubtless, they expected the same sort of attention and amusements in the country that they did in Town. If you mean to own an estate one day, Charles, then you must first learn to remain upon one. Not only that, but did you not say that you paid attentions to a young lady there for months and then left her without a word. At the very least you ought to apologise to her.”
Bingley had been disconcerted by his uncle’s words and had not liked viewing himself through his eyes.
For the first time, Bingley began to wonder if he had caused some harm to Miss Bennet through his actions—or rather through his inactions.
He had abandoned her after paying her considerable attention.
That neither his sister nor his friend had sought to tell him that the lady was in Town had been difficult to realise, but at least, Darcy had the decency to apologise.
However, even if his friend had misled him—perhaps misled was too harsh, he thought, for Darcy had admitted that his belief in the lady’s lack of affection for him was sincere, if wrong—ought not he, as a gentleman, have discovered for himself what Miss Bennet thought about him?
Could he not have returned sooner and spent a bit more time with her?
After all, he had been the recipient of her smiles and conversation, such as it was.
At the moment, he could scarcely recall what they had discussed.
It was strange to realise that his friend had married Miss Bennet’s sister.
Last autumn, it had seemed that the two were constantly at odds, but now, they were married.
Bingley had suspected that they had formed some sort of truce when they met again at Pemberley.
Despite his sister’s claims to the contrary, he knew their meeting at Pemberley had not been intentional.
He contemplated these changes as he made his way from London to Netherfield.
Once he had hired a secretary, the first assignment he had given to him was to write to the housekeeper to open the house.
Idly, he wondered how he would be received, but he was determined to act as he ought to have done before.
First, he would pay calls to his neighbours, starting at Lucas Lodge and working his way around to Longbourn.
He hoped that doing so would allow Miss Bennet time to accustom herself to his being there—assuming that such was necessary.
Still, he had timed his visit to arrive late in the week and would attend church on the Sabbath and then begin to pay calls to his neighbours.
Saturday, 19 September 1812
It had not taken long for news of Mr Bingley’s return to Netherfield to reach Longbourn. Papa had arrived home only a few days earlier, and Mama had at last begun—for the most part—to cease her constant lamentations regarding Lydia’s removal to school.
Jane rather suspected, however, that her mother’s grief had diminished considerably the very moment Aunt Philips arrived breathless at Longbourn with the intelligence that someone in Meryton had heard Mr Bingley was soon expected back at Netherfield.
Naturally, Mama had immediately revived in spirits, loudly proclaiming that his return was doubtless due to Jane’s presence still at home. She praised the Darcys for sending him this way and would not hear otherwise.
However, as nearly a week went by and he had still not shown his face at Longbourn, she began to wail that the Darcys had not done their duty to the family, ignoring every attempt made by Jane to placate her. Finally, Jane had enough.
“Mama,” she began, striving for calm, although there was enough firmness in her tone to bring Mrs Bennet’s lamentations abruptly to an end. “Whether Mr Bingley visits Longbourn or not has very little to do with Mr or Mrs Darcy, and it is certainly not their fault whichever course he chooses.”
Mrs Bennet opened her mouth at once, but Jane continued before she could interrupt.
“Nor is it at all certain that Mr Bingley intends to offer for me merely because he returns to Netherfield. And if he should…” She hesitated briefly, steadying herself. “I am no longer convinced that esteem and pleasant manners alone are sufficient grounds for marriage.”
Her mother stared at her in evident astonishment.
“Seeing Lizzy with Mr Darcy has made me realise that there ought to be deeper understanding and greater constancy between two people before they promise themselves to one another. Mr Bingley and I must first determine whether we truly suit. That will not be determined in only a day or two, particularly after his desertion last autumn.”
“Jane Bennet!” Mrs Bennet cried. “You cannot truly mean what you are saying.”
Jane raised a trembling hand, though this time she did not allow herself to falter.
“Mama, I am entirely serious. If Mr Bingley comes and if he should renew his attentions, I shall decide the matter carefully and for myself. I will not marry merely because others wish it. We will take the time to come to know each other before any decision can be made.” She paused for a moment, hesitating to make her next comment, but knowing it was important to say.
“Nor am I certain that I am ready for marriage. There is much I need to learn before I ought to consider it.”
The words seemed to astonish Mrs Bennet nearly as much as they astonished Jane herself, but now that they had been spoken aloud, she found she did not regret them.
“And you need not distress yourself so greatly regarding our futures,” Jane added more gently. “Lizzy and Mr Darcy, together with our uncles, would never abandon you or any of my sisters should our circumstances change.”
“Jane!” her mother cried again, “how can you speak to me in this way?”
“Mama, I am only saying what is true,” Jane replied.
“I will not allow you to push me at any gentleman, and if you cannot quietly allow Mr Bingley to come here and allow us to speak without declarations regarding our suitability, I will…I will write to my aunt and uncle and ask if I might go to London.”
Where she had been hesitant only moments before, Jane now found herself filled with a righteous indignation, and once unleashed, she could not seem to restrain it.
“Or I shall ask Lizzy to host me at Pemberley once she and Mr Darcy have returned from their wedding trip. But I will not remain here if you intend to behave as you did last autumn. Until Mr Bingley—or any other gentleman—has actually offered for me, and Papa has approved the match, you ought not say a word regarding my prospects. You may speak to me privately if you wish to know my opinion, but certainly not openly, nor to anyone else…” Jane hesitated only briefly before adding pointedly, “…including your sister.”
“Jane! How can you speak to me in this manner?” her mother whinged.
Still, Jane did not permit herself to retreat. She folded her trembling hands tightly together and lifted her chin ever so slightly.