Chapter 17 Sacrifice
The young couple sat at the far corner of the drawing room and spoke in low tones. Mr. Bingley asked, “Can you not remain in Meryton, Miss Bennet, with the same uncle who will shelter your younger sisters?”
Jane's eyes brightened for a moment as she met his gaze and saw the earnest entreaty within it.
“Sir, my Aunt Phillips does not have sufficient room for my two sisters and me.
And because it has been only three months since my parents passed, it would be unseemly for me to attend any social engagement beyond church.
Were I to remove to my Aunt Phillips's home, which stands in the center of town, I could not receive your visits. Everyone would see who comes and goes, and my name would become a byword.”
“Would it be easier for you to receive visits from my sister and me in London?”
She offered him a sorrowful smile. “It would be easier, sir, but under the circumstances, I remain in deep mourning, and I do not believe my uncle would permit it. He was my mother's younger brother.”
Mr. Bingley lowered his gaze. “I understand. Miss Bennet, would you walk out with me? Since you leave tomorrow, this will most likely be the last opportunity we shall have to visit.”
“Yes, sir, it would be my pleasure.”
They both rose, and Elizabeth watched as Hill handed him his hat and Jane her bonnet and gloves.
Miss Bingley said, “I am sorry, Miss Eliza, that your home must pass into the hands of tenants. What a barbarous custom, to dispossess a gentleman's daughters in favor of a distant cousin.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Not only a distant cousin, but one who has also passed away. One, moreover, who did not think it just and proper to offer his hand in marriage to one of those daughters.”
Mary said, “When a gentleman chooses to entail his estate, it would be considerate if he required the heir to marry one of the bereaved daughters, should any be of a suitable age and unmarried, or else assume responsibility for their support until they marry.”
“That would indeed be ideal, Mary,” Elizabeth said, “but, as we ourselves have discovered, the decision belongs entirely to the heir.” She looked to Miss Bingley. “Let us speak of happier things. Did you bring your embroidery? I wish to see the colors you selected for the roses.”
Miss Bingley's eyes brightened. “Eliza, it is becoming the most beautiful piece I have ever created. I owe it entirely to Jane for helping me choose the colors.”
All four ladies gathered by the window to admire Miss Bingley's work.
“This is beautiful, Caroline. It shall become an heirloom, handed down through the generations.”
Caroline cast a sidelong glance at Elizabeth, then said, “And I know just the manor where it would look best.”
The sisters looked at their friend with interest.
“Pemberley, in Derbyshire. That is where I shall live when the gentleman of my dreams makes me an offer.”
Elizabeth said, “Pray, tell us the whole of it. When is the wedding?”
Caroline flushed.
“He has made no offer, though it is not for want of trying on my part.”
Hill entered carrying a fresh pot of tea, and the moment of confidence passed. As they settled to their tea, Caroline raised her eyes and, gesturing toward the fireplace, asked, “Will Jane not take her fire screens and framed embroidery with her when you leave?”
Elizabeth considered the question.
“We had not thought of it, but since the house will pass to unknown tenants who may not appreciate such work, perhaps we should.”
Mary said, “We shall take them, Lizzy. We can wrap them in Holland covers, and they will keep in Aunt Phillips's attic until Jane has a home of her own.”
Kitty added, “I shall help her cover them, Lizzy, so they will not be ruined.”
A faint smile touched Elizabeth's lips. “Why should Jane not take a little of her history with her? We shall have Mr. Hill move them this very afternoon.”
* * *
Mr. Bingley escorted Jane into the garden.
When they reached the hermitage, he stopped and faced her.
Taking both her hands in his, he said, “Miss Bennet... Jane, I know this is most untoward, but I cannot allow this opportunity to pass without speaking my mind. We have known one another for only a short time. We met on the sixth of July, and today is but the twenty-sixth of August. Though only seven weeks have passed, I feel as though I have known you all my life. Jane, when I am with you, I feel as though I have come home.”
He broke off when tears filled her eyes. He offered her his handkerchief and waited while she dried them.
“Jane, I cannot imagine a future that does not include you. Will you accept my hand in marriage and allow me the privilege of loving and protecting you all my days?”
“Sir, it would be my heart's greatest desire to become your wife, but...” She pressed the handkerchief to her face and sobbed as if her heart would break.
He waited, concern upon his countenance.
“Sir, I cannot accept your suit because my family has been ruined. I am ruined.”
She lifted her eyes to his. His expression had grown grave.
“What is the nature of your ruin, ma'am?”
Ma'am? Only moments before, she had been Jane. Already, the distance between them had begun to widen.
“Sir, I shall tell you, because if I do not, I could never live with myself. I only ask that you keep it in confidence.”
She patted her eyes with his handkerchief.
“When I first met you and discovered our feelings inclined in the same direction, I thought I ought to end our acquaintance before we became too attached. But though I tried, I could not. I kept telling myself, receive one more visit from him. See him one more time. And now here we stand, seven weeks later, and this will break us both.”
She wept again and buried her face in his handkerchief.
“Please, Miss Bennet. Tell me the nature of the ruination so that I may understand what stands between us.”
She raised her eyes to him in order to see how her tale of ruin and disgrace would affect him.
“I have five sisters, sir.”
He inclined his head. “Yes. You recently lost one to an early death.”
“No, sir. My youngest sister, Lydia, ran away from home with a man named Mr. George Wickham.”
“George Wickham! Miss Bennet, I know of him. My friend has long had dealings with the man, for he is a blackguard through and through. He has ruined countless servants and gently bred women who have fallen prey to his handsome face and pleasing address.”
“Then, sir, you understand more clearly what befell my sister. She was but fifteen.”
“He persuaded her to run away with him. When we learned of it, my father pursued them. He found them in St. Albans awaiting the mail coach. Mr. Wickham fired upon my father, inflicting a mortal wound, and carried my sister away. Before he left my father, he declared he intended to sell her to a madam in London. My father went to his grave knowing his youngest daughter was lost to all respectable society, and his other daughters stood in danger of ruin. My Uncle Gardiner consulted three different detectives, but all told him she was lost to us with no means of tracing her.”
She dabbed at her eyes.
“You must now understand why we cannot marry. If it were ever discovered that my sister is a fallen woman living somewhere in London or elsewhere in England, my husband and children would bear that stain as well.”
He looked at her in silence for a moment, then said, “But when I came to Hertfordshire, I heard all about your family, the loss of your parents and sister, and the entail. I did not hear a single whisper of scandal.”
“No, sir. My uncles have taken great care to prevent the truth from becoming generally known. Only my four sisters, our coachman, and my two uncles know what truly befell Lydia. But you have an unmarried sister. Should this dreadful secret ever come to light, not only would my husband and children bear the stain, but so would his family. His unmarried sister would also suffer.”
He took her free hand.
“Jane, there is very little danger of this becoming known. If you accept me, I shall relinquish the lease here and take you to Derbyshire. My friend owns an estate there and wishes me to purchase one of my own in the north so we may become close neighbors. Once we are married, you will be under my protection. You will no longer be a Bennet, but a Bingley.”
“Sir, another nine months must pass before my mourning comes to an end. If you feel the same toward me next May, then ask me again. In the meantime, I think it best that we do not become betrothed, even in secret. You may discover that your feelings have altered, and I should be devastated if I believed myself promised to you only to have you withdraw your offer. I have endured too much, sir. I do not believe I could bear another sorrow. Certainly not one of such magnitude.”
He dropped to one knee before her.
“Jane, do not draw away from me. Accept my hand. I shall entreat your two uncles and obtain permission to marry you quietly in London. Your Hertfordshire neighbors need never know you married before your mourning had ended. I would place you beneath the protection of my name. I beg you to consider it.”
Jane wept, and she too knelt before him. “Though it is not proper for me to speak with such openness, I shall do so because you have dealt honestly with me. I love you, sir.”
She paused and searched his face. “I love you, Charles, and because I love you, I cannot accept your hand in marriage. If you still feel the same when my year of mourning has ended, and if my family's ruination remains concealed, then I shall accept you.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Sir, there is one great uncertainty we must both acknowledge. My sister Lydia is not dead. She may even now be the mistress of some wealthy gentleman. He may escort her to the theatre in London or to some other public place. You see how strong the family resemblance is between us. Lydia has fair hair as I do. As she grows older, she will resemble me more and more. People within your acquaintance may recognize we are related.”
She pressed his hand.
“And, sir, my sister Lydia is not a woman of discretion. She has never learned to restrain her tongue. Whatever enters her mind escapes her lips. She herself may even now bring about the downfall of all her sisters.”
He rose and helped her to her feet.
“Is there nothing I can say to change your mind? Nothing to persuade you to accept my hand?”
She brushed a tear from his cheek. “It pains me to see you brought so low, sir. Had I known indulging my desire to be in your company would bring you such sorrow, I would have ended our acquaintance that very first day.”
“Do not speak so, my love. You would have wounded me far more deeply had you never allowed me to know you at all. I shall wait for you, for you leave me no other choice. But you must promise me one thing. Promise me you will not accept another, nor enter into service, without first writing to me.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a calling card.
“Keep this with you. Write to me, or have your uncle write to me, and I shall come to you immediately. Do you promise me this?”
She accepted the card as though it were a precious treasure.
“I do. I promise.”
“And may I visit you in London? I can bring Caroline and the Hursts with me. It shall not be a visit of courtship, only one of friends wishing to offer comfort through their company.”
Jane smiled.
“Yes, sir. You may visit Lizzy and me under those circumstances.”
“And I shall continue my studies with Miss Elizabeth, for I intend to purchase an estate before long and shall need to learn how to manage it. Surely your uncle would receive me more favorably if I came merely as a young gentleman seeking to improve himself.”
Jane laughed.
“Yes, sir. I believe he would.”
“Jane, dearest, it gladdens my heart to see you smile. We shall get through these next nine months together. Do not despair. If it is the greatest wish of both our hearts to marry one another, then it shall come to pass, for we shall see it done.”
She laughed again. “Yes, sir. I believe you will find a way, regardless of the circumstances.”
“Let us walk a little, so our sisters do not discover we have both been weeping.”
“Yes, sir.”