6. Poisoned Ink
Poisoned Ink
Jane’s disappointment arrived at the hand of Miss Bingley ten days later. She came to Elizabeth in her room and held up a letter written in the fashionable lady’s pen. “They are not to return to Netherfield.”
“Not to return? None of them?”
Jane nodded and smoothed a wisp of hair from her ear.
“So they all have gone to support him, to keep him from loneliness?” Elizabeth turned away, eager to keep her relief from her sister.
“And this, Lizzy! What can Miss Bingley mean when she writes her hopes ‘that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you’? Does she think me to have other suitors waiting for their chance now that Mr Bingley has gone?”
A flash of anger hurtled through Elizabeth. “The woman who writes these words has likely never had a suitor! Her third Season is hurtling towards her, with nary a proposal to her name!”
Much as Miss Bingley was Elizabeth’s improbable ally in preventing the furtherance of Mr Bingley’s interest in Jane, her letter was cruelly meant. The missive went on, the strain in Jane’s voice making evident the knife twisting in her heart and the pain she felt with the most assured farewell.
I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister.
Elizabeth listened, shocked by the spitefulness directed at her sister and the depravity Miss Bingley planned for another’s. Miss Darcy, wife to Mr Bingley? How could her brother sanction such a thing?
Jane continued reading, her voice softer and pained.
My brother admires her greatly already, he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing, her relations all wish the connexion as much as his own, and a sister’s partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman’s heart.
With all these circumstances to favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?
Much as Elizabeth welcomed the idea of Mr Bingley’s permanent withdrawal from the neighbourhood, the idea of his affections turning towards Miss Darcy appeared to her merely the suggestion of Miss Bingley’s wishes, for was not Mr Darcy’s sister far younger than he?
Near Kitty’s age? If Mr Darcy were as rich and grand as Miss Bingley advertised, would his sister—the granddaughter of an earl—not have a come-out?
Why would Mr Darcy want his sister—whom he obviously cared for if the number of letters he wrote to her was an example—to attach herself to his licentious friend?
Even Mr Wickham claimed that Mr Darcy had been a good brother.
No. Absolutely not. She could not for a moment suppose that the wishes of either Bingley, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence Mr Darcy, a man so totally independent of everyone and so attentive to his sister.
The relief she felt for Jane was given in a smaller amount to the unknown Miss Darcy, whose feelings were not hers to protect.
She turned to her sister, who stared unblinking at the now wrinkled letter.
“Jane—”
“I thought Mr Bingley might be in love with me, Lizzy.”
“Perhaps, but just as one can be too inexpressive of their feelings, so can one give lie to feeling too much,” said Elizabeth, pained by the clear hurt she saw on Jane’s dear face but reconciled to adding a bit more.
“Recall that Mr Bingley admitted to flightiness and quick decisions. In that he is little different from Mr Collins, who set aside his earnest admiration for me to propose to Charlotte only a day after I refused him.”
Of course she had rejected the ridiculous man, coming to claim her hand the day after the ball.
Elizabeth had tolerated his company only to protect Jane and placate her mother as she anticipated a deeper attachment between Jane and Mr Bingley.
Now there would be no attachments, only her relief, Jane’s disappointment, and Mrs Bennet’s bitter frustration.
Elizabeth quickly saw her mistake in bringing up her own indignation with Charlotte. Rather than amused, Jane was further disheartened.
“Lizzy, you refused his proposal, and Mr Collins found a more sympathetic heart. I cannot expect such an opportunity.”
“Jane—”
“Miss Bingley appears to be perfectly convinced of her brother’s indifference.” Jane’s voice shook. “I believe she suspects the nature of my feelings for him and means, most kindly, to put me on my guard.”
Elizabeth reached for her sister’s hands, shaking a little as she tried to withhold her emotions, and guided her to sit with her on the bed.
“Miss Bingley fears that you are in love with her brother, who is excessively fond of flirtation, and prefers him to marry Miss Darcy. She followed him to town in the hope of keeping him there. Mr Darcy is her prey and in this may be her ally.”
Dropping her hands, Jane gasped. “What did you say?”
“Miss Bingley is likely encouraging a connexion between her brother and Miss Darcy in order to gain one of her own with Mr Darcy.”
“No, Lizzy! What you said about Mr Bingley being overly fond of flirtation. Do you believe his behaviour with me lacked real feeling and was merely flirtation?”
“No, sweetest. Mr Bingley is excessively friendly to everyone. He very much enjoyed your company, but his open manner might have shown an ardency that offended his sisters.” An ardency he has shown to many ladies, whether of the ton or of the servant’s quarters.
Chagrined at her uncharitable thoughts and keen to wipe away her sister’s stunned expression, she wrapped her arm around Jane’s waist and tugged her closer for a hug.
“I am sure Papa would say he smiles too much.”
“He has a wonderful smile and a kind heart. I cannot believe any ill intent was meant by Mr Bingley or his sister.”
Elizabeth could not reply truthfully, so she said, “Perhaps none of Mr Bingley’s conduct can be credited to intent, but a lack of scheming to do wrong or make others unhappy may still cause injury and grief.
” Elizabeth pulled the letter from Jane and squeezed her hands.
“Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution will do the business.”
A long moment passed in silence during which Jane showed no signs of further weeping. Finally, she took a deep breath and sat up. “I shall write to Miss Bingley and express disappointment that our acquaintance should be so brief and pass on our hopes they may yet return to Netherfield.”
Once again, Elizabeth held onto her misgivings and allowed Jane her faith in the Bingleys. If there was a chance she was mistaken and Mr Bingley returned, she would confront him about his behaviour.
However, within the week, Miss Bingley’s reply to Jane’s missive arrived and put an end to any optimism.
Praise for Miss Darcy occupied most of the neatly written letter.
The young lady’s many attractions were again dwelt upon in joyful boasts of their increasing intimacy and anticipation of a closer alliance.
Jane tried mightily to conceal her misery as she read the lady’s words. “Miss Bingley speaks of her brother and Miss Darcy, but perhaps her own hopes for Mr Darcy are nearing success as well.”
That, Elizabeth doubted, but she merely nodded, her heart divided between concern for her sister and resentment against the others.
Did Miss Bingley have any idea as to her brother’s behaviour?
Would she condone it if she knew? She had not cared for his attentions to Jane and likely wished him to form an attachment to a lady in town, be it Miss Darcy, who Elizabeth recalled was rather young, or another female of wealth and connexions.
And while Miss Bingley praised Mr Darcy as an exemplar among men, she was sure the lady’s opinion rested only on the riches and jewels and connexions she envisioned for herself as the future Mrs Darcy.
Miss Bingley was incapable of disappointing Mr Darcy’s expectations, but he would disappoint hers, Elizabeth was certain of it.
“When I became acquainted with Mr Bingley, I began to dream we would have a happy future together. We never argued, Lizzy. We never held different opinions on anything. I was very wrong.”
“No, you thought him a better man than he is,” said Elizabeth. “We thought him kinder than his mean-spirited sisters, but we were mistaken.”
“Lizzy!”
Elizabeth bit her lip. The scenes she had witnessed, the inappropriate intimacy between a gentleman and a servant girl, would not be spoken of to the dear sister who had been so hurt by him.
She would not wish Jane to think herself na?ve or that she had been saved from marriage to a man who dallied with servants.
The knowledge would only amplify her present suffering.
The Gardiners, to whom she had written, nearly begging them to bring Jane to their home, would soon provide a refuge to her sister.
Unclenching her fists, Elizabeth took the letter from Jane and set it aside. “I am sorry, dearest. You must never read these words again, written to you by an unpleasant lady with malicious intent.”
Gently, she grasped her stoic sister’s chin and turned her to look into her sad eyes.
“Jane,” she said, “all will be well. Aunt Gardiner has invited you to town after Christmas. She and the children will be happy for your company, and you will become great friends with her cousin, Mrs Maria Dallish. Her husband is a barrister in Devon, but they have come to visit his family in town, and she sounds ever so pleasant.”
Jane smiled weakly, her heartache still too fresh to be assuaged by the promise of town and a new female acquaintance. Still, she admitted, “The children always bring me joy. It will be good to be with them.”
Elizabeth slept easily that night knowing her sister’s tender heart was safe from scheming sisters and a deceitful suitor. Of Miss Darcy, who appeared well-liked by such creatures, and her brother, she gave no further thought.