He could do nothing to help her, however; the damage had been done. Perhaps, after all, it was no bad thing that Mrs Bennet had disgraced herself, for it might more quickly erase any regret he felt in leaving Elizabeth behind.
1
A COMMISSION FOR ELIZABETH
It had been the strangest Christmas in Elizabeth’s memory. Her aunt and uncle Gardiner had come, as they did every year, and joined with the rest of the family in acting as though nothing was amiss. Yet there was no escaping the glaring fact that Mrs Bennet was not there. A few days before the Gardiners arrived, she had been called to London, where her childhood friend, Mrs Randall, lay abed with a worsening fever and only one recalcitrant maid to nurse her.
Stranger still was that none of Elizabeth’s family appeared to share her misgivings. Mr Bennet had blithely encouraged everybody to make the most of the peace and quiet. Jane and Mary were too intent on applauding Mrs Bennet’s Samaritan impulses to question her motives. Kitty and Lydia had observed that it was no different to Elizabeth running off to Netherfield when Jane had a cold in November.
“It is completely different,” Elizabeth complained to her aunt one day after Christmas when they were walking alone in the lanes. “Mama’s correspondence with Mrs Randall has dwindled to infrequent at best, and I cannot recall the last time the woman returned to Meryton for a visit. It is very sad that sheis unwell now, but I do not believe Mama would have been half so keen to spend her Christmas in the service of a long-since-lapsed friendship had not I refused Mr Collins, or he proposed to Charlotte, or Mr Bingley not abandoned Jane.”
Perhaps Mrs Bennet might have borne all these vexations with valiant, if vociferous, fortitude had she remained at home. They would never know, for Mrs Randall’s illness had provided a convenient excuse for her to escape Longbourn and all her woes.
“Does it make a difference why she went?” Mrs Gardiner asked.
“No, I suppose not. I just find it odd.”
“Do you?” Her aunt paused to wait for a cart to roll loudly past them, then continued. “Your mother does not always conduct herself as we might like, but you must admit she is very caring. She has nursed you and your sisters through enough illnesses for you to know that. And you may well be right—I can imagine shewasdistressed by everything you have catalogued, but in that case, perhaps it is fortuitous that she was needed elsewhere. Her attempts to see two of her daughters wed came to nothing, but she can mop Mrs Randall’s brow well enough. We all need to feel as though we have purpose, now and again.”
“But she scarcely knows her any more. She has missed Christmas with her family to mop a stranger’s brow.”
“Your uncle recalls that they were as thick as thieves at one time. If you grew apart from Miss Lucas, would you deny her your assistance twenty years hence, if she really needed it?”
Elizabeth relented with a sigh. “I like to think not.”
Her aunt smiled sympathetically. “Your mother has hardly ever been away from Longbourn—I daresay it feels empty without her, but she will be back before you know it, and no doubt happy to be returned after having toiled all Christmas at someone else’s bedside.”
“You are right.” Elizabeth glanced at her aunt and gave a resigned laugh. “Of course you are right! Pray do not mistake me—I do not begrudge Mama a change of scene. Indeed, I hope it makes her feel better. I only hope it does as much good for Jane.”
For all Mrs Bennet’s lamentations about Mr Bingley’s departure, her anguish was nothing to Jane’s;shehad been truly in love, and the toll on her was visible. Elizabeth’s usually serene sister had grown morose and listless. Mr and Mrs Gardiner had invited her to return to London with them when they left the next day, in the hope that a little time away would improve her spirits.
“I understand your sister has written to Miss Bingley to inform her that she will be in town. Can we be sure that she is not harbouring the hope that a connexion to the sister will increase her chances of seeing Mr Bingley?”
“Would that be so terrible?”
“I cannot help but think it would be better that she not see him at all, for it would only remind her of her attachment.”
“It might remind him of his as well.”
Elizabeth was perfectly convinced that Mr Bingley’s sisters had seen that their brother was in love with Jane but wanted him to marry Miss Darcy; thus they had followed him to town after the ball and persuaded him to stay there. Nothing could be more obvious, in her opinion.
What Mr Darcy thought of his sister’s part in this plan was anybody’s guess, but it was certain to have pleased him more than the prospect of his friend forming an alliance with anyone from Meryton. His disdain for the place and all its inhabitants could not have been plainer—though Meryton’s reciprocal scorn had gained significant ground of late, thanks to Mr Wickham. Since the Netherfield party’s departure, he had grown much less reserved in discussing his unhappy connexion to Mr Darcy. The tale of his withheld inheritance and refuted living were nowopenly acknowledged, and the perpetrator generally thought of with little or no warmth by anyone.
“It would be unwise for Jane to pin her hopes on it,” Mrs Gardiner said. “Wish it for her by all means, Lizzy, but have a care not to encourage any expectations. It would not do to prolong her present misery.”
Elizabeth readily acknowledged the wisdom of this advice, but the conversation was thereafter abandoned, for they had arrived back at Longbourn. They were still removing their coats and scarves when Mr Bennet appeared in the door of his book-room and cleared his throat.
“A word, Lizzy, when you are ready?” He did not wait for a reply but retreated directly.
Elizabeth exchanged a perplexed look with her aunt, then laid her bonnet on the hall table and followed her father.
“Close the door,” he said quietly.
“Is something the matter?”
He gave a small shake of his head, but it seemed more indicative of confusion than a rebuttal. He lowered himself into the chair behind his desk and gestured for her to take a seat. Elizabeth waited, disquieted by his demeanour.
“I should like you to go with your sister to London tomorrow.”
