“And some varied society?” Mrs Gardiner added.
“You make it sound as though I am weary of your company, which is not at all the case.”
“But I daresay you are used to more visitors at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth made a dismissive noise. “There is one visitor I would not have had at Longbourn, if Lydia is to be believed.”
“Ah yes,” Mrs Gardiner said. “Jane told me about Mr Wickham’s desertion. You appear to be bearing it well.”
“The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that I cannot have been much in love with him, if at all, for my feelings towards him are still perfectly cordial. But I flatter myself that, had I not come away, it might have turned out differently.”
“You think Miss King’s ten thousand pounds might have held less allure in immediate opposition to your charms?”
“I would be vain to suggest anything of the sort, but perhaps Mr Wickham might have struggled a little longer before giving me up.”
Her aunt gave her a shrewd look. “You think, though, that he would have given you up eventually, whether or not you had been there?”
“Well…yes.” It had seemed more reasonable in her own reflections, but something about the way her aunt said it made it sound disagreeable. “It would have been imprudent for him not to.”
“That would have made it no less painful if you had really loved him. He is fortunate that you have been so reasonable as to keep your heart guarded, for it seems he was not inclined to treat it so carefully.”
Jane made a half-hearted attempt at exonerating Mr Wickham, professing that he must either be sorry to have occasioned her pain or ignorant of having done so, but Elizabeth suspected she was thinking more of Mr Bingley than Mr Wickham. Mrs Gardiner said no more, only giving her a sympathetic look and returning to her work.
Elizabeth did not feel in need of sympathy; she was more inclined to be philosophical. While they were dancing at the Netherfield ball, Mr Darcy had warned her that Mr Wickham was less capable of retaining friends than making them. She hadnot liked the idea at the time, but she could not deny that Mr Darcy had been vindicated.
He had also said, when they met most recently, that he hoped she had not been influenced by other people when forming her opinion of his sister. She had wondered whether he was referring to Mr Wickham, for he must have known no kind sentiments could come from that quarter. A disagreement between them ought not to be an excuse to malign a young lady, however, yet that was precisely what Mr Wickham had done, calling Miss Darcy proud and unamiable—an accusation that had been shown as nonsense within moments of Elizabeth first meeting her.
All things considered, it was rather mortifying that Mr Darcy had applauded her powers of judgment, for it was praise she clearly did not deserve. More embarrassing still was that, of all his compliments on their recent walk, that had been the only one Elizabeth had believed was given in earnest! All the others, she was convinced, had been suggestive of his disapprobation. His insistence on escorting her to her carriage, his observation of her capacity for walking, his remarks about Lady Catherine’s certain approval—she had been sure all of it had been intended to ridicule. With no little chagrin, she began to suspect otherwise.
Perhaps, she conceded with a small, private smile, it was time to stop being so determined to hate him. That, however, was as much absolution as Mr Darcy would receive, for Elizabeth’s reflections were interrupted by the unexpected arrival of her mother.
“Sister! What a lovely surprise,” Mrs Gardiner said. “We were not expecting visitors in this weather.”
Mrs Bennet kissed both of her daughters on the cheek before settling on one of the sofas. “It is not as cold as it looks. But I had to come—to say goodbye. I have decided to return to Longbourn.”
Elizabeth exclaimed, surprised and prodigiously relieved. “That is happy news! Papa will be delighted.”
Mrs Bennet pursed her lips. “Mrs Randall, too, for with any luck, this means she will not need to worry about being chased across London again.”
Elizabeth grimaced apologetically. “I am sorry about that, Mama. I was only trying to find out where you were.”
“I was in bed with a headache.”
“What? Why did Mrs Randall not tell me that?”
“She was trying to ensure I was not disturbed. Her little favour to me, in return for all the compassion I have shown her.”
Doubt persisted at the back of Elizabeth’s mind, but she supposed it no longer mattered. “I trust you are recovered?”
“Mostly, thank you, but I must not complain. An aching head and a slight cough and the occasional pain in my side are nothing to someone with my fortitude.”
“When do you plan to leave?” Jane asked.
“Mr Bradshaw has arranged for his carriage to take me tomorrow.”
“Who is Mr Bradshaw?”
Elizabeth glanced at her aunt, to whom she had related everything her mother had told her of Mrs Randall’s situation as a kept woman. Mrs Gardiner had told herthenthat whilst she considered such arrangements immoral, they were accepted in certain circles. She repliednowwith only a disapproving tightening of her mouth. Neither she nor Elizabeth said a word as Mrs Bennet explained that he was Mrs Randall’s friend.
