A heartening prospect indeed!“Well, it would be agreeable to have donesomethingbetter than the flawless Mrs Darcy. Let her take a turn at being shone down.” Jane regretted her petty outburst when Lydia gasped, looking thoroughly taken aback, but her mother only smiled and leant to pat her hand.
“It is very common to feel a little waspish at the beginning, dear. Ooh, wait until your father hears this news!”
“Pray, do not tell Papa!” Jane cried in an urgent attempt to end the charade before her mother falsely raised half the town’s expectations. “Indeed, do not tell anyone, for it is not true!”
Her mother looked rather hurt, but her expression soon softened. “I understand. It is too early to be certain. Let me assure you, though, you are showing all the signs.” She cut off Jane’s attempt to object again with a sharp shake of her head. “I shall not mention it to a soul.”
Lydia scoffed loudly.
“And neither will you, Miss Lydia, or you will not be going to the assembly at all!” She stood abruptly. “Come, come, let us leave your sister to rest.”
“But I have not chosen a gown!”
“Oh, hang your gown, girl! Your sister is with child! What do I care for your gowns?”
“Ugh! I shall ask to borrow one of Lizzy’s then,” she retorted. “Hers are bound to be finer than Jane’s anyway.”
Mrs Bennet forcibly hustled her from the room. Jane stared after them. Her mother’s misapprehension would resolve itself soon enough when she did not begin to increase. The matter of Bingley’s itinerant affections seemed destined never to resolve itself, recurring with nightmarish persistence to torment her. Feeling her heart harden a little further, she stood and rang the bell for her maid—to whom she gave the gown that supposedly made her so vastly unappealing, along with every other dress in her possession with similarly outmoded sleeves.
Friday 2 October 1812, Hertfordshire
Darcy grimaced at the contents of his glass. “What in God’s name is this, Bingley?”
“Cognac.”
Darcy raised one sceptical eyebrow. “Thisis from France?”
“No, it is from Sir William.”
He set his glass aside. “Netherfield looks in fine order despite your absence. It is good of you to put us up so soon after your own travels.”
“Not at all. I know Lizzy must be eager to see her family again.”
Darcy regarded his friend with a carefully neutral expression. He questioned whether Bingley was even aware that his wife was not presently on good terms with her sister. Did they not talk to one another of such matters?
“Speaking of family,” Bingley continued, “I trust you know your sister was included in the invitation?”
“Yes, I thank you, but she preferred not to accompany us to Kent.”
“Ah,” Bingley replied with a knowing grimace.
“I had expected the Hursts to be here,” Darcy added.
“Hurst has taken Louisa back to London. He did not trust the midwives hereabouts to be of use when she enters her confinement.”
“That bodes ill for you, then. I hope you have better luck finding a decent one locally.”
“What? Why would I…what do you…what?”
“It is probable you will have need of one for Jane at some point.”
“Oh! Yes, of course!” Bingley gulped down the remainder of his drink and twisted around to dispense with his empty glass on the desk behind him—atop a pile of papers whose ink instantly began to run where drips of the unspecified liquor had pooled around the bottom.
“Bingley, your papers!”
“Blast!” Bingley sprang to his feet and snatched up the glass, but too late. The top three or four sheets of paper beneath it were now attached to its base, and when he hefted it clear of the desk, a whole sheaf of documents was dragged up into the air with it, all of which promptly cascaded to the floor.
Darcy shook his head, chuckling quietly, if incredulously, at his maladroit friend. He abstained from teasing and crouched to help gather up the scattered correspondence, though when he came upon a sheet bearing naught but an exceedingly ill-drawn blue and orange face, he could not refrain from comment. Collecting a few last papers,he pushed himself to his feet. “Were you half cut when you created this masterpiece, Bingley?”
