Somebody raised his tankard in a toast, and the final note promptly dissolved into a roar of hearty laughter that filled the parlour.
Bingley was speechless. He ought to call every one of them out! He ought to rid Lucas of his smirk. At the very least, he ought to denounce the bloody song. Yet, he did so like it when others made decisions for him, and so in the end, all he did was sit still as a stupid grin spread itself across his face.
Saturday 6 June 1812, Hertfordshire
Peabody showed Mrs Bennet and her eldest daughter into the saloon, informed them they would be attended directly, and went to fetch the master. He knew precisely where he would find him. Some hours earlier, as dawn broke across the sky, Mr Bingley had staggered through Netherfield’s front doors and fallen into his study. Summoned to follow, Peabody had entered the room and had a piece of paper shoved under his nose. Pointing at it, Mr Bingley had exclaimed, “Is she not the most beautiful creature you ever beheld? Is she not anangel?”
After a moment’s consideration, Peabody had agreed that the crayon scribble of a purple and orange potato was indeed remarkable. Seemingly satisfied, the master had announced his intention to marry the gaudy vegetable. Peabody had left him settling down to write to his friend with the joyous news.
When Mrs Hurst had enquired at breakfast as to her brother’s whereabouts, Peabody had led her to the study where, as per his expectations, they found Mr Bingley sprawled insensible across his desk, his slumped form not adequately arranged to conceal the letter beneath him from his sister’s view. The Bennet ladies’ call had curtailed Peabody’s enjoyment of the supervening cataclysm; thus, it was with no little relish that he now tripped back to the study to announce their arrival.
“I will not allow you to do this! You will ruin us all!” Mrs Hurst screeched as he sidled into the room.
Mr Bingley winced and rubbed his eyes. “Do not be absurd. I will ruin nothing.”
“I have not endured the indignity of being married to that”—Mrs Hurst pointed at Peabody, who hastily stepped aside, allowing her to point more accurately at the door, beyond which he presumed was the intended object of her disgust—“that bloated dandy for these past two years, only to have you announce that you will marry where you will! Do my sacrifices mean so little to you? You selfish,selfishman!”
“What is wrong with Hurst? I like him!”
“Must you be so tiresome, Charles? This is not about my husband. I rather thinkthatsituation is beyond salvation.” She looked pointedly at her rounded belly. “But I will not see it all made meaningless because you are in a rage to secure your own fancy!”
Mr Bingley backed away from her, tripped on an undetectable hazard of the variety to which only drunk people are susceptible, andfell against his desk, where he then remained, leant at a precarious angle. “I have heard it all before, Louisa, but you shall not dissuade me again. Ishallmarry Miss Elizabeth,youwill be her sister, and that isallthere is to it.”
In Peabody’s humble opinion, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was considerably prettier than the garish tuber he had been shown a few hours earlier, but Mrs Hurst seemed less convinced of her merits.
“Whyher?She is the most impertinent, unfashionable woman I have ever met! At least her sister is beautiful! If you must marry one of them, marry Jane. Her looks might halfway excuse your absurd choice to the rest of the world.”
“I cannot marry Miss Bennet.”
“You certainly cannot marry her sister. I would sooner you marry her mother!”
Peabody cleared his throat. “Miss Bennet and her mother wait upon you in the saloon.”
Both siblings started. Mr Bingley looked terrified, his sister, furious.
“Go to her, then!” Mrs Hurst fumed. “Choose the sister least likely to disgrace us with her savage country manners!”
“I shall not! Attend them yourself. I am for bed.” Shakily but determinedly, Mr Bingley snatched the letter from his desk, folded it roughly and shoved it at Peabody’s chest with the instruction to see that it was posted. Then he stormed unsteadily from the room.
“If you do not choose Jane, mark my words, you shall haveneitherof them!” Mrs Hurst called after him, growling in exasperation when he did not answer. “Inform my guests I shall join them presently,” she ordered Peabody; then she too swept from the room.
Left alone, Peabody took a moment to peek at the contents of the letter, smirked a little, then refolded and sealed it. He exited the room in time to see Mrs Bennet scurrying away down the corridor and back into the saloon like a startled vole along a riverbank. Diverted further still,he pocketed Mr Bingley’s letter to add to the others set aside for posting, sure Mr Darcy would find it fascinating reading.
Sunday 7 June 1812, Hertfordshire
“Slow your pace, Jane. I would speak with you.”
Jane turned, surprised to see her mother hurrying to catch up withher, for she had left her still speaking to Mrs Philips at the church. She duly fell into step alongside her, observing that her lips were pressed tightly together in a tell-tale sign of vexation. “Have I displeased you, Mama?”
“Yes!” Mrs Bennet replied in an angry whisper. “You and all your sisters! I know not what any of you are about. Colonel Forster’s regiment is removing to Brighton on Monday, and not oneof them has shown an interest in marrying any of you. Lizzy has allowed Mr Greyson to go off on business without making her an offer. And you!” She threw Jane an angry look and shook her head. “If you do not secure Mr Bingley soon, he will have none of us, and we shall all be ruined!”
“Mama,” replied Jane, feeling unexpectedly tearful, “I should like nothing more than for Mr Bingley to offer for me, but I cannot make him love me.”
“Of course you can! That is what I wished to speak to you about.” Mrs Bennet looked over her shoulder and all about before continuing. “Men are essentially very easy to work on once you know how. They can be persuaded to almost anything by—that is, all it takes is—well, the heart of the matter is, the prospect ofbecoming intimately acquaintedought to induce Mr Bingley to hasten proceedings.And you and he are so close to an engagement, I cannot see that it would do any harm at all to give him a little encouragement of that sort.”
“I have tried conversing with him more, and I thought he seemed pleased by it.”
Her mother gave her a strange look. “You must know I was not referring to small talk.”
