The servants and staff of Longbourn were quick to align their allegiances with the new mistress, much to Mrs. Bennet’s displeasure. Her constant calls for Hill continued daily until Jane confronted her.
“Mrs. Hill has other responsibilities that supersede your demands,” she told her mother patiently one morning after Hill came to her in distress, wondering how to handle the situation.
“Hill has always been my faithful attendant!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Why can she not continue as we always have?”
Jane sucked in a breath, steadying the irritation she felt lest she lash out at her mother. In truth, Mrs. Hill had always been running frantically about Longbourn. Her tasks were interrupted more often than not when some idea struck Mrs. Bennet’s thoughts. Mama could never wait when some notion came to her, either. Everything was required to be attended to instantly, put ahead of anything else, be it more pressing or less.
As Jane had taken her place as mistress, Mrs. Hill had slowly relaxed as she realized she would not be required to accede to Mrs. Bennet’s every whim. It had made her work easier, and she could only be grateful to the former Miss Bennet for that.
“You are no longer the mistress here, Mama,” Jane reminded her. “Mrs. Hill is to follow my commands first. If you wish for someone to be at your beck and call, then hire a companion. You have enough funds.”
“This is all Lizzy’s fault! My Jane would never be so cold and cruel. It must be that ungrateful girl that has poisoned you against me. Where has my Jane gone?” Mrs. Bennet began weeping noisily, and her daughter left the room shaking her head.
Elizabeth had taken the brunt of their mother’s ire since arriving. Despite being married to a wealthy man, Mrs. Bennet still carried antipathy for her least favorite daughter. Jane did not understand it. What did her mother think would happen if Lizzy had become mistress instead of her? Elizabeth’s temper might have pushed her to cast their mother to the hedgerows, the very thing Mrs. Bennet had feared for so long.
Suddenly restless, Jane gathered her outerwear and left the house after telling Mrs. Hill she would be out for an hour or so. She had never been the great walker her younger sister was, but the autumn leaves and brisk breeze beckoned.
Walking swiftly, Jane traversed Longbourn’s garden and little wilderness, leaving through a gate in the stone wall that surrounded it. She followed the well-worn footpath through the trees, winding her way toward Oakham Mount. It had been over a year since she had taken this way, and the lack of change comforted her.
At the top of the mount, she took in the view. Soon, winter would set in, turning the lovely autumn vista into a cold, dead landscape.
A horse whinnied, and she turned instinctively toward the sound. Immediately she recognized the beast as belonging to Mr. Bingley, and she made to turn away.Too late,she thought, realizing he had seen her. The horse came toward her, stopping some ten feet away, and its rider dismounted.
“Mrs. Collins,” he said, bowing and touching his hat. “I did not think to encounter you here. How do you do?”
“I am well, sir, and yourself?” Jane shifted nervously, biting her lip. With great effort, she forced herself to look him in the eyes, straightening her shoulders and tilting her chin defiantly. She had no cause to be ashamed or embarrassed.
His warm, brown eyes pulled her in. In their depths, she could see tenderness and, dare she name it,love, and all her suppressed emotions came flooding back in an instant.I still love him¸she thought miserably.
“My aunt would love to meet you if you have the time,” he said without answering her query. “We have come several days, yet you are never available.”
“I am much occupied learning to run the estate,” she replied defensively. In truth, she avoided him, and they both knew it.
“If I scheduled an appointment, would that help?” he teased.
Jane sighed. “Mr. Bingley, we have discussed this.”
“I do not know what you mean.” He stepped toward her, gazing intently into her eyes.
“Yes, you do. I am inmourning, sir! This is highly improper.”
He shook his head. “There is nothing wrong with paying a call to a friend whilst they are in mourning.”
Jane threw her hands in the air in an uncharacteristic show of irritation. “There is when saidfriendwishes to be more than that!”
“Tell me that you do not love me, and I shall cease all attempts at winning your good opinion.” He took her hand, gently caressing it with his thumb. “One word will silence me on the subject forever.”
Jane choked back a sob. “It changes nothing. I told you months ago at Pemberley what my sentiments were.”
“And I have worked diligently ever since to become a man you could rely on. Caroline is gone. Her dowry has been released. She is living with Louisa and Hurst.”
Jane closed her eyes and shook her head. “How can I trust you?” she whispered miserably.
“Let us begin again,” he suggested. He released her hand and stepped back. “Charles Bingley, at your service.” Bingley bowed low and then straightened, smiling a smile that melted her heart.
“Jane,” she said, curtseying in return.
“Just Jane?” His speculative gaze pierced her, and she nodded.
