At this first sign of welcome, Mr. Bingley had become a frequent caller. He came to Longbourn thrice a week, and ‘coincidentally’ met Jane on walks on other days. Their conversations were more serious than they had been a year ago, and as they learned more about each other, their tender feelings grew.
“Will you tell me of Mr. Collins?” he asked one day. “You do not speak of him, though you talk about Henry.” He had still not met her son. Jane had not made a decision about whether she would flout convention or not, and until then, she did notwant her child to form a bond with a man who may not be there forever.
“There is not much to tell. What do you remember about him? You met him briefly last autumn.”
Mr. Bingley shrugged. “I hardly remember anything other than my sister’s complaints about him ruining the ball with his clumsiness. Oh, and Darcy said the man introduced himself.”
Jane laughed. “Yes, we were engaged in pleasanter pursuits that night. In truth, there was little to admire about my husband. He was a nonsensical man, content to lavish attention and praise upon his patroness. He did speak kindly to me, and he always arranged little compliments or surprises. Once, he brought me a posy of flowers, the first that bloomed in his garden. But his first love was Lady Catherine, and I could not compare to her.”
She sighed. Her eyes became misty. “I might have grown more fond of him… in time. My propensity to see the best in people would have seen to that. But it had not been long enough. I suppose I shall never know.”
“Does it pain you to know your son will never know his father?” Mr. Bingley spoke gently, the care and concern in his voice obvious.
“In a way, it does. He would have adored Henry. Then again, he is a very easy child to love.” She smiled, picturing her cherubic son, with his golden hair and blue eyes, smiling his toothless grin.
“Perhaps he will know a father someday.” Mr. Bingley reached out and took her hand as he often did, squeezing it gently.
“Perhaps,” was all the reply she offered.
On December tenth, Georgiana Darcy arrived, her companion and maid in tow. The coachman and the footmen joined the other members of Darcy’s staff that now resided at Longbourn. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia surrounded their friend excitedly, leading her off after only a brief greeting to Elizabeth.
Mrs. Darcy now had a noticeable bulge beneath her dress, and she had shared the news of her pregnancy when Lydia had brashly asked her sister about it. Elizabeth had blushed and laughed, sharing in the excitement her sisters expressed. All had rejoiced except Mrs. Bennet. She had only said rudely, “You best hope you have a boy. Mr. Darcy will never forgive you if you do not birth him an heir.”
Mama’s continued anger toward Elizabeth baffled Jane. One would think that having a daughter so well married would have washed away any feelings of ill use or bitterness, but Mrs. Bennet continued to blame Lizzy for everything, from her removal from the mistress’s chamber to Jane’s change in character. Jane did her best to divert her mother’s ire, but the matron insisted on having her say.
Elizabeth came to her one day after Georgiana’s arrival. Christmas would soon be upon them, and preparations were underway for a quiet season with only family present. “Darcy and I plan to move to Netherfield Park after the new year,” she told Jane. “We shall stay as long as you need us to, but my husband wishes for a more private setting as we prepare to welcome our child to the world.”
“I understand. Did I not flee to Pemberley for the same reason?” Jane teased her sister gently, and they laughed together. “Has Darcy approached Mr. Bingley yet?”
“He has. They rode out together this morning. My husband asked if we might prevail upon his hospitality, and Mr. Bingley accepted.”
Jane nodded. “I am pleased you will remain close.”
“As am I. My son or daughter will need to meet his favorite aunt as soon as may be.” Elizabeth’s joking subsided, and she grew serious. “I wish to see you as happy as I am,” she said at length. “I have noted that you are more welcoming toward Mr. Bingley.”
“I love him, Lizzy.” Jane looked imploringly at her sister. “How can it be right? I have barely mourned my husband. I have borne Mr. Collins’s child. Yet, my heart belongs irrevocably to Mr. Bingley. Is it right to throw off my mourning clothes so soon? Will society not judge me harshly for it? These same questions, asked over and over again in my mind, have not yet been answered.”
“And I repeat, our neighbors might raise their eyebrows, but I do not see them casting you aside for choosing to provide your son with a father. If they cannot keep their meddlesome gossip to themselves, you are more than welcome to visit Pemberley again.” Elizabeth hugged her sister. “Do not care so much what others think. Listen to your heart and act in the manner that will ensure your future happiness, regardless of any other consideration.”
She pulled away. “If you do this, you will not fail to find felicity. This I promise you.”
Jane nodded. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, which had become unaccountably wet with tears. “I promise. I have pondered your advice at length. You know I have always considered you to be most knowledgeable when dispensing good sense. Indeed, I think it would take very little inducement for me to accept Mr. Bingley now.”
“Then you are decided? You will have him?”
Jane smiled tremulously. “If he asks, I will not say no.”
“Will you tell him that you are willing to hear his proposals?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
Jane considered this. “I think… I do not know. He is being very kind and has not pressed. He knows I am not ready. And I believe he knows me well enough to decipher when I am ready to hear him.”
Matters between Jane and Mr. Bingley continued to go well. Mrs. Bingley and her nephew spent Christmas Day atLongbourn. Jane did not care that it flouted convention. She felt only joy that those she loved were with her during the holy season. She shyly gifted him with a new handkerchief embroidered with his initials, and he in turn gave her a lovely rose crafted from pieces of silk. “My aunt made it,” he confessed.
“A flower that will never wilt. I love it.” And she did. She put it beside her bed where she would see it often, a reminder of his love.
Twelfth Night drew nearer and the day before, unexpected guests arrived at Netherfield. Jane learned from Elizabeth, who had it from Darcy, that Miss Bingley and the Hursts had come unannounced, claiming that London was far too empty. Miss Bingley attempted to take control of the house, only to be soundly disabused of her presumption by her brother.
He came to call later that afternoon. His aunt did not accompany him, and Jane felt rather surprised that he did not also have Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst with him.
