Thomas spoke from his position next to his father. “I should like to arrange a shooting party with the gentlemen,” he said. “I enjoyed the sport with Mr. Bingley and the other gentlemen in residence at Netherfield Park. If we bag enough birds, Mama might host a dinner that very evening.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea!” Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands excitedly. “I do like having guests, and we have not had a large party here in some time.”
“Very true.” Mr. Bennet wiped his mouth with his serviette and pushed back from his chair. “I shall leave the pair of you to plan the affair. Perhaps next week?” He excused himself, likely bound for his study to attend to estate business.
Elizabeth finished her meal and left the breakfast room. Charlotte meant to call later, and she wished to be ready to greet her friend.
The carriage, with Jane safely inside, departed around two o’clock. Elizabeth and Charlotte watched from the window as it trundled down the drive. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky, a certain sign that rainfall was imminent.
“He is sure to propose before the month is out,” Charlotte predicted.
“I believe you may be correct.” Elizabeth smiled and motioned to the settee. “Everything looks promising. He seeks Jane’s company whenever they are in the same room, and they ignore everyone else in favor of their private conversations.”
Charlotte nodded in agreement. She paused and bit her lip. “And what of the attention he pays you?”
Elizabeth laughed without mirth. “What do you mean?” she prevaricated. That Charlotte had noticed Mr. Bingley’s odd behavior regarding her meant that it was real and not something created by her overactive imagination.
“Really, Eliza, do not pretend you have not noticed. His preoccupation has become more pronounced the more often you are in company. What can he mean by courting one sister whilst openly disdaining another?”
“Are you so certain that he disdains me?” she asked weakly. Truthfully, she had feared just that. Would Jane marry only to have her husband forbid her from seeing her dearest sister ever again? It would be his prerogative as her husband.
“I may not be as skilled a judge of character as you, but even I can see Mr. Bingley's looks are not friendly—at best, perplexed; at worst, disapproving.”
Elizabeth sighed. “What am I to do about it? I do not seek his attention, and I distance myself from him whenever possible. I am certain I have done nothing to deserve his censure, either. It is not as if I can approach him and ask for understanding. That would be the height of rudeness and presumption.”
“I do not envy you your position. Our more astute neighbors will notice, eventually. You know how much everyone loves gossip. I would hate to see you harmed by Mr. Bingley’s strange behavior.” Charlotte patted her hand affectionately.
Charlotte departed around ten minutes later, leaving her friend alone with her thoughts.
Elizabeth had pondered Mr. Bingley’s manner many times since they first met. No explanation seemed plausible, except for one. But even that seemed so outlandish, so as to invite doubt.
Could he have known me or my kin?she wondered. It did not seem wholly improbable. The Bennets found her in Derbyshire, and Mr. Bingley was from the North. But ‘north’ was so broad a description. What were the chances that Elizabeth’s place of birth and Mr. Bingley’s former home were close enough that they had known each other?
Thunder rumbled, and Elizabeth glanced out the window. Raindrops hit the windowpanes, and she felt glad that Charlotte had departed before the storm began. The drizzle soon turned to a deluge, and the drive outside grew muddy. Little streams of water drained away from the house.
“I am pleased Jane went in the carriage.” Mrs. Bennet appeared in the parlor doorway. A shawl was wrapped tightly around her, offering meager protection against the lingering chill of the season.
Elizabeth turned and smiled at her mother. Mrs. Bennet came and stood beside her, and they stared out into the dreary afternoon.
“Do you ever wonder where I came from?” she asked on impulse.
Mrs. Bennet straightened. “I did, once,” she finally said. “The horrors you may have faced consumed me for a time, and to maintain my peace, I determined to set aside whatever may have happened and focus only on that which I could control. Whatever life you led before, I could make a better one for you. Have I succeeded, dear Lizzy?”
Elizabeth leaned into her mother’s side. “You have,” she confirmed. “I have no cause to repine my life here. I would not trade it for anything.”
Mrs. Bennet kissed her head. “What makes you contemplate such heavy matters?”
What should she say? She could not speak of the increase in dreams, both benign and frightening, nor could she begin to describe Mr. Bingley’s odd behavior. Mrs. Bennet’s temperament was, in some ways, akin to Jane’s. She saw the best in people and disliked it when people betrayed her trust. Unlike Jane, however, she could detect when someone behaved in a willfully impolite manner.
“It is nothing,” she finally murmured. “Perhaps it is the weather that brings forth my musings.”
“We love you, Elizabeth.” Mrs. Bennet’s fervent words went a good way to calming the turmoil in her heart, and Elizabeth nodded.
Jane did not return to Longbourn that night. The rain made the roads impassable, and so she decided to remain at Netherfield until the weather improved and she could make her way home.
Elizabeth retired that night, weary from a day of distressing contemplations and praying earnestly that her dreams would be unmolested by night terrors.
“Catch me, Charlie!” She leapt off the fence post into her friend’s arms.
