When he arrived alone at Longbourn, he saw the Gardiner children in the garden with their nurse and thought it was rather hot for them to be out of doors. They saw him approach, and the elder girls scampered to his horse, looking bright and lively as they shouted their welcome. He could not help but smile at such open-hearted girls and greeted them with equal warmth.
“Miss Gardiner, Miss Isabella, I hope I find you well?”
“Mr Darcy, you can call me Bella and you can call her Fanny,” the younger girl cried. “Lizzy says she will marry you, and since you are family, you can be more familiar!” She proclaimed this as if nothing in the world would bring her greater joy.
“You are most kind, I thank you. Why are you ladies out of doors on such a hot day?”
“Mamma says we are noisy and not under as much order as we ought to be. When we are well-behaved, we can return.” With this, she ran back to play.
“Mr Darcy,” the older girl said, “what does ‘jilt’ mean?”
Darcy started. “Fanny, where did you hear that word?”
“Aunt Bennet has been saying it all morning. Would you tell me what it means?”
Mrs Bennet either felt that Wickham had jilted Lydia or that he and Bingley might do the same to their respective intendeds. If it were the former, it would not be accurate, since Wickham had no formal understanding with Lydia. If it were the latter, he was saddened that Mrs Bennet, or anyone, would assume that he and Bingley could so easily break their engagements.
“I am sure that is a word with which you need not concern yourself.” She gave him a dissatisfied frown. “To jilt means to capriciously end one’s relationship with a lover. To break the promise to marry someone without reason,” he simplified.
She seemed satisfied with this answer, and after offering a ladylike curtsey, she ran back to her sister and brothers. Shaking his head at the trouble Mrs Bennet’s nervous fluttering had caused, he entered the house.
He was startled at the bustle of activity. Mrs Gardiner hurried past him and ran up the stairs with only a nod of greeting, and Mrs Bennet’s wails of malcontent were audible from two floors above him. He heard someone sobbing in the parlour and Elizabeth’s consoling voice in reply. Darcy presumed it was Lydia, and after debating the strength of his desire to see Elizabeth against the impropriety of coming upon Lydia while she was in tears, he entered the room.
Elizabeth was on the sofa, her arms around the shaking shoulders of one of her sisters. It was not Lydia she comforted, but Jane. She hung on Elizabeth while sobs of grief wracked her body, her pale face and red-rimmed eyes making her normally lovely features look heart-wrenchingly depressed. Jane did not look up when he opened the door, but Elizabeth did, and he could see that her eyes were also filled with tears.
“Good God! What is the matter?” Darcy cried with more feeling than politeness. “What has happened to Jane?”
“You mean you do not know?” Elizabeth’s voice cracked with emotion.
He mutely shook his head in commiseration. Darcy waited in wretched suspense to learn what horrible event had come to pass.
“Bingley has withdrawn his offer of marriage,” Elizabeth exclaimed, and Jane—sweet, mild, serene Jane—wept anew.
Darcy’s sensations on this discovery made him perfectly speechless. His blood ran cold, and he thought he might actually be ill. He fell into a chair across from them, unable to understand how such a thing had come about. Bingley had jilted Jane? A breach of promise by a gentleman after securing a lady’s affections was wholly unacceptable.
“Are you certain, absolutely certain, that Bingley reneged on his engagement?” There must be some sort of terrible mistake—a disagreement that had been misinterpreted. It had happened often enough between Elizabeth and him.
“Yes, he was perfectly clear. He spoke of our lamentable connexions to a woman of doubtful character—that he had not known of Lydia’s bad behaviour when he made his offer. He said Jane’s dignity had been misrepresented!” Elizabeth’s eyes blazed with righteous anger at Jane’s misery.
As he watched Elizabeth rock and soothe her sister, Darcy realised this was a situation he could not fix. There was nothing he could do, and his authoritative and determined manner could not be a credit to him now. He could not ease Jane’s suffering with money, influence, persuasion, or decisive action. Darcy could only witness her torrent of unrestrained grief in silence.
“You must speak with him, Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth pleaded. “He respects your opinion. Tell him he need not do this!” She looked beseechingly at him over Jane’s head. What could he possibly say to persuade a man who had broken his engagement? It was a worse evil that Bingley was of too yielding a character, and Darcy doubted his own influence could ever change that.
“I cannot,” he whispered, sadly shaking his head in defeat.
“How can you say that? Bingley is easily led by you. It would be the work of an instant to suggest that he return to Jane.”
“Have I not already done so once? I have interfered far too much.”
“You would say nothing and let Bingley break Jane’s heart? How can you be so uncaring?” she cried as she looked down at Jane’s shaking shoulders.
Were he not aware of Elizabeth’s charged feelings, he might have left the room after being unjustly accused. His heart broke for Jane, whose quiet civility, kindness beyond words, and sweetness of temper made Darcy feel she deserved ever so much more than Bingley’s fickle affection.
“I am not devoid of every proper feeling, Elizabeth. Bingley has done a despicable thing, but I cannot and will not dissuade him.”
“That is amusing coming from you!” she spat.
“You despised my interference last autumn! Or might I only manipulate my friends when it suits your purpose?”
