“Wait, this is a serious plan?” cried Jane. “I thought it was a satire, or a mere joke.”
“It is legitimate as far as anyone can tell,” Mr Gardiner answered. “The handbill has circulated in a few places, and there is a business at the direction mentioned.”
“I think it sounds like a horse auction,” muttered Mrs Gardiner.
“No, my dear,” said her husband. “There is nothing shameful about it. Besides, friends and parents make matches for their dear ones all the time. This method just gives the people who want to wed more say in the matter.”
“But they are appealing to strangers, Edward,” her aunt said, “rather than a mutual friend.”
Elizabeth sat on the sofa, staring at the advertisement. What did anyone truly know about a new man who appeared in the neighbourhood? Were they not strangers too? Bingley had seemed devoted to Jane, but his friends had persuaded him to give her up. And even Wickham’s apparent partiality for Elizabeth had subsided: she had learnt from her mother’s letters that he was now the admirer of someone who recently inherited ten thousand pounds.
And Mr Darcy was behind both Bingley’s abandonment of Jane and Wickham’s need to marry for money.
As much as Elizabeth was ready to blame the proud Mr Darcy for anything, it was not his fault that Mr Collins suggested she should be grateful for his proposal since she was unlikely to receive another. Mr Collins was a pompous fool, but she knew there was some truth to what he had said. She had no money to tempt a worthy suitor, her father would not take her to where she might mix more with the world to find one, and her mother would throw her at any man with a purse and a pulse.
She and her sisters were victims of her father’s neglect and her mother’s manoeuvrings, and there was little chance a worthy man in want of a wife would ride into Meryton. This matchmaking endeavour might be the reassuring proof she needed that there were respectable men capable of loving her and Jane. And, if not, then it would at least be amusing to read the descriptions of eligible gentlemen.
“Jane, what do you think? It might be worth trying.” Elizabeth grinned. “We could both do it!”
“No, absolutely not,” Jane said, turning pink. “It would mortify me.”
“What? Why? It is no worse than Mamma pushing you at every single gentleman with a fortune and telling them what an angel you are. This way, you could write to a gentleman who appeals to you, one who is genuinely considering marriage.” It might be just the thing to raise Jane’s spirits and show her there were admirable men other than Bingley.
“I am not considering marriage now, Lizzy.”
“Nothing says that we must marry any of the men we read about, or even meet anyone we correspond with. So long as we go in with an open mind and are honest, it could be diverting. And if we ever arrange an introduction and decide we might suit, well, who could say anything against that?”
“But what about one’s family connexion to verify these men’s status, their character?”
“Who vouchsafed for Bingley, or for Wickham?” Elizabeth asked. “Mr Collins is a respectable man, but he still insulted me dreadfully when he proposed.” Jane sighed but made no reply. Elizabeth turned to her aunt. “May I try this matchmaking endeavour?”
“But who knows what sort of men might subscribe. What would your parents say to the scheme?”
Elizabeth laughed. “My mother wants us to find husbands, and my father would merely laugh at us for trying this manner of finding one.”
“My dear,” her uncle said, sitting near to his wife, “it is a reputable business, if a little unconventional. The list is kept private, after all. And who else will help Lizzy, or any of our nieces, find eligible young men?”
It was mortifying, and it was true. There was no one to introduce them to wider circles, and they had no fortune to attract anyone’s notice, and they travelled no farther from home than Cheapside.
Mrs Gardiner gave her a long look. “It is not that the matchmaking service is inherently disreputable. But I worry about dishonest men, ones who have no intention of marrying, or who lie about their prospects.” Mrs Gardiner held out her hand, and Elizabeth crossed the room to take it. “And I worry about you breaking your heart.”
She might not have looked at Jane, but Mrs Gardiner’s tone said that she did not want another niece longing for a man who proved false. “Oh, I would laugh myself out of any little heartbreak,” she cried. “You know that I would. Besides, it is all anonymous until we decide to meet—if we do at all—and then my uncle can investigate the gentleman until you are satisfied.”
If Elizabeth corresponded with a man who was respectable, with a decent competency, and who showed greater constancy than Bingley, she could prove to Jane that there were other worthwhile men who would consider marrying a woman of their circumstances. For the sake of improving Jane’s spirits, she could write to a few men to show her sister that there were loyal and respectable marriage-minded men in London.
Elizabeth could see her aunt wavering. “Edward, would she have to go to this office in Bishopsgate?”
“No, it said that personal attendance was not necessary,” Mr Gardiner answered. “A statement of facts and payment is all that is required at first, and I can arrange that.”
Her aunt finally smiled. “If your uncle will investigate any man you wish to meet, you may subscribe and chooseonefrom the list. I will not have you writing to a dozen men at a time and then meeting all of them.” Mrs Gardiner laughed. “Your mother would encourage you to meet them all. But choose wisely,Lizzy, because I can only countenance you meeting with one gentleman.”
Elizabeth hugged and kissed her aunt. She did not actually have to meet with anyone. She only had to write to a respectable man for a little while to prove to Jane that there were worthy men in the world. Gentlemen who were more faithful than Bingley and not under the sway of arrogant, selfish men like Mr Darcy.
Fitzwilliam Darcy satto the side in Brooks’s Great Subscription Room, watching other men gamble. It had been an hour since he had grown tired of cards, tired of exchanging the same coins back and forth. The card tables were tedious for him with no conversation.
He took a slow sip of his port, intending to make this glass last the rest of the evening. Bingley was still at a table. It was good to see his friend cheerfully occupied. For all of January, Darcy had had to encourage him to be social.
The concern that Bingley still had thoughts of Jane Bennet pressed on Darcy’s mind. Miss Bingley had said she was in town, and until he could be certain his friend had moved on, it was best to keep him from meeting Miss Bennet. Bingley might be compelled to marry her if he believed she came to town because she loved him—and not because her mother had sent her after a wealthy man.
