Miss Bingley, attempting to regain control of the conversation, found others little interested in her talk of London soirées and of people no one else knew, and reluctantly allowed the conversation to move onto other topics. Bingley was distracted, a puzzled expression on his face. Once the soup had been removed and a selection of hot dishes placed on the table, he turned to Elizabeth.
“I had not made the connection, Mrs. Elizabeth. But you appear well acquainted with Meryton. By any chance, are you related to or acquainted with the Bennets of Longbourn? For I spent many a pleasant time in their company.”
“Indeed, Mr. Bingley.” Across the table, Darcy felt the warmth of the room plummet ten degrees. “I am well aware of that family. You were introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet—my parents. And Miss Bennet—Miss Jane Bennet—my elder sister, with whom you danced three sets at your ball; then left the next day for Town, promising to return, and never did, with naryan apology or farewell to your neighbours.” Elizabeth’s voice hardened. “I make no excuse for being in commerce, sir, and I align with the opinion of my sponsor, Lady Jersey. If you were intending to do business with the Bank, then it would be refused. For a man’s character is more important than his wealth. Child’s would lend to a beggar if he showed himself steadfast, patient, and constant in his dealings.”
All at the table looked at Elizabeth with astonishment, having only ever seen her in company—not in her dealings with the estate, with creditors, with recalcitrant tenants, nor dealing with boundary disputes and an indolent vestry. Certainly, she assisted Georgiana with the household, but never usurped her position as mistress or that of Mrs. Reynolds as housekeeper; she was always proper, and, to her friends—those she respected—always accommodating. Lady Catherine smiled—oh yes, this was the woman whom she had learnt about from her correspondence with Lady Matlock, a very good friend of Lady Jersey, head partner of Child & Co. Mrs. Elizabeth could be gentle, loving, feminine… but inside—there was steel no one saw.
Mr. Bingley’s countenance coloured. All, apart from his sisters, were staring at him with dismay. Mr. Hurst carefully placed his knife on his plate, looked at Bingley, his eyes sweeping across his wife and Miss Bingley, who were unable to hide their embarrassment. “Poorly done, Bingley. Poorly done indeed,” he muttered. Abruptly, he stood. “Mrs. Hurst, you will accompany me to our room. My apologies, Miss Darcy, that we must leave your table prematurely, but my wife is indisposed.”
* * *
When the ladies separated after the meal, Miss Bingley retired directly to her room. Lady Catherine, Anne de Bourgh,Georgiana, and Elizabeth moved to the drawing room, where tea and coffee had been set out. While Georgiana poured tea for Anne and herself, Elizabeth decanted some sherry for Lady Catherine, taking a glass herself.
“Mrs. Elizabeth, I have noticed your coolness toward Mr. Bingley. It seems a sorry business, and so unlike him that I feel there must be more to the story,” said Lady Catherine.
“He may have been persuaded that Jane did not return his regard,” Elizabeth said. “But it was for him to ask my sister of her regard, rather than cowardly vanishing from the neighbourhood. Does he follow his own mind so little, I wonder?”
At that moment, the gentlemen joined them, and it was obvious that relations were severely strained between Bingley and Darcy, the latter at once approaching Elizabeth.
“Perhaps you are not surprised, but I had no chance to talk to Bingley beforehand. He is mortified over his actions—indeed, his behaviour does him little credit. He wishes to talk to you, but would understand if you refuse, for he sees that he has done your family, and Miss Bennet in particular, much damage.”
“I shall speak with him,” replied Elizabeth, walking towards an alcove where they would have a little privacy. “At the very least, I should hear him out—I have learnt in my time at Child & Co. that first impressions may deceive, for good or for ill.”
Bingley joined her, and could scarcely look her in the eye. He was embarrassed, that much was certain. Elizabeth wondered whether he could redeem himself, or whether she truly wished him to do so.
“Mr. Bingley, you wish to speak with me?”
“I had meant to return to Meryton, Mrs. Elizabeth, but I was persuaded that Miss Bennet did not return my regard…”
“And you chose not to ask her!” Elizabeth interrupted curtly. “A lady cannot speak of it, for then she is considered tooforward. And if she does not, as in my dear sister’s case, then she is perceived to be disinterested. How would you have it, sir?—how should a couple decide whether they suit? Should they flip a shilling and agree to wed if the head of the King lands uppermost? A fine way to choose one’s partner for life!
“You showed a preference for Jane, Mr. Bingley, over any other woman in the county. Do you so casually fall in and out of love, that you flirt shamelessly and then abandon the object of your partiality without a backward glance, exposing my sister to the shame of having been jilted by a man she had come to respect—nay, dare I say it, love?”
Bingley stared at her in horror. “S—she loved me? She returned my affections with such regard? How cruel I have been—such a grievous error! But Caroline and Louisa assured me that, no matter her amiable temper, her heart was untouched; that she was being pushed into the attachment by her mother. Caroline spoke of your family’s lack of connections; that you—the second sister—had been sent to London under some sort of a cloud.”
“A cloud indeed! If you had asked, then Jane would have told you that I had declined an offer from Mr. Collins—surely you met the man—who is our cousin and will inherit Longbourn under the entail. You know my nature, Mr. Bingley; I could not have made that man happy. So I withdrew, for he had thought only that he should court the elder of my sister Mary and me, for my mother, in her wisdom, had put him off Jane. And truly, she would have made him a poor wife. My younger sister, Mary, is well suited for a clergyman, for she possesses an excellent command of the scriptures—likely better than Mr. Collins himself—yet would be prepared to guide him, rather than scold him, such as I would. Jane would never have contradicted him, which, though preserving the peace, would lead to greater embarrassment if he were found to be deficient in his sermonsor guiding his parishioners. No, sir! There was no cloud, merely prudence on both my mother’s and my part.”
“Oh, dear. I am a fool. Do you think she would receive me if I called?” said Bingley, wringing his hands.
“I know not my sister’s heart, sir,” Elizabeth replied. “Yet you had an opportunity in London, some months past. My aunt Gardiner and Jane called on Mrs. Hurst and your sister. The visit was brief, and, from my aunt’s telling, uncivil. Your sisters returned the call only after some three weeks. Miss Bingley intimated that you knew Jane was in Town, but did not wish to renew the acquaintance.”
“She was in Town? But I swear to you, Mrs. Elizabeth, I did not know.” Bingley’s countenance darkened. “Thank you for being direct, ma’am. I must speak with my sister, as Hurst is speaking to Louisa at this moment, for they both have meddled in my affairs, as Caroline has done before. It would be best if I were to remove myself from her society.”
He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “No! It is she who shall be removed—perhaps a sojourn with my aunt in Scarborough will do her some good, for she believes herself above all of the society she meets in town—why, I do not know. ‘Tis likely the seminary she attended gave her airs and graces beyond our sphere.”
Bingley thanked Georgiana for allowing his visit—he was determined to depart with his sister early on the morrow. He extended his regards to Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh, clasped Darcy’s hand, and hurriedly exited the room.
“I know not how you achieve it, Mrs. Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine, “but you might have instilled some spine in Mr. Bingley. What say you, Darcy?”
“Bingley is a good man, but often too easily led. Yet, I have never seen him so mortified—and there were times atCambridge when he most certainly found himself on the wrong side of propriety. His embarrassment was acute.”
“Whether he calls on my sister—I cannot say,” said Elizabeth, a little wistfully. “Currently he is angry—Miss Bingley has cruelly used both him and Miss Bennet. Yet, he must confront his own heart, for he let himself be led—is that truly a man who loves, and wishes to be loved in return?”
“You speak of love, Mrs. Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine. “I had supposed you were a hard woman, such as Lady Jersey. That is how she presents herself.”
“Perhaps she is,” Elizabeth replied. “But Lady Jersey will go out of her way to help any she believes worthy, even to the detriment of the Bank—though, please, never tell her that it was I who said it. She would prefer all of England to believe she takes herself for a goddess, ruling over Almack’s and the wealth of the City with scant regard for mere mortals such as us.”
Elizabeth paused. “While it is not my place, for I am only a guest—yet, I would truly take pleasure if Georgiana were to play for us.”
