The door had scarcely closed behind the gentlemen when Mrs. Gardiner turned to Jane with barely restrained curiosity.
"Well, my dear? You look considerably happier than you did an hour ago."
Jane pressed her hands to her cheeks, as though trying to cool the warmth there. "I am. I—oh, Aunt, I scarcely know what to think."
Mr. Gardiner settled into his chair with a satisfied air. "That Mr. Bingley seems a decent fellow. A bit enthusiastic, perhaps, but there's no harm in that."
"No harm at all," Mrs. Gardiner agreed. "And Mr. Darcy—well, I confess I was pleasantly surprised. He was all I expected."
Elizabeth looked up sharply. "Expected?"
“Yes…” Mrs. Gardiner paused, choosing her words with care. “From what I knew of his father, I cannot believe he would have raised so dreadful a son. When you told me all that had passed between you—both at your first acquaintance and during your visit to Kent—I confess I imagined quite a different sort of gentleman. It seems, my dear, that you were mistaken in your judgement… or perhaps he was simply not himself during those visits.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. To speak would be folly, for the Mr. Darcy she had seen yesterday and this evening was most assuredly not the man she had met in Hertfordshire or Kent.
"He was very civil," Mr. Gardiner said. "Quite knowledgeable about trade, too. Not many men of his station bother to understand such matters. We had a capital conversation about the East India Company's shipping practices."
"He asked intelligent questions," Mrs. Gardiner added. "And he listened to your answers, my dear, which is more than can be said for most gentlemen when speaking to tradesmen."
Elizabeth frowned. This was not helping her confusion in the slightest.
"But Jane," Mrs. Gardiner continued, turning back to her niece with an expectant smile. "You must tell us what Mr. Bingley said. I have never seen you look so…so altered."
Jane took a breath, then released it in a rush of words. "He never knew I was in London."
Silence.
"What?" Elizabeth said.
"He never knew." Jane's eyes were bright with a mixture of relief and anger. "Miss Bingley lied to me. She told me she would inform her brother of my visit, but she never did. Not once. She kept my presence in town a complete secret from him."
"Good God," Mr. Gardiner muttered.
"Mr. Bingley only learned of it months later—from Mr. Darcy, of all people. Mr. Darcy told him I had been in London all that time." Jane's voice trembled slightly. "Can you imagine how he felt? To discover I had been there for weeks and he had known nothing of it?"
Mrs. Gardiner's expression had turned from curiosity to indignation. "That wretched girl. To deliberately deceive her own brother—"
"But why would she do such a thing?" Elizabeth demanded, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
“Well, now that I know she has been pretending all along, I should say it was because she—or rather, they—did not wish him to marry me,” Jane said quietly. “They think me beneath him, unsuitable… and rather than allow their brother to choose for himself, she took the decision out of his hands entirely.”
"Abominable," Mrs. Gardiner declared.
Jane nodded. "Mr. Bingley was devastated when he learned of it. He said he wanted to come to Hertfordshire immediately, to see me, to explain—but he could not bring himself to do it. He was terrified." She paused, her voice catching. "He thought I must hate him for abandoning me so completely. For leaving Netherfield without a word, for never calling on me in London even though I was there. He convinced himself that by the time he learned the truth, it was already too late—that I must have ceased to care for him, or at the very least, that I would never forgive him for his silence."
"Oh, Jane," Elizabeth said softly.
Jane's eyes glistened. "I am just happy that providence brought us together again." She turned to her aunt with a tremulous smile. "Thank you, Aunt, for insisting I come to Bath with you. If I had remained at Longbourn, brooding—"
"Nonsense," Mrs. Gardiner said briskly, though her eyes were warm. "I am only glad it has worked out so well."
Mr. Gardiner stood, stretching. "Well, I think this calls for a glass of port, don't you? A toast to young love and second chances."
He moved toward the sideboard, then paused. "And a small toast, perhaps, to Mr. Darcy for telling Bingley about Jane's visit to London. That was decent of him."
Elizabeth felt something twist in her chest. Darcy had told Bingley. She hadn’t thought of that detail when Jane mentioned it, but now she did. Darcy, who had separated them in the first place, had been the one to bring them back together. Why?
"It was decent," Mrs. Gardiner agreed. "In fact, I found Mr. Darcy to be quite decent throughout this evening. The way he spoke of his father, of old Mr. Wickham—there was real feeling there. Real warmth."
