“If Darcy comes, I shall be certain to pass on your regards.”
“Excellent,” said Mrs. Bennet, sitting back and appearing for all the world like a creature well satisfied that her purpose was advancing.
Mr. Bingley stayed far longer than politeness dictated, but as Mrs. Bennet said nothing—Elizabeth was certain her mother would have been pleased had Mr. Bingley stayed twice as long as he did—he seemed to feel no need to depart. Elizabeth amused herself with a book, but she paid little attention to it in favor of Mr. Bingley and Jane.
What she saw heartened her as much as any of their previous interactions. Mr. Bingley was as attentive as he had ever been, confining his conversation to Jane unless addressed by another.When Mrs. Bennet spoke, as she did a few times, he responded with his typical enthusiasm, then turned back to Jane.
The one thing Elizabeth had not seen before was the earnest conversation that passed between them, one that took several minutes and appeared to canvass disagreeable subjects. During those moments, Mr. Bingley was serious, speaking to Jane with an intensity she did not think she had ever witnessed before. Their conversation thereafter returned to the previous tone and left Elizabeth wondering what had passed between them.
At length, Mr. Bingley rose and took his leave, though he could not escape without Mrs. Bennet making one final plea to keep him there.
“Shall you not stay and dine with us, Mr. Bingley? Surely it would be better than dining alone.”
“Thank you for your kind invitation, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, offering her a bow. “Another time, I shall be happy to accept. For tonight, I believe it is best that I return to Netherfield to see to the estate.”
“Then tomorrow, perhaps?”
Mr. Bingley smiled. “Thank you. I shall be happy to accept your invitation for tomorrow.”
With those words, Mr. Bingley went away.
It is no less than a certainty that a woman living in fear of the hedgerows and sensing the possibility of salvation in the form of a man paying attention to her eldest daughter will speak of that man to excess when he is not there. Mrs. Bennet did not disappoint. After Mr. Bingley’s departure, she spoke at length of her expectations, Mr. Bingley’s handsome mien, the man’s coat, trousers, demeanor, happy manners, and anything else that crossed her mind. Had the paeans of praise come from Jane as the focus of the man’s attentions, itmighthave been excessive enthusiasm. From Mrs. Bennet, it was nothing less than gauche.
“Tell me, Mrs. Bennet,” said her husband that evening at the dinner table, when she had carried on at some length about Mr. Bingley, “are we to be regaled with stories of Mr. Bingley’s perfections at all hours of the day and night, or is today special?”
“What nonsense!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet with nary a hint of irony. “Why, I have no notion of what you are saying.”
“Only that you have spoken about Mr. Bingley without cessation since the moment our dinner touched the table.” Mr. Bennet directed a sardonic grin at his wife. “Perhaps you should save us all the trouble of hearing of the man every waking moment and simply invite him to stay with us at Longbourn. At least then, we would only see the man, not hear praises of him from dawn until dusk.”
“Stay with us,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Do not be ridiculous, Mr. Bennet. Mr. Bingley cannot stay here. Why he would wish to is beyond my ability to understand—no one would choose Longbourn over Netherfield.”
“You may be surprised, Mrs. Bennet,” said he, not at all concerned with the insult to their home. “Regardless, perhaps you will give us all a reprieve and not speak of Mr. Bingley for the next five minutes. I think even Jane would welcome the time to reflect.”
Whether Mrs. Bennet understood her husband’s suggestion as a command or if she realized belatedly how much she had been speaking of Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth did not know. For the rest of their meal, she was quieter, much to the entire family’s relief. After dinner, they retired to the sitting-room, and while she did not practice silence, she at least had less to say.
“Well, Jane?” asked Elizabeth when the sisters sought the privacy of Jane’s bedchamber that night. “Matters with Mr. Bingley appeared as warm as they ever were.”
Jane smiled and nodded, though she was distracted. “I dare say that Mr. Bingley will not go away again,” agreed Jane. “And you were correct to expect his return.”
“I am pleased you have acknowledged it,” replied Elizabeth. “Did he say anything of what kept him from returning to Netherfield?”
The way Jane hesitated, Elizabeth knew her supposition was correct. She did not press, instead preferring to allow Jane to come to the point in her own time, or not at all if that was what she wished. Elizabeth was pleased when Jane decided to confide in her.
“It was the interference of his family and friend,” said Jane at length.
Elizabeth did her best to avoid appearing satisfied at having predicted as much. “Did he say what arguments they used?”
With a sigh, Jane sat back against the headboard. “Mr. Bingley did not tell me everything, but he told me enough to infer there were some strong objections to his attentions to me.”
“Of course, the daughter of a gentleman is not enough for Miss Bingley.”
Under usual circumstances, Jane would have objected to Elizabeth’s statement, but on that occasion, she only nodded. “Yes, that much appears to be true. From a certain perspective, you can understand their hesitation, Lizzy, for I cannot bring a large dowry or connections to the nobility to a marriage.”
“No, you cannot, Jane,” agreed Elizabeth, “but your situation is not without its benefits. The most important factor is Mr. Bingley’s opinion—if he decides in your favor, all discussion must cease.”
“Without a doubt,” agreed Jane.
Elizabeth watched her sister, knowing she had not yet said everything. “If you will pardon me, Jane, I do not believe sucharguments would keep Mr. Bingley from your side. Did Mr. Darcy take a hand, or was there something else at work?”
