by Jennifer Joy
Chapter 32
Nobody called the next day, nor the day after. Well, Charlotte did, but considering how she was not in a position to sponsor them in any way, she was received with all the excitement she was accustomed to by the majority of the household. Elizabeth, though, took great comfort in her friend's loyalty. Father and Jane, too, were grateful.
Pacing about her bedchamber, for the drawing room was now completely bare, Mother fanned herself. Lydia and Kitty wandered beside her, their boredom evident in their slouched posture and pouting lips.
"I do not understand it! Nobody calls, and we have received no invitations." Mother stomped her foot and smacked her fan against her hand.
Having nowhere else to be, Elizabeth and Jane had joined them. They, of course, were not surprised in the least at the lack of social engagements. They were ruined. Who wanted them underfoot to cheapen their parties?
Elizabeth set her jaw and sat up taller in the chair facing Mother. Why would they want the pity of the masses anyway?
Jane said, "We must not expect any favors or invitations. We are social outcasts now."
Mother's face turned red and dry tears stained her cheeks. "I do not understand why when I have been in the best company, as have my daughters, during the past few months."
"We have no money. They only endured our improper displays and lacking manners because the gold gleam of coin cast a flattering hue over our faults. Now that we have nothing, they have disappeared," said Elizabeth bitterly.
Mother pinched her lips and glared at Elizabeth.
Kitty wiped her eyes and blew her nose on a damp handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. "I am beginning to think that the friends we made only kept us around for their own amusement and advantage."
Unaware of the activities of Lydia and Kitty, who were seldom home, Elizabeth asked, "How is that? I am embarrassed to admit that I know little of your set."
Jane bowed her head and muttered, "Nor I. I have allowed my own disappointed hopes to crowd out my concern for you and I am so sorry."
Lydia rolled her eyes and snorted. "We would not have done half the things we did had we been accountable to you or anyone else."
Elizabeth clenched her teeth. What a horrible sister she had been. To her younger sisters, she had been as blind as Father. It would stop now. "It is for that reason that I expect that your conscience will require you to tell Father everything you have been up to so that he may see best how to help you learn to act like a young lady you can be proud of."
“You sound like Mary,” Lydia scoffed.
Kitty lowered her head and had the decency to look embarrassed. Lydia stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms like a weaning tot.
"Besides, none of that will matter when we are forced to return to Longbourn," said Lydia. With a smile, she added, "I hope that the militia is still stationed in Meryton."
That rose Mother's spirits considerably. Turning abruptly, and nearly knocking a sobbing Kitty over in the process, she went to her armoire. Opening the doors, she counted how many dresses she still had. "I hope you hid your best dresses, girls. You may not marry a stuffy town gentleman, but you can still catch a handsome officer serving the crown. It is to be preferred, I think."
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane. Most gentlemen became officers because they could not afford to live as gentlemen. They were the second sons or their families had fallen on hard times and they had to earn their keep. They were in exactly the same position her family found themselves in. Without a dowry to lure suitors, they may very well dry up on the shelf as spinsters. Poor old maids.
There was no speaking sense in Mother's room. Rising to leave, Mother called out, "Did I tell you, Lizzy, that I went to Mrs. Gordon to pay my debt to her?"
"With what money were you able to pay her?" asked Elizabeth.
Mother waved her off. "I did not have any money. I only meant to see how serious she was that I pay her. It was, after all, just a game and not to be taken too seriously."
Elizabeth doubted that Mother felt the same way when she was the one owed a sum. She could think of nothing pleasant to say, so she bit her tongue and waited for Mother to continue.
"As it turns out, my debt was covered by a generous benefactor." She smiled and shook her shoulders.
Lydia hopped to her feet, clasping Mother's hands. "Do you have a secret admirer? How romantic!"
Kitty stood stiffly. "I do not find it romantic in the least! Mother is married to Father and should not entertain such fancies."
Elizabeth stepped back, surprised at the sensible speech proceeding from her formerly insensible sister. There may be hope for her yet. She looped her arm through Kitty's, who felt like a stiff board.
Lydia stuck her tongue out. "You sound like Mary too. What does it matter where the money comes from or how it is come by if it helps us live more comfortably?"
Mother tapped Lydia with her closed fan. "Now, Lydia, I must agree with Kitty. You should not take infidelity so lightly, my dear. You would not take so kindly to being replaced in your husband's affections were it to happen to you."
Thank goodness Mother possessed some sense!
Lydia shrugged. "I do not think that it would happen with me. I would keep my looks so that my husband is never tempted."
As if she could control the passing of the years or the deeper needs of a love which extended beyond the superficial.
Elizabeth said, "A benefactor is not necessarily an admirer. The important thing is that the debt is paid. Are there any more?" she asked.
Mother smiled wider. "I only had the debt with Mrs. Gardiner and one other with Mrs. Weiland, who sent a note this morning that my debt had been canceled as well."
"Was this the doing of the mysterious benefactor, or did she cancel the debt out of her guilty conscience in encouraging your vice?" Elizabeth asked.
"Does it matter? The debt is canceled, and I plan to ask Mr. Bennet if that will save us enough to enable us to stay on in town."
Doubtful.
"You have no clue as to the identity of this benefactor?" pressed Elizabeth.
“None at all,” Mother said, ruffling once again through the few dresses remaining in her armoire.
Kitty held her arms stiffly at her side. "I think that I shall go to the orphanage to visit Mary."
Jane quickly said, "I will go with you," with a disappointed glance at Lydia.
Mother clapped her hands together. "What a splendid idea, Kitty. Who is to say but that you will meet a single gentleman on the way there. Do not forget to drop your handkerchief," she shouted after Jane and Kitty as they slipped through the door.
When she noticed that Lydia still stood in place, Mother asked, "Why do you not go with them? No gentlemen will see you if you remain cooped up inside this house. How are you to marry well if you are not seen?"
Visibly wrestling with her distaste of visiting her pious sister in a drab orphanage at the cost of being seen in public, Lydia's craving for attention finally won out. With a bounce, she hurried out of the room.
Mother slapped her hands together as if she had completed an arduous task. Elizabeth was grateful she had been left out of the excursion— she had some matters to see to that day and was grateful that her sisters were otherwise occupied— but she could not help but feel left out.
"Had you married Mr. Collins as you were supposed to, we would have returned in fine feather to Longbourn," lamented Mother.
Elizabeth refused to rise to her bait. "You forget, Mother, how Mr. Collins condemned our family over your participation in the lottery. He saw it as a vice and would no longer associate with us on the chance that we might contaminate his righteous standing in the community."
Mother clucked her tongue. "Well, I daresay that you would give a different answer were he to ask now. Mr. Gordon has stopped calling. It is such a pity. He would have made a handsome son-in-law. I should have been proud of introducing him at the assemblies, but for all I know, you have refused him as well." S
he sighed and plunked down onto her bed, closing her eyes and laying the back of her hand against her brow for dramatic effect.
Elizabeth bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. As she suspected, Mother cracked one of her eyes open when she did not reply. Dropping her arms into her lap with a thud, Mother asked, "Really, Lizzy, does there exist a gentleman in England with whom you would condescend to marry? Is it too much of me to ask that you consider putting aside your fanciful thoughts of love and marry for convenience? It is what most people do! Why do you refuse to do what everyone else does?"
Elizabeth held her silence. She could not reveal where her true affections lay to her mother, although one gentleman's name rose far above all others. She would venture to hope until he told her not to.
"I realize how my decisions have affected my family, but please consider how your choices have affected me. This afternoon, instead of socializing with the ton, meeting new people, and preparing for a ball this evening, I have to walk with my maid to the dress shop and explain why I must make a payment which is smaller than the amount agreed upon. If it becomes necessary, I will have to beg for more time in order to keep our family together." Mother's blank face showed that she did not understand how she was in the fault. She may as well have spared her breath.
Five minutes later, Elizabeth walked outside. It was not a great distance to the dress shop, and she craved the outdoors. It was not a rambling walk in the countryside, but it would suffice for now. They would return to Longbourn soon enough.
The shop windows displayed bright silks and gauzy, white muslins positioned to inspire gaiety in every woman passing by. Elizabeth could practically hear the lively music playing at the balls they were not invited to while lovely ladies spun in a procession of white dresses and bright silks.
The atmosphere inside was as cheerful as it had been the first time she had set foot in the shop. And, as in her first visit, Miss Bingley was there. She stood atop a fitting box, a seamstress at her feet. Her gown was elegant and Miss Bingley knew how well the cut of the neckline and the gathering in of the waist flattered her figure.
"My, my. How the mighty do fall," she commented to her companion, who sat in a chair next to the mirror where Miss Bingley preened at her reflection as she watched Elizabeth's every step.
Quiet chatter and sneers delicately covered over with gloved hands warmed Elizabeth's cheeks.
"Miss Elizabeth," the shopkeeper said with a welcoming smile, "how good of you to come. I hope that you are well and receiving more invitations than you have time to attend." If she had heard the news, she was too gracious to refer to it.
"I thank you. We are busy enough. Might we go somewhere where we can talk?" She would not explain why she could not yet pay in full while Caroline Bingley was within hearing distance.
Closing the magazine of dress designs she had been perusing, the shopkeeper led her into her room.
Taking a settling breath, Elizabeth started, "I must apologize that I cannot pay the amount agreed upon—"
"Amount? Of what do you speak, Miss Elizabeth? Your account has been paid in full these three days."
"In full, you say?" Elizabeth asked, stunned.
Rising from her chair, the shopkeeper said, "It was generous of your father to include a little extra. My workers were appreciative, and I would be honored for your family to continue to frequent my establishment."
"My father?" Elizabeth struggled to understand. How could Father have paid when they had no money?
"Of course. Who else?" The shopkeeper stepped back, considering Elizabeth as if she were concerned for her health.
Deciding it best to play along, Elizabeth thanked her and departed, breezing by Miss Bingley so quickly, her whispers could not catch up to her ears.
There was only one person she could think of at that moment who might be able to shed some light on what had just happened. With the maid trotting behind her, she hastened to see who their benefactor was.
Chapter 33
Darcy forsook the comforts his carriage could provide against the weather in favor of his fastest mount. It had taken every bit of patience in his possession to travel at the more leisurely pace suitable for his sister— and even then, she did not complain but rather encouraged them to press on when they might have stopped to rest. Georgiana was the best sister a brother could hope for, and she understood his urgency without explanation.
Traveling west to see Bingley, Darcy’s mind returned to London. What was Elizabeth doing at that moment? Was she resting for another ball? How many men would she dance with? Would she dance with any of them more than once? Gordon was an exceptional dancer. Would he be able to turn her head while Darcy was away? Would she forget him so easily? No. His sensible mind told him that Elizabeth was not the sort to betray a friend or make him believe that he meant more to her than she allowed. She was not a flirt, though her nature was merry. She did not encourage where no tender regard was kept. But his heart worried nonetheless. All of his insecurities and vulnerabilities reared their ugly heads until his desperation made him consider forsaking his trip to Bingley altogether. However, the moment would pass and rational thought would return to its proper place. He must go to Bingley. It would make Elizabeth happy. He would do anything to make her happy.
Digging his heels into the sides of his horse, he pressed on, his anxiousness to return growing stronger the further he rode.
He arrived in Oldham after the sun had descended, leaving the sky as dark as spilled ink.
Darcy knew where the factory was, though he had not been there before. Some windows were lit in a second floor of a building off to one side of the factory.
A man was milling about in the courtyard, walking with his hands behind his back, his shoulders hunched over.
Darcy called out, “Bingley?”
The man straightened somewhat and walked to him, his large smile and shiny teeth reassuring Darcy that the broken man before him was not completely lost.
“Darcy,” Bingley said as he drew closer. “What brings you to this part of England?” Concern overtook his smile and he ordered the gate to be opened and for Darcy’s horse to be seen to in his stables.
On closer inspection, Darcy saw how Bingley’s cheeks sunk in and his hair appeared to have gone uncombed several days. Blond stubble dotted his face in patches. Long sideburns never did suit his friend, but he did not seem to care.
“I heard it on good authority that you dismissed your valet and I have come to set you straight,” Darcy said, hoping to cheer his friend.
Bingley tried to run his hand through his hair, but a mass of tangles stopped his fingers so that he had to tug to free them. A frown covered his face, and the most cross expression Darcy had ever seen his cheerful friend wear.
Slapping him on the back gently for fear of breaking his thin frame, Darcy said, “I come bearing good news, Bingley. But a man cannot discuss weighty matters on an empty stomach. Is there any food in your house or shall we go to a tavern?” While it was true that Darcy’s stomach rumbled, he was more interested in ensuring that Bingley eat.
“There is more food in my house than I know what to do with. Cook will be happy to have someone eat her offerings. I have been too busy to bother.” He turned toward the house and Darcy followed.
“Tell her to send enough for the both of us. What I have to tell you, I think, will return your appetite.”
The look Bingley gave him broke Darcy’s heart. Such longing and disappointment sprung from his eyes, surrounded by dark circles. Darcy would wait no longer to ease his friend’s pain.
“Miss Bennet’s appearance, though not as downcast as yours— her maid must be more persistent than your valet— has been affected by what I can only assume is a heart crushed by disappointed hopes.”
Bingley’s eyes widened. “She has not fallen ill, has she?”
Speaking plainer still, Darcy added, “She misses you, Bingley. And from what I see before me, you miss her too. Why did you persist in
hiding away up here when I wrote to you begging you to return to London?”
Bingley stared back at him with a blank face. “What letter?”
“What letter? I wrote to you twice!”
“I am sorry, Darcy, but I have received no letters from you.”
That explained everything. If only he had written again. If only he had been more persistent for his friend’s happiness. Squeezing Bingley on the shoulder, Darcy said, “I must apologize to you, then. I wrote a letter detailing my observations on Miss Bennet since your departure. It was much more marked than I had believed possible. When I did not hear from you, I wrote once more, but I can only suppose it got misplaced. I should have sent it by messenger.” He hung his head as they entered the parlor and sat near the fire.
“The winter has been a difficult one. It may have been lost during the week-long fog.” Lord love Bingley, who was so quick to apologize offenses against him. Darcy decided to try to be more forgiving— so long as the offense was not a grave one. His mercy had limits.
“That may explain why you never received my letter, but it does not explain why I failed to send another when I got no reply and you failed to appear. It is only out of selfish interest that I made this trip, and this knowledge disturbs me greatly.” He squirmed in his seat despite himself.
Bingley looked appalled. “What has happened to you? I have never known you to doubt yourself like this.”
Darcy grit his teeth. “It is new for me to see my faults and recognize a need for improvement, but I am determined.”
Bingley’s mouth gaped wide open, and he laughed heartily, a reaction which a couple months ago would have put Darcy in a sour mood, hastened his departure, and most likely put a damper on his long-standing friendship with Bingley.
“For years, I have tried in vain to help you see how you stood stubbornly in the way of your own happiness. Why do you think I suggested that you accompany me to Netherfield Park and made you attend the assemblies out of guilt? I believe you to be a good man, Darcy. I would not be your friend otherwise, but I also know you well enough to be certain that you did not come to this conclusion on your own… Which begs the question: Who is responsible for this incredible change of attitude?” His smile broadened as he spoke, and Darcy felt no reproach.