by Meg Osborne
“Yet you know where she resides?”
“Oh yes.” Lizzy could not resist joining in on the conversation. “For she took great pains to tell us how elegant were the rooms secured for their party by her brother and Mr Darcy.”
“Mr Darcy!” Aunt Gardiner remarked. “I see. How interesting that he should be here as well. Dear me, Lizzy, no matter your opinion of that young man or your attempts to avoid him, it seems apparent that fate will still thrust you into one another’s company.”
Lizzy’s eyes danced with amusement but her smile faded a fraction at her Aunt’s teasing tone.
“Well, girls, if your acquaintance with this Miss Bingley is as you suggest, I do not see why you need to wait to be asked! It is a quiet day today before the real merriment of Christmas begins. Why do you not call on your friend this afternoon? I have a few errands to run and can accompany you part way there, if you like.”
This was agreed upon as being a good idea and within the hour the two girls found themselves standing on an unfamiliar doorstep.
“Oh, Lizzy. Whatever shall we say?” Jane faltered, as she reached a hand out to the bright brass door knocker. “What if -”
“Well, we shan’t know a thing until we knock,” Elizabeth said, matter-of-factly. She reached forward and pinched Jane affectionately on the arm before rapping sharply on the door and giving their names to the bored looking servant who opened it.
“Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth to call on Miss Bingley, if she is at home.”
Nodding, the servant disappeared, reappearing almost immediately with a practised blank smile.
“Miss Bingley is unavailable at present Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, but if you would care to leave your card I shall certainly see that she gets it.”
Ever organised, Jane did as she was bid and the two girls retreated towards the street, one dejected and the other not at all disappointed by the turn of events.
“Come, Jane,” Elizabeth said, brightly. She looped her arm through her sister’s. “Why don’t we take a turn of the park? We might try and call here again later before returning home.”
Jane murmured in agreement, but her attention was caught by something at the house and Elizabeth looked back at it just in time to see a curtain twitch back into place.
Had Miss Bingley been at home already and ignoring them? Lizzy felt indignation burn in her chest at such a snub, but she dared not let Jane see it. With all haste she walked towards the park, chattering merrily about other places they might visit while in town.
Their walk seemed to revitalise both girls and after a short time they reached a bench and sat a moment to rest.
“Jane, dear, I have a feeling I would only be an obstacle to your going to see Miss Bingley.” She chuckled. “Recall that lady and I have never been on good terms. I fancy if you returned alone you might find her surprisingly and suddenly able to sit with you a pleasant quarter hour.”
“But what will you do?” Jane asked. “I cannot leave you sitting here, it is so cold!”
“Not so very cold!” Lizzy said, cheerfully standing. “I shall walk a little more and soon be quite warm. Perhaps we might meet for tea in a short while.” She pointed to a nearby tea shop.
Jane reluctantly agreed and picked a dainty path back towards the Bingleys’ home. Alone and free, Lizzy wandered the park happily observing other walkers and revellers until a familiar figure caught her eye. Rather, familiar figures, for there were two gentlemen approaching her on the path. Too late, she recognised Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, and hurried to look for an escape. Before she could turn and move out of their way, they recognised her in turn.
“Miss Bennet!” Mr Bingley cried, oblivious to the frown that flashed across his friend’s face at Elizabeth Bennet’s sudden reappearance in their lives. Mr Bingley beamed with delight. “What are you doing here?”
***
Elizabeth’s frosty reception matched the icy conditions in the park perfectly.
What is she doing here? Darcy thought, his brow furrowing. Her answer startled him, as though she had read his mind, but then he recalled Bingley had asked the same question and it was to his friend, and not himself, that Elizabeth directed her answer.
“We are here visiting my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner for Christmas.”
“We?” Bingley’s voice lifted. “Then your sister, is she -”
“She is staying here with me,” Elizabeth confirmed, her eyes straying momentarily to Darcy. “In fact, she is at the moment calling on your sister.”
“And you did not join her?” Bingley asked, with concern.
“I fear your sister is not well disposed to a visit from two Bennet sisters at once.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement or anger, Darcy could not determine which. Knowing a little of Miss Bingley’s honest opinion of Elizabeth he rather expected she was right. Jane Bennett would be far more likely permitted an audience alone than with her sister in tow, but he would never dream of saying so out loud.
“What nonsense!” Bingley said. “I am sure if Caroline knew you were here she would be only too eager to invite you to visit. Come, Darcy, let us turn back now and bring Miss Elizabeth with us. What a surprise we shall offer my dear sister!”
Darcy hesitated momentarily, drawing his lips together in a line. Surprise was certainly one word for what Caroline Bingley would experience when the two men reappeared with Miss Bennet in tow, and another Miss Bennet already in attendance.
His grimace had gone unnoticed by Bingley, who gallantly made good on his word and offered an arm to Elizabeth. She was only too quick to read his expression, though, and he noticed a glimmer of irritation flash over her delicate figures.
“Really, Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth began to protest more fervently.
“Charles, surely we ought -” Darcy began, but before he could finish his sentence the party was interrupted by the pale, drawn figure of Miss Jane Bennet, hurrying down the path towards them.
“Lizzy! Oh, Lizzy -” She froze, noticing the two men. Darcy saw the way she straightened almost imperceptibly, folding back in on herself. The face she presented, then, was placid, calmly devoid of the agitation that had been plain upon it scarcely a moment before.
“Mr Bingley!” she exclaimed, with a delicate smile. “And Mr Darcy, good morning.”
“Miss Bennet. You look - ah - you look well. That is, I fear we have caught you by surprise and - it is very wonderful to see you again.” Bingley struggled over his words, his smiling enthusiasm overcoming any clumsiness in his greeting.
There was a moment of awkward silence, before Elizabeth spoke, sliding her arm through the crook of her sister’s. A wordless glance passed between the two and Darcy felt certain some secret communication prompted Elizabeth to nod deferentially to both men and say,
“Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, it was pleasant to see you, but please, if you would excuse us, we had planned to take tea and we ought not to linger too much longer in the cold.”
“No indeed!” Bingley said. “It is very cold. Perhaps we might join you -”
“Oh...”
“That is very kind of you -” Jane stammered, finding her voice at last.
“Bingley,” Darcy interrupted. “We had planned to walk another circuit of the park. Recall, we intended to examine the state of the lake, that we might report back to your sister whether it is likely to be suitable for skating.” He glanced at the ladies. “Let us allow the Miss Bennets to proceed with their own plans unhindered.”
Here he felt strangely gratified to receive a silent look from Elizabeth Bennet intended only for him. Thank you, her eyes said.
Emboldened by this display of gratitude, and in an attempt to aid his friend who, he realised, dearly wished to see Miss Bennet for longer than this chance encounter in a London park would afford them, Darcy was surprised to hear himself speak further.
“Perhaps, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, we might join you in half an hour and take tea with you then?”
He waited, half anxiety, half hope, for Elizabeth to
reject the suggestion out of hand, to cut him down with half a smile or a word intended to floor him entirely. Instead, she smiled.
“That would be most satisfactory, gentlemen. Enjoy your walk.”
After an instant more, the women turned and moved away.
“I cannot believe that they are in London, Darcy. It is as if fate had a hand in our paths crossing, do not you think?” Bingley said, shaking his head incredulously.
Darcy nodded, watching the women retreat. Fate, or Mrs Bennet, he thought, uncharitably. That woman had to know Bingley had gone to London. How better to cement the connection between him and her daughter than to dispatch Jane to the capital with all haste. But why send Elizabeth too? Surely a sister in tow would merely confound any plans Jane might have to entrap poor Bingley. Then there was the look of astonishment Darcy had noticed flash across Jane’s face as she saw Bingley. His friend might have been in raptures over her surprise appearance, but Darcy had noticed the flash of real feeling that crossed her face in the moment before she was able to wrestle back her composure. Could it be that her feelings ran just as deeply as Bingley’s, she merely concealed them better?
I do not quite believe it, Darcy acknowledged. He was forced to admit, however, there was a slim chance that his first assessment, made in haste and by comparison with the Bennets’ lady mother who was so little like the two eldest Bennets in attitude or manner, was false. We shall take tea with them, he thought. Perhaps then I might make a better assessment of the situation. He would ordinarily welcome Caroline Bingley’s assistance in the matter. Despite his own opinion of Miss Bingley, she did seem to care a great deal for her brother's happiness. But in this instance, he felt a distinct disinclination to involve her. She disliked Elizabeth Bennet, whether on his account or merely by virtue of their personal differences, he could not tell. He doubted her opinion of Jane would be greatly improved. No, Caroline could not remain impartial in this. The image of Elizabeth Bennet's smile flashed through his brain once more Impartial? Can I claim that trait myself, in the presence of Elizabeth? He could not answer himself straight away, and doubted he would like the answer even if he could.
“Come, Bingley,” he said, eagerly desiring some activity. “Let us examine this lake...”
Chapter Three
Once the two Bennet sisters were settled at a quiet table and supplied with tea, Jane finally opened up.
“Oh, Lizzy,” she whispered. “Miss Bingley flatly refused to see me.”
Elizabeth drew her lips into a line, not trusting herself to speak. It was one thing for Caroline Bingley to snub her: she had never made any secret of her low opinion of Elizabeth Bennet and frankly Lizzy did not care enough for her that she minded very much. But Jane made a great effort for people to like her and to find someone who didn’t was a rarity, let alone someone who would go out of their way to make that dislike known and slight her so cruelly.
“Oh, she did not say so herself, but I know she was at home. I heard her speaking to her servant, and she said -” Jane paused, drawing a shaky breath. “She said, “Oh, get rid of her. I am not in a humour to make nice with any of the Miss Bennets, I do not care how often she has tried to call. Tel her I am ill or indisposed or not even at home, just get rid of her.”
Jane blinked, furiously, holding back the appearance of tears. “I have never been so embarrassed.”
“I don’t doubt that was her intention," Elizabeth said, anger rising at this mistreatment of her dear sister. “No doubt she said all this just loud enough that you might hear it! That is just the lack of manners she has!”
“Oh, no.” Jane shook her head. “No, I’m sure she did not mean to be overheard.” She sighed, patiently. “She perhaps felt very unwell and did not realise how such a dismissal would be taken.”
Elizabeth snorted in disbelief.
“You are too kind by half, Jane dear. She has never liked any of us particularly well. Me, she downright despises. I thought, on account of your connection with her brother, she might grow to love you as everyone does.” An idea presented itself to Elizabeth. “Perhaps that is why she is so disinclined to see you. She and Mr Darcy together were fairly eager to spirit Mr Bingley away when it became clear you shared an affection. No doubt she wishes to stop you marrying, as Mr Darcy does.”
“Mr Darcy does not wish us to wed?” Jane asked, turning wide, red-rimmed eyes on her sister. “Why, he hardly knows me! How can he have any opinion on whether or not I am suitable for his friend?”
Lizzy laughed. “Mr Darcy holds any number of opinions on subjects he hardly understands.” Yet as she made the comment she felt a pang of guilt. Mr Darcy may have been arrogant and misguided, but that very hour he had seemed to understand, without the need of explanation, that she and Jane needed time alone to discuss her sister’s discomfort. Were it not for his gentle insistence, Mr Bingley would have accompanied them directly. She realised Jane had said something more that she had entirely missed and begged her to repeat it.
“I said that he does not seem so determined as Caroline to separate us. Did he not suggest they would join us for tea here before long?”
“That is very true,” Elizabeth mused. And yet I am sure it was Darcy who secured such elegant lodgings for them here in London: he that enticed Bingley away in the first place. What then could be his motivation for allowing his friend and my sister to see one another again now?
She reached a hand up to massage her forehead.
“Are you unwell, Lizzy?” Jane asked.
“Not at all!” Elizabeth smiled brightly. “Merely trying to decipher the strange actions of Mr Darcy.” She laughed. “An occupation I ought scarcely to attempt, for I am sure I do not know why he does half of what he does.”
A door opened behind her, and Elizabeth noticed Jane straighten, peering over her shoulder at whoever entered. Elizabeth did not need to look around to identify the newly arrived gentlemen, and it was barely a moment before Mr Bingley had hurried to join them.
“Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth.” He smiled at both women with genuine pleasure. “I hope you have enjoyed your tea, but not so much that we may not persuade you to have more.”
“Oh, no, that would be lovely,” Jane said, blooming prettily under his attention. Lizzy could not resist shooting Darcy a triumphant look, as if to demonstrate how much better she understood her sister than he appeared to grasp the true feelings of his friend, but her smile faded slightly when she noticed the serious expression on his features.
“You do not care to join us Mr Darcy?” she asked, curious now as to the reason behind his expression, and preferring to know the truth than to revel in her moment of triumph.
“Of course, we will stay provided you are happy for us to do so,” he muttered, sitting quickly next to Mr Bingley and glancing around the room with a poor affectation of nonchalance.
More tea was procured, and Jane and Mr Bingley fell to discussing their plans for Christmas with an enthusiasm not matched in Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, who sat silently opposite them. Finally, Elizabeth attempted to draw her companion into the conversation.
“Mr Darcy, you do not share your friend’s enthusiasm for the Christmas season?”
“I like it well enough, Miss Bennet,” he said, shortly.
Raising her eyebrows at his brief reply, Elizabeth turned her attention to her tea, and had drunk half her cup when a question posed to her by that very man so startled her that she swallowed quickly and coughed three times in quick succession to clear her throat. She glanced up and was surprised to see concern, rather than amusement, on his features, but the look vanished almost before she had noticed it. Waiting until she had regained her composure, he repeated the question.
“I said, I am surprised that your mother is so willing to surrender you over Christmas. Surely you would rather spend it with your family.”
“Mr and Mrs Gardiner are family,” Lizzy replied, inexplicably nettled by his calm inquiry.
“Yes, and dear Uncle Gardiner is unwell,�
� Jane said, her perfect smile fading for a moment as she considered their friendly relative’s plight. “He and our aunt were so keen to have us come and help to cheer him.”
“And are you?” Darcy’s lips quirked in a manner that might have been amusement or disbelief, Lizzy could not tell which. “Cheering him, I mean?”
“I hope so!” Jane laughed, self-deprecatingly. “Although I feel certain that part of the request was that we entertain our aunt and save him from being smothered by her kind attentions.”
Lizzy turned away from Mr Darcy that she need not try to understand his motivations any longer, and met Jane’s laugh with her own brilliant smile.
“Yes, poor Uncle! She is quite determined to drown him in tea and sympathy, we think.”
“And where is this compassionate aunt now?” Bingley asked, glancing about the small tea room as if he expected her to pounce on them at any moment.
“Shopping!” Jane said. “She is purchasing a few things for Christmas, I believe.”
“Aha! Christmas. Yes, I was wondering if you had plans for Christmas.”
“Oh, very few, Mr Bingley,” Lizzy said, smoothly. “We will pass the day at home with our relatives, after Church, of course.”
“Of course.” Mr Bingley beamed, undeterred. “But the day before Christmas, what then?”
Jane met Elizabeth’s gaze, but neither of them answered straight away.
“I shall take your silence for an admission that you are free, and hurry on to invite you to a ball my sister is holding at our home - that is, the home we have taken for the duration of our stay. It is not a home in the sense that Netherfield was - is, I mean, and -”
“I believe what my friend is trying to say,” Darcy interrupted, with a sardonic smile at his friend that went utterly unnoticed by Mr Bingley, “is that he wishes both of you to attend the ball as his guests.”
Lizzy’s eyes danced with merriment at the apparent effort this sentence had cost Mr Darcy. I see, she thought. Mr Bingley wishes...his guests. Yet you excuse yourself entirely from the arrangement, do you not, Mr Darcy?