Coincidence

by Jann Rowland

The sound of a voice arrested their entrance into the shop, and Elizabeth turned with the others to see Miss Bingley hurrying toward them, her sister following at a more sedate pace. Elizabeth stifled a groan—another afternoon of fending off Miss Bingley was not what she considered a pleasant use of her time. Unfortunately, it appeared she was not about to have a choice.

  “Do you suppose she pays a servant to inform her of our comings and goings?”

  Elizabeth giggled and turned to Anne, who was watching the approach of the other two ladies with barely more tolerance than Elizabeth possessed herself.

  “What?” asked Anne when Elizabeth did not answer immediately. “Has she not come upon us more often than can be conveniently explained by mere coincidence?”

  “How fortunate we have come upon you,” said Miss Bingley, as she strode up to them. “Shall we spend the afternoon together?”

  “Perhaps she sits in a carriage at all times of the day and night, watching for your departure,” said Elizabeth in an undertone, while Georgiana took on the burden of replying to the interloper.

  This time it was Anne’s turn to giggle, which, unfortunately, drew Miss Bingley’s attention.

  “Miss de Bourgh, how happy I am to see you.” Then she turned her gaze on Elizabeth, and her smile became a sneer. “Miss Eliza. I should have known that you were about.”

  “Indeed, I am ‘about,’ Miss Bingley. Since I assume you saw my sisters, I imagine you would have expected I was present too, even if you had not seen me standing here.”

  A flash of irritation informed Elizabeth that the woman was in fine form that day. “Oh, one could not miss your sisters, for they draw all eyes the instant they arrive.”

  Elizabeth decided there was no reason to respond to such a comment. Miss Bingley turned back and spoke exclusively to Georgiana and Anne, though on occasion she did direct a comment or two to Jane. The entire group entered the milliners and perused the goods for some minutes, and as was to be expected, they chattered and laughed and inspected that which was offered for sale.

  After some moments of this, Elizabeth found herself a little separate from the rest of the company, when she saw Miss Bingley approaching her with evident determination. The woman was glaring at her, as was her wont, but her face was set in an expression which suggested she did not mean to be opposed.

  “Miss Eliza,” said she, as soon as she had stepped close enough. “I had wished to have a word with you.”

  “You did?” asked Elizabeth. “I must own that I am surprised, Miss Bingley, for I cannot imagine two people with less to say to each other than you and I.”

  “Believe me, Miss Eliza, I wish that was so,” said Miss Bingley.

  Elizabeth did not feel it necessary to inform the unpleasant woman of her wishes in the matter. Instead, she waited for Miss Bingley to speak, also not feeling it incumbent upon her to direct the course of the conversation.

  “I am certain you must think yourself quite clever.”

  “In what way, Miss Bingley?”

  Miss Bingley pierced her through with a sneer. “Do not attempt to obfuscate, Miss Eliza. I can see through you and your pretensions. You will never succeed, you know.”

  “I imagine I may succeed in whatever I put my mind to.” Elizabeth observed the woman’s darkening countenance with amusement. “Of course, since you will not tell me of what you are accusing me, I cannot fathom in what manner you feel me destined to fail. Perhaps you should clarify your accusations?”

  “Miss Eliza,” said Miss Bingley, eyes blazing in contempt and anger, “it seems like you have not yet learned that I am not to be trifled with. Perhaps you are unaware, but I have been a member of society for some years now, and I possess the influence to ensure that you are never accepted by anyone of consequence. I suggest you treat the conversation with the seriousness it deserves.”

  This time Elizabeth did laugh at the woman, and if she was annoyed before, she descended deep into fury due to Elizabeth’s words.

  “I highly doubt it, Miss Bingley. I am aware of your origins, and your brother himself has mentioned how his social standing is due in part to your connection to Mr. Hurst, but more due to his friendship with Mr. Darcy. Should Mr. Darcy withdraw his support, I have no doubt the sitting-rooms of London would be closed to you.”

  So great was her affront that for several moments Miss Bingley could not speak. To own the truth, Elizabeth was surprised that the woman possessed the necessary discretion to avoid screeching like a harpy for all to hear. She would have thought her more likely to release her rage the moment it built within her.

  “You know nothing!” Miss Bingley’s voice was laced with undertones of almost animalistic fury, qualities Elizabeth was certain she would not display to anyone she thought to be of any importance. “You are nothing more than an impertinent miss from an insignificant village of no consequence.

  “But you are even worse, for you aspire to the heights to which you have no business aspiring.”

  “I am certain you have no notion of my aspirations. Your own have made you blind, not only to the motivations of others, but also to how ridiculous you have made yourself in your pursuit of Mr. Darcy.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth thought that Miss Bingley would attempt to strike her. But at that moment, a welcome voice interrupted their dispute.

  “Elizabeth?” said Anne, stepping close. Her position suggested solidarity with Elizabeth, a fact which Miss Bingley did not miss.

  “Everything is well, Anne,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “Miss Bingley and I were having the most . . . interesting conversation.”

  “Indeed,” replied Miss Bingley. Her gaze rested heavy on Elizabeth for a moment longer, before she turned to Anne, and with the new focus of her attentions, her expression suddenly changed to attempted congeniality. “My dearest Anne, I wondered if you might accompany me to the nearby music store. I am convinced that you must possess the most discerning taste. I would appreciate your assistance in choosing some music that Mr. Darcy would particularly enjoy.”

  Anne regarded Miss Bingley for several moments before she shook her head. “I am sorry, Miss Bingley, but I have come hither to Elizabeth for a specific reason. I am afraid I cannot accommodate you at present.”

  Mouth open wide with shock, Miss Bingley watched Anne, seeming to be looking for some indication that Anne was jesting. She found none.

  “Very well,” spat she, and she turned and stalked away. Before long, she had gathered her sister, and they twain departed from the shop.

  “What an unpleasant woman,” said Anne. “I commend you for withstanding her attacks.”

  “You were close enough to hear us?”

  Anne nodded, though not without distaste. “I saw her stepping toward you, and knew she meant no good.” Anne huffed with disgust. “I almost gave her a dressing down when she presumed to address me by my given name. I have never given her leave to do so, I assure you.”

  “That has not stopped her from doing the same with Georgiana.”

  “And Georgiana is too shy to insist she stop.” Anne shook her head. “I have no such pretensions toward politeness. I am, after all, the daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I am most attentive to all these things, you know.”

  Elizabeth laughed and embraced her friend. “I am certain you are, Anne. And I would not wish you to be any other way, though I must own that I marvel at your confidence, given how your mother has controlled your life.”

  Shrugging, Anne grasped Elizabeth’s hand and tugged on it. “Come, I believe we must retrieve your youngest sisters before they purchase everything in the shop on your father’s credit.”

  With further laughter, the two moved back into the store, where they quickly found Mary and Jane, as well as Kitty and Georgiana. It was not many moments, however, before they realized that Lydia was nowhere in the confines of the building.

  “Oh, where has that girl gone?” cried Elizabeth in vexation.

  “She was here only a moment ago,” said
Kitty. “She was looking at a selection of bonnets near the counter.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Then she cannot have gone far. Let us go outside—she has likely stepped out to go to another shop. She never could keep a single thought in her head for long.”

  They walked out and looked up and down the street, but still there was no sign of Lydia.

  “I suppose we should split up,” said Anne. “But we should stay together. “Georgiana, you will come with me. Jane and Kitty, and Elizabeth and Mary can form the other searching pairs.”

  Seething at the stupidity of her youngest sister, Elizabeth motioned for Mary to follow her and half at random, she set off down the street. As it was the middle of the day and the weather was fine, the shopping district was alive with ladies, walking to and fro, many, Elizabeth thought, as concerned about seeing and being seen as purchasing articles in the shops. Here and there, gentlemen in their top hats walked along with the ladies, bending low to catch a spoken word, or walking behind as a sentry. But of Lydia there was no sign.

  They had walked a few shops down when Elizabeth happened to notice a flash of muslin in a bookshop window, and thinking it looked like Lydia’s pattern, she darted to the door and stepped inside, Mary close on her heels. The shop smelled of paper and ink, scents which had always comforted Elizabeth, as they reminded her of the stolid security of her father’s book room. The shop was devoid of other patrons by the door, and Elizabeth thought to leave, but she heard a giggle further inside, and hastened toward it.

  There, around the corner of a bookshelf, stood her sister, holding a book in her hands as she flipped through the pages, seemingly at random. Behind her, around the corner of another bookshelf, Elizabeth saw a hint of movement accompanied by the flash of a bright color. She hurried forward, stepping around the side of the shelf to see to whom her sister had been speaking, but there was no one there. Whoever it was, they had made their escape.

  “Where did you run off to, Lizzy?” asked Lydia.

  Turning, Elizabeth saw her sister, who had stepped up behind her, the book still held in one hand.

  “With whom were you speaking?”

  “No one,” replied Lydia.

  “There was no one else here?” asked Elizabeth, suspicious of her sister’s casual manner.

  “There was,” said Lydia, “but I am certain I have no idea who it was. He was looking at that shelf over there.”

  The shelf she pointed to was the one opposite of where she had been facing when they had entered. Elizabeth looked at her, wondering whether to push the matter further.

  “Why are you in a bookstore?”

  Lydia shook her head. “I am sure I do not know. I was bored in the milliner, as the bonnet had already been sold, so I stepped outside to see if I could see anything else of interest. I thought I might purchase a novel, but there is nothing amusing enough here to hold my attention.”

  “That hardly sounds like you, Lydia,” said Mary. “I do not remember you so much as picking a book up the entire time we have been here.”

  “And I do not mean to, either,” said Lydia, slapping the book down, making a loud noise which Elizabeth thought would summon the shopkeeper. “There is nothing interesting enough in these books to hold my attention. Let us go.”

  With those words, Lydia flounced out the door. Not wishing to lose the girl again, Elizabeth followed with Mary, but she did not miss the glare her sister was directing at Lydia’s back.

  “Would you think less of me if I express disbelief in Lydia’s story?” asked Mary.

  “No,” replied Elizabeth. “I do not know if I believe her myself.”

  But it was best to simply allow the matter to rest. Knowing Lydia, she had seen a redcoat and had decided to accost him. They had her back with a minimum of fuss, so there was little more that could be done on the matter.

  It was not gentlemanly to despise a woman. Unfortunately, the woman was eminently deserving of every hint of Darcy’s disdain. Darcy was aware of the rules of polite society; he had abided by them most of his life. But in this instance, though he told himself that he must control his disgust, his mind simply would not obey.

  It was not like the lady—little though she deserved the appellation—even noticed his revulsion. Darcy was certain that he could tell her of it straight to her face and she would disbelieve him, or exclaim as to his wit.

  On this particular instance, Darcy had already heard of what had happened that day in the shopping district, and it only served to fuel his disdain for the woman and her grasping ways. Georgiana and Anne both recited what had happened—though Anne had borne the greater part of the story, due to her proximity to Elizabeth during the whole of the confrontation—and they spared no detail of Miss Bingley’s behavior. Darcy would have been disgusted with the woman even had she not attacked the woman Darcy loved.

  But for Miss Bingley to request a private audience with Darcy was so beyond the pale, that he could hardly believe her audacity.

  “I am afraid I cannot grant your request, Miss Bingley,” said he, no longer caring to hide the state of his feelings toward this woman. “As you are aware it would not be proper.”

  Whatever he had expected, it was not to see her react with impatience. “I have no intention of compromising you, Mr. Darcy. I merely wish to clarify a few matters.”

  Darcy regarded the woman with more than a little skepticism. It was fortunate that Anne came to his rescue.

  “I will stay with you, Darcy.”

  “We do not require an audience, Miss de Bourgh.” The woman’s words were stated with more than a little contempt, such as Darcy would have expected if she had been speaking with Elizabeth.

  “It matters not,” replied Anne, speaking with indifference. “If you wish to speak with Darcy, you will do it in the presence of another. I am surprised you would wish it any other way. I will sit apart, but I will be near enough to see everything which passes between you.”

  Miss Bingley’s jaw might have been chiseled from stone, so affronted was she. But Darcy only returned her gaze with placid unconcern. In the end, Miss Bingley appeared to understand that she would not obtain what she wanted, so she allowed a curt nod. As there was no one else present, she sat on a nearby high-backed chair, attempting to control the conversation. Anne sat nearby, and she took up a book, though Darcy noted that she did not read.

  “Please, do sit down, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, her voice laced with irritation. “I would prefer not to be afflicted with a sore neck from looking up at you.”

  Though he would not give Miss Bingley even a hint of satisfaction, Darcy sat on a nearby sofa where he could keep his distance from her. Miss Bingley noted this, and gave him a frown, but she made no comment.

  “I have come here today, Mr. Darcy,” said she, “to determine if you are the erudite and intelligent gentlemen I have always assumed you to be. Though I have never doubted you, recent events have suggested a disturbing tendency to behavior I would not have expected from a gentleman in your position.”

  Darcy was certain that had he turned to look at Anne, he would have seen her rolling her eyes. He, however, said nothing, instead sitting back and allowing the woman to have her say.

  “It has been many months since I have thought that we would suit especially well as a couple. You are a man of the world, in possession of a fine fortune and position in society, and particularly in need of a wife to act as your hostess.”

  “I believe an equal consideration must be to have a partner to love and beget an heir, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy. The woman’s choice of words spoke volumes as to what she considered to be the most important consideration.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” said Miss Bingley, waving her hand in a lazy motion. “As I was saying, you require a wife. For myself, I have been educated in the best seminaries, and possess a handsome dowry. It seems to me that you and I would suit admirably.

  “However, I have noted a disturbing tendency in the past several months for you to pa
y overt attentions to Miss Eliza Bennet.” The woman’s name was spoke as if it were a curse. “I had hoped you would have conquered this unseemly infatuation in the months after we left Netherfield. You can, therefore, imagine my surprise when I discovered that you went again to Hertfordshire and subsequently followed the little chit here.

  “So, I wish to know, Mr. Darcy—is it your intention to choose such an unsuitable woman for a wife? Or shall you do your duty and choose one who has been brought up to be your mistress, and would do your position in society the credit it deserves?”

  Just as Darcy was regarding the woman with grudging respect for how she had managed to turn her entreaty around to make it seem like he was not living up to his responsibilities, Anne rose and put herself in front of the supercilious woman.

  “Miss Bingley,” said she, “I would ask you not to attempt to sound like my mother when you speak. You have neither the lineage nor the presence to do it any justice.”

  Starting, Miss Bingley gazed up at Anne, even while Darcy indulged in an amused chuckle. “I am sorry, Miss de Bourgh. I do not take your meaning.” From her tone of voice, it was clear that the woman was not happy, as she seemed to realize that Anne was criticizing her.

  “My mother, Miss Bingley, is a forthright and indomitable sort of woman who speaks with authority on any subject. The way you just spoke brought to mind her constant harangues on any subject, most of which she has no practical knowledge.”

  It was clear that Miss Bingley understood that Anne’s words were not a compliment and should not be taken as such, though she also seemed flattered that she had emulated a person who epitomized her notion of high society. Darcy repressed the desire to shake his head.

  “Do you speak for Mr. Darcy?” asked Miss Bingley, apparently choosing affront. She turned her attention back to Darcy. “Is this what association with Miss Eliza has done to you, sir? It appears to me as if you have ceded your fortitude to these women.”

  “I am much as I ever was,” growled Darcy, not pleased by her insinuation. “Furthermore, what you are doing today is unheard of. It is for a man to initiate such a connection with a woman—not the reverse.”