by Jayne Bamber
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with surprise and she gasped. “No, I cannot credit that! It cannot be!”
William nodded, a rueful smile spreading across his face. “I could almost find it comical, were it not for the fact that she is sacrificing so much in order to salvage Georgiana’s reputation. I know not how she means to go about making the girl respectable now, when she intends to use her scandalous origins as fodder for distracting the gossip-mongers from Georgiana’s folly, but I suppose it will be strongly in the girl’s favor that she shall have a dowry even larger than Georgiana’s.”
“Good Heavens! What age is the girl?”
“Only just eighteen. I pity her being brought amongst the vicious vipers of London for the sake of covering Georgiana’s disgrace, but my aunt is quite determined.”
Elizabeth pressed her husband’s hand in hers. “Just because she is saving your sister does not mean the experience will be unpleasant for her. Think how happy she shall be, reunited with her parents at last! How many orphans in the world must wish for such a fate! I think you must accept that your aunt is in a position peculiarly suited to assist Georgiana, and that is not a failure on your part. There is no shame in letting your family help you, my love – that is what family is for.”
William smiled gently down at Elizabeth, resting his forehead against hers. “You are right, as always, my dearest, wisest Lizzy.”
Elizabeth laughed sheepishly. “It is kind of you to say so, William, for I have felt absolutely addlepated since yesterday.”
Rebecca bustled back into the room, interrupting William’s reply. “Lizzy, the carriage is ready – are you coming or not?”
“Oh Lord, I had forgotten already! Addlepated indeed!”
***
Authorized by her husband to share the news of his aunt, that her history might cover what was being said of Georgiana, Elizabeth confided her husband’s information to her companions as the carriage conveyed them to Gracechurch Street. They were all still reeling from their surprise when they arrived at their destination. None of them were prepared for their second great shock of the day, which came in the form of Mrs. Bennet’s high-pitched screech reaching their ears before they had even entered the drawing room.
“Lizzy,” her mother cried. “There you are, you obstinate girl! What is this I hear of you having a birthday party for Mary, and not inviting your Mamma? Am I not the very reason Mary has a birthday at all? None of my daughters ever thinks of me, I am sure!”
Seated beside her mother, looking utterly cowed, Kate offered Elizabeth an apologetic shrug.
Elizabeth and her companions took their seats in the Gardiner’s snug front parlor, though only Rebecca looked entirely at ease. Elizabeth was determined not to be scolded like a child by her mother, particularly when their last meeting had been disagreeable enough. “I did not know you were back in London, Mamma,” she said coolly. “Was there some particular reason you did not accompany my aunt and uncle? They were certainly invited.”
“The fault is mine,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, rubbing her protuberant belly. “Good Heavens, where are my manners? Maggie, ask Cook to send in some tea and cakes please. Lady Rebecca, Miss Darcy, it is an unexpected pleasure to receive you this morning. I hope you enjoyed the festivities last evening. I am very sorry my condition kept me from joining you. I urged my husband and sister go on without me, and leave Miss Lydia here with me but –”
"It is not fair,” Lydia cried, crossing her arms. “I wanted to go to the party!”
Georgiana shrunk back into the sofa beside Elizabeth, who scowled at her youngest sister. Kate patted Lydia’s arm gently. “You know you are not yet out in society officially, not in London. If you want to go to balls and parties, you might have remained longer in Meryton. Did you not enjoy your time there?”
Before Lydia could give any answer, Mr. Gardiner appeared in the doorway. “Catherine, Elizabeth, if you will accompany me to my study for a few minutes, please.”
“Of course, Uncle,” Elizabeth replied, offering Georgiana and Rebecca a look of apology for abandoning them to the company of her mother and Lydia, as she and Kate followed their uncle across the hall into his study.
He sat down at his desk and poured himself a generous glass of brandy, before proffering the bottle to Elizabeth. “I know it is early yet, but you may need a little… refreshment, for a conversation such as this.”
Elizabeth hesitantly accepted a small glass of brandy, taking a sip of it to steel herself for whatever her uncle had to say. Kate was made the same offer, but she demurred with a significant look. “No, thank you. The smell – a great many smells, are often bothersome to me, of late.”
Elizabeth gasped, and clasped her sister’s hand. “Truly? My goodness, congratulations, sweet Sister!”
“I have not told Robert – that is, I must see a doctor to confirm my suspicions. Please, do not mention it to Mamma just yet.”
“A reasonable request,” their uncle drawled. “I congratulate you, my dear. And now, I believe I must begin by answering the question you posed to your sister a few minutes ago, Catherine. It seems your mother and your youngest sister enjoyed themselves a little too much at Longbourn, resulting in the termination of their welcome in Mr. Martin’s home.”
Elizabeth groaned. “What have they done?”
“They arrived most unexpectedly yesterday afternoon, traveling by post. It seems they were not even offered the use of Mr. Martin’s carriage for their return journey. That struck me as stranger even than their sudden arrival, and when I asked my sister to account for it, she lamented to me, at length, of her ill-usage by Robert Martin and his mother, as well as Lady Lucas and her youngest daughter, and indeed the whole of Meryton by the time she had finished telling me her version of events.”
“Her version of events,” Elizabeth repeated; that turn of phrase certainly did not bode well.
“I expect there is more to the story than what she is telling me, as I am sure you will agree when I have finished relating the events as she described them to me. It seems she had some hope of another one of her daughters becoming the next mistress of Longbourn. I will admit, I had thought your sister Mary rather suitable, were Mr. Martin to select a wife from amongst your family, as Mr. Collins before him did. However, as your friend Lady Rebecca has taken Mary under her wing and assisted her in a great many accomplishments, my sister has come to the conclusion that Mary can do far better than marrying the master of her childhood home.”
“A fair conclusion, I will say,” Elizabeth admitted. “I believe that is what many of us have been thinking for the last few months. With such a friend as Rebecca, and all the improvements she has made in manners and music alike, Mary could do better. What’s more, I did not detect any particular regard between them when he came to visit us at Pemberley, beyond his desire to become better acquainted with us all.”
“Not on her side perhaps,” her uncle replied. “There did seem some little interest on his part, though Mary’s marked preference for occupying her time in the improvement of her mind and manners must have dissuaded him from pursuing her. At any rate, when my sister and Lydia traveled to Longbourn, this notion of pushing her youngest daughter at him had quickly taken root in your mother’s mind, and was apparently bolstered by some talk on the part of your neighbor Lady Lucas, who allegedly cherishes a similar desire for her own unmarried daughter.”
Kate snorted with laughter. “Robert Martin is to marry Maria Lucas?”
“It seems to me to be speculation,” their uncle replied. “No doubt your mother did a great deal of bragging to her long-time rival about her two very well-married daughters, and it is my belief that this provoked Lady Lucas to retaliate by suggesting her daughter might become the next mistress of Longbourn. If it is the truth, time will tell. However, your mother apparently decided to take matters into her own hands, and attempted to forcibly turn Mr. Martin’s attentions to your younger sister, and in so doing may have crossed certain lines of propriety t
o achieve the desired result.”
“Good God,” Elizabeth cried. “Are you saying my mother tried to orchestrate a compromise?”
“She denies it, but Lydia unabashedly tells a different tale. She is either unaware of how inappropriate her actions were, or she is simply not sorry for it. With her it is difficult, at times, to distinguish the difference.”
“How embarrassing,” Kate sighed. “Is it much talked of in Meryton?”
“That I cannot say, but let us hope that Mr. Martin is discreet about it. I intend to write him a letter of apology for their behavior – I would visit him personally, were it not for your aunt’s confinement being so near. And that brings me to the crux of the matter. Lizzy, I understand your mother and younger sister may not be welcome in your husband’s home, and I fully understand why. However, this is not an ideal time for them to take residence here, with your aunt’s confinement so near. I am sure my sister would wish to be of assistance, and she is certainly welcome to stay with us until a more permanent arrangement can be made, but I do not think any good can come of Lydia remaining in the house. She and her mother seem to bring out the worst in one another, and I think it may be better if they lived apart for a time. Kate, perhaps you may be able to be of assistance to her? I know you have always been close.”
Kate hesitated. “I shall have to speak to Lady Catherine about it, as Robert and I are residing in her home.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded. “I do understand. I spoke of when you return to Rosings, for then you shall need only the approval of your husband.”
Sensing her sister’s discomfiture, Elizabeth said, “Forgive me for contradicting you, Uncle, but I do not know if any good could come of such a scheme. Kate is but two years older than Lydia, and, forgive me for saying so, Kate, but Lydia has always rather dominated you. I doubt that will change simply because you are now a married woman. In fact, it is more likely to inspire further rebellion.”
“Oh, yes,” Kate agreed. “That is exactly what I think, though I knew not how to say it. I am sorry, Uncle, but I do not think it is wise. Is there no one else? Someone older, whom she would respect and even obey?”
“Lydia would defy the very devil,” Mr. Gardiner sighed. “Well, no matter. We will think of some solution, I am sure. Lydia will remain here until we have found somebody who can take her in, and for Heaven’s sake talk some sense into her. I had thought of asking Lady Rebecca if she would consider an exchange of sisters, but that seems an unnecessary punishment, both for her and poor Mary.”
“Yes, they are quite attached to one another,” Elizabeth began to say, when she was cut off by one of her mother’s shrieks coming from across the hall. Elizabeth and Kate hurried back to the drawing room, their uncle close behind them. Elizabeth came to a halt so abruptly that Kate collided with her, letting out a yelp as they beheld the sudden uproar.
Georgiana and Rebecca sat awkwardly on the sofa, appearing to wish themselves anywhere else at such a time, and at the end of the room Mrs. Bennet was weeping onto the shoulder of a pale, gaunt fellow clad all in black. Elizabeth stared at him for a moment before realizing it was Charles Bingley, looking more like a ghost than his former self.
Mr. Bingley shifted uncomfortably as he met Elizabeth’s steely gaze, and Mrs. Bennet lifted her head from his shoulder to wave her handkerchief wildly at her daughter. “Oh girls, girls,” she cried, “Jane is dead!”
***
Mary knew she ought to feel guilty for having enjoyed her mother and youngest sister’s absence from London. During that time she had grown more confident in her own virtues and accomplishments, and had come to perfect the friendship she had formed with Georgiana and Lady Rebecca the previous autumn. Gone were the constant reminders that she was the plainest, dullest Bennet sister, for though Elizabeth and Kate could not help but outshine her, it was merely their nature to sparkle; they made every attempt to include Mary in all of their schemes, and never sought to make her feel unworthy.
And now that respite was at an end. Mary silently chastised herself for fostering such unchristian thoughts, although as her mother and Lydia began to recount their visit to Meryton, Mary knew not whether she was sorrier that they had returned, or that they had nearly disgraced the rest of the family with their behavior in the village they had long called home.
She could not resist scolding Lydia, who took no shame at all in boasting of her attempt to lure Mr. Martin into marriage. The poor man! Mary had thought, when they were all together in Derbyshire for Christmas, that Mr. Martin might have a preference for her, but she had been too occupied in acquainting herself with all of her new relations, and in Lady Rebecca’s scheme for her self-improvement.
She wondered now if perhaps this was all her fault. Had she not slighted Mr. Martin in favor of gaining refinements and accomplishments, he might have chosen to court her before her mother ever got the idea of pushing Lydia at him. Could she have liked such a thing? Had it been selfish to avoid Mr. Martin’s attentions, in favor of broadening her own horizons? It was difficult for Mary to think of herself as selfish, while listening to Lydia carry on as she was wont to do. Finally, Mary could bear it no longer as Lydia, with encouragement from their mother, lamented at length that her attempted compromise had failed, and that now her old friend Maria Lucas would likely get the better of her.
“For Heaven’s sake, just listen to yourself, Lydia,” Mary snapped. Beside her, Georgiana and Rebecca gaped at Mary in astonishment. “I cannot imagine what you would have us think of all this. Did you expect your friends and relations would be proud of their association to a young woman who would try and entrap an honorable man, all for the sake of petty competition with a girl who has long been your friend? Do you think such behavior will earn you the respect of anyone whose good opinion is worth having? You have jeopardized your reputation, and threatened the rest of your family. You have threatened me, and I will not hear you flaunt your thoughtlessness in front of my friends.”
“Oh hush, Mary,” their mother scolded her. “You might have caught Mr. Martin yourself if you had bothered to exert yourself when he came to Pemberley!”
Mary clenched her fists. “I did exert myself at Pemberley, in the devotion of my time toward activities befitting a lady of virtue. I have no wish to catch anybody, and that is why I have the privilege of moving in London society with my sisters. You, Lydia, I am ashamed of you!”
Lydia rolled her eyes, her posture defiant. “Your disapproval means nothing to me, Mary. I cannot see how I have done anything so very bad, and if I have, you shall have to forgive me, Miss High-and-Mighty Morals!”
“Girls, please,” their aunt interjected, shifting uncomfortably on her chaise. She was poised to scold them further, but they were interrupted by an unexpected caller: Mr. Charles Bingley.
Mr. Bingley entered the room, his awkward solemnity causing a palpable tension to settle over them all. Mary had only met him twice before, first at the Netherfield ball the previous summer, and briefly again at the ball given by the Banfields, just before the whole family removed to Derbyshire. On that occasion her mother had, typical to her nature, been eager to direct Mr. Bingley’s attention toward Lydia, though in the end Jane had caught him, and nobody had seen or heard from either of them since.
That Mr. Bingley should appear now, without Jane and clad all in black was instantly unsettling to Mary, and everyone else in the room seemed to feel it as well. Everyone except her mother. Mrs. Bennet was the first to break the heavy silence, not waiting for Mrs. Gardiner to make the appropriate remarks of welcome to her guest. “Oh, Mr. Bingley,” she cried, waving her handkerchief at him in the way that Mary knew was meant to seem coquettish. “What a surprise to see you here – we only just arrived yesterday, Lydia and I, that is. Have you brought my dear Jane back to Town?”
Beside Mary on the sofa, Georgiana leaned in to Rebecca to whisper, “I think we had better get Lizzy, and go home.”
At hearing Elizabeth’s name whispered, Mr. Bingley turned his h
ead in their direction, his eyes seeming not to fully focus on them. Mary was beginning to feel very uncomfortable – perhaps she was truly the only one who could guess what he might have come here to tell them, though it was painfully obvious.
Mrs. Gardiner’s graciousness did not falter. “I was not aware you were in Town, or I am sure my husband would have called on you himself. Please, do be seated, sir. You must stay and take some tea with us.”
Mrs. Bennet would not allow the somber mood in the room to discourage her in the slightest; she made a space between herself and Lydia and entreated Mr. Bingley to sit down beside them, but he did not. He continued shifting his gaze across the room, not making eye contact with any of the six expectant ladies. Just when the awkwardness had become unbearable, he spoke at last. “Forgive my interrupting what must be a very pleasant family grouping, Mrs. Gardiner. Had I known you had other visitors, I would never have intruded.”
“You are welcome as ever,” Mrs. Gardiner replied nervously. “I beg your pardon but, is aught amiss, Mr. Bingley?”
Again Mrs. Bennet interjected. “Well, for Heaven’s sake, with all of you gawking at him so unbecomingly, of course the poor man must assume you would wish him away! But you must sit down beside me, my dear Mr. Bingley. You will not find me so unwelcoming, however my sister’s other guests may dissemble. Come and tell me how my dear Jane is getting on. I trust this garb of woe does not betoken some terrible calamity!”
Mr. Bingley hesitantly took the proffered seat between Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, and addressed himself to the former. “Indeed it does – Mrs. Bennet, I hardly know how to tell you this, but Jane has died.”
Mary let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in. It was just as she had feared, what she had suspected his mourning attire must portend. There was another moment of stunned silence before the room erupted in chaos. Mrs. Bennet swooned, and Mrs. Gardiner called for Maggie to retrieve some smelling salts, as she rocked slightly back and forth in her seat as if to suppress tears that did not come. Lydia seized Mr. Bingley’s arm and began sobbing loudly onto his shoulder, all the while thrusting her heaving bosom at him most indecorously. Rebecca had leapt up from the couch and perched beside Mrs. Gardiner, clasping her hand and rubbing her back in a comforting, protective posture.