by Jann Rowland
“I understand she has a healthy dowry,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Perhaps I will attempt to woo her—an extra twenty thousand pounds would be useful to improve Thorndell.”
“Do not even joke about such things, Cousin.”
“I suppose I should not.” Then Fitzwilliam turned a devilish grin on Darcy. “It would not work, regardless, for there is no man in the world for her other than our dear Mr. Darcy.”
These final words were spoken in a breathy falsetto imitation of Miss Bingley, and even Darcy was forced to laugh. He was no less desirous of Miss Bingley’s absence than his relations, but there was nothing to be done. The woman must be tolerated. There was no other option.
Though it was nothing less than the truth that Elizabeth had been invited to Clara’s home for the day, she had grasped the invitation as an excuse to absent herself from Pemberley when her sister arrived. It was unusual, she thought, that she should be so bereft of courage, but she found that as the time approached for Jane to arrive, she was uneasy and unwilling to face the possibility of her sister’s continuing indifference. Thus, she had accepted, and spent the day with her friends.
She had not been good company, however, a fact which was made clear in the odd looks she received from them and in some few of the comments they made. None of these ladies were aware of Elizabeth’s troubles with her sister, and she was not about to enlighten them concerning such a delicate subject. But that did not mean she did not receive several comments concerning her dullness that day.
“My word, I have never seen our Elizabeth so unlike myself,” said Deborah. “Usually you vie with me for the title of who can speak with the most impertinence.”
Erica Allen, who had distanced herself from Misses Russell and Campbell and could often be found in company with Elizabeth and her friends, said: “How you do go on, Deborah. Elizabeth is a little quieter, but I have never found your comments impertinent.”
“That is because you are sweet and patient with us, not because of any virtue that we possess.”
The ladies laughed at her jest, but Clara, who had been watching Elizabeth since her arrival, was quick to agree with Deborah. “I have noticed your quietude myself, Elizabeth. Is there some weighty subject in your mind?”
“I am well,” replied Elizabeth. “I have merely been contemplating my weeks in Derbyshire. My sister will soon come to Pemberley, and my time here grows short, I believe. It is July, after all.”
“We would not wish you to depart!” exclaimed Fiona. “But if you must, we must have you back next year. Perhaps I shall ask my father if I may extend an invitation to you next summer. I am certain he and Mama would be happy to have you.”
“And perhaps you can stay at Heath Hill for a time,” added Clara.
“Thank you all,” said Elizabeth, feeling emotional at the evidence of having made so many good friends. “If the opportunity should be available, I would be happy to visit.”
Later, when she returned to her uncle’s house, Elizabeth could not help but pace the sitting-room, her restless energy rendering it impossible to sit in one attitude. As it was already late in the afternoon, she knew that it was likely the Bingleys had already arrived at Pemberley, and the nervousness which had been building was reaching a fever pitch. How she longed to go to Pemberley and throw herself in Jane’s arms! But how she dreaded her sisters’ rejection.
“Do not worry, Lizzy,” said Olivia. “I am certain your family will arrive at Pemberley safely.”
“How the Darcys must anticipate their coming,” said Mrs. Drummond. “I do not doubt they long for yet another of Maggie Bennet’s daughters to be in their midst.”
It was not worth Elizabeth’s effort to correct her aunt, so she ignored her. Mrs. Drummond’s remarks of late had lost much of their bite, and Elizabeth had begun to wonder if the woman was still making them due to nothing more than the force of habit.
“I do not worry for their safety,” said Elizabeth, smiling at Olivia. “I have not seen my sister in some time, and I find the anticipation almost unbearable.”
Olivia, who had not been informed of the trouble between the sisters, only smiled. Mr. Drummond, however, seeing that Elizabeth was discomposed, invited her into his study. “I have received a letter from your father I would like to ask you about.”
Grateful for the distraction, Elizabeth agreed, and she followed him thither. But when they entered and sat down, he only smiled at her.
“I did receive a letter from your father, but I do not need your opinion on it. I thought you required a respite from the parlor.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” replied Elizabeth, grateful for his subterfuge.
Mr. Drummond peered at her for several moments before he spoke again. “It is clear that you are looking on your sister’s arrival with trepidation, rather than anticipation. I would never attempt to force your confidence, but you have said enough to inform me that not all is well with Jane. I have often found it beneficial to speak of my troubles to another, for I will often gain another perspective on the matter. Will you not share yours with me?”
Though reluctant, Elizabeth decided that he was right, and that, furthermore, he would learn of it before long anyway, since Jane would be staying not far distant and her behavior was unlikely to be unmarked. Thus, she told him what she had witnessed in her sister, and what others, especially her parents, had observed. Mr. Drummond made no response during her comments, listening intently. And when Elizabeth’s words finally tapered off, he sat there, his attention obviously far away, considering her assertions.
Finally, he sighed and turned to her. “I cannot say that I am surprised, given what I have understood from both you and your father. Since Jane has chosen to cut your family from her life, I doubt that I should expect her to behave any differently with mine.”
“No, I would not suppose so. She has always been the soul of politeness, even after she changed, but I doubt she will attempt anything more than civility.”
“It does not sound like her at all. I have not seen any of you in many years, but I remember Jane as a quiet, though affectionate child.”
“Until she left for her wedding tour, she was exactly how you described,” replied Elizabeth quietly. “It was only after she returned that she was changed.”
“Did they return to Hertfordshire directly from their wedding tour?”
“No. They were in London after their tour. They were only in Hertfordshire for about a month before I came to Derbyshire.”
“Then it is possible she heard something in London which unsettled her. I would caution you not to lose all hope. She may simply not know how to behave, having married into a world which is so different from the one in which she was raised.”
“The Jane I knew would not have changed, regardless,” grumbled Elizabeth.
“You have the right to be angry. You have the right to feel resentful. You have the right to rail at your sister and demand she explain herself. But that will not bridge the distance which has sprung up between you.”
Mr. Drummond stood and circled the desk, stopping to rest a hand on her shoulder. “You will regret it later in life if you do not do everything in your power to reconcile with your sister now, Elizabeth. I suspect, in this instance, the responsibility will rest with you. Have patience. It may yet be that you are able to reach her.”
Having said those words, Mr. Drummond departed, leaving Elizabeth to her thoughts. She sat there for some time her uncle’s words ringing through her mind, and for the first time in months, she felt that which was most precious of all: hope.
It was not that much later that Olivia came searching for her. They had received a note from Pemberley, inviting them for tea the following day.
Chapter XXVI
With almost debilitating trepidation, Elizabeth made her way to Pemberley, her concerns for Jane’s attitude holding her in a tight grip of anxiety. Her uncle’s advice the previous day was still winding its way through her tho
ughts. It was good advice—she knew this—but it was difficult to hold to in the face of Jane’s indifference.
Beside her in the carriage, Olivia chattered away about her eagerness to meet Elizabeth’s sister, and Elizabeth did not have the heart to tell her how it was unlikely that Jane would respond with any pleasure. Elizabeth was grateful to her uncle for arranging for only Olivia and Elizabeth to go that day and in the Drummond carriage, over Mrs. Drummond’s protestations. Elizabeth did not know if it would be any easier without the rest of the family present, but their absence would mean less distraction, so she was grateful nonetheless.
When they pulled into Pemberley’s drive, the carriage stopped before the massive doors and only Georgiana was there to greet them. Elizabeth was uncertain whether to consider this a good omen, but she welcomed the few extra moments she was afforded to compose herself.
“Our guests are waiting for us in the sitting-room,” said Georgiana as they stepped down. She grasped their hands and pulled them into the house. “Come, Lizzy, they have expressed an eagerness to see you.”
If they have, they might have come to the door to greet me, thought Elizabeth, her cynicism overwhelming her determination to wait and see how Jane would react.
Out loud, she only said: “All of them? I would have thought that Miss Bingley would wish me miles away.”
Olivia started. “Is she not Jane’s new sister?”
Her nose wrinkled with distaste, Georgiana said: “Miss Bingley is a different breed altogether. She is a tradesman’s daughter, but she is as haughty as a duchess and gives herself airs that would be excessive in the queen.”
“She particularly does not like me, Olivia,” said Elizabeth, wondering if she had kept the girl ill-prepared by keeping this all from her. “I am neither sophisticated enough for her, nor am I high enough on society’s ladder, and I am altogether too impertinent.”
Georgiana sniffed with disdain. “In her own mind, she is the perfect mistress for my brother’s estate.”
Eyes widening in surprise, Olivia could only squeak: “But what of Lizzy? You are already engaged to Mr. Darcy!”
“Please do not say anything of that,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy has not approached my father, and I do not wish to become an even greater target of Miss Bingley’s vitriol.”
“She will eventually learn of my brother’s attentions to you,” said Georgiana, “even if the neighborhood does not know of the engagement. There is to be an assembly next week, and I am certain she will not miss the gossip.”
“There is nothing to be done about that,” replied Elizabeth with a shrug. “For the present, however, I believe it is best to say nothing.”
Olivia nodded, though reluctantly, and Georgiana began to pull them once again toward the sitting-room. “We may discuss it later. For now, they are waiting for us.”
Far too soon for Elizabeth’s liking, they arrived at the sitting-room, and with Georgiana’s quick gesture to one of the footmen, the door was opened, and Georgiana led them in. In that first jumble of moments in which Elizabeth’s eyes darted about the room, she could hardly make sense of what she was seeing. William and Mr. Bingley were nearby, and Elizabeth appreciated the encouraging smile the former directed at her. Miss Bingley was seated on a nearby sofa, her sneer clear for all to see, but Georgiana was blocking Elizabeth’s view of the woman beside her, so Elizabeth could not see her sister clearly.
“Really, Georgiana dear,” said Miss Bingley, rising to her feet and approaching them, “I was shocked to see you scamper off in such a way. Could Mrs. Reynolds not have guided your guests to this room?”
“Lizzy is my dear friend, Miss Bingley,” replied Georgiana, brushing off the woman’s words. “I wished to greet her as soon as possible.”
Miss Bingley turned her judgmental eyes on Elizabeth. “I see you have come, Eliza. I see you are none the worse for wear.”
“I am quite well, indeed, Caroline,” said Elizabeth, impatient to push past the unpleasant woman and greet her sister. It was odd, but there it was—though she had been reluctant to greet Jane, now that she was in the room she could not wait.
“How have you found your uncle’s house? Is it everything you would have expected?”
“Everything and more,” replied Elizabeth, ignoring the woman’s tone. “I have been made to feel welcome in Derbyshire, and have enjoyed my months here immensely.”
“I doubt you could fail to be welcome,” said Mr. Bingley. He approached and bowed to her, an irrepressible grin greeting her. “I see you are very well, indeed, Lizzy. I cannot tell you how good it is to see you again. We have been quite bereft at your absence.”
“I am pleased to see you too, Mr. Bingley. How is Netherfield?”
“The weather is fine, and I believe we shall have an abundant harvest this year. And I have my dearest Jane, so all is well in my world.”
At the mention of his wife, the woman herself suddenly appeared. Jane looked well. The joys of being a wife to a good man had infused her with a kind of healthy vitality which was somehow more than she had possessed when she had been nothing more than Miss Jane Bennet. But the eyes which looked back at her, that clear blue gaze which had always looked on her as if she was the most important person in the world had been replaced by clouds tossed about in a gale.
“Lizzy,” said Jane, though quietly. “It is good to see you again.”
Hurt at her sister’s lack of a more familiar greeting, Elizabeth turned and presented Olivia, introducing her to all three Bingleys. Their reactions were entirely predictable, as Miss Bingley sneered, Mr. Bingley greeted her with all the enthusiasm Elizabeth would have expected, and Jane greeted her with restraint and asked after her family.
After this had been completed, Jane turned with Miss Bingley holding her arm, and returned to the sofa where she seated herself. Elizabeth was crushed. Her sister had not returned. This stranger remained.
A hand touched her arm, and Elizabeth turned to see Georgiana looking at her, some measure of confusion evident. Georgiana guided Elizabeth and Olivia to a nearby sofa where they all sat together, and for a moment Elizabeth gathered herself for the coming ordeal. It was an effort, but Elizabeth looked up at her sister, noting that Jane was peering into the distance at something only she could see, her serenity gathered about her like a cloak. To her side, Miss Bingley was watching the room with the eyes of a predator, which turned positively menacing when they alighted on Elizabeth.
For a time, nothing more than banal conversation was exchanged by the company. They spoke of what the weather had been like in Derbyshire, the journey of the Bingley party to Derbyshire—Mr. Bingley assured them it was agreeable, while Miss Bingley had never passed such a wretched time—and some little doings of the area. Elizabeth asked for news of her family and the people of Hertfordshire, and though it might be expected that her sister, who had known them the longest, would respond, it was Mr. Bingley who did most of the speaking.
“They are all very well, I believe. In fact, I have been charged to bring you the particular regards of your friend, Charlotte Lucas, who, I believe, is quite desolate without you.”
The mention of her friend brought a little spark back to Elizabeth. “I have not received a letter from Charlotte in some weeks. I had begun to think she had abandoned any attempt at correspondence.”
Mr. Bingley laughed, but before he could speak, Miss Bingley interjected: “I dare say that is impossible. I have always observed you to be thick as thieves, though I suppose you both have nothing to recommend you, so your friendship is to be expected.”
The glare Mr. Bingley directed at his sister demanded silence, though Elizabeth did not think it would last long. She had a talent for insulting with little subtlety, though Elizabeth was certain the woman thought herself the soul of restraint. Then Jane directed a look of irritation at her and leaned away a little, and Elizabeth felt her spirits rising.
“In fact, I believe Miss Lucas has been busy o
f late,” said Mr. Bingley. “You see, she has had a caller in recent weeks, and I believe that has taken up much of her time and attention.”
“Charlotte has a caller?” asked Elizabeth, clapping her hands in delight. “I am so very happy for her! Is it anyone I know?”
“A gentleman from an estate close to Stevenage, I understand. I have never actually met him, myself, but I have heard it said that he is a widower with two small children.”
“Then Charlotte would be an excellent choice. She is caring and would be a good mother to them.”
“I have a letter from her I have been charged to deliver to you. I will retrieve it before you leave.”
Elizabeth thanked him with grateful anticipation. She did not wonder at her mother and sisters neglecting to mention this piece of information—Mrs. Bennet would likely be annoyed, though as she already had two daughters married, she could hardly be envious, while Kitty and Lydia would find such news beneath their notice. Her father’s continued silence, however, was beginning to make Elizabeth wonder. He had not responded since she had sent the letter asking about her aunt’s assertions, and she had begun to question if he would ever respond.
As the company continued to visit, Elizabeth snuck looks at her sister, trying to make her out. To a casual observer, she appeared as she ever did—quiet, reticent, and little affected by any emotion. At times Elizabeth had been required to defend her sister from naysayers who had deemed her to be little affected by anything. Elizabeth knew her sister better—she was simply disinclined to display her feelings to anyone, even to a most beloved sister.
On this day, however, Elizabeth thought she sensed more than a little tension in her sister’s manners. One could only repress her feelings for so long without experiencing an explosion, and though Elizabeth could not determine her sister’s current state of mind, she wondered if Jane was happy. Apparently, Mr. Bingley was uncertain of his wife’s contentment as well, for he also watched her with a gravity which was not part of his usual character.