by Jann Rowland
It was not a surprise when Miss Bingley’s thinly held veneer of civility cracked and the true woman shone forth. In fact, Elizabeth had been waiting for the woman’s vitriol to flow, and was prepared.
“Miss Eliza Bennet,” said she, interrupting Elizabeth’s words, “I do not know why you have suddenly become loquacious like your younger sisters, but I believe when one visits Pemberley, one must inject a little gravity into her manners and not carry on like a child. Perhaps you should return to your uncle’s house.” Miss Bingley sneered. “It is much more appropriate to your position in life.”
Elizabeth did not miss the sudden darkness in Jane’s countenance, but she turned her attention to Miss Bingley, knowing that if she was ever to bridge the distance with her sister, being rid of Miss Bingley was a necessity.
“It is interesting to hear you speak so, Miss Bingley. I must assume you have not been at Pemberley much. It is a home—a large and imposing one—but still a home. I have shared laughter here with Mr. Darcy and his family, and in no way did any of us behave as if Pemberley was a mausoleum.”
Affront blazed in Miss Bingley’s eyes. “I have noticed that those who consider themselves witty often use humor to attempt to make themselves feel important.”
“And I have noticed that those who consider themselves to be better than others will attempt to ridicule and belittle to make themselves feel as if they deserve the sphere to which they aspire.”
“You are naught but a hoyden running barefoot through the fields. You attempt to draw Mr. Darcy’s eyes, but I am certain that before long he will view you with nothing but disgust.”
“And you are nothing but a pretender, grasping at the rungs of a ladder, not caring whom you trod upon in your attempt to reach the top.” Elizabeth smiled thinly at the woman. “Unfortunately for you and your airs, I am already aware of how you are viewed by others, and it is not what you imagine.
The way Miss Bingley shot to her feet, Elizabeth knew she was more offended than she had ever been before. “I will see you thrown from Pemberley in disgrace!” hissed she. “And I will ensure you are never welcomed here again!”
And with those final words, Miss Bingley turned on her heel and marched from the room. It was apparent to Elizabeth that the woman had forgotten how one must behave with gravity and restraint while at Pemberley, for the door slamming behind her echoed throughout the room.
“Lizzy that was unkind.”
Aghast, Elizabeth, turned back to her sister. “What unkindness do you call it?” demanded she.
Jane’s eyes widened at Elizabeth’s obvious fury, and she struggled to respond. Elizabeth, by this time, was beyond caring what her sister, or anyone else, thought.
“Perhaps you have missed your new sister’s behavior, Jane, but Miss Bingley is barely tolerable when she is in the same room as I. Have you misunderstood her spiteful attacks at me? I might add, they are entirely unprovoked. Or is this the way those of high society behave? If so, I have no wish to be part of it.”
It was obvious that Jane was taken aback by Elizabeth’s vehemence, and well she should be. Elizabeth had rarely raised her voice to her sister. She had always considered Jane’s propensity to look on others and ascribe the best possible motives to them to be a quaint and pretty innocence on Jane’s part. Now she could not be certain.
“What has happened to you, Jane?” demanded Elizabeth when her sister did not respond. “What has happened to my closest sister, my confidant? Has your marriage turned you into this aloof creature? Or are you attempting to emulate your new sister and thus, have no time for the family in which you were reared?”
Anger flared in Jane’s eyes. “You do not know what it is like, Lizzy! You cannot understand.”
“I might surprise you.”
Jane only shook her head. “It is useless. You have no part in the world I have joined. You cannot understand.”
“Then my sister is lost to me.” Elizabeth stood, looking down at Jane, now certain that her father’s suppositions about Jane’s behavior were true, feeling all the desolation of the loss of a wonderful friend and confidant. “I wish you all the happiness with your shrewish sister in your cold and unfeeling world, Jane. Remember this: you say I have no part in your world, and you may be right. But you will also have no part in mine!”
With those final words, words which seemed to pierce Jane to her core, Elizabeth spun on her heel to retreat from the room. She had no desire to see her sister again, and little wish to see Georgiana and Olivia either. Better to return to Kingsdown where she could attend to her grief in private, to mourn the loss of a sister she loved more than life itself.
As she reached the door, Elizabeth heard a choked sob behind her. She reached for the handle, determined that she was done with her sister, when something, she knew not what, stayed her hand. Perhaps it was an echo of what they had shared, or a hint of her compassion coming to the fore, but she never could leave Jane when she was distressed.
Jane’s eyes were full and tears rolled down her cheeks unheeded, leaving wet, salty trails and dampening the front of her dress. The gaze with which she regarded Elizabeth was stricken, a thousand pains all gathered in one breast, crushing her with their dead weight, making her seem smaller than the elder sister Elizabeth had always known.
“I cannot do this any longer.”
It was nothing more than a whisper, so quiet that Elizabeth had to strain to hear her sister. But Elizabeth was not willing to simply allow Jane to buy her way back into her affections with tears. “Do what?”
Jane started, as if she had forgotten Elizabeth was even in the room. She peered up at her, confusion warring with fear. Her mouth worked for several moments, but nothing issued forth. Then she released a keening wail and rose from the sofa, rushing past Elizabeth and out into the hall, leaving Elizabeth listening to the sound of her sobs as they faded in the distance.
There was now no question of leaving. Elizabeth turned and followed her sister, out through the doors and into the gardens of Pemberley.
It was a rare occurrence that Darcy resented his estate and the work which went into its management, but that morning, he found himself in that unfamiliar state. Elizabeth was coming to visit, he knew, and he had wished to be there to greet her. But he had received a message from one of his tenants, requesting his presence concerning a matter of importance, and Darcy knew he could not simply ignore it. So, he had dutifully saddled his horse and ridden out, accompanied by Fitzwilliam and Bingley.
He should not be worried, he knew. Though part of the reason he had wished to be at the house that morning was due to his desire to be in Elizabeth’s presence, it was also because he knew that Miss Bingley had been in high dudgeon since the assembly the previous night, and he expected sparks to fly between them. Elizabeth was well able to fend for herself, especially against someone with such an overinflated opinion of herself as Miss Bingley. But that did not relieve the desire to be a protector for his beloved.
Now that the matter had been dealt with, he was free to return to the house and to Elizabeth, and he set a quick pace back, with his companions following behind.
“It seems to me that you are rather eager to return to Pemberley,” said Fitzwilliam.
Darcy shot him a grin. “I will own to finding much more agreeable company there. Here I have naught but the glib tongue of an old soldier and a married man who is as eager to return to his wife as I am to return to my betrothed.”
“Ah, so it is the lovely Miss Bennet which draws you home with such haste.”
“Did you expect anything else?”
“Perhaps the desire to interfere with the unpleasantness which is likely occurring at this very minute?” asked Bingley in a tone of vinegar and lemon. “My sister is present at Pemberley, do not forget, and she and Elizabeth have never gotten on well.”
Darcy eyed his friend, wondering what he should say in response to Bingley’s—correct—statement.
“O
h, do not look at me that way, Darcy,” replied his friend. “You need not say it, for I am perfectly aware of Caroline’s behavior.”
“Then what do you intend to do about it?” asked Darcy. He did not wish to accuse his friend or make him uncomfortable, but Miss Bingley was disrupting the peace in his home. It was a matter Darcy could not tolerate, especially since the woman’s vitriol was aimed at that which was most precious in Darcy’s life.
Bingley sighed. “I previously said, I have thought of sending her to my aunt in Scarborough. Caroline hates being there and decries it as the worst punishment, but since she cannot go to the Hursts and she is quickly making herself unwelcome here, there is nowhere else for her to go unless I set up her own establishment.”
“Would it help if I spoke with her?”
“I doubt it,” replied Bingley with a grimace. “It would likely only make her more difficult to bear.”
Darcy shook his head. “I will leave her in your hands. But when you speak to her, make certain she understands that I will not tolerate her continued belittling of Elizabeth.”
With a clipped nod, Bingley said: “I will.”
They rode on in silence for some time, Bingley deep in thought, no doubt his sister being the center of his considerations. Darcy’s deliberations, though, turned in a different direction, though he was loath to speak of it. Again, concern for Elizabeth led him to voice his thoughts.
“What of Mrs. Bingley?” asked he, pulling Bingley’s unwilling gaze. “Though she does not disparage Elizabeth or act in a manner objectionable, I know her behavior gives Elizabeth much pain.”
“On that front, I believe there may be some reason for optimism.” Bingley paused and his brow furrowed. His horse whickered as it trotted along, and Bingley reached a hand down to pat its flank. Fitzwilliam, for his part, had drawn behind, seemingly understanding they needed to speak between them.
“Jane was asking me some odd questions last evening at the assembly.”
“Questions?” asked Darcy. “Of what?”
“Of you, actually,” replied Bingley. “She seems to have found your behavior . . . confusing.”
Darcy frowned, wondering if his friend’s wife was casting aspersions on his character. “I am sorry, Bingley, but I do not understand.”
“Nor do I,” admitted his friend. “But she seems to be confused about your good relations with the Drummonds, how readily you have accepted Elizabeth into your home, how you accepted my father-in-law, and how you have allowed your sister to befriend Olivia.”
Uncertain what he was hearing, Darcy could only say: “She expected us to be proud and unapproachable?”
“I am uncertain exactly what she expected, but that is not an unreasonable assumption.”
“Do you know the reason why she would expect us to behave in such a way?”
“I do not,” replied Bingley. “Perhaps it is simply what she expects of someone of your level of society. It is not uncommon for those of your circles to be insufferable, you must acknowledge.”
“I confess it freely,” replied Darcy. “But I would hope she would wait to meet us before pronouncing judgment.”
“My Jane is not judgmental!” exclaimed Bingley. “Far from it, in fact. She has always been so sweet and gentle, and she is almost naïve in how she looks for the best in others. I cannot explain it.”
Suddenly an awful premonition fixed itself in Darcy’s breast. The two were connected—Mrs. Bingley and Miss Bingley. How could he possibly have missed it?
The house was looming before them and Darcy, though he was not certain what he would say to his friend, happened to notice a figure hurrying out a side door toward the gardens. Then another exited the house chasing after the first figure. It was Mrs. Bingley—who seemed to be in some distress, though it was difficult to tell because of the distance—followed by Elizabeth.
“Jane?” said Bingley, starting as he looked toward the retreating sisters.
He shook the reins, but Darcy guided his horse toward his friend’s, and restrained him. “I know you wish to comfort your wife, Bingley, but look: Elizabeth is following her. Perhaps they are on the verge of mending their differences.”
“If you ask me,” inserted Fitzwilliam, “it is long overdue.”
Bingley was uncertain, but he still appeared as if he wished to chase them. Darcy, though, was certain that this was precisely what the sisters needed, and he grasped Bingley’s reins himself, steering the man toward the stables.
“Come, Bingley, it will be for the best. Let us go to my study and have a drink. Once they return to the house, you may speak with your wife.”
With the combined efforts of Darcy and Fitzwilliam, they guided Bingley away from where the sisters had disappeared into the garden. Now that he was free to think about the matter a little more, Darcy wondered if Elizabeth had already made the same connection he had, or if she was about to learn of it. Miss Bingley’s motives for poisoning Mrs. Bingley against Elizabeth were easily seen, but Darcy was not certain why she would have done the same against Darcy himself. Either way, if his suspicions were borne out, the woman would not be welcome at Pemberley any longer. Good riddance. He could barely tolerate her anyway.
When Elizabeth finally caught her sister, she found Jane on a bench in a secluded nook, hidden from the house. As she had when she had fled the sitting-room, Jane was sobbing as if her heart might break, her face hidden in her hands. It broke Elizabeth’s heart to see her sister in such straits, so unlike Jane’s usually optimistic outlook. But then again, nothing of Jane’s recent actions could be construed as normal, so she was not certain what to think.
Carefully, not wishing to startle her sister or drive her away, Elizabeth settled on the bench next to her and put her arm around Jane’s shoulder. It only made matters worse as Jane turned to Elizabeth and wailed: “Oh, Lizzy!” and flung her arms around Elizabeth, clinging to her as if afraid to let go. There was nothing to be done at present. Jane was almost hysterical in her distress, and there was no understanding what she was saying, so Elizabeth only embraced her sister and rubbed her back, trying to impart what comfort she could.
Elizabeth did not know how long they sat in that attitude, but at length Jane’s storm of tears slowed and then stopped, leaving her sniffling and hiccupping in Elizabeth’s arms. Elizabeth continued to hold her as if she were a young child, knowing that her sister needed comfort rather than explanations at present.
“I think I have been a fool, Lizzy.”
Jane’s words were so soft that Elizabeth almost missed them. “How were you foolish, Jane?”
Her sister let out a deep sigh, but she did not remove herself from her comfortable position in Elizabeth’s arms. “I listened to someone to whom I should not have listened. In doing so I have allowed that which is most precious to slip away. How you must hate me now!”
“Indeed, I do not!” said Elizabeth. She pushed Jane away from her, forcing her sister to look her in the eyes, which was difficult as Jane’s gaze immediately dropped to the ground beneath their feet. “I believe it is time you told me what has been happening, Jane. Why have you pushed us all away?”
“Because I thought it was expected of me.”
Elizabeth stared at Jane, not certain she had heard her correctly. “You thought it was expected of you? I do not understand. Surely Mr. Bingley could not have made such a claim.”
Jane shook her head. “Not Charles. I was deliriously happy, Elizabeth. But I am also aware of what Charles gave up in attaching himself to me. I wished to ensure he never regretted marrying me.”
“That is admirable, and a sentiment I completely understand, dearest,” replied Elizabeth.
With a dejected heave of her shoulders, Jane resumed her place in Elizabeth’s arms. “Not long before the wedding, I was visiting Caroline and I confided my concerns to her. She was very solicitous and understanding. She claimed that those I met could not fail to see my worth.”
“I believe I gave you the same advice, if you recall,” replied Elizabeth.
“I do. But that is not all she said. She fell silent for a moment, frowning at nothing I could see, and when I asked her what was the matter, she confessed to worry for her brother’s reputation. Though no one could fail to find me acceptable, my family was a different matter.”
Elizabeth gasped. “She said that to you?”
“She did. You know that we have both despaired for Mama’s behavior, not to mention that of Kitty and Lydia. She claimed that five minutes of their presence in London society would see the Bingleys shunned.”
“What else did she say, Jane?” asked Elizabeth, certain her sister was holding something back.
“She said . . .” Jane paused and swallowed hard. “I could not disagree with her, but I noted that my family was not likely to be in London often. Then she mentioned how I had spoken of inviting you to live with us, and she was very direct in pointing out how your manners were also not fashionable.”
“And you believed her?” asked Elizabeth incredulously.
“I did not wish to. I put the matter from my mind, and we went on our wedding trip, but when we returned, we spent a month in London. During that time, we attended a few events of the season, and while we were there, the subject was raised once again.”
“From Miss Bingley?” asked Elizabeth.
“Actually, it was another lady of society. We had gone on some calls to one of Caroline’s friends, and there were some other ladies there. While Caroline was engaged speaking with some others, one of the ladies asked me about my family, and in the discussion, when I had told her about our background, she warned me to leave them in Hertfordshire, for they would not be accepted in London.
“I was shocked! I could not have imagined giving up my family. I was inclined to ignore her advice, but I watched those of society, noting how they behaved and how they interacted with each other. Then Caroline and I talked again, and she was most emphatic about what I must do. To preserve my husband’s reputation, I had no other choice but to distance myself from you all. She claimed it would be easier if I made a clean break. That way I would not be inundated with requests from Kitty and Lydia to invite them to London. I would not have the pain of seeing you often and knowing you could never be part of my life.”