by Jann Rowland
Elizabeth was angry. She could not imagine how her sister could have been taken in by such lies. But though she wished for an outlet for that anger, she knew it would do no good to punish Jane, and their new rapport was something she did not wish to risk. Besides, Elizabeth knew exactly who should receive the brunt of her fury.
“Oh, Jane!” said Elizabeth. Once again she pushed her sister away and made her face her. “How could you have believed such lies?”
“I was afraid, Lizzy,” replied Jane. “I did not wish to be the means of my husband losing his place in society. And you must confess that Kitty, Lydia, and Mama are not paragons of proper behavior.”
“No, I do not dispute it at all. But Jane—to hear such things about our family and do nothing to defend us! Miss Bingley herself is not of the first circles. How could she possibly know what is acceptable and what is not? We are her superior in the eyes of society, no matter what earthly wealth she possesses. The Bingleys’ status in society is dependent on Mr. Darcy’s friendship. Charles is an estimable man, but he is the son of a tradesman. Nothing but time will change how society views him—time, good behavior, and continued connections to those such as Mr. Darcy. And it will only change for your descendants—at present, he is considered too close to trade.”
“I know, Elizabeth. But . . .” Jane swallowed thickly. “Fear is a powerful motivator. I have . . . I have attempted to stay away from you all. I tried to be indifferent. But it was all so very hard. Then I came to Pemberley, and nothing was as I expected. Caroline assured me that you would not be welcome at Pemberley and that our uncle would only be tolerated because of his proximity to Mr. Darcy’s estate. I was confused, and being close to you again was painful.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I will not say you were not foolish, Jane, because it is clear you were. But it is clear to me that Miss Bingley preyed on your insecurities. I know you sometimes think I am too cynical and unforgiving, but I have always known that Miss Bingley is a grasping, artful, shrew, who was no friend of her brother’s marriage to you. She is a detestable woman, and you allowed her to turn you against your family.”
“I know,” said Jane simply, rather than trying to deny Elizabeth’s words. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” demanded Elizabeth with a laugh. “You must be jesting! When have I ever been required to forgive my perfect elder sister of anything?”
Jane smiled, though it was made wan by what appeared to be a bone weariness. “I am not perfect, Lizzy.”
“As this episode shows,” replied Elizabeth. “But neither am I. Of course, I forgive you, Jane. You are my beloved elder sister. We forgive those we love. I am only happy to have my sister back.”
The sisters sat in the garden for some time, basking in their newly rediscovered closeness. The hurt was not gone—it would take some time for Elizabeth to push it to the past where it belonged, for Jane had hurt her terribly. But there was promise—the promise of renewed relationships, of future felicity, of a return to their former closeness. At the present, it was enough to look to the future with hope.
Chapter XXXIII
After some time, Elizabeth observed that her sister was on the verge of collapse from weariness. Coaxing Jane to her bedchamber was not difficult, for her sister went along without question like a small child trusting in its mother. They made their way slowly back down the garden paths and into the house, and when they reached Jane’s rooms, Elizabeth ensured she was resting on the counterpane, insisting that she sleep for a time.
“You intend to confront Caroline,” said Jane before Elizabeth could depart. Jane’s tone was that of a simple statement, and not an accusation.
“I do,” replied Elizabeth, realizing there was no reason to obfuscate. “Jane, the woman was hateful, not only to you, but to our entire family. Our suitability or lack thereof is not for her to judge. I have never met such a contemptible woman in all my life. This cannot go unanswered.”
A sigh escaped Jane’s lips, and she turned on her side. “No, I suppose it cannot. But I cannot dissociate my own culpability in this matter. The blame does not rest solely on Caroline’s shoulders.”
“No, but the clear majority of it does. Jane, she used you. She preyed upon your fears and inexperience and led you to believe you needed to throw your family off. I will not allow her to act in such a manner without consequences.”
“I am certain Charles will handle it.”
Privately, Elizabeth thought Mr. Bingley was of such an agreeable disposition that it was uncertain he would stand up to his sister. But Elizabeth could not say such a thing to Jane.
“No doubt he will, dearest.” Elizabeth leaned over and embraced her sister. “Regardless, the response needs to come from a Bennet, and I reserve the right to make the response myself. I promise I will not behave as she. But she will know my displeasure.”
“My fierce, indomitable sister,” said Jane with a wan smile. “I know you will behave in an exceptional manner, as you always do. Please just leave part of Mr. Darcy’s house standing, if you will.”
“I cannot promise it will be completely intact,” replied Elizabeth with a grin. “But I shall do my best.”
Elizabeth fussed for a few more moments, seeing Jane settled, before she let herself out of the room. She quickly located Mrs. Reynolds and inquired of Miss Bingley’s whereabouts, and though the woman, as a good servant, did not react, Elizabeth was certain the mere mention of Miss Bingley was distasteful to her. She was in good company.
“I understand she was seen returning to her suite.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.”
It was a short walk to the woman’s rooms, and though she would have preferred to walk in unannounced, Elizabeth’s ingrained sense of polite behavior dictated that she knock first. It was a few moments later when Miss Bingley’s maid answered the door.
“Is your mistress in her rooms?” asked Elizabeth.
“She is, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth. Without any further ado, she reached forward and gently, but firmly, pushed the door opened, causing the startled maid to step back. There, pacing in front of the fireplace, was Miss Bingley, looking every bit as affronted as she had when she had left the sitting-room earlier.
“You may go now,” said Elizabeth to the maid. “Your mistress will not require your services for a time.”
The maid glanced at Miss Bingley, uncertain at being dismissed by someone else. Miss Bingley shot her a curt nod, and she curtseyed and hurried out, likely sensing the hostility which was already thick in the room.
Once the maid had left, Elizabeth wasted no time in making her displeasure known. “Miss Bingley,” said she, “you are without a doubt the most contemptible, wretched, disgusting, unfeeling woman I have ever had the displeasure to meet.”
While Elizabeth would have expected the woman to erupt in fury at being referred to in such terms, Miss Bingley only laughed. There was no true mirth in it, however—instead it was a cold, cruel sort of response.
“I am certain it must appear so to you, little Miss Eliza, but I care not. A simpleton such as you can have no understanding of the passions which motivate me.” She turned around, facing away from Elizabeth. “Go back to Hertfordshire and live in the pitiful squalor of your father’s house. If you are very lucky, you may even find a tenant who is willing to take you on.”
Elizabeth’s own laughter matched Miss Bingley’s for harshness. “I am certain you believe that, Miss Bingley. I have no doubt it will bring you comfort, though little else will. I cannot tell you how much you disgust me. You have attempted to take a most precious sister from me, and you have done it with malice aforethought. I can never forgive you for this treachery.”
“Treachery?” screeched the woman. She whirled on her heel, her glare a blast of frigid winter air. “I shall tell you what exactly treachery is. It is seeking to entrap my brother for your insipid sister. It is my brother betraying me, pulling
our family name down into the filth and dirt of your situation. Do not insult me when your family is fit for nothing more than to be housed with the pigs!”
“Your overinflated opinion of yourself has always given me much mirth,” said Elizabeth. “But regardless of what you think of me, I shall always have my dignity and my integrity. Unfortunately, honor is something of which you know nothing. You are too far immersed in your own selfish concerns to care for something so meaningless.”
“How dare you!” said Miss Bingley. She stalked toward Elizabeth, her fists clenching and unclenching as she walked.
Elizabeth only laughed at her. “You have failed, Miss Bingley. I have my sister back, and she will never again pay any heed to your sibilant whisperings.”
“Good riddance!” sneered the woman. “I have no need of your insipid sister. I will be happy to be rid of her and you when I take my place in society where I belong.”
“Another of your failures,” replied Elizabeth. Miss Bingley had driven all pity from Elizabeth’s breast, not that she deserved it. “Not only is my relationship with my dearest sister restored, but you shall never have Mr. Darcy. Poor, deluded Miss Bingley. You never had a chance with him. He detests you almost as much as I do.”
That brought Miss Bingley up short. She stared at Elizabeth for several moments, her eyes widened in terror. Then, as a dog shakes the water from its coat, Miss Bingley shook off Elizabeth’s words, her fury coming over her again.
“Mr. Darcy would not attach himself to a simpleton with no dowry or connections.”
“Nor would he attach himself to an arrogant termagant who is nothing more than the daughter of a tradesman giving herself airs.
“Regardless, you have missed your mark, Miss Bingley. I am, in fact, engaged to Mr. Darcy.”
“Impossible!”
Elizabeth did not miss the note of desperation in the woman’s voice. “It is not impossible. It is fact. He proposed to me not a week before you came. But even if he had not proposed to me, he would never have paid that compliment to you. You are everything he despises about society. You never stood a chance with him.”
“Be silent!” shrieked Miss Bingley. “I will not listen to such lies!”
“You may call them lies if you wish,” said Elizabeth. She purposely kept her tone offhand and deliberately turned her back on Miss Bingley, much as the woman had done to her not long ago. “But remember this, Miss Bingley: I will marry Mr. Darcy, and I have no doubt I will be very happy. My relationship with my sister has also been restored. What will you have?”
Elizabeth turned and regarded the woman, noting the anguish on her face. She knew she should be ashamed for the pitiless way in which she was destroying Miss Bingley’s pretensions, but she was beyond caring.
“You will have nothing,” said Elizabeth, answering her own question. “And after your reprehensible behavior, I cannot but believe that you deserve nothing.”
With those final words, Elizabeth walked from the room. She quickly made her way down to the music room, where Olivia and Georgiana were still in each other’s company. She quickly communicated to Olivia that she was welcome to stay, but Elizabeth was required to return to Kingsdown. Georgiana protested, but Elizabeth was firm, and within minutes she was in the carriage and on her way, having left a message with Georgiana for William. Though Elizabeth did not wish to leave her family and fiancé thus, her father needed to learn of what she had discovered.
Though Darcy had kept his friend with him in the study as long as he was able, at length Bingley left to attempt to find his wife. Darcy could not blame the man—seeing Elizabeth chasing after a fleeing Mrs. Bingley, who had obviously been crying, was more than a little disconcerting, and as his wife’s behavior had been odd for some months, it was not in question Bingley would try to discover what had happened.
In the same vein, Darcy had thought to attempt to find Elizabeth himself, but his departure from his study, only moments after Bingley left, was forestalled by an enraged Miss Bingley. Not disposed to tolerating the woman at the best of times, her demands on that occasion rendered Darcy ready to eject Miss Bingley from his house forthwith.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed she as she rushed through the door, almost colliding with Darcy, who had the presence of mind to jump out of her way. “I must insist you throw Miss Eliza Bennet from the house at once!”
Yet another attack against Darcy’s beloved sent a scowl to his face, and the sound of the door impacting the frame, setting it to a loud rattling, did nothing to cool his temper. Eager to avoid being found in a room alone with the woman, Darcy avoided Miss Bingley’s flailing arms and pulled the door open, leaving the interior fully exposed to anyone walking by. He then turned to Miss Bingley, noting her sour glance at the door and her accusatory glare, and he wondered if she had meant to attempt, in a final desperate ploy, to compromise him.
“I am sorry, Miss Bingley, but I fail to understand you. Not only do I doubt Miss Bennet could ever have done something which would warrant such a response, but you have no power to demand anything when you are in my home.”
Miss Bingley swallowed the bile in her throat with some difficulty and attempted to cover her reprehensible demand through excessive anger. “You have my apologies, sir. If my errand were any less serious and the tidings I bring any less dire, I would never have spoken so. But when you hear what I must say, I am certain you will agree that all pretenses toward acquaintance with the Bennets must be disavowed without delay.”
“Very well, Miss Bingley, you have my attention,” replied Darcy, hoping to induce her to leave as soon as may be. “What is it that has offended you so?”
“Why, it is Miss Eliza trying to force your hand by speaking of an engagement with you!” cried Miss Bingley. She threw her hands into the air and began to stalk the room, the sounds of her slippered feet striking the tiles beneath her feet, reverberating in Darcy’s ears much louder than should have been the case.
“I know it must be a falsehood, for you could never offer for one so unsuitable as she. She must think to claim a betrothal to engage your honor. You must disavow her and her entire family as soon as may be!”
“I am afraid you have wasted your time then, Miss Bingley,” replied Darcy. The woman stopped her pacing in mid-step, and whirled to face him, incredulous at his words. Then her gaze turned hard. “Miss Bennet and I are, indeed, engaged, and she has said nothing which is not the truth.
“In fact,” continued Darcy, his conversational tone seeming to infuriate her further, “I am pleased to hear that she is speaking of it openly. We already have her father’s blessing, you see, and I was only waiting for Elizabeth’s permission to make it known to all of society. Since she has spoken of it to you, she must be ready to have it published to all.”
“Impossible!” breathed Miss Bingley. “You cannot have taken leave of your senses to be offering for such an unsuitable woman! I know you, Mr. Darcy—you are intelligent, sober, rational, and so very proper. The very notion is inconceivable.”
“And yet it is true. Would you have me contradict my own inclinations, my own actions?”
“Yes! I would have you do it in an instant. I have waited for you to propose to me all this time since we were first introduced. I possess a handsome dowry, I have been trained to be the wife of a great man, and I have all the usual accomplishments necessary to make me a credit to your name.
“What does she have?” An ugly sneer came over the woman’s countenance. “She has nothing—nothing other than relations to make a man blush, a paltry dowry, connections to trade and a country parson, and an impertinence which would make you the laughingstock of society. You cannot seriously be considering an alliance with her!”
“Miss Bingley!” said Darcy, his voice no less harsh for not having raised it. “I will thank you not to speak so of my betrothed. She is everything I have ever wanted in a wife, and the fact that you devalue her qualities does not affect me in the slightest.”
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“Qualities!” scoffed Miss Bingley. “Yes, she possesses qualities any man would wish to stamp out in the worst hoyden.”
“Since you continue to demean them,” said Darcy, this time his voice rising, “I will not speak of what I find irresistible about her. Suffice it to say that I am happy with what I will gain by having her as a wife. If you do not agree, it is nothing to me.
“Furthermore,” continued Darcy, when she seemed poised to speak again, “I apologize if you have waited for a proposal from me, but I will inform you that I never considered you as a potential bride. I have no interest in marrying you, so your ambitions never had any chance of being fulfilled. And I would ask that you not attempt to demean my future wife in her future home. I will not tolerate it.”
Miss Bingley let out a barking laugh, which held a hint of hysteria through its hardness. “She does not require me to demean her. She is fully capable of managing that herself!”
“Then you will no doubt be content to leave us to our fate.” Darcy stepped closer to Miss Bingley, looking down at her, his stern glare daring her to protest. “I will inform you now, Miss Bingley, that I do not appreciate the behavior you have displayed since you have come to my house. I cannot and will not tolerate your continued attempts to belittle my betrothed. Regardless of what you believe, she is the most estimable woman I have ever met, and I will make her my wife. You may accept this with whatever grace you possess, or you will leave my home.”
Any rational man might have expected several possible responses to such a set-down. Miss Bingley might have responded with rage, continuing to rail against his choice and words, overcome by the emotions of the moment. She might have swallowed her bile and dropped all her objections, maintaining her connection to the family by keeping her thoughts on his choice to herself. She might even have been expected to swing wildly about, looking to ingratiate herself with Elizabeth as an intimate though Darcy did not think her pride could be so readily dispelled. He supposed any one of those three possibilities—or another he had not considered—still might happen.