by Jann Rowland
“The Bingleys?” asked he. “I was not aware you were well acquainted with my friend’s sisters, Anne.”
“I do not know about well acquainted,” replied Anne, shrugging at his words. “But you are aware Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst came to visit us more than a week ago.” Darcy nodded, a little tightly, Anne noticed. “We had an interesting visit, indeed. And then, of course, Miss Bingley visited again the next day, an unlooked-for bit of civility on her part, I assure you.”
Anne turned to Elizabeth and winked, and she was gratified when Elizabeth attempted to stifle a giggle. “Did I inform you of Miss Bingley’s response to our invitation?”
“Ah, no, Anne, I do not believe you did.”
“She seems to think that I have come to her way of thinking,” replied Anne.
It was with a great deal of satisfaction that Anne turned to Darcy after she said this, as she had known he would speak up.
“I am sorry, Anne, but you have confused me. You have come to Miss Bingley’s way of thinking? To what do you refer?”
“Only that Miss Bingley thinks that I should not have Elizabeth staying here, for she is far too provincial and has misrepresented herself to me.”
“Miss Bingley said that to you?” asked Darcy. By this time, he was frowning, his attention turning away from how they would be hosting the Bingleys and the Gardiners at the same time, just as she had intended.
“Not in so many words, I assure you,” replied Anne. “But when she came back the next day, it was to make sure I knew of Elizabeth’s common origins, the baseness of her character, and the grasping nature of her association with me.”
“I fail to see how it is Miss Bingley’s concern, even if such charges were true.” Darcy turned to Elizabeth and his countenance softened. “It is clear to anyone with eyes to see and wit to understand that Miss Bennet has added immeasurably to our family party. Even if her accusations were true, it is not Miss Bingley’s place to say anything.”
“I disabused her of that notion quite firmly, Cousin. But it does not change the fact that she came here, filled with stories of Elizabeth’s behavior and charges against her character. I dare say she felt assured of the success of her mission.” Anne paused and laughed. “In fact, I wonder if she was considering whether I was a good marriage prospect for her brother, for Georgiana, though she is your sister, is still quite young, whereas I am of marriageable age.”
Darcy started at the notion, but Elizabeth only giggled and exclaimed: “You may not be far from the truth, Anne. She did make it quite clear in her letter to Jane that she, at least, expected a very close connection between Mr. Bingley and Georgiana in the future. As Mr. Darcy’s cousin, you might fill that role admirably and bring her much closer to her own ambitions.”
“She said that in a letter to your sister?” asked Darcy, a hint of hysteria entering his voice.
“She did,” replied Elizabeth. She had noted what Anne had and was diverted by it, Anne was certain.
“Then I apologize, Miss Bennet. She informed me only that she had written your sister to advise her of our return to London—nothing more. What she states of my sister is most emphatically not true. If Bingley and Georgiana were to form an attachment sometime in the future, I would welcome the connection to my dearest friend, but at present she is much too young.”
Elizabeth was silent for a few moments, her gaze fixed on Darcy—he seemed to feel it, as Anne sensed more than a hint of nervousness in his manner.
“It is not your fault, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth, though her voice was quiet. “Jane was . . . hurt by Miss Bingley’s callousness, and even more so when she visited Miss Bingley when she came to London, and Miss Bingley only returned it after three weeks.”
“That is not proper at all, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “Your sister has my sympathies.” He paused for a moment, apparently in thought, before he once again fixed his attentions on Elizabeth. “Pardon me for asking such an impertinent question, Miss Bennet, but your sister—she esteems Mr. Bingley?”
“More than any other man of her acquaintance, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth.
Darcy nodded, but it was distracted and thoughtful, and he did not say anything more. For her part, Elizabeth did not say much more herself, and after a few moments, she excused herself to return to her room, leaving Anne behind with Darcy. Initially when she had brought up this subject, Anne had thought Darcy would fight her over her plans for the evening with their friends. But she was certain he would only put up a token resistance now, if that at all.
“I assume this dinner of yours was carefully planned out,” said Darcy when Elizabeth had left the room.
“It was,” replied Anne, “but not in the manner you think.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow, demanding an explanation, and Anne was only too willing to provide it. “The evening was my idea and my execution. Elizabeth has known of it, but she only agreed to it after much persuasion.”
“That I can well imagine,” replied Darcy. “As protective of her sister as she is, I do not doubt she would hesitate before putting her before a man who hurt her so.”
“Yes, that is exactly it.”
A shake of his head and Darcy focused again on Anne. “I am not certain I agree with your meddling.”
“What of your meddling?” demanded Anne.
Darcy paled and Anne gave him a grim nod. “Yes, Cousin, I am aware of the role you played in separating Jane and Mr. Bingley. Miss Bingley was eager to crow of it and use it to attempt to persuade me to her point of view. You should be grateful that Elizabeth knows nothing of it. I do not need to describe her probable reaction to the knowledge, should she ever become aware of it.”
“Indeed, you do not.” Darcy’s words were so quiet as to be almost inaudible. “I only thought Miss Bennet did not care for Mr. Bingley as a woman should for a prospective suitor and would accept him for no other reason than that her mother would demand it of her.”
That suggestion was worthy of nothing more than a derisive snort from Anne, which she hesitated not to give. “Miss Bennet may appear complying, Darcy, but she is not. In her own way, she possesses a similar measure of strength as Elizabeth. Were you aware that Elizabeth refused Mr. Collins when he proposed?”
Anne almost laughed at the expression of utter horror which came over her cousin. “Mr. Collins?” choked he.
“Yes. That Mr. Collins. But Elizabeth refused him and was supported by her father. Elizabeth and Jane have pledged to each other not to marry without love. Elizabeth could not respect Mr. Collins, let alone love him. Given such knowledge, can you imagine Miss Bennet would be coerced into marrying Mr. Bingley if she did not wish it?”
“When you put it that way, it does sound silly.”
It was the humble way in which Darcy responded which defused Anne’s annoyance.
“There is no way you could have known of their pact, Darcy. It is easy to misread another’s character, especially when that person is as closed as Miss Bennet. In the future, I would suggest that you reserve judgment and allow others to make their own decisions without interference.
“And before you say it,” said Anne, pre-empting his argument, “the dinner has not been designed to throw Mr. Bingley and Jane together, manipulating them into making a match. I am much more interested in Jane’s happiness. We are merely creating a situation whereby his sisters’ manipulations may be defeated, and they can find their own way without others meddling in their lives. Once they are together in this room, the rest will be up to them.”
“Very well,” said Darcy. He rose to depart, but before he left the room, he turned and said: “And it was very sage advice you gave me a moment ago, Cousin. You may be assured I will follow it.”
Then Darcy let himself out of the room, leaving Anne satisfied. Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Chapter XXVI
It had become clear to Elizabeth that her friend, Anne de Bourgh, was rather devious. Lo
ath though Elizabeth to use such a word to describe a dear friend—which often carried negative connotations—it was no less than the truth. And the night of the dinner with both the Bingley and Gardiner parties more than amply proved this. The first piece of evidence was, of course, the times she gave the two parties.
“Your family will soon be here,” said Anne, her voice alive with excitement. “I believe we can expect the Bingley party soon after.”
“Miss Bingley will, indeed, wish to make an entrance,” replied Elizabeth, amused by her friend’s excitement. “No doubt she believes it to be the height of proper behavior to arrive fashionably late.”
Anne laughed. “I am sure you are correct. But I have ensured it, for I have given Miss Bingley a time fifteen minutes later than that which I gave your aunt.”
“Why?” asked Elizabeth, shocked at her friend’s manipulations.
“Because I wish for Jane and the Gardiners to be settled here when Mr. Bingley arrives. It gives the impression, with Jane and the Gardiners already present, that it is the Bingleys who are the ones visiting and put the Gardiners at an implied higher level. That is key, not only for Mr. Bingley’s perception of Jane, but also for Miss Bingley, though I am sure the woman will miss the subtlety.”
“Anne,” said Elizabeth in a warning tone, “there was to be no manipulations. I do not wish for Jane’s feelings to be bruised again.”
“And they will not,” replied Anne, the firmness in her tone allowing for now disagreement. “I will do nothing where the two of them are concerned, but can you imagine how Miss Bingley would behave if they were to arrive before your family.”
“I can well imagine it,” replied Elizabeth with a shake of her head.
“Exactly. Trust me, Elizabeth—I only mean to make it as easy as possible for Jane and her beau.”
There was nothing to be said, so Elizabeth kept her peace, though she regarded Anne for some time, watchful for her friend’s other manipulations, of which she was certain would be many. In due course, the Gardiner party did arrive—met at the door by both Anne and Elizabeth—and were welcomed with their usual anticipation. Mr. Gardiner immediately stood with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and they began to speak, while Anne guided Jane to a nearby position where there were two chairs in close proximity. Elizabeth sat with Georgiana and Mrs. Gardiner, keeping a close eye on Anne, while noting her easy conversation with Jane.
“Is it my imagination, Lizzy,” whispered Mrs. Gardiner after a few moments, “or is there something about which you are worried tonight?”
“Worried, no,” replied Elizabeth shortly. “But I believe Anne is being clever, and I do not wish for anything to go wrong.”
“Clever? In what way?”
Elizabeth would have wished to forgo any discussion of the night’s imminent entertainment, but she knew her aunt would likely be cross if she did not warn her in advance. Thus, Elizabeth screwed up her courage and replied.
“You are not to be the only guests tonight. Anne has also invited the Bingley party to dine with us.”
Though her eyes widened in response, Mrs. Gardiner essayed a look at Anne, her expression unreadable. For her part, Anne seemed to possess some sort of preternatural notion of what they were discussing, and while Jane was saying something to her, Anne returned Mrs. Gardiner’s gaze and responded with a deliberate wink. Mrs. Gardiner could not contain her laughter.
“What a friend you have managed to make, Lizzy!” said Aunt Gardiner. “I never would have suspected this of her.”
“Nor would I,” replied Elizabeth. She turned to her aunt and said: “I assume Jane still pines after Mr. Bingley?”
“I do not know that ‘pine’ is precisely the proper word, Lizzy. I am certain she still considers him to be the best man of her acquaintance, but her demeanor has improved substantially since you have come to town. I do not doubt she will be grateful to accept whatever attention he decides to bestow on her.” Mrs. Gardiner’s gaze swung away from Anne, and Elizabeth felt a faintly severe quality inherent in it. “The unknown in all this is Mr. Bingley. Can I assume you have some indication of his regard? I know you would not wish to injure your sister.”
“Nothing obvious,” confessed Elizabeth. “But the fact that Miss Bingley has kept her brother away, even to the point of avoiding the same events we have attended, seems telling.”
“Might that not be coincidence?”
“I suppose it might. But I do not think it is.”
Mrs. Gardiner observed Elizabeth for several more moments before she sighed and turned her attention back to Jane. “I hope it is not, Lizzy. But I will trust you. It seems there is little to be done regardless.”
Elizabeth agreed and fell silent, watching the room with care, wondering if they had not made a large mistake in planning this evening. When, at length, the Bingley party did arrive, Jane and the Gardiners had settled in and were speaking with pleasant friendship among themselves, and though they had been a little fluid in their positions and conversations, Anne had stuck close to Jane’s side.
The Bingleys’ arrival time of thirty minutes after the Gardiners’ was not missed by either Anne or Elizabeth, and they shared a look and rolled eyes at Miss Bingley’s predictability. They were met at the front of the house by the housekeeper—another manipulation of Anne’s—and soon they were shown into the room. The first of the party—Miss Bingley herself—entered the room, a compliment already on the tip of her tongue.
“Miss de Bourgh, we are so happy to be with you tonight,” purred Miss Bingley as she stepped into the room. That was, of course, when she noticed those others present, and the color drained from her face like rouge on a woman’s cheeks washed away by tears.
“I say, Caroline, why have you stopped in the middle of the doorway?”
When the masculine voice spoke behind her, Miss Bingley’s eyes widened in terror, and for a moment, Elizabeth wondered if the woman would attempt to physically prevent her brother from entering the room.
“Come, Caroline, let us enter,” came Mr. Bingley’s voice again. “I have not seen much of Darcy in the time since we have been back in London.”
A grimace settled over Miss Bingley’s face, but she did not protest. She stepped forward as if she was meeting a firing squad and turned a glare on Elizabeth, as if it was her fault. Elizabeth only smiled sweetly at her, which further seemed to fuel the woman’s anger.
“Darcy!” said Mr. Bingley, stepping into the room with his usual wide grin affixed. “I do not believe I have ever come to town without visiting you for this length of time. How—”
And that was, of course, the exact moment when Mr. Bingley noticed Elizabeth seated close by. He stopped, shocked, his mouth agape, and he blurted: “Miss Elizabeth!” Then, as he moved to greet her, he caught sight of Jane sitting demurely next to Anne. Had Elizabeth not known her sister, she might have thought Jane was terrified of the amiable man. “Miss Bennet!”
Anne rose and approached Mr. Bingley, and she curtseyed to them all—Miss Bingley was still behind her brother, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had entered and were watching with something akin to astonishment. “Welcome to Darcy’s home. Elizabeth, would you do me the honor of introducing these two gentlemen?” asked Anne, mimicking her words and actions from the first visit Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had made to the house.
“Of course, Anne,” said Elizabeth, as she stood and stepped forward to do the honors.
It was clear from Mr. Bingley’s demeanor that he was barely aware of her presence. He bowed to Anne’s curtsey and spoke to Elizabeth, but as he did so his eyes slid to Jane of their own accord.
“Miss Elizabeth, I am surprised to see you here. I had no notion you would be at Darcy’s house tonight, for Caroline did not drop a word of it.”
“I am quite as surprised as you, Charles,” interjected Miss Bingley’s acid tone.
“I have actually been staying at Mr. Darcy’s house for some weeks, Mr. Bingley,” replied
Elizabeth. “I met Anne in Kent and spent some time with her there, before we came to London and Mr. Darcy’s house.”
“And your sister?” asked Mr. Bingley, his attention now firmly fixed on Jane who blushed and looked down at the hands folded in her lap.
“Jane is staying with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner,” replied Elizabeth. “We have seen much of them since our arrival, however, for which I am grateful. You see, I have been separated from her for some months now.”
“Separated?” asked Mr. Bingley, clearly confused.
“Perhaps it would be best to ask Jane yourself,” suggested Anne, gesturing toward the chair by Jane which was now empty. “I am certain she would be happy to explain it to you.”
Elizabeth frowned at Anne, thinking she was pushing a little more than Elizabeth might have wished, but Mr. Bingley looked at Anne for several moments before nodding. “I believe I would like that very much.”
He took himself to Jane’s side and sat in the chair, but for a few moments, neither seemed to know quite what to say. Elizabeth watched them with dread, wondering if they would ever work up the courage to speak. Anne, however, only regarded them, complacency in her demeanor. And she was correct—though it took them a few moments to begin speaking, soon they had their heads together and were talking with as much animation as Elizabeth had ever seen in all the times they had been together in Hertfordshire.
“You seem to have been correct, Lizzy,” said Aunt Gardiner as Elizabeth sat down once again beside her. “I have rarely seen a man look on a woman with such devotion as Mr. Bingley. I knew the moment he entered the room that all would be well.”
“I am glad you had such confidence, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth. “I will own to more trepidation.”
“Well, if we can keep his sister from interfering, I dare say they shall have their happy ending.”
It was a valid concern. Miss Bingley had taken a seat not far from Jane and Mr. Bingley, next to her sister, and she watched the absorbed couple, fuming and disgusted. She made every attempt to hamper their discussion, but when she would say something, both other parties would listen politely, but return to their conversation immediately.