A Matchmaking Mother

by Jann Rowland

  “Is that all?” asked Elizabeth. “Do you not think there is something suspicious in all of this?”

  Jane shook her head. “If there is, I do not understand what it might be.”

  “Jane,” said Elizabeth, warning in her tone, “perhaps you did not notice the way Miss Bingley delivered her news. Did you not see the way she took great pleasure—dare I say glee—when she informed us there was nothing which could draw him back to Hertfordshire?”

  Though silent for a moment, Elizabeth thought her sister might finally understand Miss Bingley was not so great a friend as she claimed. “I had wondered on that point,” said she, “though I suppose it is not much of a mystery. Caroline has told me several times she prefers London to the country.”

  “Which makes her determination to capture Mr. Darcy all that much more curious,” replied Elizabeth. When Jane directed a questioning look at her, she added: “Mr. Darcy is a country gentleman, which means he must spend half the year or more at his estate.

  “But Jane, I would not have you taken in. I know you consider Miss Bingley a friend, and I do not wish to speak out of turn and accuse someone of deception when I have no proof. It is on my mind, however, that she is not as much of a friend of Mr. Bingley’s interest in you as you might wish.”

  When Jane made to speak, Elizabeth held up her hand. “It is not my wish to argue with you—if you consider her a friend, that is enough for me. I would ask you to guard yourself against the possibility she is false. It would not surprise me if she is in London at this very minute attempting to persuade her brother against you.”

  “If she is, that is her prerogative.” Jane paused and smiled. “However, with this visit extended by Lady Anne and Mr. Darcy’s close friendship with Mr. Bingley, I expect to see the gentleman again. If he decides he does not wish to pursue me, I shall accept it. But if she wishes to keep him from me forever, she must leave London, at least for those weeks. As she enjoys society, I shall assume I will be in Mr. Bingley’s presence again.”

  “Good for you, dear Sister,” replied Elizabeth. “I hope you attain all you desire, for there is no one more deserving. Let us pray that Miss Bingley is your true friend, or that Mr. Bingley is made of stern enough stuff to endure her displeasure if she will be displeased.”

  “Darcy! I thought we had agreed you would await me in Hertfordshire. What is this I hear of your eagerness to return to town?”

  Bingley had entered the room swiftly, his countenance etched with agony, followed by Miss Bingley, who fixed Darcy with a gaze which could only be termed beseeching. At that moment two things flittered across Darcy’s mind, the first that it had taken Bingley an hour longer to appear than he might have thought, and second that Miss Bingley had stretched the truth. Not that her stratagem was surprising—the woman knew, though she little liked to confess it, that she did not have as much influence over her brother as she wished. Thus, giving Bingley the impression Darcy had instigated their return was the strongest card she could play.

  “There must be some mistake, Bingley,” said Darcy, ignoring Miss Bingley’s frown, “but I was not eager to leave Hertfordshire.”

  Bingley regarded him with suspicion. “It is clear you little liked the neighborhood.”

  “That is true, my friend, but I was content to stay until your return. In the end, however, it seemed better to follow you to London.”

  Miss Bingley latched onto his words and nodded her head with vigor, saying: “It is as I told you, Charles. Netherfield is a quaint little estate, but it is not right for us. We should winter in town and then attempt to find a better estate in a more suitable location. Perhaps Derbyshire?”

  “What a quaint notion you have, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy’s mother, who regarded the proceedings, her mouth curved into a smile. “While I am fond of my home, since both my brother and my son’s estates can be found therein, one can find beauties in other parts of the kingdom. I should think Cornwall would be just as suitable as Derbyshire for your brother to settle.”

  “Cornwall would be much too far distant,” said Miss Bingley with what seemed suspiciously like disdain. “I would much prefer the wild and untamed landscapes of Derbyshire.”

  Darcy dared not look at his mother, for he knew he would burst out laughing. There was but one reason Miss Bingley preferred Derbyshire, and it had nothing to do with beauty. When Miss Bingley visited Pemberley with her brother the previous year, she had ventured no further from the house than the rose garden and had Darcy’s mother not been present, there were several instances in which he might have suspected her of trying to direct the servants.

  “That is not the point,” said Bingley, frustrated with the direction the conversation had taken. “I promised Miss Bennet in the sincerest manner possible that I would return to Netherfield within a few days at most. What will she think of me if I do not return, and all with no word of my change of plans?”

  “There is no need to return to Hertfordshire,” said Miss Bingley, her voice tinged with desperation, “and Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne agree with me. Is that not so?”

  Miss Bingley watched him, almost daring him to disagree, and Bingley turned his attention—approaching anguish in Darcy’s estimation—to Darcy also. Given the conversation he had with his mother before leaving Netherfield, Darcy was not of a mind to say anything on the matter, either yea or nay. Unfortunately for Miss Bingley, his mother was not so circumspect.

  “Though I might have preferred to stay in Hertfordshire for a time, perhaps it was best to return to town for Christmas. But all is not lost, Mr. Bingley, for we visited several of your neighbors, including Longbourn, to take our leave. The Bennets knew of our departure and will not question it.”

  Bingley did not like what he was hearing at all, but his innate sense of good behavior prevented him from responding in a fashion he might have preferred. Behind him, Miss Bingley heaved a sigh of relief, albeit a silent one. Then disaster struck for the woman.

  “And it is not adieu to the Bennets forever,” added Lady Anne. It was obvious to Darcy his mother enjoyed cutting Miss Bingley’s web of untruths and providing comfort to his friend. “The estate will be there whenever you choose to return, Mr. Bingley, and you were so well-liked in the neighborhood, I have no doubt you will be welcome with open arms.

  “Oh, and I have invited the eldest Miss Bennets to stay with us during the season.”

  The final piece of information had been delivered with an offhand casual air, and it arrested Bingley from whatever he was to say next. Instead, he gaped at Lady Anne, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. Miss Bingley was glaring at Lady Anne as if she were a traitor, but Darcy wondered how the woman had meant to keep Miss Bennet’s presence a secret. The Bingley schedule of events derived almost exclusively from that of the Darcys’ by virtue of her brother’s friendship with Darcy himself. Unless she meant to spirit him away to Yorkshire, it seemed impossible to keep it from him.

  “You have invited the eldest Miss Bennets to London?”

  “I have. My impression of them was so positive and the time to come to know them so short, that Georgiana and I determined at once to host them for the season. It is my thought they shall be welcome by our friends, for they are fine ladies.”

  Miss Bingley snorted with disdain, but Bingley fixed his gaze on Darcy’s mother. “To be clear, you have invited Jane Bennet to London?”

  Lady Anne hid a smile behind her hand. “And her sister, Elizabeth. Do not forget her, Mr. Bingley.”

  For a few moments, Bingley considered this development, and when he spoke, his voice contained the slightest hint of a whine. “It will still be two months or more before I can expect to see her—them—again.”

  “Perhaps it will be, Mr. Bingley,” said Lady Anne. She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm, saying: “Unless I heard amiss, you were only acquainted with Miss Bennet for a little more than a month. Is that not so?”

  “It is,” replied Bingley.

  “Then perhaps it is b
est to allow a little time to pass in which you think of what you want for your future. There has been some talk of Miss Bennet’s indifference, though I must own I have seen nothing of it. The suspense of a mere two months will do much to inform you of the strength of your feelings. I cannot but think it will do the same for Miss Bennet.”

  “Yes, I have heard much of indifference,” said Bingley, shooting a look at his sister, who returned it with defiance. “You do not think she is indifferent to me?”

  “Does my opinion matter?” asked Lady Anne. “It seems to me, Mr. Bingley, that the only opinion that carries any weight is your own.”

  “You are correct, of course,” replied Bingley. “But I would hear your opinion all the same.”

  “Then my opinion is that a blind man could see Miss Bennet’s regard for you.” Miss Bingley closed her eyes as if praying for patience, but Darcy’s mother took no notice of her. “Do not make your decision based on my opinion, Mr. Bingley. Trust your own.”

  “I will do that,” replied Bingley. He paused for a moment, then he said: “It is quite certain that they will come in the spring.”

  “They have accepted my invitation. What more is required?”

  “And Miss Bennet knows you all followed me to town, and that it was my intention to return.”

  “She does,” said Lady Anne, clearly enjoying the exchange. “But if thee situation still concerns you, you are acquainted with Mr. Bennet, are you not? Write him a letter, explaining your opinion that it is best that you stay in town at present, expressing your anticipation for seeing his daughters when they come.”

  “Yes,” said Bingley to himself. “I will do that. I thank you for your sage advice, Lady Anne, for it is most appreciated.”

  Then Bingley turned and, without excusing himself, hastened from the room. Miss Bingley possessed a little more prepossession, for she opened her mouth to excuse herself when Bingley’s voice commanding her to join him floated back through the door. With a grimace, the woman dropped into a hasty curtsey and fled after her brother.

  A few days after the ball at Netherfield, Mr. Collins returned to Kent, on the day that he had intended. Though he had withdrawn his attentions to Elizabeth, his society was still irksome and his words never-ending, and could feel no sorrow at the prospect of his departure. It was impossible, however, for the gentleman to depart without leaving them a veritable cornucopia of words expressing his gratitude and his wish to see them all again—a wish not returned by any of the family that Elizabeth could see. One particular comment caught Elizabeth’s attention.

  “I hope you will not be made too unhappy to see me go, Cousin Mary, for I assure you I have every intention of returning when I can. Then, I know we shall have happy news to impart to the rest of your family.”

  There was no need to interpret Mr. Collins’s words, for his meaning was without disguise. Mary, however, made little comment at the gentleman’s leaving, not that her indifference dimmed his enthusiasm in any way. Though Elizabeth could not determine the state of her sister’s feelings, she thought Mary appeared indifferent to him. Then again, Mary was often quiet, little displaying her feelings for anyone to see. For this reason, Elizabeth decided it would be best to allow the matter to rest—she had never been close to Mary and was not certain her advice would be welcome anyway.

  The departure of Mr. Collins brought peace back to Longbourn. The family returned to their previous activities, which consisted of the pianoforte and Fordyce for Mary, the officers for Kitty and Lydia, books and walking for Elizabeth—though the season was becoming too cold for walking much—and Jane’s sewing and embroidering. Jane and Elizabeth were, as always, in each other’s company, sharing confidences, speculation of how their time at Mr. Darcy’s house would proceed, and the other matters they regularly discussed. There was not much society in those days—the ball at Netherfield had rendered other amusements tedious affairs—and they spent such much of their time at home.

  In this fashion, the month of December passed, and the Christmas season was soon upon them. As was their custom, their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner soon arrived in Hertfordshire for the holidays, to the eager welcome of the family, the Bennets having much to tell them.

  The Gardiners, though of the trade class, were possessed of such manners that they could pass for gentlefolk. Between the eldest Bennet daughters and their aunt and uncle existed a deep and abiding affection, and they had often stayed with them in London, partaking of superior society and the gentle and patient tutelage they did not receive at home. Elizabeth was curious to hear Aunt Gardiner’s opinion of their upcoming stay in Mr. Darcy’s home.

  “This business of Lady Anne Darcy inviting you to stay in London is astonishing,” said Aunt Gardiner when they sat down to discuss the matter soon after their arrival.

  “It was shocking to us too,” said Elizabeth, Jane nodding by her side. “We had only just made her acquaintance the day before.”

  Mrs. Gardiner was still for a moment, regarding Jane and Elizabeth, speculation evident in her gaze. “Perhaps you do not know this, but Lambton, where I was raised, is no more than five miles from Pemberley, the Darcy estate.”

  “That is a coincidence!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Are you at all acquainted with the family?”

  “I have met Lady Anne on occasion, though not for some years,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “I was the daughter of the parson of Lambton parish, and it is possible she may remember me. Lady Anne is, as you must already know, the daughter of an earl, and as the Darcy family is a prestigious and old one, she inhabits a sphere which is the envy of most. If you attend events of the season in Lady Anne’s company, you will mingle with the highest of society.”

  “That is what concerns me,” said Elizabeth. “How are we to present ourselves with any level of credit in such a society?”

  “You will behave with perfect composure and poise, Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Gardiner gently. “There is nothing amiss with your manners, and if there is something you do not know, I am certain Lady Anne will inform you of it.”

  That was certain to be true, thought Elizabeth, for Lady Anne would not wish her guests to embarrass her in society. Elizabeth felt less intimidated than she had only a moment before.

  They continued to speak of what Jane and Elizabeth could expect when in London, and while Aunt Gardiner could not know, not being of that level of society herself, her wise and kind words set many of her nieces’ worries to rest. Aunt Gardiner was also adept at calming and distracting their mother, and for a time, they were free of her schemes.

  At the Christmas function held at Lucas Lodge every December, a situation arose which prompted Elizabeth to question all she knew of the Darcy family and Mr. Darcy himself. Sir William was a genial man who enjoyed nothing better than to invite everyone in the neighborhood who could fit into his house—and a few who could not—and then mingle among the community dispensing his civility upon all in equal measure. The Gardiners, long known to the neighborhood because of their yearly visits, were also invited, and it was there that Elizabeth introduced Mrs. Gardiner to Mr. Wickham.

  Of late, Elizabeth and Jane, having been occupied by other matters, had not been much in company with the officers, though Kitty and Lydia always dispensed the latest news, regardless of whether their sisters wished to hear it. Therefore, Elizabeth had not been in Mr. Wickham’s company since the ball. A few moments of conversation revealed the man was eager to inform her of his regrets and lay the cause for his lack of attendance at Mr. Darcy’s feet, after which he was much the same as he had ever been. When Elizabeth spied her aunt nearby, she grasped the opportunity to make the introduction.

  “Have you returned to Derbyshire of late, Mrs. Gardiner?” asked Mr. Wickham when the pleasantries, including their mutual regard for their home county, had been offered and accepted.

  “I have not had that opportunity,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “It is on our minds, however, to visit again, perhaps as soon as next summer.”

  “Then I s
hall envy you,” replied Mr. Wickham, “for it has been some years since I was last there, and it will be several more before I may see it again.”

  “It is a longing I well understand, sir, for I have not been since I was a girl.” Mrs. Gardiner turned to Elizabeth. “Perhaps you will travel with us, Lizzy, for I had meant to invite you. Then again, perhaps you shall see it before then.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Mr. Wickham before Elizabeth could answer. “Your sisters mentioned something of an invitation offered by Lady Anne.”

  “Yes, Jane and I have both received an invitation, but it is to town during the season. Lady Anne said nothing of Derbyshire.”

  “And yet, I must think it a possibility,” said Mr. Wickham. The man laughed and then said: “Or perhaps not. In truth, hearing of the lady’s invitation to her home in London astonished me, for Lady Anne has ever been a proud woman. Darcy is naught but his mother’s son.”

  Surprised, Elizabeth did not know how to respond. It was fortunate, therefore, that her aunt was not similarly afflicted.

  “Lady Anne Darcy a proud woman? Indeed, I have met her many times, Mr. Wickham, and she never struck me as anything other than lovely and amiable.”

  While one might have expected Mr. Wickham to express surprise at Mrs. Gardiner’s rebuttal, it might also be expected he might retreat, take a more conciliatory tone, or even attempt to explain his point of view. Mr. Wickham did none of these; if anything, he showed the arrogance he had accused of Lady Anne.

  “Perhaps she is amiable to those of her station, Mrs. Gardiner, but to those who are less than she, I am afraid she is very much like her son—proud, and above her company. It was my great fortune to be the protégé of Mr. Darcy, and he was nothing like his wife, who is, as you must understand, the daughter of an earl.”

  “And yet, when I met Lady Anne, I was nothing more than a parson’s daughter, Mr. Wickham. That can hardly be called an equal to the daughter of an earl.”