“Did you hear?” Kitty exclaimed as she came into the sitting room, pulling off her bonnet.
“Hear what?” Elizabeth asked, looking up from her book.
“It is so very exciting,” Kitty said mysteriously, casting a look toward Jane.
“Then tell us, so we may share in your excitement,” Jane said, marking her place and closing her book. Elizabeth thought she displayed much more patience than their younger sister deserved.
“Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield!” Kitty said, clapping her hands together. Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open and she quickly turned to see Jane’s reaction. Jane’s face had gone white, and her lips were drawn tight.
“Kitty, are you quite sure?” Elizabeth asked quickly, pulling Kitty onto the sofa.
“Positive!” Kitty said, sounding annoyed that her story was not swiftly believed. “Maria Lucas said her father had heard it from the steward at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley returned late yesterday afternoon.”
Elizabeth felt her heart clench: Her fear that Mr. Bingley would only lead to deeper pain for Jane had not lessened since Mr. Darcy had suggested reuniting them in London. Elizabeth felt a flash of anger towards Mr. Darcy—if he had arranged this as well, after all of her concerns…
“What is all this?” Mrs. Bennet walked into the room, looking tired and drawn. Despite Lydia’s steady improvement in the week since Jane and Elizabeth had returned home, Mrs. Bennet still spent most of her time at Lydia’s bedside. The toll showed upon her face, and Elizabeth was sad to see how aged her mother had become.
“Mr. Bingley!” Kitty said at once.
“Mr. Bingley?” Mrs. Bennet said ferociously. “What interest do we have in that man? We care not about his habits and plans—imagine taking an interest in him after how he’s treated poor Jane. No, Kitty, we shan’t talk about him any more.”
“Mama, I’m not sure that’s quite fair,” Jane said softly. “We cannot know the reasons behind Mr. Bingley’s behaviour and to assign fault to him under such circumstances is unjust.”
“Jane, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet sighed. “You are far too kind for your own good. Mr. Bingley was a waste and I shall not have you reminded of these things. Kitty, go and sit with your sister for a bit.”
“But Mama!” Kitty complained.
“I shall not hear another word!” Mrs. Bennet said in a shrill voice. “Now go!”
Kitty stuck out her bottom lip in protest, but she stood and made to leave the sitting room. As she turned to the window however, her pout disappeared and the excited look returned.
“Are you sure you do not wish to speak further of Mr. Bingley?” Kitty asked.
“Positive!” Mrs. Bennet said, sitting stiffly upon the chair.
“That is most unfortunate,” Kitty continued. “For he is coming up the drive as we speak!”
“What?” Elizabeth breathed, jumping to her feet and rushing to Kitty’s side. Sure enough, Elizabeth could make out a figure approaching on horseback. Even from this distance, she could tell that her sister was correct.
“Mr. Bingley is on his way here?” Jane asked, sounding breathless.
“What nerve!” Mrs. Bennet said, passing her daughters and pressing up against the glass of the window. “I have half a mind to refuse to allow his visit.”
“No, Mama,” Elizabeth said. “We mustn’t do that—it would be quite rude. And we must hear out what he has to say.”
“Yes,” Jane agreed, her face going red. “It is only fair.”
Mrs. Bennet gave a dramatic sigh. “If you can stand to meet him, Jane, then I suppose I can as well.” She cast a measuring eye about the room. “Quickly, we must tidy up this place before he arrives!”
With a flurry of activity, the Bennet girls put books and embroidery in their proper places, straightened chairs and pictures, and fluffed the cushions to give the room as welcoming an air as possible. They had just finished when they heard a knock at the front door.
“Kitty,” Mrs. Bennet said, all confidence gone from her voice. “Go to Lydia.” Kitty opened her mouth to protest, but Mrs. Bennet cut it off. “Now!”
This time, Kitty’s pouting retreat was not interrupted.
Elizabeth and Jane sat together on the sofa, and Mrs. Bennet quickly settled herself in a chair by the fireplace. Jane, Elizabeth saw, looked paler than ever. She reached out and grasped Elizabeth’s hand tightly. Elizabeth felt the urge to grimace at the pain, but she kept her face smooth as Mr. Bingley was shown into the room.
“Mr. Bingley,” Hill announced.
All three Bennet women rose as one and curtsied in greeting. Mr. Bingley bowed back quickly. As he rose, he opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a single word, Mrs. Bennet cut him off.
“What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Bingley,” she said, sounding delighted. Elizabeth resisted giving her mother a disbelieving look but it was a near thing. Her affable tone would never have revealed the harsh words she had uttered just moments before. “We had thought you gone from here for good! I hope you are in good health?”
“Quite good health, thank you,” Mr. Bingley answered, his voice wavering. He looked quite overwhelmed by the greeting.
“And your sisters?” Mrs. Bennet pressed, inching nearer to him. “I hope they too are well. Have they travelled here with you?”
“No,” Mr. Bingley replied. “I mean, yes, they are well. But no, they have not come with me. They have remained in town.”
Elizabeth nearly felt sorry for the man, watching his eyes dart nervously from Mrs. Bennet to Jane. She could almost laugh at her clear invisibility to the man, for she clearly did not possess any of his attention at all.
Mrs. Bennet had closed the distance between herself and Mr. Bingley, and took his arm in a commanding manner. Elizabeth felt a surge of embarrassment as she watched her mother drag Mr. Bingley to a chair. A chair, she noted, that was directly across from Jane. Mr. Bingley took his place without protest, but still seemed quite ill at ease.
“I heard that Miss Lydia has been quite ill,” he said, directing his conversation towards Jane. “I hope she has recovered?”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Bennet answered immediately, before Jane could as much as open her mouth. “She is mending as well as we could have hoped.” She paused for a few seconds before adding. “Jane looks quite well, does she not?”
Elizabeth’s embarrassment grew at these words—saying such things! With no preamble or tact! However, the mention of Jane seemed to set Mr. Bingley on the course he had expected. For his next words carried none of the uncertainty that marred prior conversation.
“Indeed,” he said with a warm smile. “I am glad to see it so.” Jane’s grip on Elizabeth’s hand tightened even more, and Elizabeth had to bite back a yelp.
“Yes, her visit to town was quite bracing,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It is too bad that you did not have a chance to see her there.” Elizabeth had to give her mother credit: for someone who, minutes before, had been dead set against the man, she was doing an admirable job of throwing Jane into his path once more.
She had always known her mother’s habits in this area—she had been observing them for years. But now, she watched with a mixture of horror and fascination. Mr. Darcy’s words, as horrid as they were, echoed in her mind. Her mother’s behaviour was certainly coarse and unrefined and with a sinking heart, she realised Mr. Darcy may not have been entirely wrong in this regard.
“It is quite the tragedy,” Mr. Bingley agreed. “I did not learn of Miss Bennet’s presence until she had already gone.”
Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth to reply, but Elizabeth seized the opportunity to wrest the conversation away from her mother—and determine what role Mr. Darcy played in the matter.
“What brings you back to the country, Mr. Bingley?” She asked with a small smile.
“The shooting,” Mr. Bingley answered. “But I admit I did not need much reason to return.” He stared at Jane, and Elizabeth could feel the blush radiating from her sister. “For I love the country,” Mr. Bingley finished after a brief pause. No one said anything for a few long moments. Elizabeth stared her mother down, urging her to remain still.
“The country offers diversion that is so different from town,” Jane finally said, breaking the silence quietly. “Returning so lately from London, I find that I too have missed the country and its offerings.”
Elizabeth felt her sister’s grip relax and breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed the initial awkwardness of the reunion had passed. Some discomfort still lingered in the air, but Elizabeth sensed it was far more manageable than it had been moments before.
“Tell me about your time in the city,” Mr. Bingley said eagerly. “You have family there?”
Elizabeth half-listened to Jane’s response for she was far more interested in the small smile of satisfaction growing across her mother’s face. Elizabeth did not know how she felt towards Mrs. Bennet in that moment.
She understood the anger that had immediately preceded Mr. Bingley’s visit. Mrs. Bennet felt all of her daughters’ pain quite acutely and, though Jane did not easily show hurt, Mrs. Bennet knew how deeply Mr. Bingley had hurt Jane. Any mother would be angry at the man who had caused such distress. Elizabeth could even understand Mrs. Bennet’s initial flurry of civility—her mother was a social creature and she suspected Mrs. Bennet could not resist the reflexes of manners and hospitality.
But this sudden satisfaction? That, she had trouble comprehending.
“You attended the opera we missed?” Elizabeth heard Jane ask in surprise. Elizabeth once more directed her attention to the conversation at hand. “With my aunt and uncle?”
“I did! And I cannot recall another time I enjoyed the company more,” Mr. Bingley said in a tone that conveyed genuine affection for the Gardiners. “Your aunt and uncle are rare companions to be sure.”
“You are kind,” Jane said, blushing at the compliment.
“And I expect you attended at Mr. Darcy’s invitation?” Elizabeth unthinkingly blurted out.
“Of course,” Mr. Bingley said. Elizabeth noted he stiffened at the mention of Mr. Darcy. Or perhaps because her interjection was rude. She was unsure which may have caused Mr. Bingley’s shift in manner. “He is… a good friend.” Elizabeth again noted a chill touch to Mr. Bingley’s words.
“Yes, he accompanied you to Netherfield when you were last here, did he not?” Mrs. Bennet said. It seemed that Elizabeth’s entrance into the conversation had reopened Mrs. Bennet’s involvement as well. Elizabeth regretted this—Jane and Mr. Bingley had been separated long enough, they deserved each other’s undivided attention.
“He did,” Mr. Bingley said, examining the cuff of his grey jacket.
“And can we expect him this visit as well?” Elizabeth asked, shocking herself at the bold question. She had initially asked to ascertain if Mr. Darcy had pushed Mr. Bingley into Hertfordshire as well as dragging him to an opera. But, she also had to admit, she was curious for her own sake as well. She pretended not to notice the look her mother gave her.
“No,” Mr. Bingley said quickly. Elizabeth was taken aback by his response—her previous suspicion at the chill between the two men seemed to be confirmed. She wondered what had transpired to make Mr. Bingley react in such a manner. “Darcy is occupied by his business at present and could not come away,” he explained further.
Elizabeth nodded her acknowledgement, but did not say anything more. It seemed Mr. Bingley’s appearance, for all his excuses of missing the country and coming for the shooting, was not by happenstance. But it also did not seem to be orchestrated by Mr. Darcy. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was still smitten by Jane and he had come to Longbourn to reacquaint himself with the eldest Bennet daughter.
Elizabeth felt a sudden rush of shame for the manner in which Jane and she had left London. To break an invitation so suddenly, with no written apology or explanation… She should have written a note explaining—she was sure the Gardiners had relayed the situation admirably, but Elizabeth knew she had been in the wrong to depend solely upon their verbal conveyance. Especially since she now knew that Mr. Bingley had also been invited.
Elizabeth knew she should be angry with Mr. Bingley, as well as Mr. Darcy, for hurting Jane. While Mr. Bingley’s friends and family might have created doubt, he was the one who had made the final decision. However, seeing Jane and Mr. Bingley together, seeing the smiles on each of their faces, she could not be angry. And she found that her anger towards Mr. Darcy was fading as well.
It seemed that Mr. Darcy’s opinion of both Jane’s affections and the Bennet family had changed dramatically. It must, for he was not simply standing aside and allowing the relationship between Jane and Mr. Bingley to happen, but actively attempting to reconcile the couple.
Elizabeth had warned him against such actions, but it seemed he had not listened. And seeing Jane in the sunshine as they sat in the sitting room, talking to Mr. Bingley, she thought it was a good thing he had not listened.
Elizabeth wanted to rub her forehead in frustration and confusion. Mr. Darcy continued to behave in a maddening manner. At Rosings, she had believed she understood the man. She had thought she knew his motivations and character. Yet, in the weeks since his disastrous proposal, he continued to behave in ways that contradicted everything she thought she knew. Each new revelation played games with her head and pushed her heart in ways that frightened her.
It took several minutes to recognise the feeling, but Mr. Bingley’s sudden appearance made Elizabeth miss Mr. Darcy. She realised that she wished he were here as well, that they were engaged in the comfortable conversation that Mr. Bingley and Jane now enjoyed. She was even willing to allow Mrs. Bennet to witness it, if it meant that Mr. Darcy were here. The realisation was terrifying. What did such longings mean?
While Elizabeth was caught up in her own thoughts, she vaguely realised that the conversation continued around her. She did not realise how much time had passed until Mr. Bingley took his leave.
“I am afraid I must go,” Mr. Bingley said, glancing at his watch and rising from his chair.
“But why?” Mrs. Bennet said, sounding quite distraught. “You must join us for supper. We have been bereft of good company since Lydia took ill. You would be most welcome at our table.”
“Another day,” Mr. Bingley said with a wide smile. “I regret to say that I have a previous engagement that prevents me from accepting your kind hospitality.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Bennet said with an exaggerated sigh. “I shall have Mr. Bennet send you an open invitation to join us at your convenience.”
Elizabeth noticed the pleased look upon Jane’s face and felt her heart warm. It was a subtle look, one easily missed by those unfamiliar with her sister’s countenance, but Elizabeth knew it well. That which had been torn seemed to be mending, and Elizabeth could not be happier for her sister.
The three women walked Mr. Bingley to the door and watched as he mounted his horse. He gave a hearty wave before kicking the animal into motion, and they waved in return—Mrs. Bennet most enthusiastic of all.
“I am quite surprised in your reversed opinion of Mr. Bingley, Mama,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Not two minutes before he entered our house, you were determined to drive him from the county! And now you have invited him to dine with us at his convenience. I do not understand such sudden alterations.”
“Perhaps, my dear Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said with a sniff. “You will understand better when you have five daughters to be married.”
“Yes, Mama,” Elizabeth replied with a laugh. She put an arm around her mother and hugged her affectionately. “Perhaps then I will.”