Page 27 of Brighton Rescue (Pride and Prejudice Variation #23)
“I understand completely! Indeed, that is why my husband Aaron purchased Beehaven; he wanted our elder son, Michael, to have his own estate to oversee while my husband still lived. When Aaron passed on too soon, Michael took over the administration of the Hartford estate in Kent, and Beehaven devolved to Gabriel in his father’s will. ”
“Was Mr. Hartford in the army when your husband died?”
“Oh yes. He was committed to fighting against the French and thus a steward oversaw Beehaven, with some assistance from me. When Gabriel was so gravely injured, I was relieved that he had a place to call home, and this estate has proven a healing place for him. As an army man yourself, you are aware of the horrors of wars.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced over at Jane and Hartford, who were gazing intently at one another. Miss Bennet was speaking in a low voice, her elegant hands gesturing, and he said, “Perhaps Mr. Hartford will soon have a lovely and loving wife to bring more comfort.”
His hostess glanced adoringly at her son and said, “I dearly hope so, Colonel. I dearly hope so.”
/
Charles Bingley turned over for the twelfth time and groaned. It had to be at least one in the morning now, but the stable yard of the Yelverton Arms was still noisy at this hour.
For a moment, he regretted his belated decision to leave Hartford House in the late afternoon.
He had intended to stay in Brighton one night, but when he walked through the main door of the mansion, he felt such a surge of anguish that he chose to hastily pack his bags and ride out of town to the nearest inn with an available room.
Not that the noise was entirely to blame for his wakefulness.
In fact, the sounds of horses and yelling ostlers were of far less concern than the anguish in his own mind.
He had been so excited, so hopeful, so foolish, when he arrived in Brighton only a day previously!
He had assumed, without even thinking about it, that Miss Bennet would be waiting eagerly for him to renew his addresses.
Now, lying on a rather hard mattress, with a flat pillow under his head, in an overheated room, in a noisy inn, he wondered how he could have been so stupid.
Jane Bennet was one of the loveliest, kindest, most gracious women in all of England.
He had met her last autumn, openly pursued her, and then left without a word of farewell or explanation.
Worse than that, Miss Bennet had been in Town for three months at the beginning of the current year, and Bingley’s sister Caroline had treated her with rude disdain.
No, it was no surprise that Miss Bennet no longer cared for him.
Given his juvenile behavior, it was surprising that the lady (or more likely, Miss Elizabeth) had not slapped him in the face when he appeared uninvited at Beehaven .
There was an indignant shout outside his window – something about a horse – and Bingley decided, with a sigh, that it was unlikely that he would sleep tonight, not with so many things on his mind.
He got up, staggered around in the darkness in search of a candle, lit it from a small lantern burning low on the mantelpiece of the unlit fireplace, and shrugged on his dressing gown.
His life, he thought cynically, lay in ruins now, since the only woman he would ever love had turned her back on him.
But he was only five and twenty years of age.
If happiness was to be denied to him, he could at least do something useful in his life.
For far too long, he had drifted along in the current of stronger personalities – Darcy, Caroline, his old friends at Cambridge, who had relished his open handedness with money and his easy going nature.
His mouth twisted wryly in the darkness.
It occurred to him that he had every right to be angry at Darcy, and the very thought made him uncomfortable.
Why was that? Why was he so ill at ease with being at odds with his fellow man?
Why did he allow himself to be pushed here and there instead of standing up for what he truly desired?
Why did he embrace the blame when others were at least partially at fault?
Back in December, when Darcy and Bingley’s sisters had approached him regarding his love for Miss Bennet, it was Darcy’s words which had finally convinced him that Jane.
..that Miss Bennet truly was not attached to him.
Why had his friend intervened in such a way?
He could have been married to her now, married and happy, and instead. ..
He blew out a slow breath and struggled to think clearly.
He had no doubt that Darcy was genuinely regretful over his contribution to the failure of his friend’s pursuit of Miss Bennet.
But, Bingley realized grimly, he had invited Darcy’s interference in his life.
Ever since the two men had been in Cambridge, Darcy had led and Bingley had followed.
Even when Bingley had leased Netherfield, he had done so only when he knew Darcy could visit and help him learn the ropes of estate management.
In word and deed, Bingley had shown himself dependent on his older friend to steer him in life.
Was it any surprise that Darcy felt he had the right to intrude on his friend’s romantic entanglements, especially when the family of his love had mediocre connections and little wealth?
He laughed bitterly; it was incredibly ironic, of course, that Darcy had fallen in love with the second daughter of the same family. Ironic and exquisitely painful.
He was angry at Darcy, yes, and he was angry at his sisters, but most of all, he was angry at himself.
A snatch of Scripture suddenly came to mind, one that he had heard at church only the previous Sunday .
When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
It was time for him to put away childish things and become a man, to take responsibility for his life, to discover his purpose, to set his hand to the plow.
It was time for him to grow up.