Page 31 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

MR BINGLEY RETURNS

E lizabeth’s foolish escapade, which she was ever more certain had cost her the love of her life, cast her into a lowness of spirits from which there appeared no relief. She attempted to persuade Lydia to cut short their visit and go home, but Lydia looked at her as if she were mad.

“Go back to Hertfordshire? For what, I might ask? Dull assemblies with people we have known all our lives?”

“In fact,” Elizabeth said, trying to sound delighted, “I believe Mr Bingley means to soon be in the neighbourhood, and he is sure to have a party or two if only so that we can meet his bride.”

“Soon is a relative term,” Lydia announced with maddening superiority. “What is soon to you is dreadful far off to me, and I already know from Mama that Mr Bingley will not be at his house until the end of September. So there, Lizzy, no need to rush home on that score!”

With that gambit failed, Elizabeth resolved herself to a fortnight of melancholic tedium. She trudged about like Lydia’s governess or paid companion, dutifully watching over her while privately acknowledging that perhaps it ought to be the other way round. Perhaps Lydia should have been given charge of her, keeping her from being led astray.

Even before his arrest, it seemed Mr Wickham had been in his regiment’s bad books. Rumours swirled about regarding bad business schemes, gambling, debts, and a lady of consequence from some other town who found herself with child and laid it at Mr Wickham’s door. With no thanks to precaution on Elizabeth’s part, she gratefully found herself absent from these wild tales. As despairing as she was, it could only be worse to imagine herself the talk of the regiments for succumbing to one of Mr Wickham’s schemes.

The fortnight at last came to its natural end, Lydia growing more peevishly despairing with every passing day, bemoaning the tedium of Longbourn and the unfairness of her having to leave the seaside when she was so very popular among the officers. A scheme began to emerge in the Forster house whereby she might remain, but fortunately Colonel Forster put a swift end to it. In his usual kindly way he said, “I could not think of it, not when I promised to return Mr Bennet’s daughter to him safe and sound.”

Elizabeth hid a small smile. She had begun to suspect that Mrs Forster might be with child, and while she doubted the lady’s capacity to take care of even a kitten, it seemed to be the natural order of things. She and Lydia would only be in the way.

They returned from Brighton in early September, when the days had begun to shorten and the nights to lengthen, and a bite came into the air in the evenings. Elizabeth did not speak to her sisters or parents of what nearly befell her in Brighton—although of course she told Jane, who fretted over it as if it were an error ongoing. To her father, she only mentioned how very glad she would be to remain at home for a good long while.

“I am glad to hear it,” said Mr Bennet, peering over his spectacles at her. “For as much as I am no great mathematician, my calculations have shown that you have only spent about a se’nnight complete with us this entire year.”

“That is not true,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “But nevertheless, the feel of my own bed and my own coverlets about me at night is a relief. But what news here? I understand we have cause to believe that Mr Bingley and his new bride shall be in residence soon?”

“I believe they shall.” From his tone, Elizabeth deduced that Mr Bennet had no great interest in whether Mr and Mrs Bingley came or not.

From Jane’s letters, Elizabeth knew that Netherfield had undergone quite a few renovations. Paint, wall coverings, rugs, even some of the furniture had been altered. ‘On the orders of the new Mrs Bingley, no doubt,’ Jane had remarked in almost every letter she wrote, always adding on, ‘as a new bride ought to, of course!’

“With the renovations complete, surely they mean to move into the place,” Elizabeth remarked.

“Better for the neighbourhood that they occupy it than let it sit there.”

“I only hope for poor Jane’s sake that it is?—”

“It is what?” Mrs Bennet bustled into the sitting room, unhesitatingly leaping into Elizabeth’s tête-à-tête with her father.

“We were speaking of Mr Bingley’s near-inhabitation of his rightfully purchased home.”

“You will not see me calling on her,” said Mrs Bennet scornfully, lowering herself into a chair. “That is one bridal visit she shall have to do without.”

“Pray do not be silly, Mama,” said Jane as she entered the room. “Of course we will call on her.”

“I have heard she is not at all amiable,” Mrs Bennet announced.

“I did not know, Mrs Bennet, that you had so many connexions amongst the ton as to determine such things,” Mr Bennet teased.

“If you will know, I had it from Sir William Lucas, who does have his connexions,” Mrs Bennet retorted.

To this Mr Bennet only scoffed, then rose to open a window nearby. The drawing room, facing full west, had not yet learnt that it was nearly autumn, and continued to build to an extraordinary heat in the late afternoon. Very idly, he remarked, “My understanding is that Mr Bingley’s engagement went off.”

Shock descended upon them all, and Mrs Bennet began to proclaim that she had known it all along and was not surprised in the least. It was Elizabeth who gathered her composure enough to enquire, “Who might have told you such a thing, Papa?”

“Mr Darcy.”

“Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth and Jane exclaimed it in unison. Elizabeth continued on to ask, “When did you speak to?—”

“He wrote to me,” said Mr Bennet. “And I should have you know that I am seriously considering replying.”

“What did he say?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly filled with dread that Darcy might have told him of her escapade in Brighton.

“Nothing very particular,” said Mr Bennet. “Only that Bingley would still be coming to Netherfield at the end of September and that he hoped the neighbourhood would receive his friend agreeably, and not hold past errors in judgment against him. I am sure I do not know what he meant.”

“You will write to Mr Bingley himself,” Mrs Bennet declared. “And tell him that he absolutely must dine here straightaway when he comes into the county.”

Elizabeth glanced at Jane who was pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. Jane observed her notice and immediately said, “Lizzy, do not look at me, please. Just because he has ended his engagement, it does not follow that he would wish to pay any particular attention to me.”

“Oh, but I think he will,” Elizabeth teased warmly.

“How did he do it, though?” Jane asked. “For a man to end his betrothal would be enormously scandalous.”

“If Mr Darcy was in the matter, you can be sure all was done with a gentleman’s honour,” Elizabeth assured her, believing that with every fibre of her being.

“I hope so.” Jane added hastily, “For his sake, not mine of course.”

“I do not doubt it was all for you, Jane!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, having overheard only part of the conversation. “Now, we must begin to plan, for it would not do at all for him to have his head turned by some other dreadful lady!”

Mrs Bennet then tugged Jane into plans and schemes for Mr Bingley’s return, evidently wholly believing that Jane would be engaged within the first full day of seeing him again. Elizabeth remained quiet beside her sister, wondering and hoping whether Darcy would be coming to Netherfield, too, and if so, what she might have to hope for in it.