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When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs Hurst thought the same, and added:

“She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”

“She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!”

“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.”

“Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”

“You observed it, Mr Darcy, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley; “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.”

“Certainly not.”

“To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”

“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.

“I am afraid, Mr Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.” A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs Hurst began again:

“I have an excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connexions, I am afraid there is no chance of it.”

“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton.”

“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside.”

“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.

“If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside,” cried Bingley, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”

“But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.

To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar relations.

P particularly when Jane had a better than even chance of getting her heart broken if things continued.

Even if Mr Bingley could be brought up to scratch, it was obvious his sisters and his friend were already discouraging him.

As much as Elizabeth liked Mr Bingley, who was an amiable man, she did not see him as especially stalwart.

There was also the better than even chance he was just a rich city man fishing in the country stream for a few months.

“Are you certain you want to hear?” she asked, half-hoping they could forget the whole thing.

“Yes,” Jane said emphatically! Then she stared at the counterpane, and half-mumbled, “I wish to know what crops I might be watering.”

Elizabeth could not dispute her wisdom. Most people thought Jane was weak, mostly because she was not mean.

People had the unnatural supposition that strength came from aggression, and since Jane never in her life tried to hurt anyone, people assumed she was incapable.

Only Elizabeth, with her superior knowledge of her sister, understood her strength had never been tested.

She thought Jane was likely to survive any test thrown at her, but the challenge had yet to be made.

With a sigh, Elizabeth sat on the bed, and relayed the entire conversation, word for word. She had an excellent memory and could easily relay both words and tone. Jane asked a few questions about who said what and how they said it.

When she finished, Jane lay back on her pillows to think.

She finally asked, “What is your conclusion?”

Elizabeth grimaced. “The sisters are mean, nasty, social climbers. They seem desperate to believe they are first circles, though they are naught but daughters of tradesmen, albeit wealthier than most. Those sorts are the reason Aunt and Uncle Gardiner keep us away from higher society when we go to London.”

“Agreed.”

“Mr Darcy is as haughty and arrogant as he has always been. The best thing I can say for him is that he is brutally honest… at least behind our backs. He finds me unhandsome—he says it plainly. He thinks women are silly about balls—he owns it without disguise. He finds us unlikely to marry well—he makes his case unambiguously.”

She thought a moment more. “To be fair, he was not actively participating in the sisters’ character assassination—but neither was he defending us.”

“I hoped we would discover that Mr Darcy was just shy, or uncomfortable in large groups, so he was a better man than he appeared. I am…”

Elizabeth could see her sister struggling and helpfully supplied, “…disappointed?”

“That will do, I suppose.”

Jane gave Elizabeth a look indicating the time for prevarication was over and her opinion was required.

“Based on their conversation, I suspect Mr Bingley is amiable but weak. He defended you, but only half-heartedly. He is the head of his family, residing in his own home, yet he made no effort to encourage his sisters toward proper behaviour. At the very least, a host and hostess are responsible for the comfort of their guests. That is the most basic of requirements.”

“My conclusion exactly.”

“Mr Darcy did not defend you or chastise them, but it is not his family nor his duty. He probably should have walked away.”

“Like we walk away when Mama disparages Charlotte?”

“You have me there.”

“I wonder if a rational and fair observer would lump us in with Mr Bingley or Mr Darcy?” Jane asked in some despair.

Elizabeth gave a deprecating chuckle. “I think the Derbyshire gentleman shares certain defects with our father… and to be fair, with me.”

“Do not speak so, Lizzy.”

“It is only the truth.”

They sat in silence for some time, wondering what to do about the whole business.

Five or ten minutes later, Jane asked resignedly, “Is Jenny Phillips still an upstairs maid here?”

Elizabeth knew what was coming. “Yes, and Simon was in the stable when I walked by this morning.”

“I suppose I need not spell it out?”

“I suppose not. You have a cold—you are not crippled. Get up and start on your hair while I find Jenny to fetch Simon and ask him to saddle Nelly.”

“Yes! We do not belong here,” Jane said with a resigned sigh. She did not have the inclination to cry about lost opportunities or disappointing acquaintances when there was work to be done.

With the plan agreed, Elizabeth took five minutes to arrange their transportation, then came back to assist Jane with her hair and riding habit.

While they were tempted to make a simple hairstyle and minimal fussing, Jane demurred.

She wanted the feckless Bingleys to see how a lady made her escape from disagreeable company.