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PINNED DOWN AT LAST

E lizabeth slowed her steps. Hannah—Mrs Gardiner’s maid but her own chaperon for the afternoon—had begun panting beside her.

With chagrin, she recognised the haste that apprehension had added to her stride.

In truth, there was no urgency; she had no pre-arranged time to arrive at Henrietta Street.

Providence would determine whether she would find her mother at home.

It had been four days since her last visit.

Between calls to her aunt’s friends and Sunday services, there had been no opportunity to return since, but today, both Mrs Gardiner and Jane were engaged elsewhere.

Elizabeth had instantly resolved on visiting her mother, knowing she would be able to speak more plainly alone.

They arrived at the glossy black front door and knocked.

This time, a maid opened it, and Elizabeth was relieved to hear it confirmed that her mother was at home.

They stepped into the hall, Elizabeth rubbing some warmth back into her hands and Hannah stamping the feeling back into her feet while the maid ran upstairs to inform Mrs Bennet she had a visitor.

Muffled voices floated down from above, then sounds of shuffling, footsteps, and more than one door banging. At length, the maid returned.

“Parlour’s up there, first door on the right. My mistress is too ill to receive you, but Mrs Bennet says you can go up. Here, give us your things.”

Suppressing a smile at the unconventional welcome, Elizabeth handed over her coat, scarf, and bonnet and set off up the stairs, leaving Hannah to wait in the kitchen.

Mrs Bennet was standing in the centre of the room in a gown Elizabeth had never seen before.

It suited her very well indeed, though it was considerably less modest than her usual style.

Beneath her cap, her hair was rolled in what looked like silk strips and arranged to surprisingly flattering effect.

In fact, for a woman whose family had been concerned she might be flagging under the strain of playing nurse, she looked quite remarkably well. She also looked excessively vexed.

“What are you doing here, Lizzy? I told you not to come!”

Elizabeth let out a small, incredulous laugh. “It is wonderful to see you, too, Mama. We have all missed you terribly.”

Mrs Bennet gave a somewhat chastened smile as she bustled forwards to take Elizabeth’s hands in greeting and kiss her on the cheek. “There, there, I have missed you too, but did you not heed my words about Mrs Randall? She is very ill.”

Elizabeth allowed herself to be flapped into a chair by her mother’s wafted handkerchief. “If you will pardon my saying so, Mama, she did not seem very ill when we met her last week.”

“How can you say such a thing? She is abed as we speak, scarcely able to lift her head off the pillow.”

If that was the case, Elizabeth wondered who had been scrambling about between rooms moments before. “It seems a strange sort of ailment that she should be able to answer the door to callers one day yet too weak to leave her bed the next.”

“That has been the nature of her suffering from the start. Just as we think she is beginning to recover, she takes another turn.”

A sceptical retort formed on Elizabeth’s lips, but she was saved from saying anything provoking when the maid returned with a tray of refreshments.

She watched in silence as Mrs Bennet set about pouring her some tea without asking whether she wanted any, tapping the strainer on the side of the cup exactly as she always did at home.

Elizabeth found herself smiling fondly. She had missed her—more than she realised.

“But how have you been, Mama? How was your Christmas?”

“I have made the best of it, as I always do in any difficult situation. But it has not been all doom and gloom. Mrs Randall has a very comfortable home here.”

“So I see! You look very well. That is a pretty colour on you.”

Mrs Bennet preened, running her hands over her skirts. “It was a gift from Mrs Randall. She has been exceedingly generous. Anything to make me comfortable while I am here.”

“I am pleased. I was worried you would be tired from looking after her for so long—and without Hill or any of us to help.”

“You must not concern yourself on that score. I cannot remember ever having such a quiet Christmas.”

Elizabeth took the cup her mother held out for her. “It has not been too dull, I hope. I know you like lots of entertainments at this time of year.”

“I do, that is true, but Mrs Randall has had plenty of visitors, so I have not been without company.”

Elizabeth could not help but bristle slightly. “How strange that they were not asked to stay away if Mrs Randall has been so terribly indisposed.”

Her mother sat up straighter. “You are being quite obtuse, Lizzy. She has obviously been able to get out of bed sometimes, as you saw for yourself. Good heavens, the poor woman would have gone distracted without the occasional diversion, though Lord knows she pays the price each time. She insisted on attending services at St Paul’s on Christmas Day and then was quite spent for three days complete afterwards! ”

Elizabeth felt bad pressing the point, and perhaps it was her father’s concerns playing on her mind, but she could not shake her doubts. “Mama, St Paul’s Cathedral is miles away. Mrs Randall must have been feeling particularly well that day.”

“No, no, not the cathedral—the church, around the corner on Bedford Street.” Mrs Bennet’s affront vanished, replaced with an animated expression.

“All the actors go there you know. And you will never guess, but we saw Sarah Siddons! We did not get to speak to her, which was a shame, and quite the slight if you ask me, for Mr Randall was apparently acquainted with her before he died.”

“Was he?”

“Oh yes! He saw her perform many times over the years, though he was never able to arrange for Mrs Randall to appear with her on the stage.”

“Mrs Randall is an actress?” Elizabeth asked in surprise.

“She was, in her day. That is how she met her husband. Did you not know?”

“You never mentioned it. Is it quite respectable for you to be staying with her?”

“Perfectly!” Mrs Bennet snapped. “Besides, she has given it up, so it is neither here nor there.”

“Very well, Mama,” Elizabeth conceded resignedly. “In any case, it sounds as though you have, in fact, been merrily entertained.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “I do not know why you should say it in that way, as though I have done something wrong.”

“You have certainly been too busy to reply to Papa’s letters.”

“Nonsense. I sent a note saying I had arrived safely.”

“Yes, to Lydia.”

“Well, your father would not have read it if I had sent it to him. You know how he is.”

Elizabeth did know how he was—and she knew how her mother was. Neither of them was behaving accordingly. It was excessively disconcerting. “Will you not send him a quick note to let him know you are well?”

Mrs Bennet gave a vast sigh. “If you insist.”

“I am sure he would appreciate it. You might give him an indication of when he can expect you home.”

“I can hardly do that when I do not know myself.”

Elizabeth frowned. “But…how much longer can you mean to stay?”

“As long as Mrs Randall needs me.”

“Mary, Kitty, and Lydia need you too.”

“They will do perfectly well without me for a while longer.”

The very real prospect that her mother did not wish to return home reared into Elizabeth’s mind, and she sat back in bewilderment. This, she comprehended, had been what her father was worried about.

“Papa needs you.”

Mrs Bennet scoffed derisively. “Your father has no needs beyond peace and quiet, and with only three out of five daughters at home, he ought to have plenty of that.” She flicked her handkerchief as though to dismiss the matter out of hand.

“Now, tell me what I missed at Christmas. How was Lady Lucas? I should not be surprised to learn that wretched daughter of hers has moved in while I have been away.”

Elizabeth was too baffled by the change of subject to sidestep it. “None of the Lucases have visited Longbourn since you left. And Charlotte will be wed soon and away to Kent. She has invited me to visit her there in March.”

Mrs Bennet turned up her nose. “I should not go if I were you. She only wants to show off the home that would have been yours, had you married Mr Collins.”

“Mama, I?—”

“And what of your Mr Wickham? Why have you left him to come here?”

Elizabeth suppressed a growl of frustration; her mother did not seem in a humour to be told the blame was hers, so she said only, “I came to accompany Jane.”

Mrs Bennet faltered, losing a measure of her bluster and inhaling and exhaling unevenly. “How does she do?”

“She has been very low. But all is not lost—she has gone to call on Miss Bingley today.”

“What? No! No, that will be a complete waste of time! I told you—she would do much better to forget the whole family and find another suitor.”

Elizabeth was disconcerted by her mother’s sudden urgency. “Why the change of heart? You were adamant he was the best match for her.”

“It was Mr Bingley who changed his mind. Your sister needs to accept that and cease clinging to false hope. It will not do her any good.”

“I do not agree that her hope is false. Nobody could, who saw them together at his ball?—”

“One moment, Lizzy. I hear someone calling me.”

Elizabeth had heard nothing and watched incredulously as her mother rushed to the door and opened it to call out, “Juliette? Is that you, dear?”

Inaudible mumbling could just be made out, followed by the sound of someone running up the stairs.

“Maggie, pray tell Mrs Randall I shall be with her momentarily.”

The visit, it seemed, was over. Mrs Bennet did not return to her seat but gestured impatiently for Elizabeth to join her on the landing, and from there, down the stairs to the front door.

“Will you dine with us soon, Mama?” Elizabeth asked as she donned her coat. “Aunt and Uncle missed you at Christmas, and Jane would take comfort in seeing you.”

Mrs Bennet looked unaccountably ill at ease. “I could not possibly leave Mrs Randall.”

“If she were to be having one of her good days, I daresay you could. The maid can see to her needs for one night—or one of her many other friends can. Please, come to dinner.”

Her mother agreed with a tight smile and a reluctant nod. Elizabeth had time only to confirm that Mrs Gardiner would send an invitation before she was unceremoniously shown onto the street, where Hannah was already waiting.

Her aunt and sister were already returned when she arrived back at Gracechurch Street. She joined them in the parlour, sitting down heavily and reclining against the arm of the sofa, fatigued from her walk. “How did it go, Jane?”

She sat up straight again when Mrs Gardiner caught her eye and shook her head, indicating that the visit had not gone well. “What happened?”

Jane glanced at her but briefly and gave only a slight shrug before returning her attention to her embroidery. “Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were on their way out when I arrived. We did not have much time to talk.”

Elizabeth privately cursed the two women for such a transparent snub. “Did you see Mr Bingley?”

“No, he was not there—but I told you, Lizzy, that was not the purpose of my call.”

“I know, I only thought…never mind.”

“It seems you were right about one thing, though,” Jane added. “Neither has he been with Miss Darcy, as Miss Bingley said he would be. Mr Darcy said that neither he nor his sister have seen Mr Bingley all winter.”

“Was Mr Darcy there?” When her sister confirmed it, Elizabeth exclaimed at the strangeness of him having been present when his friend was not.

“Unless Miss Bingley has finally got her way!” She laughed, for she did not think such a pairing was likely.

“But Jane, this is good news. Of course Mr Bingley has not been chasing after Miss Darcy. And now you have visited, his sisters will have no choice but to tell him you are in town, and then he will call on you.”

“Perhaps, though I shall not depend on it. Miss Bingley made a point of telling me that they scarcely ever see him because he is so occupied at his club, and I do not think they will be in a rush to tell him I am here when they do see him.”

“Then perhaps someone else will have to let him know.”

Jane put her sewing aside and pushed herself to her feet. “I beg your leave to discuss this another time. It was a trying afternoon and my head is aching.” Assuring Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner that she was only tired, Jane left to recuperate in her room.

“That vicious Caroline Bingley!” Elizabeth said as soon as she was alone with her aunt. “She has said something unpleasant, I am sure of it. Jane would not be this subdued for the sake of a curtailed morning call.”

“It may simply be that your sister has begun to lose hope, and it might be wisest to let her. But we have talked that situation to death, and nothing has changed. I suspect your news is more noteworthy. How was your mother?”

“In fine health. She and Mrs Randall had enough visitors over Christmas to save them from ennui. Mrs Randall herself appears to have been out of bed as much as she has been in it. I do not think she is seriously ill. In fact, I wonder at Mama still thinking she needs to be there.”

Mrs Gardiner regarded her knowingly. “Your mother will no doubt go home when she is ready.”

It seemed Elizabeth was not alone in thinking all was not well between her parents, and she sent a silent apology to her father for having failed to keep that much from her aunt’s notice.

Resolved to say nothing more of her concerns, she added in a brighter voice, “She agreed to come to dinner, if you would be good enough to send an invitation.”

Mrs Gardiner reached to place her hand over Elizabeth’s. “I shall send a note this afternoon.”

Elizabeth smiled in thanks but inwardly flinched at the reminder of the letter she had yet to send to her father.

With nothing of any great comfort to report after her first visit to Henrietta Street, she had put off writing to him.

Now, rather than the hoped-for news that Mrs Bennet would soon be returning to her family, she was faced with the unhappy task of reporting that her mother had no good reason for remaining away from Longbourn or for neglecting her correspondence.

That she was, in fact, having a grand old time in London and showed no interest whatsoever in going home.

She decided that she would do better to send no such report. Her mother had promised to write and would surely be able to explain her reasons far better than anyone else. Whatever her father’s concerns, they would soon be allayed, and perhaps then she might be able to return home herself.