Page 7

A DISAPPOINTING DINNER

T he candles in the centre of the table guttered as Elizabeth returned the meat platter to its place. “Could someone pass the potatoes please?”

Neither Jane nor Mr Gardiner appeared to have heard her.

Both were staring—one angrily, the other forlornly—at the empty chair to Elizabeth’s left.

The offending seat was sucking the noise from the dining parlour as effectively as her mother would have filled it with chatter—had she been sitting in it.

Mrs Bennet was conspicuously absent, however, having sent her apologies less than quarter of an hour earlier.

“Mrs Randall must be very ill indeed,” Jane remarked quietly.

Elizabeth was careful to keep her countenance blank, though the violence of her doubt made it exceedingly difficult.

Mr Gardiner grunted. “I am afraid I care not how ill the woman is—your aunt went to a lot of trouble to make tonight’s dinner special. Your mother ought to have come.”

“I am sure she did not mean to offend,” Jane fretted.

“Very likely not, my dear. I should not be surprised if she gave it no thought whatsoever.”

“Come, come,” Mrs Gardiner said as she passed Elizabeth the potatoes. “There is nothing to be done about it now. Jane, will you not tell us about your day? Lizzy and I missed you on our visits, but the children tell me you had a jolly time of it here at home.”

Elizabeth repressed a sigh, disbelieving her sister’s excuses almost as much as she did her mother’s.

Jane had refused all invitations extended to her that week, eschewing everything from shopping trips to morning calls.

She avowed that she preferred her young cousins’ company, but Elizabeth was not fooled.

Jane’s limited activities did not take long to impart, and Mr Gardiner was in too high dudgeon to add much; therefore it fell to Elizabeth and her aunt to sustain the conversation until dinner was over.

Before they were quite finished, Hannah appeared in the doorway, informing Mrs Gardiner that her youngest son would not settle.

“Allow me to go to him,” Jane said immediately.

“Nay, I shall go. You have not finished your dinner,” Mrs Gardiner replied, but Jane insisted; she was up and gone before her aunt could object a second time.

“She is a good girl,” Mr Gardiner said as the door closed behind her. “It is very sad she should be so downcast. She is beginning to look a little pale, though.”

“Aye, because she has not seen sunlight for a week,” Elizabeth agreed. “She has not said as much, but I believe she does not wish to be out if Mr Bingley should call.”

Mrs Gardiner paused with her glass halfway to her mouth. “I thought she said she was not expecting him.”

“She said she was not expecting that Miss Bingley would tell her brother she was in town, not that she did not want to see him.”

Mrs Gardiner lowered her glass back down to the table, shaking her head. “I am sorry for her. If Miss Bingley is not willing to pass on the news, then it is very unlikely we shall see Mr Bingley here.”

Elizabeth poked insouciantly at what was left of her dessert with her fork and said in a light tone, “It is possible that Mr Darcy will tell him if Miss Bingley does not.”

Her aunt frowned dubiously. “Was it not you who said Mr Darcy would not suffer his friend to call in such a part of London? How have you come to think that he will direct him here?”

“Well, granted, he may not encourage him to call, but he has promised to let him know that Jane is in town.”

“And when did he make this promise?”

“Three days ago. Stephanie and I happened to see him while Uncle was with Mr Barnstaple.”

“Is that so?” Mr Gardiner said. “It is a small world, is it not?”

Elizabeth smiled benignly. The size of the world could take no credit for this particular encounter.

Miss Bingley had told Jane that her brother was much engaged at his club; thus, resolved to tell him herself that her sister was in town, Elizabeth had walked up and down St James’s Street five or six times in the hope of seeing him go into or come out of one of the gentlemen’s establishments there.

Poor Stephanie had been dulled to distraction by the time Elizabeth had spotted him leaving Boodle’s—and too fatigued by far to run after him as Elizabeth had wanted to do.

The subsequent encounter with Mr Darcy outside White’s had therefore been of very little surprise to her—though he had seemed rather astonished by it.

“And he acknowledged you, did he?” her aunt asked. “I did not get the impression you were on such friendly terms.”

“They danced together. That implies a certain degree of amicability,” Mr Gardiner observed.

His wife raised an eyebrow in Elizabeth’s direction. “Perhaps I mean, then, that I am surprised Lizzy acknowledged him .”

Elizabeth laughed consciously. “He is not my favourite person, it is true, but I should like to think my manners are at least equal to his. We greeted each other with perfect civility.”

She had been surprised that he deigned to acknowledge Stephanie, for she had always thought him too stately by far to condescend to making young children feel at ease.

Yet he had managed the business without compromising an iota of his usual dignity.

He had been easy and—it diverted her no end to think it—sweet.

It was a shame he had not learnt to adopt a similar manner with adults.

“And the subject of Mr Bingley just happened to arise, did it?”

“No—naturally, I asked after him. Can you blame me? I was not about to let the opportunity go unexploited.”

“And? What did he say?”

“The same as he said to Jane—that he has not seen him since he left Netherfield.”

“I cannot help but think that strange given the purported strength and longevity of their friendship. But perhaps his influence over Mr Bingley is not as great as we imagined.”

Elizabeth gave a sceptical hum. “He did not seem to think it odd—or, if he did, he did not reveal it to me. In any case, Mr Darcy pledged to tell Mr Bingley that Jane was in town when he next sees him.”

Mrs Gardiner set her fork down and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Do you believe him?”

Elizabeth shrugged. Her aunt had hit upon the very reason why she had not told Jane about the encounter.

“I do not know. His behaviour towards Mr Wickham inclines me to think that his word is worth very little, but I confess there was something believable in the way he said it. But Mr Bingley has not called, so either Mr Darcy has not yet seen him, or he has seen him but has not kept his word.”

“Or he has kept his word, and Mr Bingley has decided not to call,” Mrs Gardiner said. “Young men will fall out of love as easily as they fall into it when the object of their desire is out of sight for any length of time.”

“Poor Jane. I daresay the uncertainty is as painful as a direct rejection would be. I am not sure how I can lift her spirits whilst matters remain unresolved.”

“A visit from her mother would no doubt have helped,” Mr Gardiner grumbled.

“Edward…” his wife said warningly.

“Well! What was she thinking, crying off in this manner? Barring Lizzy’s brief visit earlier this week, she has not seen any of her family since before Christmas.

She knows Jane has received a painful blow.

I cannot fathom the reasoning that has her placing a greater importance on her friend’s comfort than her own daughter’s. ”

“Be fair,” Mrs Gardiner replied. “She does not know that Jane is in quite such low spirits.”

“She would, if she had troubled herself to spend any time with her.”

Elizabeth let them argue the point and did not add to the conversation that she had explicitly told her mother about Jane’s bleak humour when she visited Henrietta Street.

Increasingly conscious of her father’s plea to conceal all trace of difficulty in his marriage—and aware that Mrs Gardiner already suspected something was up—she was growing ever more careful with her censure of Mrs Bennet.

That did not mean she was not critical. Far from it.

She had, just that morning, received a letter from her father, despairing of her being a ‘far worse correspondent than her mother’.

It seemed Mrs Bennet had not written as she had promised to do, Mr Bennet was in no way reassured, and Elizabeth had more cause to be alarmed by her mother’s behaviour than ever.

“You might take it as a compliment,” Mrs Gardiner said. “This shows her faith in our ability to comfort Jane in her stead.”

“You are generous, my dear, but as her brother, I am not afraid to speak truth to her character. She is being absurd and inconsiderate. I have a mind to visit her myself and tell her so.”

Elizabeth shifted in her seat, alarmed at the thought of Mr Gardiner discovering first hand that his sister’s excuses for leaving home were tenuous at best. The least she could do for her father was to spare him that indignity.

“Is that advisable?” she asked. “Even if Mrs Randall is not seriously indisposed, she might not appreciate a strange gentleman calling and questioning her need to be indulged. Pray, allow me to go again. I shall make sure Mama knows we were disappointed not to see her tonight.”

Mrs Gardiner caught Elizabeth’s eye and gave her a small nod before saying to her husband, “That is probably for the best, Edward. No matter how vexed you may be with Frances, you would not like to cause any strife between her and her friend.”

Mr Gardiner looked sulkily between them before conceding that they might be right. That did not prevent him from continuing to lambast his sister for her selfishness as they quit the dining room and removed to the parlour, only desisting when Jane eventually rejoined them.