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A HARD LESSON INDEED

T he letter Elizabeth wrote to her father was as gentle a mix of honesty and assurance as her command of the English language would permit.

She informed him there had been no disguise as to Mrs Bennet’s whereabouts or company; she was, indeed, lodged with Mrs Randall in Henrietta Street.

She omitted to mention how infrequently she was to be found there.

She assured him that his wife appeared to have sufficient funds—without reference to the new clothes or frequent trips about town that Mrs Randall was evidently subsidising.

She reported that her mother was in good health and did not seem excessively put-upon—but did not disclose that, in her opinion, Mrs Randall did not appear to be in need of any sort of nursing.

In closing, she said it could not be long before Mrs Bennet returned to Longbourn. She did not add that it was beyond her understanding what was keeping her in London to begin with.

The note she sent to her mother was much more to the point.

Mama,

I called on you this morning, but you were out again.

I had intended to warn you that my uncle was exceedingly unhappy when you did not come to dinner.

Indeed, we were all disappointed not to see you, and none more so than Jane.

It would be a great comfort to her, and, I daresay, would do much to appease my aunt and uncle, were you to pay us a call.

If Mrs Randall can spare you long enough.

Yours Mrs Bennet often talked about the possibility of the Gouldings quitting Haye-Park and one or other of her daughters taking up there with whomever they married to become Longbourn’s nearest neighbour.

Elizabeth simply did not believe it. “If Mrs Randall was well enough to go walking that morning, I wonder that she was too ill for you to leave her side the night before to join us for dinner. Could Maggie not have sat with her for a few hours?”

“She could have, Lizzy, yes—but then, Miss Bingley could have sat with Jane last November and yet you insisted on walking to Netherfield to perform the service yourself.”

“But Jane was?—”

“Lizzy!” Jane said quietly, looking at her with an expression of confused hurt.

It was a timely interruption, for it prevented Elizabeth from making the impolitic observation that Jane had actually been ill. After a deep breath and an apologetic glance at her sister, she said instead, “Aunt Gardiner went to a lot of trouble to make up for your having missed Christmas.”

“That was kind of her, though her invitation called it ‘a family dinner’, so I do not know how I could be expected to guess at the grandeur of the occasion.”

“Lizzy tells me Mrs Randall spent some years on the stage after she left Meryton,” Jane said quickly, no doubt to prevent Elizabeth from continuing the argument. “I imagine she has some fascinating tales to tell.”

“She does, though it has been a while since she last did any acting.”

“With her husband deceased and no occupation, she does well to live so comfortably.”

“Well, obviously she has a supporter, dear.”

Jane glanced questioningly at Elizabeth, who could only shrug in equal incomprehension.

“Her life in the theatre has not been for nothing—she is by no means friendless,” Mrs Bennet explained, although Elizabeth was none the wiser, and neither was Jane if her hesitant reply was any indication.

“Indeed…and not just through the theatre, for you have been a stalwart friend to her. When she is well again, I hope we shall have the chance to get to know her better.”

“Why, yes, if you insist—but the wish of meeting her must not delay your return to Longbourn.”

“We have no plans to return home at present,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, you should. There is nothing for you in London.”

Jane visibly wilted. “There is respite, Mama. In Meryton, the memory of everybody’s expectation for me and Mr Bingley is still painfully fresh. Nobody in London knows of my disappointed hopes. I can walk down the street without feeling everybody’s pity.”

Mrs Bennet gave an odd, flustered sort of laugh. “People’s memories are shorter than you give credit for. Mr Bingley is bound to give up Netherfield soon, then there will be a new tenant, and your brief acquaintance with the previous one will be entirely forgot.”

Jane looked close to tears. “Alas, not by me.”

Elizabeth could scarcely contain her anger. She was used to her mother being tactless, but she had never known her to be cruel. “Mama, you are unkind to talk so carelessly about Jane’s attachment.”

“But if I do not, who will—you?” She shook her head. “No, Lizzy, your stubbornness makes you too apt to overlook what is directly in front of you in favour of what you wish to see. Mr Bingley has obviously decided he is too young to settle down. Your sister would do better to accept his decision.”

“If indeed it was his decision.”

Mrs Bennet reddened. “And what of your prospects?” she said angrily.

“You have refused Mr Collins and turned your back on Mr Wickham. And now here you are, angling for nothing in Cheapside when there is an entire regiment at your disposal in Meryton. But why take my advice on the matter? I am only your mother.”

Elizabeth was not sorry that Hannah chose that moment to come in, for they could all do with a few minutes to compose themselves. It was not until Jane spoke that Elizabeth realised the maid had come empty handed.

“Hannah? Where is the tea?”

“Pardon me, miss, I was about to bring it up, but there is another caller. Miss Bingley.”

Jane let out a small noise of surprise but otherwise looked as though she knew not whether to weep or rejoice. After Mrs Bennet’s sermon, Elizabeth was not surprised. Turning to Hannah, she said, “Please bring her up, then fetch the tea as quickly as you can.”

Hannah nodded and left, and Mrs Bennet came suddenly to her feet. “I must go.”

“But you have only been here five minutes!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Mama, please stay,” Jane pleaded quietly. “I know you do not approve of Mr Bingley, but you can have no objection to speaking to his sister.”

Mrs Bennet shook her head. “She is here to see you, Jane, not me. I shall come back when you are alone.”

Jane’s protests were cut short when their guest was shown in.

Miss Bingley walked into the room with absurdly affected stateliness. “Mrs Bennet, what a surprise.” To Jane, she said, “I thought only you and Miss Eliza had come to town.”

“My mother has been here since before Christmas, visiting a friend who is in ill health.”

“And I must return to her directly,” Mrs Bennet added. With a nod to each of them, she all but flew out of the door.

Elizabeth knew she ought not to abandon Jane to Miss Bingley, but she refused to let her mother leave without giving a better account of herself. Promising to return directly, she ran down the stairs to catch up with her in the hall.

“Mama, for heaven’s sake, what can you mean by leaving in such haste? What will Miss Bingley think?”

“What is it to me what that woman thinks? She did not care what any of us thought when she left Netherfield without so much as a by-your-leave last November.”

“There is no advantage to Jane in insulting her in retaliation.”

“It was not my design to insult her. I must simply return to Mrs Randall.”

Elizabeth recognised it would be fruitless to argue that point, but she had plenty of others to make. She stepped forwards and lowered her voice. “Did you write to Papa?”

Mrs Bennet narrowed her eyes. “I did—yesterday. Though I do not see what business it is of yours.”