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T he journey from Pemberley to Netherfield was not a pleasant one for Charles Bingley.

His two sisters complained endlessly, both unhappy at the prospect of returning to the dull place that was Meryton; they would far rather have stayed at Pemberley.

In vain did Mr. Bingley ask them to reconcile themselves to the change of plans; in vain did he ask them to support his choice of wife.

By the end of the journey, the travelers had all fallen into a sullen silence and spent the final hours staring out the windows.

Mr. Bingley had sent a message on ahead to Mrs. Nichols, the housekeeper at Netherfield, so the house was ready for their arrival – dust covers removed, flowers in vases, kitchen cupboards stocked.

Their personal servants had been sent on ahead, of course, and the trunks would doubtless be unpacked by the time they arrived.

Caroline and Louisa swept into the house without so much as a word to anyone. Mr. Hurst rolled his eyes at Charles, his one show of support for Mr. Bingley in all these days, and then headed into the house.

The Netherfield butler, Mr. Taggart, bowed to Mr. Bingley. “The staff is delighted at your return, Mr. Bingley.” If there was a hint of reproach in his voice, it was sufficiently well-masked to make it impossible to comment upon.

“I am delighted to be here, Taggart,” Mr. Bingley replied. “I do not mind telling you that it was a mistake to leave in the first place.”

The butler smiled, but said nothing.

An hour later, the party gathered in the drawing room.

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction?” Mr. Bingley asked.

“Rooms well-prepared, unpacking complete? Yes? Excellent. I shall go to Longbourn. Expect me back in an hour. No, no, Caroline, there is certainly no need for you to lower yourself to accompany me, so you may as well take that sour look off your face.” A horse was saddled for him; he swung up into the saddle and galloped away.

“I hope he is not planning to do anything too foolish,” Caroline snapped as she and the Hursts watched him ride off.

Mr. Hurst said, “He has already told you that he plans to offer for Jane Bennet, Caroline; you may as well accept it.”

Caroline stared in displeasure at her brother-in-law; he rarely expressed an opinion and when he did, it was just as rarely to Caroline’s liking.

***

“Jane! Jane!” Mary’s urgent voice echoed down the hallway.

A door opened. “What is it, Mary?”

“He is here, Jane!”

“He? He who?”

“Mr. Bingley!”

A blond head poked out into the hallway. “Mary, are you quite certain?”

“Think you I do not know what Mr. Bingley looks like? He is handing his reins to the stableboy this moment!”

With a gasp, Jane ran back into her room. “Lizzy, help me!” Jane was wearing black, of course, as were all the girls, but she hoped something could at least be done with her hair.

Elizabeth wove a black ribbon, edged with the merest hint of gold, around her sister’s curls. “That looks nice, Jane; and it is the best I can do in three minutes of time.”

“But what is he doing here? I do not understand!” Jane cried, twisting around to look at Elizabeth.

“I know of only one way to find out.”

Kitty and Mary were already in the drawing room, sitting across from Mr. Bingley, as Elizabeth and Jane entered the room, hand in hand.

Greetings were exchanged, enquiries after health were made, and finally Mr. Bingley said, “Ladies, I was present when Miss Elizabeth received the letter about Miss Lydia, so I am aware of that circumstance, though I have not shared that knowledge with any member of my family and have no plans to do so. But – is that why you are all in black? I am not certain I understand; has more news been received about her?” His confusion was evident.

It was only then that Elizabeth recalled that the third letter, the one containing the news of her mother’s death, had arrived after Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had left the inn!

Neither gentleman had any idea of the second tragedy that had befallen the family.

Haltingly, she explained it. “Just after you left the inn, Mr. Bingley, I received another message telling me that our mother had died.”

Mr. Bingley was completely shocked. “Mrs. Bennet? Dead? Why, I can scarcely believe it! Oh, Miss Bennet, Jane, I am so very sorry! And me not here to comfort you! I shall never forgive myself!”

Jane looked away, but not before he saw tears pooling in her eyes.

It was Mary who said what they were all thinking.

“That is very good of you, Mr. Bingley, but I do not think you were forced away from Netherfield, were you? You have been gone a good long time. You were last seen here – let me think – in October of last year, and it is now August. Is that not right?”

Mr. Bingley turned red. “Your timekeeping is quite accurate, Miss Mary.”

“So you have had ten months to return to Netherfield, and you have not done so. That being the case, I wish you would not speak of comforting my sister, and you should certainly not use her Christian name. She has had rather enough of raised and unmet expectations.”

Jane could bear no more; she rose, dropped a small curtsey with her eyes down, and left the room without a word.

Elizabeth began, “Mary, that is quite enough –“

Mr. Bingley interrupted her. “No, Miss Mary is quite right. I have hardly played the gentleman in all this. Miss Mary, I beg you to believe me. I thought your sister indifferent to me, and I took myself away to let my own heart heal.”

“Jane, indifferent to you?” Mary’s eyes betrayed her scorn. “Are you blind, sir? And why are you here now?”

“I have learnt that I was quite wrong, that she was not indifferent, and I have come in the hopes of proving myself to her. I did not expect – I did not know – “

“That our mother had passed?”

“Yes; I am so very, very sorry.” He looked at each of the sisters in turn, his genuine distress evident on his face.

“I thought I recognised your voice, Mr. Bingley.” All eyes turned to Mr. Bennet standing in the doorway. “Come back to break more hearts, have you?”

“No! Not at all!” Mr. Bingley was horrified at having been so addressed.

“Papa, he thought Jane indifferent to him,” Kitty explained.

“Has he not eyes in his head?” Mr. Bennet snapped. “She was hardly indifferent! I have watched my eldest daughter suffer enough; I have a good mind to forbid you the house, Mr. Bingley.”

“No, no! Please, Mr. Bennet, may we speak in private?” Mr. Bingley was in anguish; he could not allow his hopes to be dashed so soon,

“Very well, but you shall not find me easy to convince.” Mr. Bennet led the way to his library, where he motioned Mr. Bingley to a chair and closed the door. “What have you to say for yourself, sir?”

Mr. Bingley cleared his throat. “My sister – and Mr. Darcy – everyone – persuaded me that she did not care for me, and that if she accepted me, it would be because her mother –“ Realising that he could hardly speak ill of the dead woman in front of her husband, his mouth snapped shut.

“Because her mother had forced her to do so; is that what you wished to say?” Mr. Bennet’s voice was hard.

Mr. Bingley could not, in good conscience, reply.

“Mrs. Bennet was certainly interested in having her girls marry well, as do all mothers, but in this case, I can tell you that Jane loved you deeply. She would have married you without your fortune, though I cannot deny that your wealth made Mrs. Bennet very happy. You know about the entail on Longbourn, of course; it is hardly a secret.”

“Darcy explained it to me.”

“Ah, yes, the estimable Mr. Darcy. What a friend he has been to my family,” Mr. Bennet murmured, his tone laden with sarcasm. “I am glad that we have seen the last of him , in any case.”

Despite his discomfort, Mr. Bingley spared a thought for his friend; Darcy would have a difficult time courting Miss Elizabeth, given Mr. Bennet’s opinion of him.

“And now? What has you scurrying back here?”

Mr. Bingley leant forward and spoke earnestly.

“I could not forget her, Mr. Bennet. I tried; I went to balls in London and danced with young ladies, I drank brandy until all hours of the night, I spent days and nights at my club, but nothing helped! I saw her face every morning and every night, and every hour in-between, and then – and then! – I was told that she did care for me after all!”

“And who told you that?”

“Darcy.”

“Darcy again! And how did Mr. Darcy know that?”

“I am given to understand that Miss Elizabeth told him when they met in Kent.”

Mr. Bennet sat back and thought about this. He had not known that Lizzy had met up with Mr. Darcy in Kent. What else did he not know? He had hardly been in any of his daughters’ confidence. “So the same man who drove you away from Jane is now attempting to right his wrong, is that it?”

“I believe that to be the case, Mr. Bennet.”

“And you are attempting to right your own wrong.”

“Yes, precisely. Mr. Bennet, I beg you, I beg you most sincerely, to allow me to spend time with Miss Bennet; I very much hope I can regain her affections.”

“She is in mourning, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Bennet said, severely.

“I know, and I respect that. Mr. Bennet, might I not call on her each afternoon, just for half an hour?”

“No; three times a week, and that is all. And that is assuming that she agrees. I certainly will not force her to see you if she does not wish to. I noticed that she was not in the drawing room while you were present.”

Mr. Bingley knew he was unlikely to win any further concessions at this time, but thought it right to address the subject of Mrs. Bennet’s passing.

“Mr. Bennet, may I be allowed to extend my most heartfelt condolences on the death of your wife? I shall never forget her many kindnesses to me, and I mourn her sincerely. Also, you may as well know that I am aware of Miss Lydia’s situation, and I promise to say nothing to anyone. ”

Mr. Bennet’s ire rose again. “How is it that you are privileged to have knowledge of my youngest daughter?”

Mr. Bingley explained the circumstances that had led to his possessing such knowledge.

“Mr. Bingley, the official word is that Lydia became ill, and that is why Colonel Forster came to see me. She is still ill, and that is why she did not return for her mother’s funeral. Do you understand me?”

“I understand completely, sir, and I will support that story in every particular.”

“And despite what Lydia’s absence might mean for Jane’s reputation, you still intend to court her?”

“I do, without question.”

Mr. Bennet nodded and then rose, signaling that the interview was at an end. After Mr. Bingley left, Mr. Bennet sighed in relief. Perhaps things would end well – for Jane, at any rate.

***

Mr. Bingley’s visit was discussed in some detail over dinner. Mr. Bennet had not been present when Mary had taken their visitor to task, and that conversation was recounted for Mr. Bennet’s amusement. He then turned to Mary and said, “Mary, I am extremely proud of you.”

“Some might have said that it was bad-mannered to speak so,” Mary said, red-faced.

“And they would be wrong; it was courageous. Moreover, it was right for you to defend your sister. I only wish I could have seen his face!”

Mary silently repeated her father’s compliments to herself, again and again; she could not recall the last time her father had said anything the least bit kind to her.