Chapter 17

Bridge House

St. Neots

Saturday, 15th August, 1812

Elizabeth stared at the sturdy Bridge House as they approached. Ostlers and horses milled before the front door, which was solid, undecorated oak. A handful of flowers bobbed in the breeze aside the water, running so close behind the inn.

The carriage came to a gentle stop, and Darcy opened the door, hopped out, and handed out Elizabeth and Mrs. Greenfield, with Captain Scofield doing the honors for Lydia.

The other carriages had fallen further back to avoid the dust from the wheels of their carriage, and Elizabeth said, "I am certain my father and the others will be along shortly. Perhaps we could refresh ourselves and meet you in a dining parlor?"

Darcy nodded and said to a male servant standing nearby, "I believe we have a parlor waiting for us?"

"Yes, sir."

"Maybe you can guide the ladies to the withdrawing room?"

"Of course."

Elizabeth nodded her thanks, and the three ladies made their way to the withdrawing room, which was adjacent to a remarkably sophisticated water closet. She was not in as urgent need as her sister, so Lydia availed herself of the facilities first, and when she reappeared, her pretty face was twisted in a scowl.

"What is wrong?" Elizabeth asked, and Lydia whispered, "It is my courses! I knew I was about due for them, but had hoped I would be late. It is tedious to have them during a journey."

Elizabeth was already rummaging around in her reticule, as she had planned ahead for such an eventuality for her sister. She felt tears rise to her eyes, tears of relief.

"Thank you," Lydia said when Elizabeth passed over the necessary items. Elizabeth nodded and waited as Lydia disappeared back into the closet and then sucked in and blew out a deep breath. Lydia was not pregnant with Wickham's child. Praise God for that.

/

Drawing Room

Longbourn

Mrs. Frances Bennet leaned her head back in her wingbacked chair and closed her eyes. She felt better than she had a few days previously, certainly, but she was still worn out from the exhaustion of the week after Lydia ran away. At least that was over now; her dear Lydia was safe and secure. Furthermore, now that Mr. Bingley was back in Netherfield, Jane would soon be wed as well. It made her happy and tired, and perhaps it was time for a nap?

The butler entered the room at this moment, walked over to its sole occupant, and extended a silver tray with a letter on it. "A letter from Miss Elizabeth, Madame."

Drowsiness fled instantly, and Mrs. Bennet took the letter from the silver tray in one hand while looking around helplessly for her letter opener. Mr. Stewart, who knew his mistress well, held out the opener in his left hand, and she took it with a nod of thanks. The butler bowed and retreated out of the room, and Mrs. Bennet slit open the wax seal and turned so that the sunshine fell on the paper.

13th August, 1812

Gracechurch Street

Dearest Mamma,

We will be leaving for Scotland soon. I beg you not to worry yourself about Lydia. All is well on the path to being settled in the best possible way. You will like her new husband, I am certain.

I must finish packing. Pray give my love to my sisters.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth

"Mr. Bingley," the butler announced. Mrs. Bennet leaped to her feet and exclaimed, "Mr. Bingley! Oh, I did not ... good morning, sir! Good morning!"

"Good morning to you as well," the gentleman replied, casting a hasty glance around the room. A moment later, a brief shadow of disappointment crossed his face, and Mrs. Bennet instantly knew what the problem was.

"Oh, Jane is ... Mr. Stewart! Mr. Stewart! Kindly tell one of the maids to fetch Miss Bennet and tell her that Mr. Bingley is here."

"Yes, Madame."

Bingley smiled gratefully at his hostess and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Bennet. I hope you are well today?"

"I am very well," the lady replied, a smile lighting up her still handsome face. "I received a letter from Elizabeth only a few minutes ago; my dear Lydia is traveling north with her husband, and I am so proud of her! Married at sixteen! I daresay all my other girls envy her. She is married when all her elder sisters are still single!"

Bingley regarded the lady in wonder. He was, he knew, an easygoing man and rarely took offense at remarks and actions which outraged his sisters and irritated Darcy. But he was aware of a trickle of genuine anger at Mrs. Bennet's statements. Given how much work had been done to bring about Miss Lydia's prospective marriage, given how damaging the scandal would be if she returned unwed, it was incredible, and yes, horrifying that Mrs. Bennet was boasting about her youngest child as if she had achieved some great goal instead of something truly scandalous.

It certainly was amazing that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were so well behaved and refined considering the influence of Mrs. Bennet. It was also not surprising in the least, that Miss Lydia was such a rambunctious clodpoll.

He knew he was standing silent too long but could not think what to say, when the door opened and a maid entered. "Mrs. Bennet, I fear that Miss Bennet is not in her bedchamber, and no one has seen her for at least an hour."

"Oh, how ... oh dear. Perhaps she is out walking in the wilderness behind the house? Do send out the maids to find her, Penelope..."

"It is not necessary," Bingley interpolated. "I probably should not have called without warning."

"Oh, we are always very pleased to have you here, Mr. Bingley!" the lady replied, looking harassed. "Indeed ... do go on, Penelope!"

The girl retreated out of the room, and Mrs. Bennet said, "Sit down, Mr. Bingley. Sit down! Are you intending to stay for the shooting season?"

"I am, yes."

"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley, I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please on Mr. Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the coveys for you.!"

"Thank you, that is very kind."

The door opened. Both looked eagerly toward the door, and both were disappointed as Mary and Kitty entered the room.

"Where is Jane, Kitty?" Mrs. Bennet demanded querulously.

Kitty appeared startled. "I do not know, Mamma. Is she not in her room?"

"She is not!"

"Perhaps she is out walking?" Kitty speculated.

"Surely not so very far!" her mother fretted. "Elizabeth is the ridiculous child who walks for miles on end..."

"I well remember that Miss Elizabeth was kind enough to walk three miles to succor her sister when Miss Bennet fell ill at Netherfield," Bingley interrupted.

"Oh, yes, she and Jane are very close, which is no surprise. Jane, along with being beautiful, has such a gentle temperament! She is an angel."

On this, Bingley could only agree.

"She is indeed," he said warmly. "She is one of the most charming women I know."

This praise was apparently not sufficiently enthusiastic for the matron of Longbourn, who embarked on a monologue of Jane's many virtues.

The visit continued without the appearance of the woman he loved, and when he rose from his chair five and twenty minutes later, it was with a considerable feeling of disappointment.

"I will walk you out, Mr. Bingley," Mary said, speaking for the first time.

"I do apologize for Jane's absence," Mrs. Bennet fluttered. "I am certain she will be here the next time you call."

Bingley responded with the conventional assurances and departed with Miss Mary trailing in his wake. He was disappointed and a trifle worried. Was it possible that Miss Bennet was avoiding him? He would not blame her if she decided that she wanted nothing more to do with him, but...

"Jane is sleeping in my bedchamber," Miss Mary said in a low voice as they stepped onto the portico at the front of the house. "She is absolutely exhausted and wished for some time to sleep without my mother bothering her relentlessly."

Bingley felt his shoulders relax at these words, and he paused and looked down at the middle Bennet daughter. "I am sorry that she is so fatigued."

Mary's dark eyes narrowed, and she said, "It is hard to put into words how tiring these last days have been, especially for Jane. My father has been gone, Elizabeth was here only briefly, my mother is prone to hysterics, and I fear that the burden of managing the household and mollifying our emotional mother has largely fallen on my eldest sister."

Again, Bingley felt a knife thrust of guilt in his gut. If he had stayed at Netherfield, if he had offered for Jane's hand when he wanted to, he would already be married and able to bring comfort to the lady he adored.

"Do you think…?" he began impulsively and then stopped.

"Yes?"

"Is there any hope for me?" he asked softly.

Mary did not pretend to be unaware as to what he was referring. She tossed her head, her eyes sparkling with outrage. "I do not know. It was outrageous that you left without a word of goodbye to Jane after paying her such a great deal of attention, and Miss Bingley's behavior in London hurt my sister very much."

"I understand," Bingley replied. He had initially been startled at Miss Bennet's declaration that she would never wish to share an abode with Caroline, but now that he had thought about it, it was entirely reasonable.

"Do you think I should leave the area?" he continued, trying not to show how much such an action would devastate him.

Mary wrinkled her nose in reflection and then shook her head decidedly. "No. Jane will make up her own mind so long as you stay. If you leave, I believe there is no hope for you. Besides, your friendship with our family is a great boon, given the scandal surrounding my youngest sister."

Bingley could not help but release a sigh of relief. "I will stay then, Miss Mary. Thank you."

Mary nodded and said, "There is another thing."

"Yes?"

"My mother is aware that you wish to marry Jane, and thus every time you visit she will attempt to throw you together in a way which is…"

"Uncomfortable?"

"Yes. I suspect that your visits with Jane would be more productive if they took place elsewhere. Perhaps I could arrange to have one of our boys send a message to Netherfield when we are visiting Lucas Lodge or my Aunt Phillips's house?"

Bingley turned it over in his mind and then said, "I worry about you, or Miss Bennet, writing me directly. That would not be considered proper."

"No, that is true," Mary agreed. She mulled it over for another minute and then suggested, "What if Mrs. Hill, our housekeeper, sent a message to Mrs. Nichols, your housekeeper? That would be entirely proper, would it not?"

Bingley nodded enthusiastically. "That is brilliant, Miss Mary. Thank you!"