Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

ON THE THIRTIETH of July, Parliament ended its session and the city of London began to empty rather quickly.

At the breakfast table, Lydia pouted that they could not remain here when no one else was going to stay. “How much fun would it be if we were to go to the other house?” she said.

For, of course, there was another house, the country estate in Staffordshire, the one that would provide a steady income for years in the future.

Mr. Bennet actually took Lydia’s side, something that had hitherto been an unthinkable idea. “I believe I have had quite enough of London,” he said.

“Oh, Mr. Bennet, you don’t like London anyway,” said Mrs. Bennet.

Mr. Bennet smiled at his wife. “It is your decision, my love. It is all your decision these days.” He seemed pleased about this, which also would have hitherto been unthinkable.

Lydia spoke for some time about the joy of spending the rest of the summer in a huge country estate, and Kitty—her faithful ally—took up the matter as well. By the end of breakfast, the two were nearly begging, both out of their minds with the idea.

“I shan’t be able to even breathe if we don’t go,” Kitty pronounced.

“Quite so,” said Lydia.

In the afternoon, they received two sets of callers in succession. The first was Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had called daily since the ball. It had been immeasurably hot these past few days, so he had not suggested any other trips to the promenade. Instead, he would stay in the sitting room and attempt to speak only to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, however, allowed her younger sisters, notably Kitty and Lydia, to speak before she did.

The colonel seemed to find them both amusing, even charming, or perhaps he simply enjoyed the attention they paid him.

That day, the colonel was there for less than two minutes before Lydia and Kitty both started in on a trip to the country. The colonel did not dismiss the idea out of mind. He offered that perhaps invitations might be sent out, that various members of society would be pleased to visit.

“You Bennets are quite the curiosity, as you well know. Everyone would love to find out more about you and your family. I think, if you wished, you could have a houseful of guests.”

Mr. Bennet did not seem entirely pleased by this idea, and immediately changed his mind, saying, “Having thought on it a bit more, I am resolved to stay in London, actually.”

But Mrs. Bennet was excited at the idea of guests. She began to make all manner of plans, speaking animatedly about the sorts of dinners she could plan and the sheer number of card party evenings they might have. “Why, it’s been ever so long since I’ve been able to enjoy a good game of loo. Games are such little fun when one has nothing to gamble.”

Elizabeth was horrified.

The rest of the party broke off into loud conversation, and Elizabeth sat down next to the colonel and said, “What is the meaning of this, sir? Why have you put these ideas in my mother’s head? Do you wish her to gamble away all of the fortune she has?”

The colonel chuckled. “I apologize. I did not realize your mother would be so driven to fritter away the money. Is she bad at cards?”

“Oh, as if there is any real skill in such things,” said Elizabeth. “It’s all chance.”

“I disagree,” said the colonel with a shrug. “There is a great deal of skill, in fact. I myself am rather skilled. Piquet is my game, I must say.”

Elizabeth scoffed, because it was just that sort of thinking that beggared people left and right. She shouldn’t have expected better of the colonel, however. She rather expected that Mr. Darcy was quite rational when it came to gambling.

She had thought of him, rather too much, over the previous days. He, of course, had not called at their house. She could not go and call on him, not alone, not that she would have, anyway.

“I am only saying, from a strategic perspective, it might be a good move,” said the colonel. “Being a guest at someone’s home provides an intimate connection. It creates bonds of loyalty. Your family needs to have those who will be loyal. The estate is in Staffordshire, is it not?”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “Close to Leek.”

He said that his family had a house in that general area. “If you go, I shall simply arrange to be there myself, I think. It will be quite convenient, you see. But we must see to the guest list with great care.”

Elizabeth did not know herself whether she wished to be in London or the country, but she felt rather unsettled by this haphazard bit of travel. She knew that wealth made such things easy, of course, to gallivant here and there and all over the countryside if one wished. Was she to become accustomed to such a lifestyle or would she always feel unsettled by it? She thought staying put had an appeal, truthfully. Perhaps, in this, she was aligned with her father.

The colonel left, all of the family abuzz with new possibilities.

Not twenty minutes later, the next guests appeared.

It was Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, who had not called upon the family since they were all living in Hertfordshire. After the way that Caroline had treated Jane when they last spoke, in the late winter in London, Elizabeth wondered that she would expect a warm welcome by the family.

Jane had written that she had become quite aware that Caroline Bingley had no interest in a connection between herself and Jane at all, and that Jane should never have suspected that Caroline considered them friends.

Yet, here she was.

For her part, Elizabeth was determined to receive the woman frostily. She knew that Jane would be polite. Jane would only ever be polite. Caroline Bingley didn’t deserve politeness, however, Elizabeth thought.

If only this money had come to them in a different way, Elizabeth thought. If only there was no worry about the stain on her mother’s reputation, and if only that wasn’t a concern.

Then, she would be able to behave quite differently with the likes of Caroline Bingley.

For now, she must settle for being cold and quiet, for she could not risk much else.

Strangely, Caroline said little either, at least not until the subject of the family going off to Staffordshire came up, and then she became quite animated, speaking of the charms and delights of the country. “Why London is hot and smelly at this time of the year, after all,” she said. “Who would wish to be here?”

“You are here,” Elizabeth could not help but point out.

“Oh, yes,” said Caroline. “Yes, my brother did insist upon uprooting us from our sojourn at Mr. Sinterfield’s home to come back to town. He was quite insistent we must come back to London. I am afraid that he cares little for my own happiness, unfortunately.”

Elizabeth understood it all, then. Mr. Bingley had come back to town for Jane. Caroline wasn’t pleased about it. She would, however, be quite pleased if the entire family pulled up stakes and left.

How would Mr. Bingley follow them again, after all? Would he rent some other country house nearby? No, he’d be foiled.

Elizabeth was not certain how she felt about Mr. Bingley himself. He seemed to lack backbone, and she wondered about the combination of Mr. Bingley’s lack of backbone and Jane’s sweet nature. Would they simply be a couple that everyone trampled over?

No, perhaps that was none of her concern.

Here was the truth of it. Jane had been happy back in November, and since Mr. Bingley had disappeared from her sister’s life, she had been sad and subdued. Elizabeth kept hoping she would recover entirely, but it had not quite come to pass.

Elizabeth must discover how her sister felt about Mr. Bingley, she supposed. If Jane wanted that man, then all obstacles to her being with him must be removed.

“OH, MY OWN desires are pointless to worry over,” Jane said. It was evening, after dinner, and she and Elizabeth were sitting close together in the sitting room while Mary played piano.

Lydia had left off with her desire to go to the country and come up with another plan during dinner. “Mayn’t we let a house in Brighton?” she had said. “We could be near the regiment, just think! And the sea, oh, the sea. It so hot. Wouldn’t we all be happier at the seaside, with the breeze coming over the water?”

Kitty was easily turned to this idea, but Mr. Bennet pointed out that there had been quite enough expense lately, what with everyone being outfitted with dresses enough for an army of women, and that it was one thing to consider retiring to a house that was already owned. Renting another house seemed ridiculous.

Mrs. Bennet was still planning the dinners she’d give in the house in the country.

Elizabeth was forming a plan. It had not yet come together entirely, of course. First of all, she must know what Jane wanted.

“Your desires,” Elizabeth said to her sister, “are not pointless. You danced with as many men as I did at the ball, more even, I believe, and you saw what options we all have. Do you still care for Mr. Bingley or not?”

“He doesn’t care for me,” said Jane.

Elizabeth had concealed various things from her sister in the wake of receiving Mr. Darcy’s letter. She had told her all about what it said of Mr. Wickham, but when it came to Mr. Darcy’s part in separating her sister from Mr. Bingley, she had kept her counsel. Somehow, it had seemed cruel. At that time, there had seemed little for it. It was unlikely they should ever see the Bingleys again, and it was all a lost cause. Now, she drew in a breath and said, “I must tell you something dreadful which I have kept from you, I’m afraid.”

“Something dreadful about Mr. Bingley?”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “Well, about Mr. Darcy also. You see, Mr. Darcy seemed to think that you were not very interested in Mr. Bingley, and that Mr. Bingley’s regard for you was higher than yours for him.”

“I don’t think so,” said Jane, drawing back. “Why, Mr. Bingley is the one who left without so much as a word, only through his sister, and who never seemed to care that I was in town—”

“Mr. Bingley never knew you were in town,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy and Caroline conspired to keep it from him.”

Jane’s lips parted.

“Yes, I know,” said Elizabeth. “It was in large part why I refused his proposal, in fact. I had heard, from Colonel Fitzwilliam, the tale, though he did not know the names of the parties involved. It seems that Mr. Darcy was rather boasting over how he had rescued his friend from a bad match.”

“Lizzy,” said Jane, her face crumpling. “Truly? He thought me that much a degradation?”

“Well, I told you of the proposal, all the things he said to me. He is a man with faults.”

“Yes, but he was so kind to us at the ball,” said Jane. “Well, until he left in the midst of your dance, even though you blamed yourself for that, but I can’t say that you were wrong. We have always thought him haughty and too proud, haven’t we?”

Elizabeth nodded. “We have, and he is.”

“And yet, Lizzy, when you speak of him—”

“Oh, heavens, Jane, I have not come to you so that we could have a conversation about Mr. Darcy.”

Jane drew back at the violence with which Elizabeth had delivered that pronouncement.

Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Pardon me. I am only trying to ascertain if you still want Mr. Bingley.”

It was Jane’s turn to sigh.

“It seems that he may, in fact, still be interested. You heard what Miss Bingley said today, that he brought her back to London, and I can only think it was because of you.”

“He did not call,” said Jane.

“No,” said Elizabeth. “He did not.”

“So, I can’t think that he did come because of me.”

“Miss Bingley came with her sister,” said Elizabeth. “It’s possible she concealed her visit from her brother. Perhaps she was here to observe us, gather information, likely for her own purposes. Depend upon it, she wishes to foil any connection between you and her brother. Of this, we already have ample evidence.”

Jane nodded thoughtfully.

“So? What do you think? If you wish to forget him, you’ll have other suitors, I should think. They were plentiful at the ball the night before. If anyone caught your fancy, we might get Mama to invite them to the country, perhaps? We might—”

“Those men were not interested in us, Lizzy. They were interested in our money.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “No, I thought much the same. Mr. Darcy said that it would be the case. He says that Colonel Fitzwilliam is only interested in me for the same reason.”

“Oh, well, I did overhear some discussion at that ball, about how he intervened and took over his cousin’s dances with you. They said that Colonel Fitzwilliam has gambling debts.”

Elizabeth’s heart squeezed.

“But you are only interacting with him to further the family’s good name, I thought,” said Jane. “So, if he is using you, then you are also using him, and that seems entirely fair.”

“Yes, I suppose I have little reason to feel any guilt,” muttered Elizabeth, who still felt it like a blow. She drew in a breath, let it out, and composed herself. “So, you are saying that you’d rather Mr. Bingley, then.”

“He wanted me when I had nothing,” said Jane. “If he should still want me, well, yes, I would still be interested.”

Elizabeth gave her sister a sharp nod. “All right, then.” She turned away, staring off into the distance, lost in thought.

“What does it matter, Lizzy?” said Jane. “He did not call. He has not renewed communication. It is up to him, in the end. We women cannot pursue men. We must be pursued, and if he refuses to do it—”

“I want us to have this wealth and also respectability, Jane,” said Elizabeth quietly. “There is no barrier between you and Mr. Bingley if we have our good name.”

“Well, that is beyond us,” said Jane.

“No, I am going to find a way,” said Elizabeth.

“How?”

“I don’t quite know yet,” said Elizabeth softly.