“But it is your lively spirits and wisdom which she requires, I think. Jane is everything kind, and Kitty of a light-hearted nature, butyoupossess both of those qualities when you choose. I believe she senses that you, more than the others, nurse a disappointment in her, therefore it is within your power to grant her some measure of peace. Nothing can be done for the past, Lizzy.”
She closed her eyes. “I will try, Aunt, but I cannot promise success.”
“I could ask for no more.” Madeline Gardiner patted her cheek, then addressed herself to Mrs Bennet before mounting her coach.
Elizabeth was still standing in the drive, waving occasionally, when another carriage turned in and passed her aunt’s. Her hand stilled in the air, lowering slowly as her heart began to race and soar. It was Mr Bingley’s carriage!
She spun about, searching for Jane, but her mother and sisters had already gone within. Distracted as they would be by seeking one another’s sympathy in regret at Mrs Gardiner’s departure, it was likely that not even Kitty would be gazing out of the window to note the new arrival. She determined to perform the office of greeting herself, and composed herself to wait.
The gentleman stepped down from the carriage, his face flushed and hesitant. “Miss Elizabeth!” he cried in relief.
She offered him her very most becoming smile. “Mr Bingley, sir! It is a pleasure to see you again. We had no word that you intended to return to Netherfield.”
He made her an abrupt bow, and seemed uncertain whether he ought to replace his hat, or keep it in his hands in preparation to enter the house. “Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, I come directly from the north. I sent word on to Mrs Nicholls, but I hope I am not too presumptuous in calling here first.”
Sensing his deep agitation, Elizabeth sought at once to put him at his ease. “Please, sir, I beg you would not trouble yourself. You are most welcome at any time.”
Bingley cast his eyes down to his hat, turning it in his hands, and Elizabeth at last noted the broad, flat black band around it. Another to match it adorned his arm, and suddenly, some of his disquiet began to make sense.
“Mr Bingley, sir, if I do not speak too freely, I can see that you are in some distress. May we offer you any refreshment?”
“In truth, Miss Elizabeth, it is comfort of a far more sentimental nature which I sought.” He cast his eyes hopefully to the house, but as no other figure had yet emerged, he looked back to Elizabeth. “I wonder,” he continued, “if I might trouble you for a few moments of your time? There is that prettyish little garden there that I have always admired.”
Elizabeth nodded her assent, and took the arm he offered. “I do hope your family are all well, Mr Bingley,” she began hesitantly. Was it a close relative responsible for his state of mourning and disturbance of mind?
“Y-yes, Miss Elizabeth. My sisters are both well.” He looked up and away, his throat working painfully.
Elizabeth cast her eyes to the ground as they walked, allowing him the safety of choosing the topic of conversation.
“Has it ever occurred to you,” he mused at length, “that life is a curious business?”
“How so, sir?”
“I mean that one moment, we are secure in our health and fortunes, thinking ourselves in possession of all the time in the world to settle affairs to our satisfaction. In another moment, we find that everything for which we had hoped is nothing but vanity, for we did not pursue it when we could have, and that which has been granted to us as our span on this earth comes abruptly to an end.”
“I believe I understand. You are speaking of regrets and lost opportunity?”
“Yes, that is it, exactly. I believe too much has been made of prudence. I have come to think that I have allowed myself to be directed by forces which, while well-meaning, could not account for my future happiness. In the wake of such decisions, I am left to wonder what is to become of my prior hopes. Is it possible to restore that which one has once declared as an impossible dream?”
Elizabeth paused, withdrawing her arm and looking him full into the face. “I believe, sir, you will find that second opportunities may be more beautiful than the first.”
“Such was precisely my question for you, Miss Elizabeth.” His face pinched. “I have been a fool! Blind and vain, heeding the demands of others while ignoring those of my own heart and the disappointment I might cause to one dear to me.”
Elizabeth’s gaze tightened ever so slightly. “You speak of my sister?” she asked with a protective artlessness.
He tensed visibly, but forced himself to make answer. “I believe I made my affections plain enough last autumn, yet did not act honourably upon them. I have given Miss Bennet every reason to despise me—she would be right to do so!”
“Jane is incapable of despising anyone, sir.”
“It is her generous nature and your continued civility toward me on her behalf which granted me courage to return. You see before you a penitent man, Miss Elizabeth. I would cast myself at her feet and kiss the hem of her gown, if only she would smile upon me!”
“I think no such theatrics will be necessary, Mr Bingley!” she laughed easily.
“Do you think… have I cause to hope, Miss Elizabeth? Did she ever hold me in her tender regards, or were my advisers correct—that she was merely as gentle with me as with any other?”
“They were decidedly incorrect, sir, but they had no way of knowing their error. Jane is perhaps more modest than is wise, but I know she felt a powerful attachment to you.”
Life fairly swelled his being, his cheeks flushing and eyes sparkling as they had not done since Elizabeth had last seen him dancing with Jane. He really was a rather handsome man, and any other woman might have found herself in some danger of her sister’s suitor—but another had already captured Elizabeth’s every notion of manly perfection.
