“You permitted Lydia to go to Brighton with only the supervision of Mrs Forster, who was barely older than Lydia herself,” Jane pointed out, before she could stop herself. “And that nearly had disastrous results.”
Her mother flinched at this reminder, but she still waved the concern away.
“That was different.”
“How?” Jane pressed, more firmly than was her usual habit.
“It was,” Mrs Bennet insisted. “You were home, as were all the rest of my daughters. Lizzy had plans to go to the Lakes with the Gardiners, but you, Mary, and Kitty were still here, along with my nieces and nephews. Now, they are all gone away, even my dear Lydia.”
“You should be grateful that I remain, Mama,” Jane told her. “I knew you would lack for company, and turned down offers from both my aunt and uncle and Lizzy to stay at home with you.”
“You do not know what I suffer,” she wailed, not for the first time that morning, nor in the days leading up to now. “Four daughters still unmarried, and not a prospect to be found. Now, three of them are gone away from home, and I cannot even assist them in finding husbands.”
“Kitty has Aunt Gardiner to assist her, but she is not ready to be married. If Mary remains with Georgiana Darcy, she will have opportunities far beyond any of the rest of us. Soon, I will join my sister inLondon, and they will introduce me to eligible men. The connexion to the Darcys will only aid us all.”
Jane attempted to reason with her, but her efforts were of no use. Mrs Bennet continued to alternate between crying about her daughters being away from home, their lack of eligible suitors, the high-handedness of the Darcys and Gardiners in taking so many daughters away from home, and, to Jane’s dismay, yet another complaint that Mr Bingley had departed the previous autumn without making her an offer.
At last, Jane could bear it no longer.
“Mama, no amount of your complaining will change matters,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt, and the effect was immediate; her mother fell silent for the first time since waking. “Lydia is at school because she has been allowed to believe she may act without consequence. What occurred in Brighton made that plain, and her attempt to run away only days ago shows how little she has yet learnt. I can only hope she will improve there—for her own sake, and for ours.”
She did not wait for her mother’s reply, but left the room at once.
Once in her own room, she leant against the door, striving to regain her composure. Never before had she spoken to her mother in such a manner; and though a small part of her shrank from the recollection of her own firmness, she could not think herself wholly in the wrong. What she had said was true.
For a moment, she wondered whether she ought to have accepted the invitations to Pemberley or London; yet she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it arose. No—if she were to learn what she must, she could not run from it. She must remain at Longbourn. She must learn to speak when it was required of her—and to value herself enough to do so.
Monday, 17 August 1812
In Scarborough, the Bingley siblings were each displeased with the other, though for very different reasons. Caroline had spent the last several days berating her brother, but for the first time in his life, Bingley stood firm against her complaints.
He had at last shared portions of Darcy’s letter with her. In the days that followed, he questioned her in every way he could think of, determined to learn the truth of what Darcy had alluded to regarding her letters to Miss Bennet. He could scarcely comprehend how she had deceived him so often—and so easily—but he did not doubt Darcy’s word. If it were not true, Darcy would not have written it.
“Did you truly believe I would never learn of your duplicity in this matter with Miss Bennet?” he asked her once, more quietly than she had expected. After her repeated denials, he had confronted her with the letter that she apparently had never bothered to read, since Bingley had found it wadded up, the seal still unbroken, later the afternoon after its arrival.
Caroline had attempted to justify herself—as she always did. But now, Bingley found that her explanations, that he had once readily accepted, no longer satisfied him, not when he had definitive proof that she had lied.
It took several days to arrange matters as he wished. He sent letters—painstakingly written to ensure they were legible—to his bankers, his attorney, Hurst, and several others, determined that everything should be settled properly before his return south. In speaking with his uncle, who had taken control of the mills after his father’s death, he learned that his course met with approval; and for the first time, Bingley felt he had done his father proud.
His father might not have approved of his withdrawing his protection from his sister—but neither, Bingley knew, would he have condoned her conduct. Besides, he was not turning her out completely, only forcing her to face her real circumstances on her own, with their uncle providing aid and oversight as required.
At last, he directed her maid to pack her things and ordered the carriage to be brought round. His own luggage was secured alongside hers. He had not informed Caroline of their destination, and she was therefore surprised when they travelled only a short distance before stopping before a respectable boarding house, not far from where their relations resided.
“What are we doing here, Charles?” she demanded, as he handed her down from the carriage.
“I believe I told you, Caroline,” Bingley said, striving for a composure he did not entirely feel. “I intend to return to Netherfield; but I do not believe you will be welcome there—not after the falsehoods you have told Miss Bennet. Nor, I think, will you be received by Darcy at present. It is therefore best that you remain here, at a proper distance from those whom you have wronged. I will not have the same conduct repeated from last autumn with those who will be my neighbours.”
It was evident that his sister wished to reply, and the look she gave him left little doubt of her displeasure; yet, standing as they were upon a public street, she managed to restrain herself.
Bingley introduced her to the landlady, settled the particulars of her lodgings, and explained that the expense had been met from her quarterly allowance. He then handed her a letter, in which all necessary details had been carefully recorded for her reference, and informed her that the remainder of her allowance would be forwarded monthly to their uncle. She might apply to him for funds as needed, but she would henceforth be entirely responsible for any debts she incurred.
His sister was nearly catatonic with her rage when he departed not long after, but for the first time in his life, Bingley found that he did not much care what she thought. If Caroline could so easily deceive him—again and again—he would not trouble himself further with her wishes. He meant to live his life in a manner that pleased himself; and at present, what pleased him was to return to Netherfield.
His purpose was twofold. First, he intended to become a landowner in earnest, and to learn what was required of the master of an estate. Thetwo months he had spent in Hertfordshire the previous autumn had not been sufficient to show him what such a life truly demanded, and he wished to understand it better.
Second, he hoped to renew his acquaintance with Miss Bennet. The recollection of her manner—so gentle, yet so composed—returned to him more often than he had expected.
This time, he would not be guided by the opinions of sisters or friends, but would judge for himself whether they were well suited. He had liked her very much before, though he now suspected that he had been too easily satisfied with liking her at all, and too ready to admire without deeper consideration.
