Within minutes, the two sisters were on their way to the small village near the inn, two footmen flanking them at a respectful distance. The path to the village wound between hedgerows of holly and budding hawthorn, and within fifteen minutes they found themselves before the haberdashery’s painted sign. Inside, the scent of calico and lavender pressed warmly against them, and metres of silk ribbons called to Jane’s indecision. After trying on narrow-brimmed bonnets lined with soft muslins,velvet turbans, and a particularly jaunty hat trimmed in peacock plumes, they emerged at last under a sky streaked with gold. They approached the inn’s broad stone steps when a sudden voice rang clear across the courtyard.
“Miss Bennet!”
All colour drained from Jane’s face, and Elizabeth immediately took a firm grip of her hand. “Allow me.”
Jane disengaged her hand from Elizabeth’s, but not before giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I can fight my own battles, Lizzy.”
They turned to see Mr. Bingley striding towards them, his countenance alight with cordial surprise, Miss Bingley trailing close behind with an air of thinly disguised annoyance.
“Mr. Bingley,” Jane said, inclining her head with composed courtesy. “Miss Bingley.”
“I can hardly believe we are staying at the same inn,” he declared, behaving as though it had been but a moment’s absence since they had last seen him. “You look absolutely lovely, you as well, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied. “Are you and your sister on your way to Town?”
“We were in town to settle our affairs, and are now off to Scarborough,” he said, his gaze fixed tenderly upon Jane. “Your beauty has only deepened since I last beheld you.”
“Why are you here?” Miss Bingley interrupted rudely.
“We are travelling with our aunt and uncle to Bedfordshire,” Jane said before Elizabeth could reply.
“Do they have relations there?”
“Yes, my uncle’s sister,” Jane said smoothly.
Elizabeth suppressed a smile at the graceful misdirection Jane imparted to the two siblings. The sister in question was theirown mother, the former Mrs. Bennet.
“Come, Charles,” Miss Bingley said, taking a firm hold of her brother’s arm. “We must settle into our suite of rooms.”
He acquiesced, though not without casting Jane another ardent glance.
“Will you and your sister dine with us this evening? I can make arrangements for one of the private dining rooms.”
“I… that is, I shall ask my uncle. We are expecting another member of our party to join us.”
“They are most welcome. It shall be like old times.”
Miss Bingley rolled her eyes in exasperation. As much as Elizabeth did not wish to dine with the Bingley siblings, she rather enjoyed tweaking the nose of the supercilious miss.
“We shall speak with our uncle,” Elizabeth said, “and send a note with our response.”
“I shall not take no for an answer, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley said, smiling wide. “It has been far too long since your family graced my company. I am eager for news of Meryton.”
Both Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances with one another. So much to reveal, so much more to conceal.
The next morning, Jane’shand froze on her teacup when Mr. Bingley entered the inn’s public room, his eyes widening with unmistakable delight. What bad luck, that after eight long months of silence since his departure from Meryton, their paths crossed in this most unexpected of places, the Waddling Duck, an obscure inn situated halfway to Bedfordshire.
The Gardiner / Bennet party had successfully avoided Mr. Bingley and his sister last evening by staying away from thepublic rooms. Mr. Morgan arrived barely half an hour before they were to dine, and uncle, upon learning of the Bingley sibling’s arrival, had arranged for their meal to be served in the inn’s private dining room, pressing a generous tip into the palm of the owner after asking that he keep such information to himself. Unfortunately, this morning, Aunt Madeline and Elizabeth decided they should visit the necessary before their departure, and Jane was temporarily alone in the main tap room.
“Miss Bennet!” Mr. Bingley presented her with a deep bow, then hurried to sit next to her, his enthusiasm suggesting an intimacy they had never truly shared. “I had hoped to see you again before we departed… what remarkable serendipity.”
His gaze lingered, taking in the tailored travelling dress, and the soft tendrils of golden hair arranged artfully beneath her bonnet. With great strength of will, Jane maintained perfect posture even though she was greatly discomfited by his lingering appraisal. She glanced towards the doorway. Oh, that her aunt and sister would make their appearance soon. Her uncle and Mr. Morgan would not be back for some time, having gone to arrange matters with their drivers, leaving her quite alone with the man who had once held her heart in his inconstant hands.
“Your journey with your sister will take several days. I imagine Miss Bingley is eager to continue onward,” she said. Perhaps the mention of his sister might restore some propriety to his manner.
“How could I leave when it would mean parting from such loveliness as yours?” he replied, leaning closer.
