“A moment, Jane.”
“Read it aloud, Papa!” Mary insisted.
Adjusting his spectacles, Mr. Bennet did so. When he was done, he looked up and studied his girls’ faces. There was rage on Mary’s face as well as Lizzy’s; Kitty was looking at her feet,no doubt still feeling guilty at having concealed what she had known; Jane looked as if she were about to cry.
Mary rose, took the letter from her father’s hand, and began methodically tearing it into tiny pieces.
Jane said, “You are quite right, Mary; we do not want anyone to see that letter.”
Mr. Bingley said, rather awkwardly, “I asked Mrs. Forster to send Lydia’s things to Longbourn, as she said she did not wish to have to transport them when the militia was relocated; I hope I did right.”
“Yes, I think you did,” Mr. Bennet said. “Her gowns are doing no one any good in Brighton. I will read the second letter now.”
Dear Mr. Bennet,
I write to you at my dear friend Lydia’s request. It is difficult for her to hold a pen for long, as she is still quite weak. She was deeply grieved to learn of her mother’s passing, and that has proved to be a serious setback to her health. I am doing my very best to care for her, and will continue to send word as to her condition.
Yours most sincerely,
Mrs. Harriet Forster
He nodded and said, “This will stem the gossip for a time; thank you, Mr. Bingley. Of course, we cannot keep up this pretense forever.”
“Perhaps at some point, we can invent a suitor, then a proposal and then a wedding,” Jane said. “Kitty is quite adept at imitating Lydia’s handwriting.”
“But then everyone will expect to see her, will they not? For surely she would return to Meryton at some point with her husband. No, that will not serve,” Mary said, shaking her head.
“But she will be found, will she not? Papa?” Kitty asked, urgently.
“I do not know, child,” Mr. Bennet said, wearily. “One day at a time; that is all I can manage just now.”
Mr. Bingley now thought he might have earned a bit of extra time with Miss Bennet. “Mr. Bennet, might I be permitted to walk with Miss Bennet in the garden?”
Mr. Bennet looked at Jane. “Are you willing to walk with Mr. Bingley, Jane?”
“Yes, Papa,” she whispered.
“Very well; Lizzy, you go with them.”
The three of them stepped out into the back garden. Elizabeth made it a point to stay far back enough to allow her sister to have a private conversation with Mr. Bingley, but close enough so that her sister felt supported.
Jane saw Elizabeth staying several paces away, and nodded her thanks to her sister. She then turned to Mr. Bingley and waited for him to speak. She did not have to wait long.
“Miss Bennet, I am grateful that you are allowing me to walk with you. I feel quite certain that I do not deserve your kindness.”
“On that we are in agreement, Mr. Bingley.” Jane’s voice was tart.
He winced.
She continued, “How am I ever to trust you again, Mr. Bingley, knowing that your sisters and Mr. Darcy can twist you about to suit their own preferences?”
“Miss Bennet –“
“No, please let me finish. Have you any idea how people spoke about me after you left so unexpectedly? How they laughed at me behind their hands?”
Mr. Bingley remained silent, his head down.
“And you know what the worst thing was? It was how very badly I missed you! Despite how you had treated me, I missed your smile, your laugh, the way you dip your tarts into your tea, the way you –“ and she could not go on.
