Page 20 of Miss Bingley’s Return

One alteration that Elizabeth could see was the changed circumstances between Jane and Mr. Bingley, though that was among the most difficult factors for Elizabeth to understand. Mr. Bingley was attentive, and his pleasure when he was with Jane was genuine, but Elizabeth sensed his manner was not as open as it had been. There was a measure of . . . Elizabeth could not determine what it was, but she observed that Mr. Bingley listened more than he had previously, watching Jane more than he engaged. It was as if he measured something he could not yet define.

Jane’s feelings on the subject were more readily understandable, and that was not only because Jane did not hide anything from Elizabeth.

“I am meeting him as an equal now, Lizzy,” said Jane when Elizabeth mentioned something on the subject.

“You were not an equal before?” asked Elizabeth, bemused by her sister’s comment.

“Do you not recall how we interacted before?” asked Jane. “Mr. Bingley always made for my side at once in Hertfordshire, and he spoke much more than he listened. But I no longer quietly wait for him—if Mr. Bingley does not choose to speak to me, there are others with whom I may converse.”

“Yes, I had noted that,” agreed Elizabeth. She hesitated, then said: “That is perhaps healthier, Jane. After he left Hertfordshire, you pined for him. Now you have met him again, you no longer give that impression.”

Jane smiled and squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “That is well, for I do not wish others to believe I am pining.”

“But you still consider Mr. Bingley the most agreeable man of your acquaintance.”

“Perhaps,” said Jane, a little coy.

For a moment, Elizabeth was tempted to press further, but she decided against it, contenting herself with what Jane had told her. The most important factor was Jane’s excellent state of mind. Elizabeth had worried about her sadness in the wake of Mr. Bingley’s departure—it eased her concern to see Jane approaching the situation with greater maturity.

There was another who was much in evidence, and Elizabeth did not know what to make of him, any more than the other moving parts in this situation. Curious, Elizabeth asked her aunt if she knew anything about the man.

“Edward is acquainted with Mr. Harrington,” said her aunt. “We do not know him so well as we do Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Harrington is a pleasant man.”

“I saw nothing amiss with him,” replied Elizabeth, considering all the times she had seen him of late.

“What have you seen?” asked her aunt.

Elizabeth could only reply with a helpless shrug. “To own the truth, I do not know. Mr. Harrington is often present, but his manner is steady. He does not press, does not flatter, and does not attempt to compete.”

“And Jane?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.

“She appears to be growing easier in his company,” replied Elizabeth. “There is no expectation or uncertainty—it is simply pleasant.”

“Then perhaps that is all it is for the moment.”

Elizabeth did not reply, but she did not stop thinking about it either.

Elizabeth was not the only one who had noted Mr. Harrington’s recent presence. Darcy watched the same with interest, and not only because his friend had asked him about Miss Bennet.

Though Harrington was a friend, he was not as close as Bingley. Darcy knew Harrington to be an upright man, one who had no patience for nonsense and an unerring sense about what was right. He was also not yet master of his estate, for his parents were still among the living and appeared healthy. The Harrington wealth was not on the order of that enjoyed by the Darcys, but they were not paupers either. Ashleigh Downs, the Harrington estate, was perhaps a quarter smaller than Pemberley, and the Harringtons had no noble relations of note. But they were a respectable, solid family.

“Tell me, Darcy,” said Harrington one evening while they were standing together, “what do you know of Miss Bennet and her sister?”

Darcy was about to suggest that Harrington’s interest was more in the elder, but his friend, seeing his expression, laughed. “You need not say it, Darcy. Yes, I am more interested in the elder, but Miss Elizabeth is an excellent sort. I understand from Bingley that you met the Bennets when you were staying at his estate in Hertfordshire.”

“We did,” agreed Darcy, wondering what he should say. “Miss Bennet is exactly as you see her—there is no pretension in her, for she does not have the temperament for it. For a man looking for an angel, I dare say she might be the perfect choice.”

Harrington gave him a shrewd look. “And you are not? Perhaps you prefer the younger sister.”

“Come now, Harrington,” said Darcy, ignoring his comment about Miss Elizabeth, “can you see Miss Bennet and me together? She is reticent, and I am grave—should we marry, I doubt more than twenty words would pass between us in a day.”

Laughter was Harrington’s response as Darcy suspected it would be. “With that, I cannot argue. I shall not press you about Miss Elizabeth, though I am sorely tempted—I have seen you watching her, old man. You never watch a woman unless she intrigues you.”

Nodding, Darcy declined to answer. Harrington knew enough about him to have guessed that much, but he would not press, though he might suspect. It was uncomfortably close to the truth. Darcy had long found himself drawn to Miss Elizabeth, and the two months’ distance after his departure from Netherfield had done nothing to dispel it. Darcy’s thoughts had crept no further—he needed more time to consider her before he could come to any determination.

“Then I repeat my question,” said Harrington, pulling Darcy from his thoughts. “As I understand her character well enough, I am more interested in her situation.”

“Miss Bennet’s father is a gentleman,” replied Darcy. “His estate is not extensive, and he has five daughters to provide for, but what I have seen of the estate suggests it is well maintained. If you are asking about her fortune, I have no knowledge of that, though I can say that her connections consist of Mr. Gardiner, an aunt near her father’s estate who is married to a solicitor, and a parson in Kent.”