Page 23 of Miss Bingley’s Return

Elizabeth regarded her aunt with no little curiosity. “Can Uncle afford an estate?”

“Not at present,” said Mrs. Gardiner with a smile. “Someday, should his business continue to grow, that may become a possibility.”

“Do you have a location in mind for your dynastic ambitions?” teased Elizabeth. “Shall you join us in Hertfordshire?”

“No, indeed!” exclaimed her aunt. “It must be Derbyshire—no other county will do.”

Curious, Elizabeth said: “I recall something of your affinity for that county. Did you not spend some years there?”

“When I was a girl.” Mrs. Gardiner paused, considering something. “As you know, my father was a parson. What I have not mentioned is that his parish was in a dear little town not five miles from Mr. Darcy’s estate, Pemberley.”

Elizabeth regarded her aunt, now uncertain. “Then you were acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”

“No, I was not, for we moved in very different circles.” Mrs. Gardiner gazed out at the park, though Elizabeth was uncertain she saw any of it.

Gentlemen rode in Rotten Row while ladies with parasols walked and called out greetings. The breeze over the water stirred Elizabeth’s hair and provided ample wind for the children sailing toy boats.

“I knew Mr. and Mrs. Darcy when I saw them, but I was just a village girl, not one who warranted much attention from such exalted people.”

“If you will forgive me, aunt,” said Elizabeth, “I do not think you could ever be ‘just’ anything. Should such people consider you that way, I do not think they are worthy of you.”

“That is kind of you to say, Lizzy,” replied Aunt Gardiner, patting Elizabeth’s hand. “The Darcy family were always kind—I never felt beneath their notice. But they do inhabit an exalted sphere. You have seen enough of Mr. and Miss Darcy to recognize both truths.”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct,” replied Elizabeth, distracted.

They walked on for several moments, Elizabeth continuing to enjoy the park while her aunt’s attention appeared to be focused inward. They were not the only walkers enjoying the park that morning, for the park teemed with walkers, though it was not yet the fashionable hour. As Elizabeth did not care for such things, she allowed herself to enjoy the day, wondering what the park would be like when summer arrived.

“Lizzy,” her aunt’s voice interrupted her reverie. “Look. Is that not Mr. Bingley?”

Following her aunt’s outstretched hand, Elizabeth saw a man and a woman. The man was, indeed, Mr. Bingley, for his shock of red hair announced his identity, if his tall stature and pleasant features did not. The woman was unknown to her—she was of medium height, with brown hair of a shade lighter than Elizabeth’s, and though it was difficult to tell from the distance, appeared pleasant-featured. She was not dressed with the polish of high society, but neither was she improper. There was nothing vulgar in her manner—only a natural fashion that made no attempt to impress.

Their path intersected Elizabeth’s, and as they had already reached the crossing, they continued, each absorbed in their conversation, never looking up. For a moment, Elizabeth considered hailing Mr. Bingley, but something held her back, some sense that she had no interest in the confrontation that must follow. Not that Mr. Bingley would become angry, of course—but Elizabeth did not wish to meet him now, not when he was walking with a woman, and Jane was nowhere nearby.

Before long, they had moved a sufficient distance down that path that Elizabeth knew he would not espy them by chance. She turned to her aunt.

“What do you make of that?”

Mrs. Gardiner pursed her lips. “It is difficult to say,” replied Aunt Gardiner.

“Did you recognize the woman?”

“No, she is unknown to me.” Mrs. Gardiner watched as they disappeared down the path, then said: “It may be nothing, Lizzy. She may be some acquaintance or another, one known to him but of no particular significance.”

“They did not appear indifferent acquaintances, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth. “She did not take Mr. Bingley’s arm, but they were walking close together, and their attitude betrayed their ease with each other.”

“Yes, I dare say you are correct.” Taking her arm, Mrs. Gardiner directed them again along the path. “Come, Lizzy—it is near time we should return home. Let us talk as we walk.”

Silence fell between them despite her aunt’s suggestion, and Elizabeth considered what she had seen. Though she knew she needed to take care—seeing Mr. Bingley walking in a park with a woman was evidence of nothing, after all—Elizabeth could not help but wonder whether matters were not becoming clearer.

“I wonder if this is evidence of what is distracting Mr. Bingley.”

Though Mrs. Gardiner nodded, she did not respond at once.

“The question is, what do we tell Jane?”

“It is best, I should think, to tell her the truth,” replied Aunt Gardiner.

“Aye, the truth is always desirable,” said Elizabeth. “How much of the truth is too much?”