Page 5 of Miss Bingley’s Return

As Jane rose and departed the room, the latch clicking softly behind her, Bennet’s breast filled, not with complacency, but with confidence in his eldest daughters. They were both remarkable women, and neither was deficient in understanding, though Jane was too eager to dispense absolution when understanding would better serve.

With Lizzy along, Jane would have the support she needed. Elizabeth would not hesitate to open Jane’s eyes to the truth if Jane did not see it herself. Bennet did not know what they would find—he could acknowledge that Bingley might be just as he seemed, might make an excellent husband for Jane.

But like his second daughter, Bennet thought something did not quite smell right about the situation. There was more happening than Miss Bingley had confessed. Elizabeth was of such discernment that Bennet did not think the likes of Miss Bingley could long hide the truth from her. With such a capable advocate, Jane would not go astray.

The following morning, as the rumble of his carriage on the drive faded away, Bennet settled into his chair and picked up his book. He would regret the absence of his eldest daughters, leaving him to a house where he would not hear two words of sense spoken together, but he had hope for their futures. In the end, that hope was the most precious of all.

Chapter II

Gracechurch Street was a stark contrast to Longbourn, one that impressed itself upon Elizabeth within moments of stepping through the door. This had not been unknown to her, but it had never struck her with such force as it did at that moment. The house on Gracechurch Street reflected the character of those who called it home, being orderly, comfortable, and governed by quiet good sense rather than noise and assumption. No one could call Longbourn tranquil and keep a straight face.

Mrs. Gardiner was an especial favorite of the eldest Bennet sisters, who both viewed her as a wise elder relation, dispensing excellent advice and comfort in equal measure. She met them at the door smiling, and she did not withhold her humor.

“Jane, Lizzy,” greeted she as they stepped from the carriage. “How wonderful it is to see you, though I will own to a little perplexity. Jane, did you not decide against staying with us only two months ago?”

Though she appeared a little shamefaced, Mrs. Gardiner drew her into an affectionate embrace. “I must suppose you have a tale for me, and I will own that I am impatient to hear it. Let us settle you first, then we can attend to the purpose that brings you to London.”

“We did mention something of it in our letters, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth.

“Yes, you did. Yet I believe you owe me a more thorough accounting of what has happened and what you hope to find here. I shall not press for more details than you wish to surrender, but I hope you will oblige me.”

“Of course, Aunt,” agreed Jane.

Before long, the sisters retired to the bedchamber they had always used when visiting. The townhouse was not large, though Mr. Gardiner could afford a larger house if he chose—thus, Elizabeth and Jane always shared a room when they stayed in London together. They assisted each other in changing their gowns and putting hair to rights, and after splashing a little cool water on their faces, they descended to face the inquest.

“You are droll, Lizzy, as usual,” said Aunt Gardiner when she used those words to describe their aunt’s interest. “I hope you do not see me so.”

“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth warmly. “It is no surprise you want to know what brought us here.”

“I know what you said in your letters,” was Mrs. Gardiner’s gentle reply. “What I do not know are the particulars.”

Mrs. Gardiner gave them a soft smile. “Your letters included minimal details, while your mother’s letter spoke of balls and parties, imminent proposals, and handsome gentlemen. Is Mr. Bingley on the edge of proposing to you, Jane?”

This last she said with amusement bordering on irony. The question provoked the desired effect, for Jane blushed and looked away.

“No, Aunt, that is premature.”

“That is for the best,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Now, shall you not tell me what has brought you here in all this state?”

Mrs. Gardiner listened as they spoke, saying little but for a few clarifying questions. When they finished speaking, she considered all they said before she offered her perspective.

“That your Miss Bingley was the source of your invitation I already knew, for your mother spoke of it in her letter. I find that detail more interesting than reassuring.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jane with a frown.

Mrs. Gardiner waved her off. “No, Jane, I shall say nothing more for the moment. To guess at her motives when I do not even possess the benefit of Miss Bingley’s acquaintance would not be fair at all.”

Then she regarded them both shrewdly. “May I suppose that Miss Bingley intends to visit soon?”

“That is what she promised,” said Jane. “I should write to inform her of our arrival.”

“Very well, Jane,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “You know where the supplies are.”

Jane wrote her letter and dispatched it with a footman soon after, and by late afternoon there was a reply from Miss Bingley. Mrs. Gardiner’s assertion proved correct—Miss Bingley’s note promised that she would visit on the morrow.

Though Madeleine Gardiner had not made Miss Bingley’s acquaintance, she suspected she knew the woman—or at least her type—very well. There were many such ladies in London, ladies who had little claim to the breeding that would grant them entry into the highest circles of society. Almost without fail, such ladies affected a haughty demeanor intended to mimic those of higher society, looking down on those they had no right to disdain.

Madeleine was not disappointed. The housekeeper had scarcely announced her before she entered with the assurance of a woman accustomed to being expected. Miss Bingley presented the very picture of a sophisticated society woman, but Madeleine had the impression that she had managed her visit carefully. She was gracious, attentive to Jane, but there was a sharper edge beneath the display. Its nature remained difficult to determine, but Madeleine suspected it was less performance than urgency.