Page 64 of Miss Bingley’s Return

“Let us then allow matters to resolve in the way they will. The more I am seen with you, the more likely it is that she will understand and desist.”

“Very well, sir. So long as you do not consider it tantamount to an engagement.”

“I do not. Trust me, Miss Elizabeth—I anticipate the proposal keenly. I would not rob either of us the pleasure.”

Now understanding each other, they moved to other topics, free of the situation with Mr. Bingley. Now that she had the opportunity, Elizabeth meant to learn what she could about the gentleman before her. She expected to find an excellent man, one she hoped suited her.

Chapter XV

London settled in the days after the ball that clarified everything. Or perhaps it was not London that changed—only one small corner of society altered. To those unacquainted with the Bennet sisters or the Bingley siblings and their concerns, it was much as it ever was, an endless succession of events that left fatigue in its wake.

As it was by now early May, Elizabeth could not say the season had any particular charms remaining. It was a novel experience, one treasured for all it had taught her, but now that the situation with Mr. Bingley had resolved, she longed for a return to the paths of her father’s estate. That these seasons in London might become a common feature in her life was something Elizabeth did not misunderstand, but as she was far from accepting Mr. Darcy, and the gentleman would not offer for her for some time yet—if he did at all—she was content to allow such considerations to rest for the moment.

“Perhaps the time is at hand when you should return to Longbourn,” said Mrs. Gardiner, glowing with contentment for the outcome that had left them both undamaged. “London can be a bit much for the uninitiated.”

“Oh, I think we have been initiated, Aunt,” replied Elizabeth. “In fact, our initiation has been quite thorough to say the least.”

“Perhaps that is the truth,” agreed their aunt. “Yet I do not believe you will be unhappy to leave the city behind.”

“I am quite content with the prospect of returning home,” said Jane.

“Between us, you are most changed, Jane,” said Elizabeth, not exactly a tease.

“How so, Lizzy?” asked Jane, curious rather than suspicious.

“You are . . . lighter somehow,” replied Elizabeth, trying to put what she saw into words. “It is not only relief—”

“Though that must be part of it,” interrupted Mrs. Gardiner, laughing.

“Yes, I suppose it must,” agreed Elizabeth. “More than that, however, I suspect it is from the absence of uncertainty.”

Elizabeth reached out and grasped her sister’s hand with a wide smile. “When we came to London, we did not understand the situation, though we knew something was not quite right. Now that we have an answer and there is no more reason to hope, you have become freer, unburdened by expectations.”

“Removing that weight from anyone would affect them,” observed Mrs. Gardiner.

“That is my point. Jane had to adopt a stance that does not come naturally to her—now that is no longer necessary, the urgency that once drove every interaction has dissipated.”

“And I am the happier for it,” said Jane.

Later that same day, a visitor arrived at Gracechurch Street, one unexpected, though Elizabeth knew she should have at least considered the possibility. When the housekeeper entered the room, following her was Miss Whitcombe, appearing determined and a little apprehensive all at once. Mrs. Gardiner welcomed her warmly, invited her to sit, and soon they were visiting with cups of tea and biscuits from the kitchen. Then Miss Whitcombe turned, gathered her courage, and addressed Jane.

“Miss Bennet, I wish to thank you for not turning the situation with Mr. Bingley into a contest.”

Jane was unsurprised by the sentiment. “Not at all, Miss Whitcombe. Mr. Bingley was yours long before I made his acquaintance.”

“And yet,” persisted she, “I suspect you would have been a formidable foe if you had wished it. I am more grateful than I can say that you did not.”

Mrs. Gardiner regarded her with compassion. “I sense there is something more that you are not saying. If you do not wish to speak of it, we shall not ask, but should you wish to unburden yourself on sympathetic ears, we will listen.”

Unable to meet their eyes, Miss Whitcombe looked down at her hands, her fingers clasping and unclasping, worrying at each other in her agitation. When she looked up again, the shine in her eyes told the story of her emotions, even if she shed no tears. The sight of them seemed to break a dam, for she began to speak.

“I have loved Mr. Bingley for years.”

For several moments after the confession, she said nothing else as she continued to struggle with emotion.

“Since before he left for Cambridge.” Miss Whitcombe looked up, the words now flowing. “He was so kind and attentive and thoughtful that I expected, with the certainty of a young girl, that he would return a man. That he would return for me.

“It did not turn out that way—or not that exactly.”