Page 32 of Miss Bingley’s Return

“It seems you will not explain until we beg you for it,” said Elizabeth, giving her aunt a mock glare.

“Not at all!” laughed Mrs. Gardiner. “I will tell you, though the story is not entirely mine.”

“That is my cue to explain what I know,” said Uncle Gardiner.

“Mr. Whitcombe is an acquaintance of mine here in London, though he is not someone I know well. For years, he was a man of business in town with a high degree of success. A few years ago, he performed some service for the crown, and though I do not know what it was, I know he received a handsome reward. It was enough to purchase an estate.”

“Then he is now a gentleman,” said Elizabeth.

“He is,” agreed Mr. Gardiner. “Unlike most of the tradesman class who achieve that status, he did not sell his business—he still manages it, though I understand he is not as much involved with the operation. His estate is in Essex at a convenient distance from London.”

“Allowing him to return to town should the need arise,” surmised Elizabeth.

“Very good,” said her uncle with approval.

“Then you learned about Miss Whitcombe through your business contacts?” asked Jane. “How do you know it is she?”

“Not through Mr. Whitcombe,” said Aunt Gardiner. “This is where I may take up the tale—Edward had only a superficial involvement in the next part.”

“Please do not keep us in suspense, Aunt,” exclaimed Elizabeth, certain Mrs. Gardiner was teasing them.

“Oh, very well,” said Mrs. Gardiner as if put out, though the gleam in her eye belied any asperity.

“As you know, we are active in society, though at a level consistent with what we have attained. Yesterday, while you were out at the evening party, we were invited to a dinner. The Whitcombes were in attendance.”

“Did you recognize her?” asked Elizabeth. “The distance was great—it surprises me to learn your eyesight is that keen.”

“Perhaps it is well that I surprised you,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “It would not do if you always understood everything about me with complete clarity.”

Elizabeth only rolled her eyes. Jane, for her part, waited without comment, though Elizabeth thought she detected just a hint of impatience from her imperturbable sister. Above stairs, Elizabeth could hear one of the children calling for the nurse, while the rumble of carriage wheels reached her ears from the street outside. None of this caught her attention—she waited for her aunt to overcome this need to tease them, knowing any further comment would provoke further delay.

“Miss Whitcombe was present with her father—she is his only child, and her mother has passed on. Though I did not recognize her at once as you so ably pointed out, Lizzy, something about her struck me as familiar.”

Mrs. Gardiner’s expression became amused. “Do you recall Mrs. Abernathy?”

“Of course, Aunt,” said Jane.

Elizabeth grimaced. “Who could forget Mrs. Abernathy? When I visited last year, she attempted to match me with her nephew, Ambrose.”

“And a callow youth he is,” chuckled Mr. Gardiner. “But we were not talking about Ambrose Abernathy.”

“Mrs. Abernathy is not only intent on marrying her nephew to a pretty young woman,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “She is notorious in certain circles for being exactly what she appears to be—a busybody who makes it her business to know everything about everyone.”

Elizabeth shared a look with Jane. “Can I suppose she mentioned something about Mr. Bingley and Miss Whitcombe?”

“To say she mentioned something is so inadequate,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Rather, it was a long dissertation on how handsome, tall, and amiable Mr. Bingley is, how Clara should snap him up at once before someone else does it first.”

They all laughed, for it was Mrs. Abernathy to the smallest detail. Elizabeth well recalled the comments, Mrs. Abernathy’s absolute inability to imagine that her nephew was not a catch that made him desirable the length and breadth of London. It was the only time Elizabeth could remember cutting her visit to her beloved relations short—she, Elizabeth Bennet, who boasted of her courage in the face of any attempt to intimidate, had fled London from an inveterate busybody!

“How did Miss Whitcombe take the advice?” asked Jane.

“If advice it was,” was Mrs. Gardiner’s sly reply. “But she handled it with more grace than others I could name.”

“That is not true at all!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “At least Mrs. Abernathy is trying to arrange Mr. Bingley and Miss Whitcombe—she was trying to wrap me up and gift me to her stuffy nephew.”

Mrs. Gardiner laughed and patted Elizabeth’s hand with affection. “Then you may rest easy, Lizzy—Mrs. Abernathy knows you are in town, but you are now quite unsuitable for her dear nephew. She has her eye on a much bigger fish.”

“Thank heavens for that!” said Elizabeth with feeling.