Page 33 of Miss Bingley’s Return

“Can we not return to the tale?” asked Jane, a little plaintively.

“There is not much more to tell,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “I had the good fortune to speak with Miss Whitcombe for a few moments.”

“And what can you tell us?” asked Elizabeth.

Mrs. Gardiner shrugged, but it was not apathy. “She was an estimable sort of young woman, in my opinion. Miss Whitcombe is passably pretty, engaging, not as witty as you, Lizzy, but not deficient either. In short, she was a good sort of girl. Her coloring is like Jane’s, though you do not look at all alike. She does not appear to be grasping or even especially ambitious beyond her place. I believe she is sensible, steady, and unpretentious.”

This was far more than Elizabeth thought to hear—she had considered waiting for a few more days and then demanding Mr. Darcy tell her what he knew. It was well that she had not descended to that, for now that she thought about it, Mr. Darcy had commented that he had suspicions, but Elizabeth wondered how much he knew about Miss Whitcombe.

“Do you know anything about her history with Mr. Bingley?” asked Jane.

“Little enough,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “No one at the gathering said anything of it, and I could not ask for obvious reasons. If Mrs. Abernathy knows anything, she exercised uncommon restraint.”

“Which almost certainly means she knows nothing,” replied Elizabeth. “If she knew, she would not hesitate to speak of it.”

“Well, now you know.” Mrs. Gardiner turned to Jane. “Can I assume this news alters nothing?”

Jane smiled. “It does not. Knowing Miss Whitcombe’s name does not make the situation anything other than what it is.”

“Good for you, Jane,” said Mrs. Gardiner, pleased with Jane’s sense. “It is always best to make a man prove himself—if Mr. Bingley does not, you are better off without him.”

“Did you require me to prove myself?” asked Mr. Gardiner, watching his wife with a half-smile.

“Of course, I did.” Mrs. Gardiner appeared insufferably prim. “Do you not recall my father’s interrogation?”

“I always suspected you put him up to that,” mused Mr. Gardiner.

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a look and burst into laughter. It was the sort of banter that rarely occurred at home; Mr. Bennet’s humor tended toward sarcasm while Mrs. Bennet was far too flighty. It was one of the reasons she loved staying with her aunt and uncle.

“That is the reason for Jane’s presence in London,” said Elizabeth, sobering.

“Lizzy,” said Jane, a note of warning in her voice.

“No, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “I know what you will say, but I suspect it is the truth. Miss Bingley does not approve of Miss Whitcombe because her family rose from trade and she wishes to rise in the world. You are not her first choice, but as she failed with Miss Darcy, you were the available option, the one Miss Bingley could present and have some hope of turning her brother away from a woman she considers unsuitable.”

Though Jane was uncomfortable with Elizabeth’s blunt assessment, she did not reply. Mrs. Gardiner, however, did not hesitate to agree.

“And Mr. Bingley is not drawn to her because he is misled, but because he finds something with her that suits him.”

“But Miss Bingley cannot simply sweep her aside,” said Elizabeth. “Unless I am no judge of the matter at all, she has tried and failed.”

“Wealth and standing would not sway Mr. Bingley,” murmured Jane. “I know enough of him to understand that.”

“Then you understand the shape of this invitation,” said Uncle Gardiner. “What you do with that knowledge is of the utmost importance.”

“I remain unmoved,” said Jane. “Caroline’s game is of no interest to me—I shall be civil to Mr. Bingley but no more unless he gives me an unmistakable sign of his constancy toward me.”

“That is sensible,” replied Aunt Gardiner.

What Elizabeth did not expect was to hear Clara Whitcombe’s name again only days after her aunt first mentioned it. The occasion was an evening at the home of one of Miss Bingley’s friends, Mrs. Beatrice Langley. Mrs. Langley was a woman the Bennet sisters did not know well, and was of interest only because she provided the venue for the evening’s entertainment. Elizabeth had no notion of how the subject had arisen, knew nothing of the context—that did not prevent her from hearing what followed.

That evening, she had begun in a group with several other ladies before she had migrated without any intention to a group containing Mr. Darcy. Soon, the others had drifted away, leaving Elizabeth alone with the gentleman. As had become common of late, they avoided speaking of Mr. Bingley and Jane, and instead concentrated on other subjects of mutual interest to both.

It had been Elizabeth’s firm opinion in Hertfordshire that Mr. Darcy was unwilling to speak, aloof to the point of incivility, but time in London had proven that supposition incorrect. Mr. Darcy was not a fount of words; he would never be a man who performed for anyone—he was not that sort of man. When matters of substance arose, however, Mr. Darcy was in no way deficient. Their opinions did not always align, and the gentleman defended his position with vigor, but he acknowledged her opinion with gravity, and complimented her when her arguments were sound.

“Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, on one occasion after they had been speaking together for some time. “It appears you find Miss Eliza’s company strangely compelling tonight; why, I do not think you have spoken two words complete to anyone else in the room.”

These interruptions were frequent—Miss Bingley focused her attention on Jane and Mr. Bingley, but their frequent proximity did not escape her notice.