The Travails of Mr Charles Bingley, Part 3

Hello everyone! I’m back with part 3 of my short story. It’s long, and I did not get in everything I originally planned for it. The consequence is that the story will now be five parts, not four. However, I’ve finished some other work, giving me more time to work on it, so I’ll be posting the remaining parts weekly rather than every two weeks.  I hope that all sounds okay to you!

The August monthly theme is “Finery and Frolics”, which I have tried to work in just a little bit.

If you’ve missed them or want to refresh your memory about what has happened thus far, you can find part 1 here and part 2 here.

The Travails of Mr Charles Bingley Part 3

In which Mr Bingley ‘enjoys’ his return to Meryton and Jane and Elizabeth talk

There was no denying it was a blow to discover Jane Bennet was not at home. Bingley’s only consolation was that she was away on a holiday. It had not occurred to him ahead of time, but at least he had not arrived at Longbourn to discover she was no longer Miss Bennet at all. He would have lost his chance to…well, he still was not certain what he wanted. He was, but he also was not. First, he must see her and talk to her about everything that had happened. After that, they could determine if that certain something that had existed between them in the autumn of 1811 was still present. If it was, Bingley would do his very best not to let anything come between them again. There was no accounting for what his sisters might do, but they were safely in town. As long as they stayed there until after he concluded his business in Hertfordshire, all would be well. If, for instance, he and Miss Bennet still cared for each other, it would be better if Caroline and Louisa did not know he was with her until after they were engaged; they could do nothing about it then.

About a quarter of an hour after he sent his note to the Netherfield housekeeper, and as he was savouring the light repast Miss Elizabeth was good enough to order, Mr Bennet entered the drawing room.

“Mr Bingley, I must say this is a surprise,” he said.

Bingley stood and stammered an excuse for his presence. He was certain the older man was laughing at him, and when he turned to Miss Elizabeth for assistance, he found that she was watching them, her brow arched. His neckcloth suddenly seemed tighter.

“Y-y-yes, I suppose it is.” He sounded like a schoolboy who was in trouble for playing a silly prank. “I ought to have come sooner. Months ago.”

Miss Elizabeth said, “It appears Mr Bingley was given faulty information about Jane, and he did not know she was in town last winter. Is that not correct?”

Bingley nodded, grateful for her interjection.

Mr Bennet made a noise that sounded part speculative and part like he either did not believe it or that it made no difference to his opinion of him. “And now that you have learnt she was there—and saw your sisters who, through some sort of magic, appear to have forgotten their former fondness for my girl—and have discovered your information about her, whatever it was, was incorrect, you are here to…do what exactly?”  Mr Bennet calmly sipped the tea Miss Elizabeth had prepared for him. A plate of bread and cheese sat at his elbow, though he ignored it for the moment.

Sweat trickled down Bingley’s back. A glance at Miss Elizabeth suggested she had no intention of explaining for him again. “I hoped to see Miss Bennet and tell her why I did not return last year and-and assure her that I did not know she was in town.” With more vigour, he added, “I had no idea my sisters were rude to her, sir. None whatsoever. They should be ashamed of themselves.”

“So they should,” Mr Bennet said. “I wonder, have you told them that, Mr Bingley?”

He opened his mouth, but was only able to make odd, strangled sounds.

Mr Bennet regarded him for a long moment. “Well, there we have it. Perhaps another day you will tell me what exactly you heard about my daughter and why you believed it. You must be aware that if you remain in the neighbourhood—do you intend to do so?”

Bingley nodded, and Miss Elizabeth said, “We sent a note to Mrs Nicholls to inform her Mr Bingley was here. He left town without arranging to have the house opened, but she is so capable, I am sure she can cobble together something so that he is reasonably comfortable at Netherfield.” Mrs Nicholls was the name of his housekeeper.

“I see.” He chuckled but did not finish his previous thought; an inexplicable wariness kept Bingley from enquiring. Mr Bennet finished the last of his tea, put the cup on the table, and, as he took up the bread and cheese, stood. “I must finish a letter so that it can be sent today.” To Miss Elizabeth, he said, “About the Smith affair.” Mr Bennet again addressed him. “Now that you are here, Mr Bingley, I would like to talk to you about the fence between our properties. There are some sections of it that need to be replaced.”

Bingley nodded, and the older gentleman turned to his daughter. Bingley thought he detected humour in his voice when he said, “Should we have a party, invite Mr Bingley and all our neighbours so that they might see each other again? They would like to know why he stayed away so long after, from all appearances, enjoying himself so greatly last autumn, especially when it came to a certain young lady’s company.”

It was very much like what Miss Elizabeth had said to him when they were alone. There was a reason they both made a point of it, and Bingley felt himself squirming. His thoughts drifted to his carriage. It would be easy to get into it, tell his coachman to return to town. But no; absolutely not. He had decided to remain at Netherfield until Miss Bennet’s return so that he could see her again. It was a firm resolution and one he intended to keep.

Mr Bennet left, and, to Bingley’s immense relief, Miss Elizabeth engaged him in easy conversation—asking about Yorkshire mostly—for the next half an hour. A response to his note to Mrs Nicholls arrived, telling him everything was as ready as it could be, given the short notice, and so, Bingley took his leave of Miss Elizabeth and went to his estate.

***

It took several days, but Bingley began to understand why Mr Bennet and Miss Elizabeth had both remarked on people being interested to know why he had stayed away so long. A few people gave him no more than simple greetings, with the occasional, often somewhat dismissive, ‘Good to see you again’ before they moved on, uninterested in actually conversing. It injured him; these were people he liked when they met the previous year, and he was glad to see them again. The marked change in their manner was disappointing and perplexing. On the other hand, there was a great deal of curiosity about the way he had left, far more than seemed reasonable, though that might just be because the questions made him terribly uncomfortable, especially when the person asking appeared hostile.

“People did say you would never come back again,” Mrs Philips said. “No one knew why, of course, and your dislike of the…neighbourhood was very sudden. Very. Especially when you gave every appearance of having enjoyed the company of some of us very much.”

She had always struck Bingley as an amiable, welcoming woman, but the first time they met—and, in truth, the second and third—she regarded him with pinched lips and the occasional sniff or huff of disapproval. No one had ever accused him of being particularly quick-witted, but he did manage to sort out she was taking him to task for abandoning her niece. It had never been his intention to do that, it had just…happened.

If Bingley were completely honest, it took a full five days before he really understood the behaviours he encountered. It was during an evening party at Longbourn, when one of the younger Mr Gouldings said, “You know, we never expected to see you again, what with the way you left so secretively and all. There we were one day, enjoying the ball at Netherfield, you were as happy as could be beside Jane Bennet, then you were gone. Half the town believes you are simply a rascal, the other half believes she did something to drive you away.”

“No!” Bingley was not sure which option he was objecting to; they were equally horrible. Supposing he should defend either himself or Miss Bennet but not both, he said, “I, err, it was a misunderstanding. I assure you, Miss Bennet did nothing wrong. Nothing.” He leant towards Mr Goulding. “Do people really believe she acted inappropriately or-or in an unladylike manner?”

Mr Goulding nodded. “She was not good enough for you, and since you must have known all about her and her family by the time of the ball, something had to have happened to make you decide you needed to leave at once. She was in town for months last winter, and when she came back again, she said nothing about seeing you, so…” He shrugged and waited for Bingley to say something more.

He cleared his throat and took the brief moment to decide how to respond. “Miss Bennet is everything good and admirable. It was a misunderstanding. For which she is not to blame,” he added hastily. “I am. As soon as I learnt of my mistake, I returned so that I could explain to her.”

Mr Goulding tried to get more details from him, as did others once word spread that some sort of error had taken place, but he refused to say more. Miss Bennet deserved to hear it from him first, he claimed, or he acted as though his discretion was to protect someone. That was not entirely false, even if the truth was he did not know what to say. He hardly wanted people to know how horrible his sisters were, and he did not want any blame attached to Darcy, who had only acted as he believed best at the time and who had, after all, confessed once he realised he was wrong.

Miss Elizabeth helped him a great deal in the final few days of this interval. They were at a picnic together, and he was feeling particularly glum because, when he tried to join several other gentlemen in a conversation about fishing, they treated him like a stranger, one they did not particularly want to take the time to know. She asked why he was unhappy, he explained, and she studied him for a moment before directing them to a bench in the shade.

“Mr Bingley, consider. They took you for a friend, invested their time in getting to know you, et cetera. Then, on the twenty-seven of November…” She fixed her eyes on him, one brow arched, evidently waiting for him to complete her thought.

He hung his head. “I left without so much as saying goodbye and thank you for being so welcoming.”

Miss Elizabeth offered him a broad grin, almost as though he was a child who had succeeded in a difficult lesson, which, upon reflection, was rather how he felt.

She said, “Exactly, and that is without even touching on the matter of my sister, who you must know is universally liked. She was disheartened, and apart from those who chose to believe she said or did something to drive you away, you earned your share of disdain for treating such a kind lady that way. In truth, even some of those who blamed Jane were angry with you because people are nothing if not contradictory.”

He bit his lip. “What should I do?”

“You must decide that. I cannot tell you what is right for you. You can always choose to leave and forget all about us, or you can stay, and, through your persistence, show that you are a better sort of man, one who learns from his mistakes and takes the time to correct them.”

 How she did it, he did not know, but Miss Elizabeth always seemed to know when he was discouraged or having a particularly difficult exchange with someone. In the presence of others, she said, “Jane will be very glad to see Mr Bingley again,” or something similar. When it was just the two of them, she might say, “You should not worry too much about how people are talking about you. Small neighbourhoods dine on gossip and speculation, you know. It was never going to be easy, coming back. Presently, the mood is one of excitement. How will you and Jane act towards each other?” She chuckled. “If you recall anything about my sister, you know she will be kind to you—at least in public. If she cannot forgive you, she will keep that a private matter, allowing you to depart with your dignity intact.”

This was not quite as reassuring a message as he desired, but, he reflected as he sat in his bedchamber the night before Miss Bennet’s anticipated arrival, it was likely more than he had a right to.

All in all, the nine days between his return and that of Jane Bennet were not especially agreeable. The inducements to remain at Netherfield were strong—seeing her again, ensuring people no longer thought poorly of him, to say nothing of their view of her—otherwise he would have given up the endeavour and gone to London.

***

“I hardly know what to say.”

Jane was looking in Elizabeth’s direction, but she doubted her older sister was seeing her. They were in Jane’s bedchamber shortly after Jane, her mother, and younger sisters arrived home, and she had just finished telling her about Mr Bingley’s return to the neighbourhood.

Elizabeth said, “That is understandable. In truth, I was almost too shocked to speak to him that first day. I was certain I misheard Hill when she told me he was at the door. I am sorry I did not tell you about Mr Darcy’s part in separating the two of you before. When I saw you after Easter, it seemed unnecessary to mention Mr Bingley.” While she had disclosed what Mr Darcy told her about Wickham, she had been sickened at the thought of telling Jane Mr Darcy had an active role in keeping Mr Bingley from her, though why that should be, she did not know.

Jane shrugged. “It hardly matters, Lizzy. After how Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst acted when I saw them in town, I deduced they encouraged Mr Bingley to forget about me. I do not know what their reasons were, but for Mr Darcy’s part, it sounds like he was genuinely mistaken and anxious about his friend. It was very good of him to tell Mr Bingley the truth. Does that make you think better of him?”

It did, especially when combined with repeated readings of his letter; the paper was growing thin with how often she studied both the words and the style of his writing. “It might, but we are talking about you and Mr Bingley, not Mr Darcy. I must tell you, Jane, he has not had an easy time of it. Papa and I played our part in that, for which I suspect you will wish to scold me. However, he needs to understand the consequences of his actions. I cannot help feeling that, whatever his sisters and friend said to him, he did not need to follow their advice. And, upon reflection, even if he decided against you, which would have confirmed that he was a fool, he owed you and the rest of us a proper leave-taking.”

Her brow elegantly furrowed, Jane nodded. “Many people were disappointed when he went away so suddenly. What did you do?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Nothing too terrible, I promise. I encouraged a few people, such as our aunt, to be honest with him. No one demanded an outright answer to why he acted as he did, but they were distant, and he has been made aware that some of the small-minded blamed you. He knows that he left people with the opinion that he was rude or callous.”

“Oh, that must be so unpleasant for him!” Jane’s cheeks were pink, and she was becoming agitated.

Elizabeth clasped her sister’s hands. “None of that! Do not feel pity for him. I truly believe it will do him good. I admit, I did not mind seeing his discomfort given how much of your suffering I have seen these last seven months, but whatever I was thinking when he first arrived, I soon realised that this might be a very valuable lesson to him. If he had acted as an independent adult, one who is capable of making his own decisions rather than being led by others, you and he might be happily married by now. The two of you spent a lot of time together, yet he was ready to believe his sisters and friend when they said you did not care for him! He never should have listened to any of them or needed Mr Darcy to tell him to seek you out again.”

“Lizzy—”

“No, Jane, I want you to listen to me very carefully now. I do not want you to forgive him too easily. He said he came to talk to you and explain what happened. Make him do it, even though you already know. Question him about why he did not return for a day or two last autumn to take his leave properly. Ask him, and yourself, if he is always going to be led by others, and if so, what would that mean to any life you shared, supposing your connexion progressed in that direction. Show him that he has to earn your forgiveness and respect.”

Jane sighed.

“I expect he will call tomorrow,” Elizabeth pressed on. “Do you want to see him or should I send him away?”

Jane bit her lip and kept her gaze averted. “Will you be disappointed if I say I would like to see him again? Oh, Lizzy, I know what you say is true, but my heart…”

“Say no more!” Elizabeth kissed Jane’s cheek. “I would be more surprised if you said you had no interest in talking to him. We have some planning to do.” She giggled, and when Jane asked why she was laughing, said, “You will look at your very finest for the auspicious meeting. I have had nine days to think about this, and I want him to appreciate what he was willing to give up. You will look your most beautiful, and I shall instruct you on what to say and how to behave.”

“Lizzy, that is hardly necessary—”

“For tomorrow, it is. If I do not prepare you, you will end up apologising to him, although it is beyond me to guess what excuse you would give in offering him your regrets. You are so tender-hearted, Jane, which is a very good thing—except when more firmness is required, and Mr Bingley needs firm handling to push”—she moved her hand as though setting something or someone in motion—“him to remember he is an adult, and one who is not beholden to anyone. The only person he has to please, until he is fortunate enough to have a wife, is himself. Now, I was thinking you would wear that beautiful pink day gown you bought for your trip.”

Jane, displaying the diffidence that had grown since Mr Bingley’s abandonment and the betrayal of his sisters, said, “I do not want to trick him into liking me. If all he is interested in is how I look…” She shook her head, such a sad expression on her face, it made Elizabeth’s heart ache—and it caused her anger at the gentleman to recommence.

“Jane, truly, do you still care for him? What does your heart say?”

Her answer was a long time coming and began with a deep sigh. “When I think back to the time we spent together last autumn, then yes. I cannot deny it or that, no matter how hard I have tried, I have failed to convince myself not to think him the most amiable gentleman I ever met. He made me feel”—she shrugged—“ways I did not know I could.”

As much as it was what she expected, Elizabeth found the response unfortunate. She would not make the mistake of attempting to convince her sister to give up Mr Bingley; it was to Jane to decide—supposing Mr Bingley renewed his attentions to her.

Jane continued. “Yet I cannot forget that he left. I am relieved, I suppose, to know the reason for it was a misunderstanding of my sentiments, but I am still disappointed that he did not act differently.” She spoke in a mild manner that masked what must be deep emotions.

“That is almost censorious.” Elizabeth chuckled. “Good for you, Jane. Do not be fooled by his handsome features or pretty words, no matter how much you are drawn to him, and do not give him your affection too easily. Rather, if you continue to have a strong regard for him, do not let him see it too soon. Make him earn you and seek assurances that he will always take your part, especially with his sisters.” Jane—every woman, really—deserved a husband who would champion her and protect her from people seeking to belittle them. It was especially true for those ladies who were unaccustomed, or unwilling, to stand up for themselves; Jane was often too forgiving and understanding.

Unlike me, Elizabeth reflected. She was too prone to make hasty decisions and recent months had demonstrated she was more than capable of voicing them. She had been completely mistaken about Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy. Regrets weighed her down, but she was determined to learn from her errors; she hoped Mr Bingley would do the same. As for Mr Darcy, he had, naturally, been in her thoughts a great deal. How could it be otherwise with his friend in the neighbourhood? She wondered if they would meet again and could not decide if she most wished or feared it. If they did see each other, she was determined to show him that she was attempting to improve herself and that she was very sorry for having so misjudged him—even if his arrogant manner had invited dislike.

Shaking off this train of thought, she smiled at her sister. “Let us return to tomorrow. You know Mama will go on and on and never consider that he wants to talk to you alone. I shall have Mary say something at an opportune moment and you, he, and I will go into the gardens. If I made the suggestion, Mama would only dismiss it or argue that not everyone likes the open air as much as I do. Once outside, I shall, naturally, leave you alone. Now, about how fine we will make you. There must be some lovely blossoms in the garden. I shall collect them in the morning to dress your hair.”

“Lizzy, that is too much!”

Elizabeth embraced her. “It is not. I love nothing more than seeing you look your very best, and if it has the effect of helping Mr Bingley become a more resolute gentleman—so that he is worthy of you or, should you decide against him, another lady—so much the better.”

Next Friday, Jane and Bingley meet! As for the following Friday… 😀 Thanks for reading!

© Lucy Marin 2022