An Aunt's Assistance: A Season of Misunderstanding, #3

Chapter One

I thought this room would suit you both well enough.

Mrs Gardiner glanced momentarily from one of her nieces to the other. You do not object to sharing, I hope?

Not at all! Elizabeth Bennet said, smiling warmly to reassure her aunt. The Gardiners’ house in Cheapside was not small but it was certainly not large and Lizzy did not wish to put her aunt and uncle to any more trouble than they were already undertaking. She was grateful that her request that she and Mary come to stay for a while with their family in London had been so readily accepted. They had been there less than an hour but already their aunt had done everything in her power to make the girls feel welcome, without straying anywhere close to demanding the real reason for Lizzy’s arrival, or why she had brought Mary for company and not Jane.

Well! Mrs Gardiner beamed. I shall leave you for a few minutes to rest and recover from your journey. Please do come down and join us in the parlour for tea when you are ready. I am sure the children will be thrilled to see you again!

Elizabeth smiled, as Mrs Gardiner left the room. She pulled the door closed behind her before turning to Mary.

What a charming room this is!

Mary nodded, stepping closer to the window and peering down into the busy London street beneath them.

Elizabeth drew a breath, wondering just what it would take to encourage Mary to speak at all! Her sister had always been quiet, but for the duration of their journey she had been almost silent, allowing every remark Elizabeth made to pass without comment and offering only single word answers to questions that demanded a response.

You do not regret coming to London, do you, Mary? Elizabeth asked, perching on the edge of the bed they would share for their short stay and looking at her sister with concern. You seemed to quite look forward to it when we first spoke.

I am glad to be here, Mary said, quietly. At length, she tore her eyes away from the window and fixed them on her sister, and Elizabeth was surprised to see them blazing with energy. I am just trying to think how we might put your plan into action.

My plan? Lizzy laughed. You make me sound almost Machiavellian, Mary!

Don’t you have a plan? Mary sat on the bed, folding her feet underneath her. You do wish to reunite Jane with Mr Bingley, don’t you? Well, we have no time to lose. Mr Collins was outlining his ideas for their wedding at dinner last evening - you were too busy bickering with Lydia to hear him, I suppose, but I listened eagerly. She counted out the weeks on her fingers. "Three weeks is all we shall have to work with, for he has already begun arrangements for the banns to be read, and can see no cause to wait any longer!" Mary pursed her lips in a perfect impression of their cousin and Lizzy’s mouth fell open. She had never known her younger sister had such a talent for mimicry - or for observation.

You will - you will help me, then? she murmured, surprised and pleased that Mary had understood the real reason behind the sisters’ visit to London without needing to be told. She had not dared to speak freely of it with anyone save their father, and had lost many an hour considering how she might put it to her sister and persuade her to help.

Of course I will! Mary was affronted. I do not wish to see Jane marry Mr Collins any more than you do. She shook her head. He is a very good man, I am sure, but utterly unsuitable for Jane. She wished to marry Mr Bingley and I rather think he wished to marry her too. She frowned. I cannot understand why he did not say as much before he left! Surely Jane might have been content to wait if he had business to attend to before their wedding might take place.

I rather think he was not given the opportunity! Elizabeth muttered, throwing herself back on the bed with a thump and glaring upwards as if it were Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy’s face and not the plain ceiling before her.

You think Miss Bingley intervened? Mary mused.

Lizzy straightened, frowning at her sister.

I do now! Really, you think it was Caroline who sought to separate them?

Mary shrugged her thin shoulders.

I do not see who else might have exerted such sway over the gentleman than his sister. She grimaced. "And Miss Bingley did not like us."

Elizabeth laughed, surprised and delighted by this frank admission and all that it told her about Mary’s wisdom and insight. How had she ever doubted her sister before now? She felt a stab of guilt. It was not that she had doubted Mary at all, but that she had scarcely given her notice. Mary was quiet and self-contained, more content with her books than with any one of her sisters. Lizzy had been quick to dismiss her - too quick. Impulsively, she reached for Mary’s hand and squeezed it.

Ouch! Mary yelped, trying to free herself. What are you doing? She looked at Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye, suspicion wrinkling her brow.

I am glad you are here, Mary, and that you are as eager as I am to solve Jane’s problem for her. I ought to have confided in you long before now, for I see you have noticed a great deal more than I gave you credit for.

Just because I do not feel the need to share every single thought that passes through my brain, as Lydia does, Mary began, rolling her eyes. Does not mean I have no thoughts at all. She sniffed. Now, do you suppose we have spent long enough upstairs for Aunt Gardiner to consider us rested? I am desperate to see our little cousins again, and more than desperate for something to eat. We can puzzle over how to tackle Mr and Miss Bingley later. Standing, she brushed the creases from her skirts and stepped lightly through the door.

Elizabeth watched her progress, not moving straight away, but marvelling inwardly at the change that seemed to have come over her sister. Just being in London for an hour, breathing in the air, seeing the hustle and bustle - and being away from the oppression of her other sisters! - had wrought such a change in Mary that Lizzy could scarcely believe she was the same young lady who so frequently sermonized and lectured and lurked in corners.

Oh, do come downstairs, Lizzy! Mary’s voice floated back towards her. They are making toast and it smells absolutely divine!

COLONEL RICHARD FITZWILLIAM was no stranger to London, although it had been quite some months since he had last had cause to be here, marching confidently along the wide, busy streets. He frowned, deliberately slowing his pace and relaxing the movement in his limbs. He did not need to march any more, but the habit seemed somewhat ingrained within him and hard to shake, even when he was no longer attached to the regiment nor even, he realised with a self-conscious tug at his cravat, wearing a uniform. How strange it was to be in civilian clothing again! How surreal to be entirely at his own leisure, to act precisely as he pleased with no other man or assignment placing a call on his time. Surreal...and disconcerting. He was not entirely sure he enjoyed being master of his own destiny, for it seemed as if he had almost forgotten how to do it.

A man’s shout tugged at his ear, followed by a merry riot of laughter and he turned, finding himself stationed outside an inn within which there seemed to be a particularly jolly crowd of drinkers and merry-makers. Consulting his watch, he decided he could spare a quarter-hour to take a drink. After all, was he not a man of liberty now?

Whistling tunelessly, he stepped inside, blinking a little as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Selecting a small, empty table in one corner of the inn, he waited for a servant to bring him his prize. Whilst he was not a great drinker, neither was he prone to temperance and whilst he might have preferred brandy, this cheap ale was quite a pleasant enough indulgence on a quiet afternoon that he had happily consumed half of it before another voice disturbed his peace.

Colonel Fitzwilliam? That is you, isn’t it? Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam?

Richard straightened, feeling the familiar tension of surprise that he had not yet quite learned to react to reasonably. A year of combat had left him perpetually on high alert so that, even here, in a state of relaxation, it took the mere unexpected mention of his name to send his heart-rate racing, his muscles tensed and ready for action.

He blinked, taking in a slow breath as he located the source of the greeting, a tall, considerably rumpled-looking fellow who stumbled a little as he stepped closer to Richard’s table, squinting in the low light. His even features broke into a delighted smile as he confirmed his suspicions.

It is! My dear fellow, what Providence! Charles Bingley reached out for a chair, but placed too much weight upon it, sending it sliding noisily across the wooden floor towards Richard, who stopped its progress with the toe of his boot and leapt to his feet, ready to catch Bingley in case he sprawled after it. By some miracle, the tall fellow regained his equilibrium and, with a chuckle, deposited himself successfully in another chair, banging his mug down so forcefully that its pale contents sloshed precariously towards the lip. Now, tell me, what are you doing in London?

The same thing you are doing, it seems, Richard said, cagily. He summoned a jug of water and another drink for himself, although one look at the usually-sober Charles Bingley made his own appetite for liquor dry up almost completely. What on earth was the fellow doing so inebriated so early on in the day? Richard glanced around. And in such a place as this?

I suppose you are wondering what I am doing here. Bingley hiccupped, turned the sound into a laugh and lifted his cup to his lips for another swig. "Or perhaps Darcy informed you we were returning to London briefly - briefly, mind you - from Hertfordshire. We were to be going back soon."

Were to be? Richard’s high alert afforded him no chance of missing Bingley’s deliberate choice of words. Darcy had given him to believe that he, at least, would be remaining in London for the duration. And now, it seemed, Charles Bingley was poised to stay as well. A servant appeared with a tray, casting a thinly-veiled glance of disapproval at Bingley before depositing Richard’s drink