Chapter Seven

Of course, surely he was exaggerating his own feelings. Love was impossible – to even think it at this juncture was absurd to the extreme! He was not in love with Elizabeth Bennet. He pitied her circumstances, felt for her loss, admired her intelligence and her figure and her very fine eyes, but when it came down to it, he was not in love. He could never be in love with her. Even putting aside all considerations of wealth and status, the most convincing argument of all was kneeling beside him at that very moment, beholding him with an ethereally trusting and empathetic gaze.

No, Darcy was certainly not in love with Elizabeth Bennet.

On the morning of the twenty-eighth of November, Catherine Bennet awoke in a strange room. She sat up quickly, alarmed, before noting the sleeping form of her elder sister beside her. With a relieved sigh, she sank back into the pillows with a hand over her quick-beating heart. Lord, she'd have to tell Lydia…!

And then she remembered. A wave of grief crashed over her, burying her once again in the murky depths from which it seemed she had only briefly escaped. With a soft gasp, Kitty rolled over to her side, facing away from Mary as she concentrated on trying not to cry. She felt like she hadn't stopped crying ever since she had heard, and she thought that surely she must run out of tears eventually … but she didn't. Lord, they kept on coming!

A sudden surge of anger coursed through her, driving back the tears for one sharp moment. She wanted to know who did this. She wanted to know who, and why, and how – she wanted to know everything, and then she wanted to make them pay. Jane may be able to leave justice to the hands of God, but not Kitty Bennet. No, Kitty would have her answers, and then she would have her vengeance, one way or another. Mercy and forgiveness were suited for timid creatures like Jane, not for Kitty. Surely Lizzy would agree – Lizzy was always the first to act, the intrepid one. She would help. Possibly even Mary. Surprisingly, Mary had yet to say a single word about forgiveness, mercy, justice, or any other appallingly godly strictures. Apparently Lydia's death had shocked the Fordyce right out of her, and Kitty was grateful.

She couldn't have shared a room with Fordyce. Not this week.

Beside her, Mary stirred. Kitty froze, holding her breath and praying that she had not formed her conclusions too quickly. It took Mary a few minutes to wake up – Kitty could hear the moment that she, too, remembered. The quick intake of breath sounded eerily familiar, an echo of her own. Perhaps they were sisters after all.

Resigning herself to dealing with her sister, knowing that she couldn't fake sleep nearly as well as Lydia could, Kitty rolled over and faced Mary at last. She was surprised to see silent tears making their way down her face. Mary wasn't the sort of girl who cried.

"I hated her, you know," Mary whispered, her voice still hoarse from sleep and thick with tears. Her eyes, dark and filled with emotion, stunned Kitty momentarily. She didn't know how to respond to that.

Mary rolled over and buried her head in her pillow, beginning to cry in earnest, leaving Kitty staring at her hunched back and long plait. They all used to plait each other's hair when they were small. Mary would always do Kitty's.

Kitty felt a rush of sympathy for her sister. Much as she ignored it, Kitty had always known that Mary was the odd one out in the family. She knew because it had always been between her and Mary which one would be the loneliest. Kitty had won – she had attached herself to Lydia. Mary had lost. And if there was one thing that Kitty understood, it was a bitter heart.

Surprising even herself, Kitty scooted closer to her sister and wrapped an arm around her waist. She settled her cheek on her sister's shoulder, and she curled up close. Mary's sobs shook her body, but Kitty held on. She held on tightly, trying to be an anchor in the storm, because she had always wished that someone would do the same for her.


Breakfast was a solemn affair. The Bennets had all been outfitted in black to mark the beginning of their period of mourning, lending a dark tone to an otherwise sunny morning. Mr. Collins had joined them at the breakfast table. He had, perhaps unsurprisingly, requested his meal served in his room last night. Seeing him this morning was grating on the nerves of everyone, particularly Elizabeth. Seeing him at the breakfast table brought back memories of the previous morning, his disastrous proposal, and of the … following events. Elizabeth wondered, briefly, if she would ever be able to sit at the breakfast table at Longbourn again without such memories destroying what remained of her appetite. Perhaps it would be wise, in future, to take her breakfast in her room … or out of doors …

The unresolved anger and resentment in the room did nothing to dispel the tension – Mary was silent, Kitty was cold, Mr. Bennet was quiet and remorseful, Elizabeth begrudged the presence of Mr. Collins, and Mr. Collins was still desperately hoping for a chance to speak to Elizabeth privately to continue to persuade her into matrimony. Poor Jane, caught in the middle of all of these frayed nerves and still rather forlorn herself, tried very hard to carry on a polite conversation about the weather, the roads, and what needed to be done over the course of the day. No amount of cheerful speech, however, could blow away the clouds from her eyes or brighten the pallor of her cheeks. In the end, breakfast was finished mutely.

As soon as breakfast concluded, Elizabeth donned her pelisse and escaped the house with Kitty to walk towards Oakham Mount. Although neither could stand staying within the confines of the house, neither were particularly keen to take a solitary walk in the woods either. However, before they had even reached the outskirts of Longbourn, Elizabeth and Kitty met Charlotte, Maria, and one of the Lucas' footmen coming down the path.

Upon recognition the girls rushed to greet each other, embracing with tears and genuine comfort. Charlotte and Lizzy exchanged a warm, strong embrace, full of mutual understanding and concern. Kitty clung to Maria, the tears already flowing, for quite a while. Once Kitty regained some composure, the four girls turned and walked together back towards the house.

Charlotte confessed that she had a difficult time leaving the house in the morning due to her father's reluctance to allow any of his girls outside of Lucas Lodge until the killer had been found, but he had relented once she had assented to the company of Maria and the footman. They speculated that no young woman in the vicinity would be walking out alone in the near future. Charlotte asked after her family, and Elizabeth could hardly speak. Sensing her friend's unease, Charlotte instead asked if there was anything she could do to help.

Elizabeth gave her friend a sad smile, and said with a little of the old Lizzy impertinence, "Only if you can discover some way of removing Mr. Collins from the house! I didn't get the chance to tell you – yesterday, at breakfast, he proposed to me. It was the most dreadfully embarrassing occasion!"

Elizabeth described the scene with her usual verbosity, although she was perhaps lacking in some of her typical humour. It was much easier, however, to speak of the ridiculous than to speak of the grievous. Elizabeth noticed Charlotte's expression as she neared the end of her story, and she was quick to defend herself before Charlotte could speak her mind.

"Please don't chide me today, Charlotte! I'm sure you have words regarding my behaviour and my refusal of Mr. Collins, but please … not today. I cannot bear it."

"Very well, Lizzy," Charlotte agreed, wisely keeping her thoughts to herself. "I shall change the subject of conversation completely. My father will be in this afternoon to speak with your father. He was meeting with Colonel Forster when I left – I gather there was some news from the regiment, or else they are planning a course of action."

"Good," Elizabeth declared firmly. "I shall look forward to hearing the news. May they find the man quickly and bring him to justice!"

Charlotte observed her friend's steely eyes and cool countenance with regret – those expressions were so unlike the warm, charming friend she had known since childhood!

"Dear Lizzy, are you sure there is nothing I can do to assist you at this time? Anything at all?"

Elizabeth smiled wanly at her friend and put her hand on her friend's arm, through which her own arm was tucked cosily. "Oh, my dear Charlotte – in truth, I hardly know! It has been such a shock."

They walked sedately for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

"How is Jane? I heard that the Netherfield party has left for London rather suddenly. I am sorry – I know what I said last night, but I did so want her happiness!"

Elizabeth well remembered Charlotte's words of warning against Jane's serenity and sedate countenance in the face of Mr. Bingley's attention, and she knew her friend well enough to take them in the spirit in which they were intended.

"Thank you, Charlotte. I know. She is as well as she may be at this time. I believe that she feels their disappearance very strongly, but you know Jane – she does not dwell, but keeps busy and cheerful as best she can. She is … coping. I blame that Caroline Bingley, but of course that is hardly our greatest concern at the moment."

Charlotte hesitated before saying, "There are rumours circulating regarding their abrupt departure."

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up, evidencing her surprise at the news. "Surely they are not suspected! What else they may be I hardly know, but they are gentlemen!"

"I agree – I can hardly imagine such a thing! And yet, it is such unusual timing, and truly … which other man would you suspect? Until yesterday, I believed all the men of my acquaintance to be gentlemen in actions, if not in name. Now …" Charlotte trailed off, her worry furrowing her brow.

Elizabeth's reaction to Charlotte's suspicions had to wait, because at that moment they arrived at the house and were ushered in to the parlour to join Jane, Mary, and Mr. Collins. Elizabeth stood by the fire while Charlotte and Maria made their rounds, offering comfort and condolences all around.

Once they all had settled into seats near the fire, with Lizzy and Charlotte nearer the flames after having just returned from the chilly outdoors, Charlotte opened conversation with an enquiry into the notification of the Gardiners. Elizabeth explained about sending a note to London, and informed her that the Bennets expected their arrival within the week.

"I dare say it shall be a great comfort to you to have them close," Charlotte noted with the greatest empathy. "Mr. Collins, I daresay that it may become quite chaotic here at Longbourn upon their arrival. While I am sure that you must wish to be near to your cousins during this dreadful time, I wonder whether you might consider removing to Lucas Lodge for the remainder of your stay? My father, Sir William, was very interested in furthering your acquaintance. While I should hate to do so at the expense of my friends, I am sure that the Gardiners are more than capable of assisting them in their time of need. I am sure Lady Catherine would agree that you have done more than your duty already."

If Mr. Collins had seemed slightly sceptical at the beginning of her offer, he was more than happily convinced by the end. Flattered, he accepted with all of his usual effusions of loyalty to the inane desires of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and his desire to be a gracious guest to his hosts and their neighbours. Elizabeth hid a grin behind her hand, and Jane rose to inform Mrs. Hill to have his things readied for his departure. Mr. Collins followed, muttering something about his waistcoats being packed in such-and-such particular way as specified by Lady Catherine in her infinite wisdom and her vast experience in the packing of men's waistcoats.

Upon his departure, Charlotte and Elizabeth shared a sly smile.

"Charlotte, that was positively devious!" Elizabeth declared, eyes sparkling at last with her former humour.

"Anything for you, Lizzy," she said, offering her a wan smile. "While he is gone, for it may not be long, my mother wanted to know if you had put any thought into the funeral? And the mourning rings?"

Elizabeth's smile dimmed. "Hardly. It has all happened so quickly…"

"Would you allow me, please, to see to your mourning rings? For the family? My mother knows an excellent jeweller who works with hair pieces – and there is so little we can truly do to help."

"Oh, Charlotte…"

"Truly, Lizzy, I wish I could do more. I cannot even dream … I can hardly imagine the feelings of your family. At least allow me to remove one or two items of stress."

Much as Elizabeth wished to protest such generosity, she could already feel some of the weight lifting off of her shoulders. It was too much, and yet just what was needed, and Elizabeth recalled again the value of true friendship in a time of supreme need.

"Thank you, Charlotte," Elizabeth relented with honest gratitude. "On behalf of my family, thank you. You are too generous, but I know better than to trifle with the most determined woman in Hertfordshire. Thank you. Truly."

When Jane returned, it was to inform them that Mr. Collins and his trunks were in the vestibule waiting for the carriage, which was to transport them home. Charlotte exchanged a warm embrace with Jane, whispering a few words of comfort and encouragement, before pulling Maria away from Kitty. The Bennet sisters followed their friends through the vestibule and waved as Charlotte, Maria, and their footman disappeared into the distance with Mr. Collins and his luggage in tow.

Elizabeth thanked God for the enormous blessing of friendship. For Charlotte to step in to relieve a burden which, in Charlotte's mind, may not seem like a burden at all – that empathy, and that generosity, was only a fraction of what made Charlotte so valuable as a friend. She prayed that someday her friend would be rewarded with a happy marriage, rather than the practical marriage she expected. If anyone deserved it, Charlotte did.


Madeleine Gardiner was not accustomed to attempting to suss out the intentions of a possible suitor – at least, not when it was for her niece rather than herself! She was out of practice – with her eldest daughter now nearly nine years old, it had been a long time since the practice of courtship had been a relevant interest. She usually left such considerations to her nieces and merely lent an understanding ear when they needed to confide in someone who would not immediately jump to conclusions regarding the wealth and status of those suitors. Now, however, Mrs. Gardiner found herself watching one Mr. Charles Bingley with heretofore unparalleled interest. Was Jane in love with this man?

There was much to be admired, of course – while not the most handsome man Mrs. Gardiner had ever seen, he certainly was not dreadful to look at. His carriage and horses were of high quality, as well as his clothes. He seemed anxious to be back to Hertfordshire – when he had arrived this afternoon, he had been jumpy and nervous, and he was constantly riding ahead of the carriage only to return and then ride ahead once again. He was polite, and he was thoughtful – the carriage had been well-stocked for their comfort in advance, even to the inclusion of hot bricks and child-sized blankets. From what Mrs. Gardiner could gather, he had come to London on business only the day before. Upon learning of the murder, Mr. Bingley had been eager to be on his way back after finishing up his most important business matters. To Mrs. Gardiner, this suggested a man that was responsible with both his estate and those important to him. All in all, quite a creditable report.

Mrs. Gardiner was quite eager to see Jane and get an idea of how she felt about the matter. The man's feelings were apparent, Elizabeth's opinion was likewise transparent, but Jane's had always been tricky to pin down. Jane, sweet soul that she was, never allowed her feelings to break the surface when she could help it. In truth, it was Jane for whom Mrs. Gardiner worried the most in the wake of this tragedy. Kitty, although attached to Lydia, was strong. Mrs. Bennet had her daughters to live for. Elizabeth was a pillar of strength. Mr. Bennet was blasé. Mary was never very close to Lydia. Jane … Jane felt very deeply, and she buried those feelings so deeply that they were sometimes impossible to reach, much less understand. Not to mention the way that she constantly put the needs of others before her own – Jane would work and comfort and keep herself so occupied in helping others that she would hardly even acknowledge her own feelings. Having known Jane for the past ten years, it was easy to predict how she would cope – pushing her own feelings aside to care for others. Perhaps … perhaps, Mrs. Gardiner thought, Mr. Bingley could change that.

As the carriage left the outskirts of Meryton, Mrs. Gardiner nudged the children awake.

"Now, remember what we spoke of at home, children," Mrs. Gardiner reminded her offspring, straightening jackets and smoothing silky hair. "Our cousins are going to be very sad right now because Lydia is gone. We are coming to cheer them and to help them. They might be very busy, and they might not have time to play, but that is only because there is a lot to do, not because they are upset with you."

A few quick reminders about manners in company, and then they had arrived. It was a few hours past noon when they arrived, and all four Bennet sisters met them before they had even alighted the carriage. At first the pure excitement of the realization that the Gardiners had arrived was enough to cheer them and draw them out of doors – the realization that Mr. Bingley accompanied them was another matter entirely.

Jane, stunned, paused upon the step and fell back against a column with wide eyes and a hand over her quick-beating heart. Her eyes followed his form avidly.

Mr. Gardiner alighted first, greeting his nieces with a kiss each before turning to assist his children down from the carriage. Meg and Lottie each did their best to be as lady-like as possible, although they lost their composure completely when captured in a riotous hug by first Kitty and then Elizabeth. Freddy and Benny had no such compunctions to begin with – they jumped down from the carriage with broad grins stretching their freckled cheeks and attacked the cousins nearest them with the relentless fervour of young boys who had been cooped up in a carriage all afternoon. Freddy, at four years old, was a mischievous child with a chatter to rival any jaybird. Benny, two years his junior, was quieter but attached himself to his favourites with unremitting adoration. Jane being the generally agreed upon favourite, she soon found herself belaboured with the weight of a small toddler.

Even as she lifted him into her arms, however, her strength nearly left her when her eyes met Mr. Bingley's. She adjusted her grip on the child, turning her attention to the small boy in her arms rather than the handsome man in her front garden.

Watching them carefully, Mrs. Gardiner couldn't help smiling. Yes, Jane Bennet was in love indeed! It seemed, unfortunately, that Mr. Bingley was entirely unaware of the fact. He still appeared anxious - fiddling with his gloves and riding crop and hat, darting glances in Jane's direction even whilst occupied in greeting the Bennets and offering condolences. Poor man.

It seemed like an eternity for all involved before Mr. Bingley stood in front of Jane, hat, gloves, and riding crop in hand, eyes searching her face intently. Mrs. Gardiner watched discreetly from a distance, nominally trying to get the children back in order to go inside for tea.

"Miss Bennet," he said, offering a quick bow to her curtsy.

"Mr. Bingley." Jane's voice was surprisingly steady – only a very slight quiver on the last syllable gave away her disturbed spirit.

"Please allow me to offer my most sincere condolences," he said earnestly. His hands twitched, as though wanting to reach out and grasp her hands in his own.

"Thank you."

"I also wish … that is to say, I feel that … hem, I understand that my sister wrote a note to you explaining the … swift absence … of our party," he stammered, wringing his gloves between his hands. Jane clutched Benny tighter to her shoulder.

"Yes, she did."

"I should like … that is, I, uh, I don't know what she wrote," he admitted bashfully, "but I should wish you to know that I only planned to be in London for a few days. I did not expect the arrival of my party in town, nor did I give orders to close Netherfield. When I heard of your … news … I came back as quickly as I possibly could. I am a man inclined to do things quickly when I do them, but … well, in short, I am sorry to have been away during a time of such distress for you … and your family. Of course. And if there is any way that I can be of assistance to you and your family, I should be delighted to do it."

His stammering speech, delivered with many a flushed cheek and shifting feet, elicited a bashful smile from the object of his affection.

"Thank you, sir," Jane said, with rather more warmth than she had first thanked him. "I'm sure my family will be grateful for whatever assistance you would be willing to give."

"Mr. Bingley!" Mr. Gardiner called out to get his attention from the doorway. "I am going to see Mr. Bennet – you had mentioned you would like to join me?"

"Yes, sir!" Mr. Bingley called back, his face darkening seriously. He gave Jane another small bow, she responded with a small curtsy, and the men disappeared into the darker doorway.

"I am so sorry – we've been keeping you out here in the cold! Come in, come in – you'll want to refresh yourselves after the journey, I'm sure, and then you must come down and warm yourselves by the fire. I'll order tea," Elizabeth said, directing the group towards the house. She took Mrs. Gardiner's arm, and the two walked in together while Kitty, Mary, and Jane shepherded the children indoors.

"Looks like things between Jane and her Mr. Bingley are well in hand," Mrs. Gardiner noted with a raised eyebrow.

Elizabeth smiled. "It speaks very well of him that he returned so quickly after hearing of our situation. We had thought him to be in town for the rest of the season."

"Really? Hmm. Well, he certainly is here now, and looks to be for the foreseeable future."

"I certainly hope so," Elizabeth whispered with a conspiratorial grin.

They parted ways at the staircase – Mrs. Gardiner taking the children above stairs to change out of their traveling clothes, and Elizabeth heading to the kitchen to request tea in the parlour for the Gardiners. To be rid of Mr. Collins and joined by the Gardiners in the same day … truly, there were blessings even in the greatest trouble. Elizabeth went about seeing to tea with a bit more of the usual bounce in her step – somehow, everything seemed more manageable than it had in the morning.