The four hours it took to arrive at London flew by like a flock of birds. As the landscape changed, so did the air, from the fragrant orchards and green fields to the City. The white marble of St. Pauls Cathedral shone from the distance. Elizabeth had to smile. Surely, her gloom would be lifted. Soon, she would see Jane, and together they would put to rest the miserable occurrences of the past months.
The Gracechurch street inhabitants welcomed them warmly. The Gardiner house was full of ruckus, as the children played chasey before they turned their attention to the new coming cousin, pronouncing her the target of their hunt.
Her aunt Margaret came to her rescue, and ushered Elizabeth to the guestroom to refresh, before she joined them for the dinner. Jane accompanied her to the room, bringing out all the toiletries necessary for her creature comforts.
"You look worried," Jane said while Elizabeth washed herself in the porcelain basin. "Did Mr. Collins treat you well? Was Charlotte in good health? Lizzie, please, say something."
"Jane." She straightened her back, turning to face her. "Charlotte somehow managed to turn Mr. Collins into a source of pleasurable existence. She is pleased with the independence that matrimony grants her. And Mr. Collins, well… He was his gracious self as always." Jane giggled, but it did not sound sincere. "Jane," Elizabeth said, feeling the shame and anger from the day before creep back in. "Are there any news on Mr. Bingley?"
Jane blinked and shook her head. "Do not ask, Lizzie."
It was maybe for the better she had not managed to utter the question for the doors swung open and in poured the gaggle of Gardiner children.
The following days were an exercise in patience and deflection. Although Elizabeth looked forward to spending time with her dearest relations, the anxieties of the past month needed to be discussed away from the ears of the uninitiated.
Unfortunately, London provided far too many opportunities for distraction. The evening at the Theatre Royal's production of Much Ado About Nothing brought them to tearful laughter. The following morning Uncle and Aunt declared that no visit to London should be done without paying the homage to the Rosetta stone displayed in the British Museum. While at the Museum, there were, of course, many other expositions to admire. Jane and Elizabeth walked arm in arm, beholding in wonder the treasures brought from all around the world.
(The Gardiner children, naturally, fell in the most morbid love with the mummies.)
It was later that day, when Elizabeth managed to pry her sister off her cousins' comb-wielding hands. "Excuse us, little ones. I need to explore the City, and, unlike me, dear Jane does not get lost among the tall buildings. I promise I will return her with her hair mostly intact."
"I hope not," said Jane before excusing herself to the guestroom to tame her hair back into a respectable coiffure.
. . .
The evening stroll across the City reminded Elizabeth how much she missed her elder sister. She squeezed her hand, and she had to smile, when Jane paid back the gesture.
A lamplighter walked across the street; a long pole held in his arms. Both young women watched his work, as he lit streetlamps one by one.
"Jane, are you ready to talk?" Elizabeth asked gently.
Her sister lowered her gaze, her cheeks red. "I told you everything in letters. I am afraid I… misread the whole situation. There was… nothing more. He was a friend. Nothing more."
"Jane…" Elizabeth felt uncomfortable even recalling that day in the parsonage, but she owed it to her sister. "Jane, Mr. Bingley fell for you. He just had very meddling, very unobservant friends who could not recognize true love even if it hit them."
For what he caused to Jane, she would hit Mr. Darcy with a shillelagh. An ebony one, naturally, since he was a man of importance and could not bear to be abused with a common blackthorn one.
Jane narrowed her eyes. "What are you pointing at?" Her voice broke. "What happened?"
She told her of Mr. Darcy's involvement in Mr. Bingley's disappearance.
The news broke her. Jane kept from open weeping only by the sheer force of her will. Elizabeth led her to one of the benches nearby, to give her some respite. As she held her and whispered words of comfort, she wondered why her sister cried as if her heart was broken in two.
"Charles… Charles, he prom-promised…"
Since when were they on such familiar terms? Blood drew from her face. She did not. She could not.
Jane refused to speak. She cried quietly and Elizabeth could do nothing more but guard her. People were stopping in their tracks, giving them looks. It was the very moment when the gentleman in question appeared.
"Miss Bennet, I beg for your forgiveness- "
"Go away, Charles." Jane curled into herself in her sister's arms. "Leave me alone."
"At least let me explain," Mr. Bingley tried again, but Jane could not be cowed, not this time.
"There is nothing to explain, sir. I do not care your relations and your friend advised against me." She swallowed her tears. "They promised me nothing. You did. You knew me, they did not. And yet you trusted their opinion rather than your own experience." She withdrew from Elizabeth's embrace, to deliver her last words to Mr. Bingley. "I believe I humiliated myself enough for your amusement. I will not beg for you again. Let us go, Lizzie. God bless you, Mr. Bingley."