To the unnamed Guest: Thank you for your last couple reviews. (Whether you are the same person or two different reviewers, forgive me if I'm mistaken). I appreciated both comments. I'd say that's a fair and accurate sentiment for Lydia. Selfish, spoiled little brat she is, still, she is a product of her environment. Feel like she both deserves and doesn't deserve what she's about to get. I think my greatest question, about Lydia, that the novel doesn't really satisfy is: Does she ever come to regret her choices? P&P ends with the fact that they both grow to indifference. That's a statement, but it doesn't tell us that Lydia wishes she had never married Wickham. What do you readers think? Do you think Lydia has potential to mature with age or will she always be the same person in P&P? In my honest opinion, I can see Lydia and Wickham, twenty years down the road, becoming Mr. and Mrs. Bennet themselves.

So, onto another earlier controversy. Some of you don't particularly like Mr. Bingley. That's fine. You're entitled to that opinion. But I also have an idea about Mr. Bingley.

Chapter 35

Mrs. Bennet received a call from Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Long one morning, who were sat down for tea in her parlour. Upon Mrs. Long, a reliable authority as housekeeper, the family learned that the former tenant of Netherfield would be returning to the neighbourhood in a matter of two weeks. Orders were already being made and the house being prepared for his arrival. It was not known yet whether he came alone, with his sisters, or a whole new party from last year. Everyone looked to Miss Bennet, who the mention of Mr. Bingley's name without changing colour.

On the surface, their mother showed a general disinterest in the young man's welfare and his pleasure. The very next sentence to follow involved curiosity about what should bring him back, who were among his party, is he come for the shooting. Before long, Mr. Bennet was being bothered to rise from indolent ease and be a good neighbour to Mr. Bingley. Such scheming was resisted, reasoning that if Mr. Bingley should desire their company, he knew how to find Longbourn. When he did finally come, three days after his arrival, everyone was at a loss what to make of it.

Mr. Bingley had not altered in the lapse of months. He was still a pleasing, amiable gentleman, though perhaps a little more soft-spoken and reserved than before. Mrs. Bennet received him overly kind, while his friend, unwelcome and unexpected, was regulated to a civil greeting and invitation to dinner and shooting with Mr. Bennet. If she had allowed a few moments of silence, her daughters would've been more free to converse with the gentlemen. With even greater patience, Mr. Bingley might have addressed Jane directly. He had to be content with an inquiry after her health, some looks and smiles during the visit, and a warm adieu on taking leave.

Of course, Lizzy was in Jane's confidence. It was not widely talked about with the family, so Mary and Kitty could only speculate.

"Jane did not seem to receive his attention very readily," observed Mary. She was propped up by pillows, nestled in bed with her book. "It's not to be wondered at, of course. If he expects her to be as welcoming as last year, after not having said a word to her in months, I think he's a fool."

"Must you be so cross?" whined Kitty. "I think there's a difference between being foolish and being a fool. Don't you suppose?"

"Really? Describe that to me," retorted Mary, with a bit of a smirk. How often did Kitty engage in philosophizing?

"I'd say anybody is capable of acting foolish every so often. If that is a person's conduct for the good majority of the time, I'd say that makes them a fool."

"Very well then," shrugged Mary. "I still think him a foolish man."

"But we don't really know how Jane feels about him. I'm sure, if I were her, I'd be a bit embarrassed on his return. Whether he's still worthy is worth investigation. I do wonder, though, what should bring Mr. Darcy to visit us? He was as grave and pompous as ever, standing by the window the whole time scarcely saying a word."

"Even if he wished to speak, entering the conversation was a hard task for anybody. Mama just babbled on, a complete bundle of nerves."

"I wish he would not come. He makes me nervous."

"I wouldn't dismiss him so quickly. I think Mr. Darcy is largely misunderstood."

Mary remembered the letter that had been written to Lizzy. What little she had read indicated that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had achieved a degree of acquaintance. He would not have written such a letter to anybody; it would not have been addressed to Lizzy when they'd barely just been introduced. With good reason was that letter unspoken of and unknown to the family. Though, as in the case of Mr. Wickham, and the particular sentiments involved, her sister did not let on. Mary was not without curiosity to hear Lizzy's altered, more improved opinion of Mr. Darcy. Of course, Mary restrained herself from morbid curiosity, determined not to repeat her own mistakes. Compared with the former, Mr. Darcy, for all his good qualities, was not at all charming, which was very much, if anything, in his favour.

However, it became her determination to use all her powers of observation at the next evening of dinner and cards. Mrs. Bennet arranged it just as the gentlemen had barely concluded their visit. On next Tuesday, their mother secured the acceptance of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy. It would be a lively party in the dining room. Those unable to attend by reason of not fitting at the table, would be invited to cards and supper afterwards. Once more, the servants bustled to make ready all the rooms for the dinner guests, and now that Mr. Bingley was, at last, joining the family for dinner, Mrs. Bennet paid particular attention to the choice of dishes.

This mistress of Longbourn was turning circles in the drawing room, overseeing all the final touches before the first guest could ring the bell. "Very well, very well… Alright, we have Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy for dinner, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. Sir William, Lady Lucas, and Maria. That makes thirteen… Mr. and Mrs. Goulding. Mrs. Long and Jemima… Who else am I missing?"

"Don't forget the Harringtons," added Kitty, who stood in the corner. Her sisters had just descended the stairs.

"That's right! That makes… Twenty-one! Lord, how does this always happen? I need to speak to your father about getting a larger table for the dining room."

"Do not distress yourself, Mama," pleaded Lizzy. "It's easy to accommodate twenty-one."

"Our table is not made for twenty-one people! That's eighteen on both sides. Nine on both sides, then the two at the ends of the table. Why doesn't Mrs. Long just leave her niece behind until after dinner? Jemima's sisters will follow after dinner anyway. They're not out yet. They don't need to be seen at the table—"

"We've done so before. We can do it again and again."

"This is not a dinner when I want to cram my guests at the table," snapped an exasperated Mrs. Bennet, stirring the fire vigorously. "Mr. Bingley will be here. I want the best, and Jane, you'll sit directly opposite of him."

"That is hardly necessary," Jane protested gently. "Please Mama, I—"

"I had thought of seating him beside you. But I got to thinking the better of it. You can sit and talk to each other here at cards, after dinner. During dinner, it would be best if he was seated where he had a full view of your face and figure."

"Mama, this man is not a suitor. He's an old acquaintance from last year."

The bell rang.

"Jane, enough of that nonsense!" demanded Mrs. Bennet. "Is it… Ah, Mr. Bingley!"

For all her distress, Jane lost the battle of her choice of seating. She was settled between Lizzy and Mary. Before the gentlemen of Netherfield could make their own selection, Mrs. Bennet directed them both particularly near, and for Mr. Bingley, directly opposite of her most beautiful daughter. Mary had an excellent view, as good as a spectator in a theater. Of course, the conversation at dinner was most engaging and interesting, it still did not answer her questions with regard Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. It seemed as though Mr. Darcy put forth more effort at dinner, in conversation. He even addressed Mary on a couple occasions during dinner, some to Jane, but probably the least to Lizzy. Yet, his eyes were more intent and more often drawn in Lizzy's direction, whenever she did speak. Quite the difference from Mr. Bingley, who was better fit to lead conversation. At first, Jane kept a reserve like her sister, but soon enough, she responded to inquiry and interest with more liveliness. For really, how attentive and keen he proved to be, Jane's impassive facade could not long withstand.

After dinner, everyone was directed to the drawing room and the card tables. Here, Mary had hoped to see more, and so it would seem, Lizzy had hoped for more. Jemima and her newly arrived younger sisters had other ideas. They formed a table with Lizzy, determined that none of the gentlemen would come and break up their fun. For they were not wanted anyway. From the look in Lizzy's eyes, this physical separation and rudeness, perpetrated so close in Mr. Darcy's proximity, disturbed and frustrated her through the game. He had been regulated to a nearby table. Mary, as well as Elizabeth, were denied the pleasure. Mrs. Bennet beckoned Mary to her usual post, and called for only the cheerful music.

Everyone settled and played at their tables for a time. Within a couple hours, Jane managed to extricate herself from her ring of card-players. She took a little more tea, which had been arranged at the table. Having noticed the movement, Mr. Bingley too rose discreetly, leaving his current hand un-played. He took some refreshment himself, some of Mr. Bennet's port wine. Since the corner of the room, by the second door to the hall was much quieter, he made the request to sit, and pulled up a spare chair for himself. It seemed less conspicuous than sitting in the window, or strolling out the side door to the garden.

Mary had yet to have a letter in the post. Never before had she waited more eagerly for any letter before, even more than those from London. Courtship, to her limited experience, had proven itself a rather irksome business, filled with days and months of agitation and so little joy. Both her sisters underwent these tribulations willingly, to no successful yield. For though Mr. Bingley paid Jane great attention, to what purpose did one cultivate the acquaintance if marriage is not the intent? Yet, she was willing to be agreeable, forgiving, and accept it.

"I'm honoured your family should invite me for dinner," began Mr. Bingley. "I honestly did not expect such an attention."

"It wouldn't do to slight one of our neighbours. As you see," replied Jane, looking around, "it would've been slighting if we had excluded one of our neighbours."

"It's certainly better than I deserve, especially after last year."

This raised eyebrows. Mary was as much engrossed as she could be, as she could be while playing. "Do you feel it so, Mr. Bingley?" Jane asked. Still mild of tone but shocked, without a doubt.

"I did not expect… This was not what I had in mind, thinking of yourself, thinking of myself, and both our lives and our families, last year." He swallowed. "I wish now I had never gone to London. If I had delayed it, or simply kept my word—"

"Let's not dwell on it, Mr. Bingley, please. I'm reconciled to it."

As to the rest of their private conversation, it was all lost to Mary, as Lady Lucas sat down directly between the path of both Jane and Mr. Bingley. Her tall hat and plume was wide enough to obscure both faces.

When the evening had concluded, Mrs. Bennet, in spite of Jane's rational thoughts and attempts to reason, was sure of finally securing her daughter as mistress of Netherfield. None of her children would talk her out of her good spirits. The evening was a success

"The venison was roasted to a turn—and everybody said they never saw so fat a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the Lucases' last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged that the partridges were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her at Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good a creature as ever lived—and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls, and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously."

Having lost some of her high favour and trust in Lady Lucas, she began to look more fondly on little Jemima and her younger sisters. As long as they dared not try and dress smart and look pretty, they were, of course, always welcome guests in her house. She'd forgotten that plain looks had not been a handicap for Charlotte Lucas. Mrs. Long was a dearer friend than Lady Lucas, though the latter would always be her friend. And though friendship resumed with the young Miss Harringtons, Kitty never felt the same in their company ever again. Mrs. Harrington would never look at her in the same way either.

Days later, Kitty settled herself in the corner writing-desk, beginning her letter.

Dear Lydia,

I hope you and Mr. Wickham are well and settled up in Newcastle. Hopefully, the winter there will not be dull and muddy, or that the cold and bad weather make a ball impossible. Yesterday, I was really missing you, especially as I have great news. Jane is to be married!

Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield recently, and they have continued their acquaintance. Mama, of course, had been scheming all the while to get him to visit, even throwing a little card and supper party earlier this week. You can imagine what a fuss was made about it, more so than usual. I really did enjoy our party, except that there was no dancing. Even if we had danced, there weren't enough gentlemen present to make up a row. For the exception of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, everyone else was the usual. Oh, but I forget Jemima's sisters. They didn't come to dinner, as they are not out yet.

Yesterday, when Mr. Bingley came, we were all of us in the parlour. Mr. Darcy had gone to town on business. Our mother had asked him to dinner, which he could not accept on a prior engagement, but accepted for the following night. Mary excused herself to her daily piano practice. When she left, it was somewhat awkward and silent. Mama sat by the fire, winking at me and Lizzy. After a few minutes, I finally asked her why she kept winking at me. She acted all flustered and denied it, then she stood up and said she'd like a word with me. So I followed her out to the foyer, where she asked that I go and sit with her in her dressing-room upstairs. Was it by her own design or Mr. Bingley's? I'll never know.

She sent me upstairs to wait, but Mama did not come for a couple of minutes. Lizzy was the last to leave the parlour, which then left Jane and Mr. Bingley alone. I couldn't help remember Mr. Collins' proposal in the very same room! Though I wished to be dutiful, the temptation was too much to resist. While Mama was still distracted downstairs with Lizzy, I crept down the staircase, out the front door, and ran as quickly as I could to the roses and the parlour window. I feared it had not been left open, but alas it was and what a delight to witness!

Of course, some of what followed in the parlour, Kitty could not possibly disclose to Lydia. It would not involve things pleasant to the sound of her sister's ears. Judging her conduct on the whole of the matter, Kitty felt how improper it was that she had overheard the whole conversation. Jane would not like it. Their mother would've chastised her soundly had she been caught, but that guilt had no weight in comparison with the happiness she felt afterwards.

He was rather somber at first, when Kitty had approached the window. "If I know you, as well as I'd known you last year, that you were very hurt and puzzled. I know you'd rather have that I believe you were indifferent, shall we say."

"I'm not stating what my feelings were, but I've since learned indifference."

"But you were not indifferent then, were you?"

"… No. I was not. I was never indifferent."

"Then why did you never write back to Caroline?"

"… I beg your pardon?"

"Caroline wrote to you, but you never sent any response to her letters."

"What? No! Of course, I did… I'd written, but she told me later she'd not received any notice of my being in town, which I assumed that both my letters had gone astray."

When he turned his face away a moment, Kitty watched the shock leave him, to be replaced with a flushed cheek. His lip curled inward, seeming to seethe internally. "It only gets worse."

"I'm sorry?"

"I should tell you, Miss Bennet. Forgive me. I'm trying to keep composed," he sighed. "Before I left town, I had quite the row with my sisters. We're not on speaking terms at this time."

"Oh dear."

"Now, I feel less guilty. I've good reason. Caroline has lied to you. She informed me that you did not write to her at all. She claimed it to be evidence of your indifferent feelings… And there's also the matter of Mr. Wickham."

"Mr. Wickham?" Both sisters were absolutely lost at this statement, even more so at the mention of him.

"I'm sorry. I'm making no sense! Perhaps, I should explain all, from the beginning… Miss Bennet, when I left Netherfield last time, it was my intention to go to town and return in a few days. It wasn't a trifling thing to take me there, and I was in the process of meeting with my attorney, making arrangements, and then… I intended to return, to see you. Something very particular." This rendered Jane utterly speechless. It was a marriage proposal, but in the past tense. "While in town, I had asked Caroline to write to you. I wished that she might inform you of returning in a few days. I did meet with some delays, but I was most anxious for you to know that I would not be gone more than ten days. Such therefore brought out the subject; to which, I informed my sisters of my intentions towards you. Needless to say, they were not the least bit pleased. They were not happy at all with having stayed all those weeks at Netherfield. They thought the house and this neighbourhood was an inconvenience, and unflattering to our position in society… Where they got this idea, I've not the faintest clue. Our parents did not raise us this way.

"They begged me to reconsider. They even begged I ask the opinion of others… Well, they all argued that I'd be making a fool of myself… On one or two occasions previously, esteemed and respectable young ladies, I really did blunder in my judgment. My only defense for it was that I was too young for any serious attachment… Beg your pardon. I didn't mean to disturb you with that. But my sisters were adamant that this, my attachment to you, was no different. 'Miss Bennet is a very good girl. The first and finest young lady in the county. She will be a credit at the table of any man, whether he be a tradesman or a duke. But you two are ill-suited to each other.' My sister Lousia's words. Rather offended I was: 'She is of reserved and modest character. Of course, that's natural.' We quarreled like we never had in our lives before, not even as children. Then Caroline mentioned Mr. Wickham. 'If she's so keen, so violently in love with you, then why is she so interested in the society of Mr. Wickham?' she said. It had escaped my notice that you had inquired about Wickham during the ball."

"Oh Mr. Bingley!"

"Well, I thought nothing of it, until she said so. Caroline cared so much, that she felt it called upon herself, to remind me how you had inquired, and seemed disappointed to hear, by my report from Darcy, that Mr. Wickham was no respectable man. She noted you seemed rather disturbed by it. I couldn't get a grasp on that for days. While I persisted it must be false, that it was simply an over anxious concern in her own mind, I asked that she write to you. Having no official understanding, nor having requested your permission, that would be taking a liberty with your own reputation. When no answer came, and knowing Mr. Wickham was still in the neighbourhood—"

"You really thought me indifferent. I can see it now. Oh, Charles… no!" she denied, smiled, almost laughed even. "No, never! I… The reason I had inquired about Wickham at all was on one of my sisters' behalf."

"Truly!"

"Yes! Oh dear, no; I was never, at all, in the slightest, interested in Mr. Wickham."

He was completely reanimated and revived. "I must confess when our family had learned about your sister's elopement, a small part of me was glad. Not happy at such dreadful news, but relieved that it was not you and your heart he had engaged. I was very sorry to hear, and most relieved, for your sister's sake, that everything met a proper resolution."

"So are we," sighed Jane.

"Still, at the end of the day, I listened to bad advice. The counsel of friends can be forgiven. I asked for his advice, and it was given with the best of intentions, even if it was incorrect. My sisters, however, I will not attempt to excuse. Their advice was not welcome, came from no good motive, and has broken my trust in them."

"I did feel, while I was in town, that there was some sort of duplicity in our correspondence."

"Miss Bennet, had I known that this was the case, I would've visited you at Gracechurch Street. I would never have been gone the whole winter. I would've written you myself if I had known your true feelings."

"How could you have known my feelings? You had never inquired, but it's no easy task. There is much to be risked in asking a person, how do you really feel, do you really care for me?"

"Indeed."

"I admit, I've always enjoyed your company, but I will admit I've never said so. Yes, I enjoyed the ball. I appreciated your kind attention when I fell ill, and you allowed me to stay at Netherfield. I've taken great pleasure in our many hours of conversation. But I've never said as much to you: that I enjoyed your company, that I appreciated you."

"I think I knew as much," he replied, his voice a bit lower. "You need not have told me. A more perceptive man would've known it without words, and trusted his instinct, looked you in the eye, and stopped counting his blessings because he cannot possibly count them."

"No. We all need to hear the words from our loved ones. Even in my own family, I feel as though I don't say it as often as I should… Though I feel it in my heart, I don't recall the last time I ever said to my mother or father: I love you. If I had expressed the same to my sisters more often, perhaps Lydia would not have felt the need to seek it elsewhere."

"Now that's not fair, Jane!"

"I could have done more. Love should be felt and known in one's own family."

"You're perfectly right, but don't be so unfair to yourself. Everyone in a family makes their own choices… Do you mind that I call you, Jane?"

"No. I do not," she replied, somewhat bashful. No more Miss Bennet. No more Mr. Bingley. "Perhaps we are both at fault here, Charles. It's rather ironic, that we can talk so much, about anything, and yet we don't seem to talk enough."

"Will you allow me to remedy that?" Through the casement, his silhouette in the room moved distinctly closer. They stood before the hearth at this point, and he grasped both her hands. "I love you, Jane. If you so wish it, from this day on, I want to say so freely. And if you so desire to entrust your happiness to me, I warn you, you'll be hearing it very often. You'll probably grow sick of me saying so."

"No, indeed!" she laughed.

"If it is your wish, of course… I certainly don't deserve it, but if I may have the honour, may I be the making of your happiness? Will you marry me, Jane?"

"You are the making of it already."

No other words were audible. In that moment of silence, to which Kitty's wild, romantic imagination filled in, it was possible that the couple finally expressed every feeling without a need for words. Then, the door opened, and Lizzy's surprised voice was heard. The brief interview ended between Jane and Mr. Bingley, to be followed by a burst of excitement. Of course, being that this was Jane, her mirth was still rather quiet, though struggling to be contained.

I cannot describe how happy I am, Lydia. I always felt they were well-suited, and hoped that he would return. For although, we all blamed Mr. Bingley and thought him flighty, I feel that overhearing their proposal gave me a better opinion of him than I had before. We are all so happy for her. You should hear our father.

'I've no doubt that you'll do well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income.' I don't believe Mama slept at all that night, too happy for words, but she still had plenty to say at dinner about it.

Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was now beyond competition her favourite child. When they received the news from Jane, her younger sisters soon began to make inquiries for objects of happiness which she might in future be able to dispense. For Mary, she petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty begged very hard for a few balls every winter.

No doubt, Mr. Bingley should like to host more in future. Jane, it may take some convincing with her. I do hope so. Perhaps, we'll all be together again at Netherfield Park one day. But I shall not earnestly wish for it, not until Miss Bingley has got herself married and too busy to bother about our brother Charles. We always thought her a horrid, unpleasant creature. And the Hursts can keep their little, fine house in town, and leave happier people alone.

Write to me when you have the time. I'd love to hear from you.

Your dearest sister, Kitty.

Once sealed up and ready, Kitty wondered for the hundredth time when her turn was to come.

So, what do you think? Jane Austen doesn't focus all that much attention on Jane/Bingley. So we don't know everything that happened. We know Mr. Darcy had a big say in it, and we know his sisters did all they could to keep the couple apart. Personally, and, does anybody else feel this way? I find it hard to believe that Mr. Bingley would loose confidence and give up his pursuit because he was convinced of her indifference towards him. As Mr. Darcy once said of Jane, that her heart was not likely to be easily touched. It makes me believe she wouldn't have just melted and said yes automatically to a late proposal. She would've had to have good reason. She would've had to be sure of his character, and able to respect him.

Not to try and change your opinions about Mr. Bingley. Whatever side you're on, it's okay. This is part of the canon. Sticking to it. And he'll be apart of the post-novel plot. But I promise, he's not going to be a beauty with no brains. I think he's very much like Mr. Darcy, a good man but just makes some stupid mistakes. I think it owed to Jane, in his proposal, that he acknowledged those.

Well, hope you enjoyed this update. Hope you enjoy your break with your brew/poison of choice.