10 • Something Old, Something New
On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend their Christmas at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man and overall more educated than his sister, as evident by his choice in a matching wife. James much wished his uncle and aunt could have arrived earlier so the Netherfield ladies could have stumbled over believing how such a pair from Cheapside were as noble and charming as they thought themselves to be.
Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman as well as a favourite of all her Longbourn relatives. Between Jane and James especially, there resided a particular regard that brought them to visit her many times during their stay in Meryton.
Upon her first visit, Mrs. Gardiner distracted her younger nieces with their gifts before drawing the elders to a different room for their presents. “You will understand momentarily my reluctance to bestow such things in view of your siblings. Lydia and Kitty can be distracted by ribbons and illustrated pamphlets of the latest fashions, and Mary with her music books, but the pair of you have the care to appreciate finer goods.”
For Jane, she bestowed a new gown of modest green fabric but exquisite lace trimmings. Jane flushed at the sight of a single pearl necklace to wear with it. “Aunt, this is too much! How much this must cost!”
Mrs. Gardiner only laughed. “Do you think I sit idly all day waiting for money to come in? My husband has had a successful season and not without my own labours. Your mother has already related her grievances to me that we shall have a wedding to partake in soon. I would very much like you to wear it.”
For James she gave a fine new dinner jacket that could withstand the winter wind, as well as a green cravat with a pearl pin to match Jane’s dress.
Later on, however, while the rest of the family was busy with their uncle, Mrs. Gardiner gave him a leather bound notebook with metal pen nibs, brushes, as well as inks and colours with which to use them. He showed her his sketches of the floral plans he was contemplating for Charlotte’s wedding, marking notes of her approvals and suggestions.
“What think you of this matrimonial business, Jamie?” she asked. “Two sisters almost married, I heard most thoroughly, and then none. The Lucases stride with quite a melody in their step whenever I see them in town.”
“Better for them than us,” James said mildly. “Once you meet Mr. Collins, you can measure the man yourself. The only sadness is Jane’s.”
“Yes, the so infamous Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Gardiner breathed, leaning back on the couch cushions. “It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane. I am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often. A young man, such as Bingley, easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets her. These sort of inconstancies are very frequent.”
“A consolation it would be, aunt, if it were an accident,” he said. “Or does it often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of the girl? To witness two people violently in love and then sorely wrenched apart begs more consideration than a common autumn romance.”
His aunt wrinkled her nose. “Violently in love? Goodness, do people still use such context? I thought it had been hackneyed, so doubtful and indefinite are such emotions. It is often applied to feelings which arise from a half hour’s acquaintance and mistaken for real, strong attachment. Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley’s love?”
“Longer than a half hour,” James grumbled. “His attraction to her was immediate but endured for a month and more. I never saw a more promising inclination. He was growing quite inattentive to other people, so engrossed he was by her. It might have saved him to notice the contrast of opinions shared among his peers. He readily enough behaved uncivilly, whether it was in refusing to dance with other partners or ignoring participants in conversation entirely. Is not incivility the essence of one in love?”
His aunt guffawed, her hand coming to stroke his shoulder blade. “I should hope love would inspire the more pleasant parts of a personality to shine through but I cannot disagree with you. Every now and then, we find we have the capacity to love but one person and let the rest hang. Of that kind of love I suppose him to have felt. Poor Jane!” she sighed. “I am sorry for her because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy. You would have laughed yourself out of it sooner.”
His hand stilled over the paper. “Do you think me so fickle in matters of the heart?”
“Oh hush,” she chided. “I know you perfectly well. From your mother you have a large heart, but from your father a skeptical mind. You do not love easily, but when you do it is fully and irrevocably.”
He was silent for a moment before he turned back to his drawing of the church and his floral additions. “We agree only halfway.”
“Oh?” she chimed. “Do you fall easily in love? Your mother will be over joyed.”
A laugh escaped him and she shared in his mirth, drawing more laughter from him before she said. “Do you think Jane would be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service—and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as anything.”
James considered that. “We know Bingley to be traveling between London and Derbyshire.”
His aunt was not bothered at all. “We live in so different a part of town, all our connections are so different and we get out so little. It is improbable they should meet at all, unless he comes to see her.”
“That is unlikely,” James said bitterly. “When I say he is guest of Derbyshire, I mean that he is custody of his friend, Lord Darcy, who would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such a part of London. Mr. Bingley seems to never stir unless it is in Darcy’s company.”
“So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does Jane not correspond with the sister? She will not be able to help calling.”
“She will drop the acquaintance entirely,” James countered. This raised his aunt’s brows but thoroughly closed the topic.
The Gardiners stayed a fortnight at Longbourn; and what with the Philipses, the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its engagement. This was perhaps the first year that the holiday was eclipsed by another occasion, but as weddings were so few per person, its arrival as well as that of Mr. Collins, became the only talk of Meryton and Longbourn. With the influx of activity and officers in the house, among which was Mr. Wickham, James had the arsenal he needed to prepare the church for Charlotte’s wedding.
Since Caroline had first mentioned a greenhouse in the area, James had asked around and Wickham agreed to ride with him to collect the foliage he wanted, with the added help of Sir Lucas’s wallet. The preparations for the wedding progressed remarkably smoothly, largely by Charlotte’s expert handling of Mr. Collins. Charlotte gave him tasks that either amounted to nothing or which he could accomplish and would keep him from the church or James’ handling of the decorations.
Charlotte herself was beside herself in helping James wrap wreaths of pine and pussy willow, green and violet being her chosen theme. Silver partridge feather leaves made up the bulk of her bouquet with purple pansy flowers as well as English ivy to cascade along the front of her dress. Her gown was a modest white linen with long sleeves, but Lady Lucas had unearthed an heirloom garment of lace that was a similar pattern to the partridge leaves. She reworked it to make up the starched collar and chest of Charlotte’s dress, making the gown look fit for Sir and Lady Lucas's eldest daughter.
On the day, Sir Lucas, Charlotte, and James stood in the church foyer while a violin began to play the song Charlotte chose to announce the bride’s arrival. James was just pinning the pansy blossom and sprig of silver leaves into her hair before she entered the church. “I reckon you have half an hour before the flower wilts, so finish promptly."
“Why would you get me a flower as fragile as that?” she scoffed.
“Because pansies are able to survive winter snows and even bloom outside of spring. It’s stronger than it looks and you’re the strongest person I know.”
“Lovely recovery,” she challenged but her smirk softened as he kissed her cheekbone.
“You look beautiful. Now go put my mother to shame.”
She laughed, doubling over to check her skirts and then took her father’s arm. Wickham and Mr. Denny opened the doors for them and the pews creaked as everyone stood. James waited until the bride and father were well down the aisle before he stepped in to stand discretely in the back row with Wickham. “She does look beautiful,” he agreed in a whisper. “You made her into a lady.”
“She already was a lady,” James disagreed as they sat and the wedding began. “She has more dignity than this place deserves. Thank you for your help.”
“It was my pleasure,” Wickham assured. “Though my intent was selfish in wanting your time and less than charitable for Charlotte.”
“Are you flirting with me during a wedding?” James cornered.
Wickham put a knuckle over is mouth to stifle his chuckle. “Just picked up the mood, I suppose.”
But as James gazed down the aisle at the bride and groom, he wondered what exactly that mood was. Charlotte was resplendent and held her ground with poise and elegance. Mr. Collins was the same as ever, high chested and solemn, but blissfully silent. He reckoned the Lucases were the ones setting the overall tone of the audience; the parents proud and smiling through tears while shushing the younger siblings’ giddy whispers and movements.
Charlotte and Mr. Collins slid silver rings over each other’s fingers and everyone stood to file out of the church, creating a tunnel of tossed clover leaves over the bride and groom as the new couple led the way to the assembly building for their reception. Somehow in the throng of people queuing for the wine, Wickham arrived beside James with two glasses. They chinked together as he said, “To a long day of merriment!”
“Is that what this is?” James laughed, drinking his.
Wickham frowned over his gulp. He unfurled a finger from his glass to accuse, “Mr. Bennet, I do say you are a cynic.”
“I am a pessimistic romantic,” James clarified.
Wickham guffawed. “That’s something of a contradiction. Whatever could I do to alter such an existence?”
“Repeat whatever wizardry allowed you to fill this the first time,” James said, handing him back the empty glass.
Wickham appraised it and pivoted to do just that. “You don’t take celebration lightly, I respect this.”
However upon seeing Lydia engage Wickham in conversation by the wine table, James followed him and gently snatched his glass before Lydia took it instead. “Don’t waste a drop on her, no matter what she says.”
“Waste?” Lydia balked. “Lizzy, it’s a wedding! Surely I can drink today!”
“Make a fool of yourself at your own wedding,” James countered, “but not at Charlotte’s.”
“You’re so sure I would!” she scoffed, but his even stare broke her confidence and she angrily stomped elsewhere.
His aunt Gardiner smoothly appeared in her stead. “The sentinel big brother never ceases.”
“It might if she had spent another month in the womb to develop her sensibilities,” James said bluntly. Wickham snorted beside him but sealed in his mirth.
“Hush,” she scolded. “She is only acting her age. What were you doing at fifteen?”
James was definitively silent. Wickham glanced at him and offered, “George Wickham, mum. I don’t know if James has spoken of me.”
“I am his aunt Gardiner in law,” she gave him her hand. “You are the one who’s helped him with today’s decorating, yes? Only a military man would tie such a knot on a bouquet.”
His chin bowed as he laughed. “Not as elegant, I admit, but I challenge those flowers to come undone when she throws it.”
“You were born in Derbyshire, no?” she eyed him.
Wickham’s expression froze but he recovered, “Yes, mum. Born and raised. You are familiar with the area?”
“With its people,” she nodded. “It was perhaps more than a decade ago, I’ll admit, but I had the honour of calling Derbyshire my home for a good while. I am sure you and I would share many acquaintances.”
“I am afraid not,” Wickham disagreed. “I left almost immediately after the late Lord Darcy’s death.”
“Your families were close,” she recalled. “I do not remember often hearing the Darcy name without Wickham accompanying it.”
James watched Wickham’s fingertips blanche and refill with colour as he intermittently gripped and relaxed around his glass. “My father and next two forefathers worked loyally alongside the Darcy family.”
Her face tilted. “What inspired the break in tradition? I hope his majesty’s army has come through in its promise of adventurous service.”
She looked to James, who shared her mirth while Wickham smiled out of courtesy. “I am sorry to say it was more out of necessity, as my father loved the late Darcy so much he gave everything to him.”
Her brow furrowed. “Then either he was a fool or he thought you would follow in his steps and secured your inheritance with a powerful family.”
“Undoubtedly,” Wickham acquiesced, “although Darcy’s children…did not agree with tradition.”
She gazed at him closely. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I do not like talking about it,” Wickham altered. “The current Lord and Lady Darcy were dear friends to me, regardless of their hubristic upbringing.”
“Yes, I encountered them one day in town,” Mrs. Gardiner declared. James’s eyes slid to her, recognizing the tone of her voice when she challenged her husband to chess or cards. “They were lovely and remarkably behaved children. A gentle lord and lady before their time. What happened to alter such behaviour?”
“The lack of a mother in the home, perhaps,” Wickham guessed. “Gentility is something to be nurtured and reminded of. Without a source for it, I worry it was left to wither, and the deaths of our fathers left our relations to do that same. Lord Darcy was just here not some weeks ago. I would have liked your measure of him now.”
“As would I,” she agreed. “I have heard he is remarkably tall and handsome. Perfect for an older woman’s daylight fantasies. Or candlelit.”
James coughed on his wine but Wickham laughed. “Most assuredly. I pray you do not let the current estimation of the man ruin them, too.”
“Oh?” she challenged anew. “What gossip is there? I do hope it is thoroughly lascivious and venomous.”
Wickham guffawed at that. “Lascivious, no. The man is far too cold and bristled to do any such thing.”
“I should think a certain briar in the right place does the trick,” she remarked.
James rubbed his eyes and swirled the contents of his glass. Wickham continued, “You are not wrong, of course, however that is simply not the sort of man Darcy is. He would never do anything to condemn his family’s honour or so much as hint at it. Nay, he shut the gates entirely to anyone outside of the family; even those destined to join it.”
James and Mrs. Gardiner stared at him, the latter uttering, “You were engaged to Georgiana Darcy?”
“You never told me that,” James said, “Just that you were meant to inherit a livelihood. Something about service to the church.”
“Married service to the church, thankfully,” Wickham revised, “or at least it would have been. It was not finalized, as our fathers perished beforehand. I cannot say I am entirely denied happiness, as the proud Georgiana would have been a dragon of a wife, although that fated connection to my inheritance has been forever denied me. I am left to live as one of thousands of the king’s toy soldiers and the Darcys are the richest, albeit most disliked, people to ever visit Hertfordshire.”
Mrs. Gardiner hummed to herself, pondering. Wickham added, leaning forward as if in confidence, “I must ask you not to share my former state with the Lady Darcy to others. I did not tell you, Jamie, since nothing came of it and I do harbour some fear as to what Darcy will do if his sister’s story were shared.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Gardiner finished with a look over Wickham’s shoulder. “Oh goodness, Wickham, would you be an immense help and occupy my sister in law? She has bristled in her own way out of jealousy. Conversation with a handsome man like yourself will be just the remedy.”
Wickham grinned. “At your service.”
He left them and James felt his aunt’s arm entwine with his own as she strolled to more spacious, quieter areas of the ballroom. “I must warn you toward caution, Lizzy.”
“Caution?” he repeated.
“I don’t like when people tell me to forget what they’ve immediately told me,” she breathed. “It rings with a certain danger or untruth, especially as his story so immediately clashed with his initial version to you.”
“It did not clash,” he corrected, “merely lacked that key detail.”
“Even so,” she continued, “his manner of speaking…he is quite the skilled talker. I do resent age and how it fades one’s memory. I have of course heard tellings of the Darcys’ pride but his account of the children too easily overlaps my own recollections. And I consider myself a keen and intelligent woman. To have my memories so fractured makes me inclined to dislike the cause of it, not my own faults.”
“Can you be sure this isn’t your own pride?” James suggested. “We are each privy to a certain amount of self esteem.”
“I live in London, darling,” she retorted, “and the swiftest way to ruin in such a place, is a lack of surety in oneself. Hear me, Lizzy. You are too sensible to take warning just because I have given it. You may analyze it as you wish before finding a conclusion, but I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself, or endeavour to involve him, in an affection which the want of fortune would make imprudent.”
“Fortune?” James laughed. “Neither of us has such a thing.”
His aunt continued as if she had not heard him, “I daresay I have nothing against him. He is a most interesting young man, and if he had the fortune he ought to have, I should think your sister could not do better.”
James frowned. “Which one?”
She gave him a look. “Lydia, of course! You have not neglected her fancy for handsome military men. But as it is, you must not let your fancy run away with you. Your proximity to him will too thoroughly build Lydia's bridge to him. You have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Your father would depend on your resolution and good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father.”
His brows reached for his hairline. “My, this is being serious.”
“Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise,” she cornered.
“Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. He shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it.”
“Jamie, you are not serious now.”
He finished his glass and apologized, “I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present, I am not in love with Mr. Wickham—”
“Lizzy,” she snapped.
“—but if he becomes attached to me, I do see the imprudence of it. How the abominable Mr. Darcy’s actions have driven Wickham toward my company and therefore Lydia’s and—goodness—how Lydia’s ideal lifestyle in ogling military men for the rest of her days would come to fruition.”
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head theatrically. “We can’t have that. But in all sincerity, my father’s opinion of me does me the greatest honour, and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I should be very sorry to be the means of making you unhappy, but even if Wickham is in search of a woman of fortune, he shan’t find such a one in any of us. As to the matter of his relation with the Darcys, they are gone, as Wickham himself is soon likewise to be. My interest in such familial ordeals will leave with them.”
“Very good,” she resolved, appeased. “At least, during his remaining weeks here, you should not remind your mother of inviting him.”
He looked accusatorially at her. “Who just sent him over to her?”
“Oh,” she scoffed, “two can be manipulative, and young men do so enjoy being useful. I wanted to speak alone with you, that is all, however I see our time has come to an end. Congratulations, darling. You make for a stunning bride.”
James looked up to Charlotte who had met them. “Thank you so much,” she grinned with a glance down at herself. “I may finally let myself go!” she laughed.
Mrs. Gardiner laughed with her but briefly touched her arm in passing. “On the contrary, I encourage you to always feed your magnificence. Then you may be forever the goddess of your home while the man shrivels away.” She winked at her, and left them.
Charlotte, mildly dazed, looked at him. “Your aunt is…”
“Something,” he smiled. “How do you feel?”
“It hasn’t sunk in yet,” she admitted, taking his hand while her other came to hug the bend of his elbow. “Whatever will I do without your company, Lizzy?”
“I imagine a number of things,” he soothed. “Though I do not know what married women do outside of my mother’s habits.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then you shall be free to decide yourself. Or Lady Catherine will decide for you.”
She laughed but said seriously, “You cannot think me overly impressionable.”
“No, I don’t,” he assured.
“I shall depend on hearing from you often, Lizzy.”
“That you certainly shall,” he smirked.
“And need I remind you,” she declared, “of your vow to come and see me?”
His head bowed over his smile. “No, you needn’t.”
“Good,” she said softly, relieved. “My father and Maria are to come to me in March. I hope you will consent to be of the party. Of course you are as welcome as either of them at any time.”
“I know,” he promised.
The bride and groom soon set off for Kent, leaving the assembly to continue celebrating without them. James wrote to Charlotte the following morning, both fulfilling his promise of correspondence as well as supplying material for her to further relish matrimonial success. His mother made it quite easy with her “Thank heavens they’ve left!” and “The next one, Maria, is hardly out in society.”
Charlotte’s first letters were received by himself and Jane with eagerness. There could not but be curiosity to know how she would speak of her new lodgings, and upon reading them, Charlotte wrote cheerfully, seemingly surrounded by comforts, and mentioned nothing which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighborhood, and roads were all to her taste.
“At least Lady Catherine keeps her neighborhood pleasantly managed,” Jane said. Charlotte went on to write how the Lady Catherine’s behaviour was most friendly and obliging. All in all, it was Mr. Collins’ picture of Hunsford and Rosings rationally softened. “This is good, isn’t it? Surely it can be good to be wrong once in a while, where it counts?”
“I won’t know how far Charlotte’s optimism has stretched until March,” James concluded.
Then it was Jane’s turn to leave. James was happy to see her excitement while she packed, how her skirts bloomed with air when she twirled to reach for this hat and that shoe. She was a year or more younger as she slid her loose hair behind her ear, looking at the vanity and gauging what from it she would need. “You needn’t worry,” James soothed whenever a wrinkle of doubt passed over her face.
“What if I forget something?”
“You will be in London,” he hushed as he sat on her trunk and clicked it closed. “If our aunt lacks what you need, I am sure somewhere in the great metropolis, there will be a shop for you to explore.”
“I don’t plan to spend too much money,” she declared. “Just a refreshing holiday in the city.”
“What is a holiday without a little spending?” he challenged and then reminded, “If nothing else, Lydia and Kitty shan’t forgive you for lack of souvenirs. Just don’t bring back the plague.”
“The plague,” she laughed as she collapsed next to him, “hasn’t been in London for more than a century. I wish you were coming with me.”
He looked at her. “Why?”
She looked at him as if he had asked a remarkably dull question. “Because I enjoy your company. Why else?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he considered. “You and aunt might mistake me for a strong man who might carry your luggage.”
“How dare you,” she teased, “I am not cruel. And I would not let her. It would be your holiday just as much as mine.”
He nodded, “Next time, then.”
“What will you do here while I am gone?” she asked, rising to finish today’s attire. She sat at the vanity and James arrived behind her to manage her hair.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“No adventures while I am away?” she smiled at him in the mirror. “You’ll save them for when I return?”
He smiled as he worked. “I think we’ve had our adventures. We’ve outdone this place.”
“That can’t be true,” her voice softened.
“People never stay at home for adventures,” he reminded. “They must go elsewhere for new ones. Charlotte has gone to live hers as you are going to find your own.”
“Then what of you, Jamie?” she asked. “Is it too late to beg aunt to accommodate you as well?”
He took a deep breath, “I would not recommend it. Aunt has a mind that Caroline will visit you and I best not be within the area.”
“Or you’ll defend my honour?” she grinned at him.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, with my glistening sword and my ready pistols.”
“A pirate all to myself,” she giggled.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m happy,” she wiggled a little with energy.
His gaze lifted to meet hers in the mirror. “Good.”
Jane wrote to him to announce her safe arrival in London, to which he sent her an envelope of dried lavender and lime rinds he had found in a forgotten jar. When next she wrote to him she informed how her apartment now smelled of summer and that she had heard of the Bingleys being in town. In her letters to Caroline—which James had observed were getting less and less frequent before she left—she had revealed to be traveling to town. She refrained from making any sort of further announcement of herself for a week, but then relayed:
Out of friendly obligation, as well as aunt’s going into that part of town tomorrow, I shall take the opportunity of calling upon Grosvenor Street.
She wrote again when the visit was paid, and had successfully seen the younger Miss Bingley. I did not think Caroline in spirits, but she was glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her. I enquired after their brother, and she told me he was well, but so much engaged with Mr. Darcy, that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I daresay I shall soon see them here to repay the visit.
James closed the letter with somber thoughts, and went to find other pieces of home to cushion the maltreatment of London.
Jane’s succeeding letters told of her events and tours of the city, but it was not until the end of the month that she returned to the topic of the Bingleys. She had not seen Charles at all, and as for the sisters, even Jane admitted to developing excuses for them as each evening arrived with no return of her visit to them. Jane could no longer be blind to Caroline’s inattention, but when the visitor did at last appear, her shortness of stay and altercation of her manner did not allow Jane to deceive herself any longer.
My dearest Lizzy, will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in your better judgment at my expense when I confess myself to have been entirely disillusioned in Miss Bingley’s regard for me. Though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be falsely intimate with me. Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday, and not a note, nor a line did I receive in the mean time.
When she did come, it was evident she had no pleasure in it. She made a slight, formal apology for not calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so altered a creature that when she went away, I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, though I cannot blame her—
James put the letter down to exhale and rub his eyes. “For once in your life, blame somebody,” he whispered to no one.
I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on her side, but I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting wrong, and because I am sure that anxiety for her brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself further, and though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me. So deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may feel on his behalf, is natural and amiable.
James had to reread this section several times before he ultimately shook his head and continued on. “You no longer make sense, Jane.”
I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, because if he had at all cared about me, we would have met long ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself. It should seem by her manner of talking as if she wanted to persuade herself that he is truly partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this.
James scrubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe I should have gone to London.”
But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, and think only of what will make me happy: your affection, and the invariable kindnesses my dear uncle and aunt have bestowed me. Let me hear from you soon, Lizzy. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield again. That the house was given up, but not with any certainty… We had better not mention it, least of all to mama. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts from Hunsford in your last letter. I look forward to switching places, with myself awaiting your letters and you entangling yourself in new company.
Yours, ever,
Jane
At this point, Caroline Bingley met every expectation James had of her, which left his criticism to fall upon Charles. He could not even wish for a renewal of his affections for Jane if he were to continue being a coward in the face of his sisters and friend. As much as James had enjoyed his own moments with Charles Bingley, his character sank in his review of the letter, and James even dared to think it advantageous if Charles married Georgiana Darcy. If Wickham’s account were to be believed, Charles would have his lifelong punishment, and Jane would at last be free from him.
Mrs. Gardiner, of course aware of the siblings’ correspondence, sent her own letter within the parcels Jane sent him. She reminded him of James’s promise concerning that gentleman, and required information. James patiently assured her that the man’s attentions had been thwarted from the Bennets, if nothing else then for the reason of the regiments leaving Hertfordshire.
Dear aunt, your concerns fall upon an anticlimactic result. Not only has Wickham begun packing for a new location, but he must part with a lady outside of the Bennet home. One of the King daughters caught his fancy—she does have a stake to ten thousand, if you are so stuck on our discussion of fortune—however none here dislike him for it and I can assure you I am as much not in love with him as when I first told you. As seriously as ever, I guarantee that if I were in love with him, I would have detested his very name and not only wished him every manner of evil, but would have endeavoured to grant him those evils.
That being said, only Kitty and Lydia feel his defection. They are young in the ways of the world, and are not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on. I am sure Lydia believes Wickham would pluck the stars from the sky and eat them as easily as chocolate truffles, the beautiful fool.
Look after Jane. She dwells in her own thoughts almost as much as I do.
James Bennet.