Page 30 of Such Low Connections

Elizabeth studiously ignored her mother’s personal criticisms, having decided that it was best to think and speak as little as possible about Mr Collins in order that he be soonest forgotten. Charlotte had thoughtfully removed him to Lucas Lodge for luncheon after that awful proposal, and Elizabeth had not come downstairs until he had departed for the coach.

Still, at least this personal drama had taken Mr Collins’ mind off calling on Mr Darcy, she supposed.

“Miss Bingley did write with their apologies,” Jane broke in, her voice reasonable although her face was sad. “Mr Bingley had urgent business in town. It is not as though they have withdrawn for mere caprice, or without notice, Mama.”

“Urgent business in town!” snorted Mrs Bennet, as though she did not give much credence to Miss Bingley’s note. “What manner of business can take a man from his home indefinitely? And only a few weeks away from Christmas too.”

“Caroline Bingley’s note did not say that they were leaving indefinitely,” pointed out Elizabeth, who saw Jane’s distress, although her mother appeared oblivious to it. “It only said that her brother had been called away to London on urgent business and she could not say yet when they would return.”

“Indefinitely,” Mrs Bennet repeated with a firm nod. “It means the same thing, Lizzy, and you cannot deny it. Well, I shall have to rearrange everything, and with only Hill to help me, I do not know what I shall do.”

“Come, let’s leave Mother to it,” Elizabeth suggested softly to her older sister as Mrs Bennet rang the bell for the housekeeper. “There is nothing more to be done here.”

Jane nodded, and arm in arm, they proceeded from the parlour upstairs to Jane’s room.

“I am sure it must be something very serious and urgent to make Miss Bingley write as she did,” Jane observed earnestly on the stairs.

Elizabeth nodded as comfortingly as she could, although she did not herself have much more confidence in Miss Bingley’s word than Mrs Bennet.

“I heard little of Mr Bingley’s own spirit in the note from his sister when you read it aloud to us,” she commented.

“Well, Caroline wrote it,” Jane replied with a shrug. “That is to be expected, I suppose.”

“The tone seems odd to me, having met Mr Bingley several times now, and being as sure as you of his good manners and amiable temperament,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head. “I would expect his sister to have conveyed his apologies and his assurance of returning soon, especially to you, Jane.”

“You should not think that,” Jane demurred immediately, but Elizabeth was firm.

“Yes, I should. He had eyes for no one else at the Netherfield ball, and I have no doubt that Mr Bingley’s principal object in dining with us was your society, not the size of Mother’s joint of beef, nor the dubious entertainment of Mary on the pianoforte.”

“Mary does not play ill,” Jane objected to this mild criticism of their middle sister.

“Nor does she play well, although every note might be correct,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. “Mary plays with more attention to the written score than to the music experienced. That is why no one wishes to listen.”

Closing the door to the bedroom, Jane gave another long sigh, a sound that told her sister that the disappointment of Mr Bingley’s departure would not be easily laughed away. Her eyes shifted to the unfolded message still sitting on the dressing table.

“May I read the letter myself?” Elizabeth asked. Wordlessly, Jane put it into her hands.

Dearest Jane

Urgent business calls my brother away to London this very day, and it is decided that we shall all join him. I cannot say when our party will return to Netherfield. This unfortunately means that we will be denied the pleasure of seeing you for supper at Longbourn on Friday.

From this evening, I shall be at Grosvenor Square with my sister and Mr Hurst. I hope you will write to me there, for the only thing I shall miss from Hertfordshire is your company.

Yours ever

Caroline Bingley

Elizabeth regarded the paper rather longer than it had taken to read the few lines it contained.

“It is very short,” she remarked, choosing her words with care for Jane’s feelings. “I would have expected more explanation from Mr Bingley, considering his regard for you and his attentiveness at the ball.”

The message was indeed short, and rather pointed. It seemed to contain little of either the regret or courtesy Elizabeth would have expected the Bingley party, or at least Mr Bingley, to express in cancelling his engagement at Longbourn. In fact, in its brevity and final slight on the neighbourhood, the letter was almost rude.

“It is short, but then, such messages often are between mere acquaintances,” Jane returned. “Nor can I find fault with Mr Bingley for attending to his own business.”

“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth sighed. “Mere acquaintances do not look upon one another as Mr Bingley looks at you! I am sure of it.”

“No, please say no more. I cannot let myself read so much into his absence any more than his presence, whatever you or Mother choose to believe. Mr Bingley is a good man and an amiable neighbour. That is all, Lizzy.”