Page 10 of A Christmas Understanding

Elizabeth wished that they had accepted the tea. It would have been better had something in this room been warm.

“Your brother is well, I hope?” she asked. She would not have brought Mr. Bingley into the conversation, as it was a little forward to ask. However, Miss Bingley had mentioned her brother’s name, which made it impolite not to ask.

“He is very well.”

“He is scarcely ever at home,” Mrs. Hurst said. “But that is his way whenever we are in town.”

“Always,” Miss Bingley agreed.

They both smiled at Jane.

Elizabeth’s temper began to flare. They were addressing Jane as though she were a poor, misguided creature who had mistaken their brother’s attentions for something more than the passing fancy they had been. Mr. Bingley was now reassuming his proper place in town, a place that had no place for a Miss Bennet of Longbourn.

“He is most often in the company of Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Hurst said. “You recall Mr. Darcy, of course.”

They had parted company early in the morning on the twenty-seventh of November, and it was now the third of December. Yes, they remembered Mr. Darcy.

“Certainly” was all Jane said.

Miss Bingley shot a look at her sister before saying, “Mr. Darcy has a house in town, and Charles spends a good deal of time there.”

“His sister has come to town to join him, has she not, Caroline?” Mrs. Hurst asked.

“She has. Dear Georgiana. Charles is very fond of her.”

“Who would not be?” Mrs. Hurst asked.

It was neatly done, Elizabeth thought, as Mr. Bingley’s sisters continued their paean to Miss Darcy. They implied an understanding but never declared one. Were they to be questioned, they could still deny having meant anything at all.

Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the mantel. Not much time remained in their visit.

“Charles is nearly one of the family,” Mrs. Hurst was saying.

“Louisa,” Miss Bingley admonished, though her sister’s name was spoken as though they shared a delightful secret.

This was more than enough.

“I understood,” Elizabeth said, “that Miss Darcy was quite young. Pray, how old is she?”

There was no way around answering such a direct query. “She is sixteen and shall be out soon,” Miss Bingley said.

“Truly? So Mr. Darcy agrees with my mother, then, regarding how early a girl should have her come out?” Elizabeth asked. “She will be gratified to hear it.”

“You quite mistake me, Miss Elizabeth.” Miss Bingley said, her response smooth and practised. “Miss Darcy is not out, but only because there is no need for her to be. Even at sixteen, her manners and accomplishments are equivalent to those who have been out for several seasons.” Her voice remained perfectly pleasant. “Perhaps it is not so much the age of a young lady when she comes out that matters, but rather how prepared she is to do so.”

Point to Miss Bingley.

“It must be as you say,” Elizabeth replied. “I am sure that Mr. Darcy is only loath to share his sister with society.”

“Goodness, Miss Elizabeth, you do appear quite interested in Miss Darcy,” Miss Bingley said.

“Having heard so much about her from you, I could hardly avoid it.”

“Perhaps we shall have the opportunity to meet her one day. From your description, she sounds like a delightful young lady.” Jane remained composed, but Elizabeth could perceive the effort it required.

It was time to end this. The clock on the mantel said twenty after the hour. Elizabeth and Jane both rose.

“It was very good of you to receive us,” Jane said. “Our aunt will be waiting.”