Unforgiving Temper (18 page)

“It was only recently that I discovered I was
persuaded wrongfully, and then I returned as soon as I could to try
and make amends for my monstrous conduct. I can image what you must
think of me and I deserve every reproach imaginable; but I beg of
you; please forgive me.”

“There was no explanation,” Jane accused him
softly. “Only one short note from your sister which gave me no hope
of you ever returning. I was in London a full three months. I sent
letters. I even called on your sisters. I was met with the barest
civility at every turn. What was I to think?”

Bingley was in agony. “Oh, that I could undo
these past months! Caroline was acting under a very great
misunderstanding; one which has now been corrected. Please believe
me when I say that I did not know you were in town or I would have
made every effort to see you. Is not my presence here now proof of
my sincerity? It was all a wretched mistake which I assure you
shall never happen again.”

“I wish I could believe you,
Mr. Bingley; but I am afraid I have only imagined you to be
what I wanted, not what you truly are.”

“You cannot think me so very bad! I have
explained what happened!”

“Yes – and you have just assured me that such
a thing would never happen again! But what of your current
preparations to leave Netherfield? You played me for a fool once,
sir, but I will not suffer it again!”

“I am not leaving! I mean – I was, but I am
not now. Please do not dismiss me. It is all a terrible, terrible
misunderstanding. When you did not come to tea the first time, I
had thought you too generous to reject me openly. I admit I was
ready to leave – not for my sake, but yours; to spare you any
further discomfort.”

“And in November – when you left me exposed
to the ridicule of the entire neighborhood – was that to spare me
as well?”

“No, of course not! And I am not leaving now.
I only discovered the extent of your troubles on Sunday, and since
that moment, I have made every effort to correct my error.
Miss Bennet, I beg you to forgive my stupid manners. They were
not intentional, not in the least.”

Bingley fell silent beside Jane as they moved
on, nearly completing the garden's outer circle. Jane marveled at
what she hoped was his meaning. She did esteem him above any other
man she had ever known, but could she depend upon him? She would
not open her heart again without an absolute declaration of his
love. She would not make the same mistake twice, for she knew her
heart would not survive a second blow.

“I forgive you, Mr. Bingley, if indeed
it is as you say; but I cannot tell you what lies ahead. As you
see, our life here is met each day with a great deal of
uncertainty. I cannot bear any more uncertainty right now. I am in
desperate need of a steadfastness which I do not believe you can
provide.”

“Miss Bennet, please allow me to – ”

“Charles, there you are!” Caroline cried,
coming around the corner with a gasp of relief. “We must go.
Mr. Darcy and his sister are waiting at the carriage
already.”

“Caroline, can you not wait until I have
finished my conversation with Miss Bennet?”

“I am sorry, but it cannot. I have the most
dreadful headache. I fear I have taken in too much sun this
morning.”

“That is quite all right, Miss Bingley.
I believe we are finished here.”

Jane's emotions had been on the edge of
collapse before Miss Bingley's sudden appearance; but now she
held them in tight regulation as she escorted brother and sister to
their carriage. Unable to look at him again for fear she would
betray herself completely, Jane stood next to her mother and waved
the visitors off until the carriage disappeared from view.

“Well, Jane! It is a good thing for you I
found out Mr. Bingley had come in time to help you or he would
have left without saying a word! Tell me, dear, what did he say?
Did he express any particular interest?”

“Oh, Mother,” was all Jane could manage
before the tears she had struggled so hard to suppress spilled
over, greatly surprising Mrs. Bennet.

“Jane! What has happened?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing!” she sobbed,
then fled into the house leaving her mother to stare after her in
bewilderment.

* * * *

“I do not think billiards will do at
present,” Darcy surmised as he retrieved Bingley's ball from the
floor for the third time. “And I cannot believe you are ready to
break and run.”

“What else am I to do?” Bingley moaned as
Darcy placed the ball back on the table. “She has given me no
hope.”

“Was it an absolute rejection?”

“She did not say 'go away' exactly – she is
far too kind for that – but she might as well have.”

“What
exactly
did she say then?” Darcy
pushed.

“She said she was 'in desperate need of a
steadfastness which I do not believe you can provide.' I tried to
explain myself; to offer her my assurances, but Caroline
interrupted us and I had no more opportunity. It was a wretched
endeavor. You saw Miss Bennet when we left - she would not
even look at me!”

“That is not a complete rejection, if any at
all.”

“Not a complete rejection? Darcy, she could
not possibly have said it any plainer than that!”

“On the contrary, my friend,” replied Darcy
grimly. “She could have looked you straight in the eye and said:
'You are the last man in the world whom I could ever be
prevailed on to marry!'
”

“Darcy, do be serious – this is no time for
jests! No woman would express herself as plainly as that. But the
material point is clear nonetheless: she does not want me.”

“She did not say that. She raised certain
concerns, and surely you must see her point.”

“Oh, yes, I see her point. I am a worthless
will-o-the-wisp. Well, I will not stay where I am not wanted. We
shall leave after all. That should make you happy, eh, Darcy?”

“No, Bingley, that will not make me happy. Do
you see what you are doing? I have often said your impulsive
behavior would be your undoing, and this time it truly shall.
Miss Bennet hesitates for good reason. At a time you should
remain steady, you are ready to run.”

“I am not running,” Bingley snapped sullenly.
“She does not want me and, as such, it is pointless to remain
here.”

“But she
does
want you! That is the
point, though she does an admirable job of concealing it. Consider
her position. You have made a sudden departure once – nearly twice
– and now you propose to do it again. To a young woman facing the
uncertainties of a sick father with an entailed estate, it is a
devastatingly poor showing of your steadfastness, especially at a
time when she needs your support. I do not think even the stoutest
of loves could prevail in such a case.”

“What else am I to do? She made it very clear
she was done with me. If only I had had the time to explain myself
better.”

“First, if you truly love her as you claim,
you cannot leave. That would bring her fears to life and sound the
death knell on your chances all in the same stroke. And secondly,
do not count on your sisters to assist you in your quest. If
anything, they pose a definite impediment.”

“I know that now. Caroline knew my purpose
for going to Longbourn and yet she did nothing to aid my cause! I
did not think I would ever say this, but I was very happy to see
Mrs. Bennet today.” Bingley's mouth curled into a bitter frown
as he took aim at the balls on the table. “Well, I promised to send
Caroline away if she could not support me. She has had her chance –
several in fact – and her own actions this morning have decided her
fate.”

“What will you do with her?”

“I am sending her to Scarborough. I shall
write to my cousin's wife this evening.”

“And then?”

“I cannot say. If only I could speak with
Jane again, I am certain I could change her mind,” said Bingley,
absent-mindedly lining up another shot.

“Speaking with her is not enough, my friend.
It is not your love she doubts, but your steadfastness. That is
what you must prove to her.”

“Prove my steadfastness?” Bingley cried in
frustration. “And how am I to do that?”

His cue struck with an unbridled force that
sent the ball flying once again, this time finding ground at
Darcy's feet. Bingley's question was left unanswered as Wilson
appeared in the doorway, announcing that Miss Bingley and
Miss Darcy were in the drawing room awaiting the gentlemen for
tea.

Darcy donned his coat and followed Bingley
out, grateful an immediate answer had not been required for he had
absolutely no idea how such a thing was to be accomplished.

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. No matter
how many times she tried, the colors simply refused to cooperate!
It was a painfully telling contrast to Rebecca's painting. She
watched with an appreciative eye as her companion added a wash of
brilliant purple hues to the petals of a delicate flower.

“I am amazed at your talent, Miss Ballard.
How ever do you do it?”

“I do not know, it just comes to me.”

“Perhaps it is because you enjoy it so much.
I believe you would sit here all day if you could.”

“Perhaps. I know that when I am painting or
drawing, nothing else matters. Mrs. Holiby was very good to let me
do it more than I probably should have.”

Elizabeth caught the note of sadness in the
girl's voice and looked up in time to glimpse a pained expression
before it was quickly smoothed over. Great strides had been made in
the past week to coax Rebecca out from behind her wall of quiet
hostility, but there was still a long way to go.

“You must feel Mrs. Holiby's absence keenly.
I am truly sorry she was sent away.”

“I know,” Rebecca said softly without looking
up. “It was not your fault. I am sorry for blaming you. It was just
so unexpected and I was lost without her.”

“She had been with you a long time then?”

“From the very first day Lord Grissholm
brought me to Everton…but I guess you know all that.”

“No, I have not been told much of anything,
and I do not mean to pry. You need not speak of it if it makes you
uncomfortable.”

“It is all right. I should like to tell you –
it is nice to have someone to talk to again.”

Elizabeth smiled encouragingly. “Then you may
say as much as you like and I shall listen.”

Rebecca added a few more details to her
flower before continuing. “I became an orphan when I was seven, and
came here to live. Mrs. Holiby cared for me like a mother. She was
much more than a governess to me, she was my family. When she was
sent away so suddenly, I could only see that you had taken her
place.”

“I am so very sorry for your loss – for Mrs.
Holiby and your family. Lord Grissholm was wrong to be so
cruel. Is he a friend of the family? Is that why you are his
ward?”

“Actually, I do not know what the connection
is. I only remember that my family all died in a dreadful fire.
Several families perished in the flames, and it was a miracle that
I escaped with very little injury.”

“Lord Grissholm must have some
connection for him to take you in as he did.”

“I asked him once soon after he brought me
here; but he became so angry and frightening that I never dared
mention it again.”

Elizabeth returned to her own painting more
puzzled than ever. Why would a single man of Lord Grissholm's
temper take the responsibility of rearing a seven-year-old child?
And what exactly was Mr. Wickham up to? Rebecca was without
fortune, which made it very unlikely that Wickham was repeating the
scheme he had attempted with Mr. Darcy's sister. As far as she
could tell, Rebecca had never even heard of George Wickham. None of
it made sense. Why had he been so insistent that she take up this
particular post? It was all so strange!

With a mental shrug, Elizabeth pushed the
puzzling questions aside. Until Rebecca felt more comfortable
talking about such things, it was not likely she would find any
answers.

The rest of their time was spent in
comfortable silence, trying to replicate the small watercolor
Elizabeth had borrowed from the east wing sitting room. At length
Elizabeth declared their lesson at an end and made ready to return
the painting. As she turned to leave, she was surprised by the
arrival of the viscount.

“Ladies, I thought I would see what you have
been doing this afternoon. Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all. We were attempting to give the
venerable Mr. Lawrence some competition,” Elizabeth offered
lightly, “though Miss Ballard has a much better chance at it than
I. She is very talented, is she not, sir?”

“What do you think you are doing?” he
snapped, his pleasant manner instantly dissolving into icy
reserve.

Elizabeth's eyes followed his to the painting
in her hands. “We have been using this piece as a model for our
lessons. It is an excellent example.”

“Are you always in the habit of helping
yourself to property that is not your own, Miss Bennet?”

“No, sir, I am not!” she bristled at the
sudden attack. “I had not thought it important enough to bother
you, but I certainly shall apply to you in the future should I feel
a need to touch anything that is not expressly my own. Pray excuse
me and I shall return it at once.”

Without waiting for a reply, Elizabeth
stormed from the room, hurt and angry.
He might as well have
accused me of stealing. How dare he! And to think I was beginning
to consider him amiable. Obviously all his recent cordiality and
good manners have been a pretense. I was right from the beginning –
he is a dreadful man!

The time it took her to cover the distance to
the east wing was enough to cool her anger somewhat and she was a
little calmer when she reached the sitting room. Returning the
picture to its place on the wall, she sighed wistfully and stepped
back to admire it one more time. The picture had been an effective
means of bringing her and Rebecca together, if only for a little
while. Now she would have to find something else.