When Jane Got Angry

“I have not had the pleasure of observing them together very often,” Miss Bingley admitted. “But they have been much thrown together at Darcy House…I believe.”

Aunt Gardiner regarded Jane with a triumphant expression. Indeed, Miss Bingley’s stammering explanations suggested that she may have manufactured much or all of her brother’s interest in Miss Darcy.

Miss Bingley pulled her reticule into her lap with an irritated sniff, standing abruptly. “I am afraid it is past time for my departure. Louisa is expecting me to attend her for a bit of shopping.”

Neither Aunt Gardiner nor Jane observed that Miss Bingley’s visit had lasted less than ten minutes. Both women rose to escort their guest to the door.

“It was very good of you to spare the time for a visit,” Jane’s aunt said. “Perhaps our paths will cross again in London.”

“Perhaps.” Miss Bingley’s lips were so firmly pursed that the words could barely emerge.

They exchanged goodbyes as Miss Bingley all but fled from the Gardiners’ home. Then Jane and her aunt silently returned to the drawing room, where Maggie was cleaning up the tea set and biscuits.

“I do not believe we should expect another visit from Miss Bingley,” Aunt Gardiner commented, smoothing the folds of her skirt.

Jane sighed. “I realize now I was completely mistaken in her regard for me.”

Her aunt nodded. “Likewise, her declarations of her brother’s devotion to Miss Darcy appear to be rather wish than reality.”

“Perhaps.” The nervous energy that had sustained Jane for the visit suddenly deserted her, and she sank wearily into the cushions of the settee.

“Unfortunately, Miss Bingley is one of the foremost gossipmongers in the ton,” her aunt warned. “She may have used you ill, but it still behooves you to remain on friendly terms with her.”

“You need not worry on that account, Aunt. I remain on friendly terms with everyone.” She did not have the kind of resentful temperament that clung to real or imagined slights.

“Of course.” Her aunt resumed her needlework but set it down after only a moment. “You must consider the possibility that Miss Bingley never told her brother of your visit.”

Jane gasped. “Surely she would not—! That would be terribly wrong of her!”

“Yes, but I do not believe the woman has dealt honestly with you, Jane.”

Nausea roiled Jane’s stomach. “I suppose I must consider that.”

Perhaps Mr. Bingley remained unaware of her presence in London. And perhaps the thought should give Jane a glimmer of hope, but the effect was the same. He might not be avoiding her deliberately, but she would never see him. London was too large to hope for a coincidental encounter. Even if he felt something more than indifference toward her, Jane would never know.

Her eyes burned, but she bit her lip against shedding any tears. She had wept over Mr. Bingley enough.

Chapter Two

Much to Jane’s distress, Mr. Bingley still occupied her thoughts that night while Maggie helped her out of her day gown and into her nightrail. She looked forward to the silence of her bedchamber so she could give way to her feelings in solitude, and yet Maggie lingered. “Did you need something, Maggie?” she asked.

At seventeen or eighteen years of age, Maggie was young to have such a responsible position. The Gardiners employed a housekeeper, a cook, a manservant, and a nurse for their four children. With such a small staff, the sole maid had a great deal of responsibility for cleaning, serving, and caring for Mrs. Gardiner and any female visitors. In a larger household, Maggie would have been a scullery maid, with the hopes of someday becoming an upstairs maid or housekeeper.

Despite her youth, Maggie went about her duties with diligence and good humor. She was more prone to talking back or making cheeky remarks than most servants Jane had met, and she insisted on being called by her given name. But Aunt Gardiner seemed to be charmed by the girl’s impertinence.

Aware of Jane’s scrutiny, the girl dipped her head but made no move to depart. “Begging your pardon, miss.” The girl bit her lip. “But are you, perhaps, sweet on Mr. Charles Bingley?”

Jane’s eyebrows shot upward. Her mother would have chastised a servant for such forwardness. Not that Jane was surprised the maid had guessed the truth; servants were always eavesdropping and sharing gossip. But never had a servant asked Jane about her personal life.

Recognizing Jane’s shock, Maggie started backing toward the door. “I’m sorry, miss! I shouldn’t have said anything. Never you mind—”

The maid clearly had images of being sacked for her impertinence, but Jane was not so easily offended. She held out her hand in a reassuring gesture. “It is quite all right, Maggie. I was merely surprised. What prompted the question?”

The girl’s hands twisted in her apron as she considered for a moment before speaking. “Well, I noticed what you and Mrs. Gardiner were saying today…and I couldn’t help but overhear some of what Miss Bingley said….”

Jane was tempted to smile. She imagined that Maggie’s “overhearing” was not particularly inadvertent. “Miss Bingley did seem out of spirits today.”

Maggie made an indignant noise. “She was awful, that Bingley woman. If my friend treated me in such a way, I would give her the back of my hand.”