Miss Bingley climbed to her feet as well, much more slowly. “I suppose I will accompany you.”
Her brother paused in the act of opening the door, a momentary frown touching his features. “You need not inconvenience yourself, Caroline.”
“I have a slight headache. Some fresh air will no doubt do me some good,” she replied with an expression suggesting she held him accountable for the pain in her head.
“Of course,” Mr. Bingley said with perhaps a hint of a disappointed sigh.
So much for any hopes of a private conversation. Jane took a second to mourn the loss but maintained a serene expression. She had considerable practice with concealing her emotions.
Still, Jane experienced a flicker of…something. A new and unfamiliar emotion directed at Miss Bingley. She prodded the feeling, trying to identify it. Perhaps it was a little taste of…irritation?
Well, she must suppress that impulse immediately. Irritation was such a petty sentiment; Jane could not afford to indulge it.
To conceal her disordered thoughts, Jane gave Miss Bingley a benevolent smile as she led the way to the front hall, where everyone paused to don their winter clothing. Maggie took her place as the last in the procession.
The maid had been helpful to Jane before; might she be again? As she watched Maggie drape a shawl over her red curls, a plan took shape in Jane’s mind. As they exited onto the street, Jane lingered behind to speak a word in Maggie’s ear. The young woman listened eagerly to Jane and nodded with a smile. “You can leave it to me, miss!”
As Jane hurried to join Mr. and Miss Bingley, she quelled her misgivings. Maggie had proved quite trustworthy so far; there was no reason to believe she would fail Jane now. The members of the party said little as they traversed the city streets. Mr. Bingley had offered one arm to Jane while his sister took the other.
A mere three streets from the Gardiners’ house, they reached a small park full of leafless trees and scraggly shrubberies. Miss Bingley sniffed loudly at the unprepossessing sight. Jane thought it a charming little place, particularly the small duck pond and benches where people sat to throw bread crumbs for the birds.
As they reached the outskirts of the park, Maggie crowded rather close behind the other three. Miss Bingley turned to snap at her when the maid happened to stumble over an uneven stone in the path. Maggie’s foot flew out, catching the hem of Miss Bingley’s dress.
Miss Bingley cried out at the sight of a long tear in the back of her gown. “What have you done, you clumsy girl?” Jane experienced another flicker of irritation at the way the other woman spoke to Maggie. Why am I so out of sorts today?
“Oh, a thousand pardons, ma’am!” Maggie’s forehead wrinkled with an admirable imitation of distress.
“I cannot be seen with my gown in such a state!” Miss Bingley bellowed imperiously.
“Oh, I can mend it!” Maggie exclaimed. “Right away! You’ll never know there was a tear. If we return to the Gardiners’ house, it is but the work of a moment.”
“Hmph!” Miss Bingley snorted, apparently feeling that Maggie’s apology was not abject enough. She examined the tear and looked back toward Gracechurch Street with a disgruntled expression. “I suppose the house is not too far. Charles, we must return to Gracechurch Street.” She beckoned her brother.
“Surely we need not accompany you,” Mr. Bingley said. “I am in desperate need of a bit of fresh air.”
“But,” Miss Bingley objected in low tones, “you and Miss Bennet…”
Her brother laughed. “We are in public. There is nothing improper about taking a walk here.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Jane said softly, “but I will be just fine.”
Miss Bingley sputtered but could find no reasonable objection. Finally, she whirled on Maggie. “Very well, let us return to the Gardiners’ so we may be back here immediately!”
“Maggie does excellent mending,” Jane assured Miss Bingley with a serene smile. The other woman responded with an aggrieved glare. I should probably feel guiltier over this entire mishap, Jane considered. But Miss Bingley made it difficult to feel sympathy, and the prospect of a private conversation with Mr. Bingley was entirely too exciting.
Miss Bingley stalked back the way they had come with Maggie trailing in her wake. Jane thought she really ought to give the maid a special gift before she returned home; the girl had far surpassed a maid’s customary duties.
Mr. Bingley offered Jane his arm, and they commenced a stroll along the path. It was still early in the year for much to bloom, although a few crocuses peeked through the withered grass. But the sun was bright, and the wind resembled a spring breeze more than a winter gale.
“It is a lovely day,” he said.
“Yes, unusually warm for this time of year,” Jane remarked.
“We are very fortunate.”
“Yes.”
There were so many things Jane wanted to say beyond bland pleasantries, but her head was too crowded with thoughts for any words to possibly emerge. Mr. Bingley will think me the biggest simpleton!