When Jane Got Angry

“You believe me?” He grabbed one of her hands and pressed it to his chest. “You hold me blameless?”

“Yes, of course.” The pressure of his fingers on hers made her breathless.

His shoulders sagged, and he exhaled forcefully. “You are kinder to me than I deserve.”

“You could not have—”

He held up a hand. “I am responsible. I should have known Caroline was capable of such deceit. I should have observed her more closely. Then I might have prevented much of this mischief.”

She started to demur, but he forestalled her, squeezing her hands tightly. “I pray you, allow me to ask you this while I still have the courage: Will you—? Would you—?” He swallowed convulsively. “Will you agree to continue our friendship?” The pressure on her hand was nearly painful, but she had no intention of objecting.

“Yes, of course,” she said softly, well aware that they both knew the word “friendship” was a proxy for something else. Something far better, but also far more frightening.

His face broke into a grin. “Thank you! Thank God!” In his ebullience, Mr. Bingley grabbed both her shoulders and drew her toward him. For a shocked moment, Jane thought she was about to be kissed.

And she would not object.

But then he released his grip and stepped backward. “I-I am—my apologies, Ja-Miss Bennet! I did not intend…anything improper.”

“It is nothing—”

He took another step away. “I did not…wrinkle your gown, did I? I would never forgive myself if I…wrinkled your gown.”

“My gown is fine.” If only he would touch my shoulders again!

As they stood a few feet apart, staring at each other, a faint blush colored his cheeks. “I—” he started.

“Charles! Really, you are in public!” Miss Bingley’s voice shattered their tender moment as she swept up to them. Maggie trailed behind, giving Jane an apologetic glance. The strange pressure in Jane’s head redoubled its pounding.

Mr. Bingley turned slowly to his sister. “We are merely talking,” he said mildly.

“I believe it is high time we quit this place. I am quite fatigued.” She fanned her face dramatically, although it was not the least bit warm.

“We have only just arrived.”

“How can you say that? We have been here this past hour!”

It could not have been more than half an hour. Mr. Bingley sighed. “I am enjoying a pleasant visit and would like to stay.”

Miss Bingley gave her brother a hard stare. “The maid mended my gown, but I would like to have my own girl look at it.”

Mr. Bingley stammered, unable to find an acceptable excuse to put off his sister’s demands.

Miss Bingley’s machinations were so obvious now that Jane wondered how she had not noticed them previously, but she had always attempted to ascribe charitable motives to her friend. Even when she knew Miss Bingley took no pleasure in visiting Gracechurch Street, she had not believed the woman capable of lying and deception. How abominable!

This woman had done everything in her power to ruin Jane’s happiness and gave no consideration for her brother’s wellbeing. Pressure was building throughout Jane’s body—much like a pot over a fire. Smaller bubbles of irritation had been popping to the surface all day, and the news of Miss Bingley’s lies had brought her to the edge of a boil. Now, it all boiled over.

“Why did you deceive your brother about my visit?” Jane heard herself ask.

Oh, my goodness! She almost slapped her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from uttering more inappropriate words, but she felt surprisingly little regret. It was almost a relief to say what she truly thought.

Jane was weary of stifling the pressure, denying her anger, pushing her feelings into a back corner of her mind. Why should I always give others’ sentiments precedence over mine? Miss Bingley has shown me no consideration and thus deserves none from me. No. I will not regret my words.

Miss Bingley gaped at Jane with the wide-eyed stare of someone who had just observed a dog open its mouth to sing opera. Behind her, Maggie’s eyes were dancing.

The words poured out of Jane as she stalked toward the other woman. “You informed your brother that I had not called upon you and Mrs. Hurst since arriving in town, but I did visit you—within days of my arrival. And you returned the visit to Gracechurch Street.”

“Aye, she did. I saw her!” Maggie exclaimed.