Page 26 of The Wager
Miss Bingley pursed her lips, seemingly uncomfortable at being reminded they did not own the estate where she rested her head at night but rented it from another. Regardless of this annoyance, she continued with her line of questioning, solidifying Elizabeth’s belief she had a nefarious purpose for the unexpected invitation to tea.
“Are the rest of his family involved with other such industrious enterprises?”
“His eldest brother inherited the family estate in Surrey.”
“Our dear Uncle Phillips is a second son,” Elizabeth interjected, not wanting Mary to reveal their beloved uncle’s father was a baron. “He chose to follow the law instead of taking orders, which brought him to our corner of Hertfordshire.”
“A choice Aunt Phillips is very glad of,” Jane added.
“Your other uncle,” Caroline continued as though neither Elizabeth nor Jane had spoken. “He is in trade, yes?”
Mary nodded in the affirmative, adding, “Our uncle is very successful. He and his wife live in London.”
She took a small bit of her cake.
“In Cheapside, I heard.”
“Near Cheapside, on Gracechurch Street.”
“I imagine he lives there to keep a watchful eye on hisproperty,” Miss Bingley tittered and slid a glance toward Mrs. Hurst.
Elizabeth’s anger began to simmer. What was supposed to be a pleasant tea had turned into an inquisition where the perpetrator believed she had all the answers and only wished to humiliate her guests.
“Speaking of property,” Elizabeth began with false sweetness. “Remind me again, Miss Bingley, in which county we can findyourfather’s estate?”
She would have gone further but Jane laid a warning hand on her forearm just as an odd sound came from Mary. Both turned their attention toward her.
“Jane,” she said in a small voice. “I do not feel well.”
Mary then doubled over and struck her head hard enough on the floor to render her unconscious. Both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst emitted tiny screams.
“Miss Bingley, is there any lobster in these cakes?” Jane demanded as she hurried to Mary’s side, gently lifting her sister’s head to rest on her lap.
“How would I know?”
“Please find out if there was.”
Miss Bingley continued to gape and cast panicked glances toward her eldest sister. Mrs. Hurst seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and hurried to the bell pull. Only when a footman stepped into the room did Miss Bingley snap out of her stupor.
“You there,” she demanded and pointed at the footman. “Have Mrs. Nickers attend us and send a maid to ask the cook what was in the cakes she sent up for our tea.”
The footman looked at Mary lying on Jane’s lap before rushing from the room. Elizabeth heard Mrs. Hurst murmur to her sister, “Her name is Mrs. Nicholls.”
“Oh, who cares? She is just a housekeeper.”
At that moment, the butler entered the room.
“What may I do to help, Ma’am,” he queried, addressing Jane, not Miss Bingley.
“Send Jeremy for Mr. Jones, he is the fastest rider of all the footmen. Tell him Miss Bennet is having one of her reactions and we need him post haste.” The butler turned to do her bidding, stopping when Jane called out again. “Cardston, after that, please find Mrs. Nicholls and tell her I need water for drinking as well as to wipe Mary’s face, it will help cool and relax her.”
Cardston withdrew to do her bidding, completely ignoring the gaping mouth of his temporary mistress.
“Who do you think you are, to order my servants about as if they are your own?” Miss Bingley demanded. “It is not as though your sister is dying.”
Jane’s eyes flashed with anger upon hearing such a callous comment. Elizabeth was not at all surprised by this reaction. She and Jane could, and did, withstand the barbs and insults of ignorant people, but woe betide the person who attacked their family. Fortunately, for Miss Bingley, Mary stirred and her eyes fluttered.
“Relax, dearest,” Jane soothed, and softly stroked her sister’s cheek. “You hit your head on the floor.”
