Page 43 of The Wager
“What a tangled web we weave,” Jane said with a chuckle. “Perchance, do you think Sir Walter Scott met Miss Bingley in an earlier form and based these words on her?”
“I think not, but the imagery is precise. Before everyone else joined Mr. Hurst and me in the breakfast room, he revealed he knew who we were and he had no intention of giving away our secret. Since that conversation, I am certain you have noticed he is sober and alert. He is having a grand time watching his wife and sister by marriage make fools of themselves.”
Jane’s smiling face turned to a frown.
“While I appreciate Mr. Hurst wishing to help maintain our privacy, I am alarmed he has no consideration of how his wife will be perceived when everything comes to light. It shows a callous disregard for her feelings.”
“Your tender heart is always on guard for others and I understand your valid concern. However, we cannot mediate their marriage or their behavior. Once we move to Twelve Oaks, I doubt we will see them but occasionally. They simply do not move in our social circles.”
“It not right to keep these facts from the Bingleys, only for the satisfaction of Mr. Hurst having a good laugh over his wife’s ignorance.”
“If we reveal all, are you ready for this to become general knowledge around Meryton?”
“Those that are closest to us already know, and I imagine the rest have suspected for a very long time. Our uncle’s distinctive carriage has traversed the main street of Meryton too many times for our friends and neighbors not to have some inkling of our connections. Cynthia Goulding, herself, hinted at the elaborate parties she expects us to attend once Trenton reaches his majority. I think our rank is the worst kept secret in all of Hertfordshire.”
“The exception being the Bingley siblings.”
“The exception being Mr. Bingley and his sisters, yes.” Jane agreed, then sighed deeply. “Viscount Ashton proposed.”
“You thought to tell me this now?” Elizabeth dropped the baby gown onto her lap and gaped at her sister. “When?”
“While we were walking to the hermitage.”
“And…?”
“I said I would give him my answer at the ball.”
“Did you delay your response because your affection leans toward Mr. Bingley?”
“Although Mr. Bingley seems to admire me, our conversations lack any depth or substance. He does not inquire about my interests and he has never once asked about our brother. Is that not odd? I often think he only sees me as a pretty accessory by his side, not someone he would engage in meaningful discussion.”
“We both know he is everything a young man ought to be. Sensible and good-humored with such happy manners, however...” Jane tilted her head and waited for Elizabeth to put into words something they both inherently knew. “Sharing our information with Mr. Bingley will not make a difference, as I believe you have already made up your mind to accept Ashton’s proposal.”
“That is not entirely true. I know the viscount has an intense competitive streak and takes great pleasure in outdoing Mr. Bingley and I will not allow myself to be objectified as some trophy to be won. If he loves me, it will be for who I am, not for the satisfaction of boasting about winning my hand.”
Filled with compassion for her beloved sister, Elizabeth gave her hand a light squeeze.
“Then, sister, in my prayers tonight, I will petition for a clear resolution to your dilemma.”
It was at this time their mother entered the room, her face flushed and her movements hurried.
“Why are you not getting ready for the Harrington’s dinner party?” she cried out upon seeing them busy with sewing.
“Mamma, ‘tis only one o’clock in the afternoon. We have plenty of time to dress and prepare.”
Their mother’s face took on a look of confusion and she brought trembling fingers to the side of her forehead, then twisted to look back through the door toward the main staircase.
“Do you think I should tell Hester to hurry? She takes an inordinate amount of time to prepare for anything.”
Elizabeth shot Jane a concerned look. It had been many years since their mother had lapsed into such a state, where she referenced living with her sister in their childhood home.
“Aunt Philips is not coming by today, Mamma. We shall see her at the Harringtons.”
“Not coming by? Hester promised to braid my hair. I wish to look my best for Mr. Hamilton.”
Jane rose gracefully to her feet and moved toward Mamma, taking her by the arm.
“I shall assist you in braiding your hair. Come, let us retire to your chambers and see what we can find for you to wear.”
