Mrs. Hurst evidently had not been in Jane’s company enough, for she ought to have known that whilst Jane was nearly impervious to any slight against her own character, a sure way to ignite her anger was to offer insult to her family.
Elizabeth prepared to be amused.
“My mother was always very healthy,” Jane said. Her words were kind, but there was a hint of danger there that Elizabeth knew well. “Purpose gave her strength.”
“Your mother was quite the angel to spend her time nursing the soldiers,” Miss Bingley said. “Perhaps that is where you acquired your own sweetness of temper.”
Elizabeth spoke to offer Jane a moment to collect herself. “My mother was kind, but I would not have called her sweet,” she said honestly. “She was . . .” She hesitated, trying to think of a word that would encompass all that her mother had been.
After only a slight pause, Jane supplied the answer. “Formidable,” she said evenly, and Elizabeth thrilled to see the steady gaze she offered each of the Bingley sisters. “My mother was a force to be reckoned with. If Elizabeth and I share any of her attributes, I believe it is this one.”
Elizabeth glowed with pride for her sister.
“We understand that your family settled at Longbourn only recently,” Miss Bingley purred as she changed the subject.
“Papa inherited some years past,” Jane responded, as though she had not just offered the ladies the sternest warning of which she was capable. “However, he felt his duty remained on the peninsula whilst we were at war and he was healthy enough to lead his men.”
“And yet you did return to England,” Mrs. Hurst stated.
“After Papa was wounded, yes,” Elizabeth said. “He could no longer perform his duties at the level he felt necessary, and so we returned home some three years past. He is now fully recovered.”
“Did your mother enjoy being the mistress of your father’s estate?” Mrs. Hurst inquired blithely.
Elizabeth set her cup in its saucer with an impolite clink. Of all the cruel . . .
“We buried my mother abroad, Mrs. Hurst,” Jane said evenly. “If you recall, I mentioned as much when you invited me before.”
“That is correct,” Miss Bingley assured them. “We do beg your pardon, for we had quite forgotten.”
This was beyond enough. “You will forgive me for saying that is not something we shall ever forget, nor would we care to discuss our loss over tea,” Elizabeth said firmly.
“Of course,” Miss Bingley responded soothingly, and then promptly ignored the warning. “Jane has told me that your grandfather was a solicitor here in town and that your uncle is in trade. Your mother came from robust stock. It must have been a terrible shock.”
There was a brief, awkward silence. When Miss Bingley gave her sister a small, smug smile, Elizabeth put her teacup on the table with an exaggerated grace and placed her hands in her lap before beginning. “My mother was brave, Miss Bingley, as brave as the ill and wounded officers to whom she tended. Some were younger than your brother. Some were even younger than you and me, in pain and far from home, fighting to keep the French from invading England and putting a stop to the life you and your family clearly enjoy. My mother treated each of those boys as if they were her own. When she died, nearly two hundred people showed up for her funeral service and had several of the regiments not been engaged in active battle, I guarantee you it would have been twice the number. The officers argued over who would have the honour of a pallbearer, and no man of lower rank than a colonel was considered.” Her breaths were coming a little too quickly, and Elizabeth steadied herself before finishing her admonition. “My mother was extraordinary. She was beloved. She wasimportant. At the end of our lives, we should all be so fortunate to have meant so much to so many.” She stopped, realising she had said too much. Again.
She was surprised, grateful, and not a little entertained when Jane added, “Did not your brother tell me that your grandparents were in trade, Miss Bingley? That your fortune was earned through his gunsmith shops?”
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst blushed.
“Perhaps you have more of sturdiness about you than you suppose, ladies.” Jane smiled beneficently. “There is always hope.”
Elizabeth cheered inwardly. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were firing with arrows, but Jane was manning the artillery. The superior sisters never stood a chance.
Miss Bingley’s countenance was the colour of a ripe plum, but Jane did not blush until they heard someone clearing his throat and Mr. Bingley stepped into the room. Still, she did not shrink from his gaze.
Good girl.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said warmly, managing at the same time to cast a displeased look at his sisters. “I did not know you would visit us today. What a pleasure.”
“Good day, sir,” Jane said. “We have been enjoying an illuminating conversation with your sisters.”
“I heard some of it as I wandered past,” Mr. Bingley acknowledged. “You are entirely correct, Miss Bennet. I said that my grandparents made their fortune in trade because of their hard work and honest dealing, and that is the truth of it. It is my responsibility not to waste the result of their efforts, or those of my own parents, who maintained and increased that fortune. It has not been easy, for I had no confidants to ease my way, but I have never forgotten where I come from, nor am I ashamed of it.”
Jane said nothing, but then, she and Mr. Bingley saw only one another. Elizabeth waited a moment and then interrupted their silent but mutual admiration. “It does you great credit, Mr. Bingley,” she said.
“It does indeed,” Jane agreed.
“Is your visit concluding?” Mr. Bingley inquired. “Shall I walk you out to the carriage?”