Chapter 1: Wellbrook Manor
The northern air had a bite to it even through the padded walls of a carriage. Jane shivered violently, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to induce blood flow. Across from her, Charles looked up with concern shining in his lovely eyes. Without missing a beat, her husband shrugged off his heavy overcoat and with the gentleness of a kitten, he draped it over her lap. The effect was almost instantaneous, and a delicious warmth spread over her body. Charles had always been an excessively warm gentleman, from his eyes, to his smile, all the way to his body temperature. She smiled prettily in response, grateful for his good manners and kindness. Her husband was a gentleman through and through.
He turned back to the small window, watching the scenery with a childish delight on his face. Jane's smile faded nearly the moment his eyes left hers. She had no love of the cold, and she had no love of Wellbrook Manor. Jane had visited it only once, when Charles had eagerly showed her the estate he had purchased with the help of Darcy. Although she had only looked for the beauty in the place she would call her new home, she could not help but notice the water stained floors, the cracked walls, and the numerous repairs that it would require just for the large manor to be livable. But she trusted her husband's judgement, he was a kind, sensible man. She knew he had made the right decision, especially with the help of the ever-competent Mr. Darcy.
Now, as the dark manor loomed in the distance, Jane could not help but feel a sense of despair fall over her. In the afternoon light, it looked even more decrepit than it had when she had visited the first time. Indeed, Wellbrook appeared as if it was a gothic manor from one of Lydia and Kitty's silly little novels that they loved to read so much when they were younger. The sight of it made her feel colder yet, even with her husband's warm jacket resting on her lap. And to think it was only October! If it kept on like that, she would freeze to death by mid-winter. Her own silliness caused her to shake her head, a small smile resting on her full lips.
She chanced a glance towards Charles, and wondered what he was thinking of. The grin on his face was wide and excited. She knew how proud he was to have purchased his own estate, she knew how excited he was to have successfully become a landowner, to no longer be leasing Netherfield Park. Jane was incredibly pleased for his sake, full of joy because he was full of joy. It mattered little that she was so far from Hertfordshire, and that she felt no love for her new home. If her husband was happy and believed it was the right choice, then she too was happy and believed it was the right choice.
"Isn't it lovely, dearest Jane?" her husband breathed, looking at her expectantly. Jane smiled in return, nodding as she did so. "It is truly beautiful, Charles," the white lie whispered through her lips easily, and it was worth the answering smile he gave her in return. The carriage rattled onwards, and Charles turned back to the window, inspecting the grounds that they would live on for their lives to come.
Three years had passed since they had wed. While they often shared sweet embraces and pretty compliments, their relationship felt as if they were still newly engaged. They took long strolls, arm in arm, and kept their kisses chaste and respectful. Jane was embarrassed to admit that she was exasperated by her husband's reluctance to touch her, the nervousness and fear in his eyes that overtook him every time they shared a bed. He never kissed anywhere other than her lips, his hands never strayed from her hips and shoulders. Then he would slip out of her bedchamber, leaving her cold and pondering as to why he would not share a bed with her.
A part of her wondered if they were doing it wrong. Three years of marriage and still no baby, no sweet child with his hair and her eyes, meanwhile both Lydia and Lizzie had children of their own. She longed for a child, wished for it with every fibre of her being. Every time she had looked upon little Bennet Darcy, she felt the ache. Each time she had held sweet Molly Wickham, her heart had clenched painfully, wishing that she had one of her own.
One had yet to quicken, there was no stirring in her stomach and she never missed a cycle. A part of her even wished she could have lost one just to know that she had the ability to even become pregnant. She wondered if Charles resented her, she knew it was wrong to think of her husband having ill feelings towards her, but a part of her wondered it all the same. If he did, he would never say it out loud, he wouldn't want to embarrass her or offend her. He treated her like she was a porcelain doll, so very fragile and breakable. So it he did resent her, he would never show it.
The carriage rattled to a stop in front of the entryway. Jane sweetly handed Charles his jacket once more. "Oh darling you need it far more than I do," Jane said with a smile as he pulled it back on. She failed to see the look of confused hurt in his eyes as she was startled by the gust of cold that entered the carriage as the groom opened the door. Charles exited first, holding his hand out towards her to help her down. She gingerly exited the carriage, eyes wide with anticipation and nervousness.
Up close, the dark stone appeared to be slightly damp despite the dry air, and the windows glimmered menacingly. On the front step stood a tall woman in her mid forties, she had broad shoulders, a squared face, and faded red hair. In her youth, she would have been a lovely statuesque kind of woman, mused Jane with a smile. But working a laborious job in the north had dimmed her features, left her eyes blank and her mouth grim and wrinkled with frown lines. Jane saw none of that, instead she saw a careworn woman who likely knew every inch of Wellbrook like the back of her own hand. Jane saw a woman that she could perhaps form a delightful relationship with, one who could teach her the intricacies of running such a large house.
"Ah Mrs. Sawyer! Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Jane Bingley." Her husband chimed boyishly, presenting Jane like a painting on display. She smiled demurely at the housekeeper, who only stared blankly back at her. Perhaps she was in a foul mood thanks to the cold, or maybe she was unsure of what having a new Mistress of the House would entail. In her mind, Jane listed out reasons as to why this Mrs. Sawyer did not smile and looked upon her as if she were something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe.
"Welcome to Wellbrook, Mrs. Bingley," Mrs. Sawyer said solemnly, curtsying in a regal fashion that made Jane feel as if she was the servant rather than the other way around.
"Thank you, Mrs. Sawyer, I eagerly look forward to learning about this estate as soon as possible." Jane replied, for the first time feeling excited at the prospect of running her own household. Mrs. Sawyer's lips tightened and her eyes narrowed in distrust. Jane pretended not to notice.
They were led into the foyer, where nearly twenty servants stood waiting for introduction. Many of them were pleasant younger folks, all eager to start a new job at the recently purchased Bingley residence. But Jane was told that some were absent, off doing their duties throughout the house. Most of them were respectful and kind, with smiles and perfectly executed curtsies and bows. Some seemed to be impertinent, but Jane had always loved Lizzie's humor, and so she hoped she could feel the same appreciation for the workers in her house.
Her ladies maid had chosen to stay in Hertfordshire, so Charles had commissioned one from London, a plump girl of seventeen named Beatrice. Beatrice looked more terrified than Jane felt, prompting her to pity the poor girl, so far from her home and friends. She didn't even have a husband to lean on like Jane did. In that moment Jane decided she would treat the poor girl with the utmost kindness and care, even more so than she normally would have done.
After the introductions were made, Charles asked Mrs. Sawyer to lead them on a tour through the house. While Jane wanted nothing more than to sink into a warm tub of bathwater, she was curious. When they had first visited, the east wing of the house had been so near disrepair that they had been unable to enter most of the rooms. But that had been months ago, and nearly every room was safe to enter, although she doubted they were pleasant enough to spend time in.
Even with Charles's renovations and Jane's own choices regarding the decor in the house, it seemed permanently dark. Despite her cheery light wallpaper and ornate rugs, there was a heavy air in the sitting room, music room, and dining room. Vases of flowers were arranged throughout the house, yet they appeared to be dying. Jane was sure she just needed sleep, it was just a manifestation of her exhaustion and fear. She loved her husband, and he would be there, and that was all that mattered. She clutched tighter to his arm as they were led deeper into the house.
The library was huge, nearly on par with Pemberley, which was a far larger estate than Wellbrook. Thankfully, considering her husband's dislike of reading, the previous owners all had left their collections when they had left or died or what have you. Jane was sure Lizzie would enjoy visiting it on every occasion, even if the books weren't as new or contemporary as the ones in her own collection.
In comparison, the ballroom was oddly small, which didn't bother Jane in the least. Although Charles loved to host parties, they didn't know nearly enough people to hold great events for the nearby families.
"Dearest Jane, isn't the house wonderful?" her husband whispered in her ear as they were shown the various guest rooms. Three were still in great states of disrepair, but there were enough that she could host all of her sisters if the need arose (only if they shared rooms with their husbands, though).
"It's lovely, Charles. The builders must have spent so much time and effort renovating," Jane replied in a lilting voice, trying hard to keep the tremor of nerves from appearing.
"I shall show you to your chambers so you may rest and refresh, it was a rather long journey from Pemberley, was it not?" Mrs. Sawyer's voice cut through the silence like a knife, and her eyes were no kinder as she stared at Jane.
"Thirty miles is not so bad when the roads are fair!" chimed Charles, smiling at the housekeeper.
"You're right, sir, I must have forgotten the distance," she replied. They were led over soft opulent carpets to their chambers. Mrs. Sawyer opened up the door leading to Jane's and she nearly sobbed in relief. It was exactly what she had desired from a room.
The walls were covered in delicate wallpaper, the colors were sweet pale blues and whites with hints of gray. Her bed was opulent with a matching canopy and the floor was covered by several rugs. In the corner by a large window was a chaise lounge swathed in velvet. The decor was precisely her choosing, with paintings of flowers and countryside scenery. A fire roared in the glimmering grate, it was as if she had stepped into a different house when she entered the room. She turned to her husband in shock.
"You did not tell me you would be renovating the Mistress's chambers!" she smiled widely, pulling him into a sweet embrace. "Oh Charles it is lovely, I adore it ever so much! You did not have to do this, there was already so much work to be done." Her husband blushed a pleased blush as he kissed her cheek.
"I'm delighted that you enjoy it so much, dearest. I tried to make it look like your chambers in Netherfield so that you would at least take comfort in your bedchambers if the house was too daunting." He explained, his face still red but pleased.
"That door," Mrs. Sawyer interrupted, gesturing to the door next to the fireplace, "leads to your dressing room and the Master's chambers. The other door leads to your private sitting room."
Charles paid hardly any mind to her, waving her off, "Thank you so very much, Mrs. Sawyer, my steward should be arriving by this evening, could you ensure that his chambers are prepared?"
Mrs. Sawyer nodded stiffly, before turning on her heel and exiting the room, closing the door behind her. Jane looked eagerly at her husband, her fears all but forgotten in light of her new chambers. The immensity of her relief knew no bounds. Her husband kissed her on the lips, softly, sweetly. Jane melted against him, letting her arms twine around his neck. She smiled into his kiss, he was behaving more romantically than usual. The smile died as her husband pulled away, looking frazzled and nervous. "Well, I ought to, ahem, go tidy up before suppertime." Charles smiled and turned, leaving the room as quickly as he could. Jane was left feeling cold again, as if he had taken all the warmth with his smile and eyes.
Jane wandered to her dressing room, feeling dazed and tired. Beatrice was inside, waiting for her. She curtsied hurriedly, "Would you like me to help prepare you for supper, Mrs. Bingley?" she asked. Jane nodded, sitting down in the comfortable chair.
Beatrice went through the motions of taking Jane's hair from it's simple updo and then redoing it in a far more refined style with plenty of curls and braids. Jane watched the girl's small hands performing the intricate work, and wondered how a girl of seventeen could be so gifted in her trade. She was quite impressive. "That style is lovely, Beatrice, you are ever so talented," she complimented, causing the girl's freckled cheeks to darken to a splotchy red.
"Thank you, Mrs. Bingley, you're too kind." Jane smiled benignly, allowing her thoughts to drift while she was changed into an evening gown that wasn't sullied from a day on the road. After she was dressed, she put her golden necklace with the small cross on the end back around her neck. Having the familiar weight comforted her, no matter where she was.
In the dining room, Jane sat quietly as her husband chattered on excitedly about the plans to finish the rest of the renovations, about how he would be spending the next month meeting the tenements and surveying the land. He also talked of his steward and how delightful it would be for Jane to make friends with their nearest neighbors. She knew he could hardly wait to host a dinner party, although it made her nervous to imagine showing her new home to everyone.
The evening passed with little fanfare, and before she knew it, Jane was lying in her soft bed alone. It was dark, save for the dancing flames in the fireplace and moonglow shining through the window. She wondered if Charles would visit her that evening, and hoped dearly that he would. It had been nearly a week since they had lain together, and she missed his warmth and kindness. Once again she dearly wished she could have a child, a little person who would fill her days with love and laughter while her husband was busy managing the estate. Without her Mama, Kitty, or Mary stopping by every other day, it would become rather lonesome.
Lizzie had told her that she was pregnant once more, hardly even six months after the birth of Bennet. Soon, her dearest sister would be too busy to visit, and Jane would be left to her own devices in a strange land. Perhaps it was silly and selfish of her, but she wished she was a child again, with all of her sisters and parents stuffed in tiny Longbourn.
In the dark, she burrowed under the soft blankets, her mind going through the previous years of marriage. Lizzie always said that her marriage with Mr. Darcy was rather odd, that they shared the same bed every night, that he sought her out during odd times of the day, and that they did truly scandalous things in the privacy of their chambers. Of course Jane had initially been shocked by her sister's brazen proclamations, slightly horrified by the wantonness of it all, she could not comprehend any such actions with her sweet Charles. Indeed, Lizzie even made it seem as if their arguments (which Lizzie insisted were 'lively debates) were integral parts to their romance.
But Lizzie and Mr. Darcy always looked astonishingly happy together, they shone in a way that none could compare to. Even with their sweet gentle happiness, she and Charles appeared dull and passionless compared to her sister's vivacious marriage.
Her husband did not come to her chambers that evening, and eventually Jane fell into a fitful slumber. She was many miles from Hertfordshire, and winter was well on its way.
A/N: I hope I retained Jane's sweet/calm personality mixed with the anxiousness/fear of moving to a new place to start what is ultimately the next chapter of her life. I made the creative choice of making Jane a sadder more melancholy character because I cannot imagine a person so utterly good and kind without any flaws. Her major flaw is her inability to speak her mind/see the bad in others, she tries her hardest to see the good in the world. Also, yes she and Bingley do NOT have a fairytale relationship as both are so easy-going and chill that they literally have no spark, no passion, and are afraid to speak their minds to one another. All of their P&P relationship drama stemmed from their inability to communicate and both of them being too easily cowed/controlled.
I want my story to focus on Jane growing up and growing a backbone, and her relationship with Mr. Bingley maturing. So warning, there will be references to sexual activity. Also, I've read quite a few stories in which Lizzie is unable to conceive, but I haven't read one where Jane has any difficulties, so I decided it would be fun to see what a childless Bingley couple would be like.