Previously: Elizabeth and Charlotte correspond. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy attempted to visit Mrs. Bennet.

Charlotte's 1814 Midsummer's Day letter contained two points of particular note:

'… Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips raved about their trip to Bath to the point that my mother has decided that she and father must go and take the waters; and as you know, when mother decides, father must follow …

… at the last assembly in Meryton they had an auction to benefit the free school started when Mrs. Brown shut down her dame school. Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips donated a large quantity of silk, tea, and spices they said they had no use for. Father had the highest bid on the royal blue silk and he teased mother for awhile by saying that he was going have it made into a waistcoat for himself but he finally did present it to her…'

Two days later a thick letter came for Elizabeth from Meryton. The address was in a feminine hand she did not recognize. When she opened it up, she found it was a blank sheet enclosing the letter she had written to her mother and had delivered with the box of treats. It had not been opened; scrawled across it was 'Refused'.

Elizabeth crumpled the letter up and threw it in the corner. 'Well if that's how you're going to act mother you can go to hell'; and Elizabeth resolved never to think of her again.

Such a resolution could never last, not when you're a new mother yourself, and inevitably you wonder how your mother would have resolved the messes in which you find your children have put you. So, the spectre of Mrs. Bennet lurked in Elizabeth's thoughts, popping up at odd times.

There were also Charlotte's letters. Through the balance of 1814 and on through 1815 Charlotte's quarterly letters brought Elizabeth further news of her least favoured parent. A representative sample:

Michaelmas 1814: '… Mrs. Bennet is helping teach girls reading and writing at the free school (girls attend Monday, Wednesday and Friday; boys on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday – at first only boys were going to be taught but Mrs. Bennet argued that women couldn't rely on men and needed to be literate so they can take care of themselves – I think your mother must have been reading Miss Wollstonecraft!) …'

Midsummer's Day 1815: '… Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Philips have proclaimed a wish to hear vespers sung in every cathedral in England. I believe there are twenty-two. They are intent on visiting those in the south west quadrant this year. If I hear when they decide to head north I will give you fair warning…'

And so on – until Mr. Bennet died in February, 1816.

Charlotte's Lady Day 1816 letter of course expressed her sympathies and then went on to detail Mrs. Bennet's role in the transition:

'… Mrs. Bennet could not have been more gracious in showing me around Longbourn; pointing out its quirks and things I might want to change; introducing me to the tenants' wives and children (although she moved out two years ago she kept in touch with the wives and often acted as intermediary between them and the estate's steward); suggesting names of potential servants; I could go on but she has helped me so much to avoid being overwhelmed…

… Mrs. Bennet refuses to wear black – when asked about it by Mrs. Long, Mrs. Bennet laughed and said that if she knew where Mr. Bennet was buried, she would hire a band of musicians and dance a jig on his grave…'

Charlotte's Midsummer's Day 1816 letter brought startling news:

'… Mrs. Bennet is no more. She has reverted to Miss Gardiner and refuses to respond if addressed by the name of 'Bennet'. Mr. Dewey assures my mother that there is no law of England that says she cannot do this…'

Charlotte's Christmas 1816 letter brought no news of Mrs. Bennet / Miss Gardiner but rather an offer:

'… This hard winter has given Mr. Collins time to go through the books in your father's book room. He intends to keep about half, the classics, the histories, and the (very few) books on estate management; and I will keep the poetry and the novels; but the balance, mostly those books in Latin and Greek, he intends to box up and sell to a bookseller in London. Enclosed is a list of the books to be sold and the price Mr. Collins wants for them. If you are interested let me know before Lady Day …'

Elizabeth took the list to Pemberley's librarian. He studied the list; asked her the probable condition of the books; tsked when she told him her father dogeared pages and wrote in the margins; sucked his gums, and told her that Pemberley already had most of the titles, likely in better condition, but – he pointed out three titles, tapping his finger on one in particular - if these three are in any kind of shape at all, well then she would be justified in paying the asking price for the lot.

Elizabeth offered to pay the price out of her pin money but Mr. Darcy laughed and asked her "What's a library budget for, if not to buy books?"

Mr. Darcy sent a bank draft to Longbourn and in due course three crates of books were delivered to Darcy House and then on to Pemberley. When the crates were opened Elizabeth found Charlotte had included her father's books of account re the estate, her mother's books of account for the operations of the house, and her mother's books of account for her pin money; the last two sets being books that Elizabeth had not known her mother kept. There was a note from Charlotte: 'We have no need for these books of account so rather than throw them away I thought you might be interested in them. In particular, you might be interested in reviewing the evidence of how much of a spendthrift your mother was.'

Before looking at her mother's books Elizabeth opened one of her father's. She had to smile. The slapdash way he did his accounts reflected her father's antipathy to the bookwork concerning his estate. Right away she could see an addition error. She started leafing through the pages looking for payments made on account of her mother. There were none. There were payments to the church; to tradesmen such as the butcher, the chandler etc.; to the various servants; payments to various booksellers and vintners; but nothing was paid to anyone Elizabeth associated with her mother's caterwauling for more money. Where were the payments to the draper, the dressmaker and the shoemaker? Elizabeth looked at the cover of the book she had opened; it was the one for '1810'. She found her mother's book covering the 1810 house accounts. She was struck by the difference between her parents' bookkeeping. Whereas her father's had been messy, her mother's was neat, concise and, she checked, correct from an arithmetical angle. The household accounts did not include any payments to the draper, dressmaker or shoemaker. She found the 1810 book for her mother's pin money.

Elizabeth knew that her mother's dowry of five thousand pounds had been all of the monies settled on her; her Bennet grandparents not having approved of the marriage, they had not contributed anything further to the settlement. The five thousand pounds had been invested in the Navy five per cents with Mr. Philips and Mr. Gardiner being the trustees. The sixty-two pounds ten shillings paid per quarter constituted Mrs. Bennet's pin money. The 1810 pin money book disclosed that Mrs. Bennet did overspend her allowance of pin money. Elizabeth found where the payments to the draper, dressmaker and shoemaker were recorded. And each entry carefully recorded for whom the payment was made: Jane's new dress, cloth for Kitty's dress, Lizzy's boots etc. Mr. Bennet did not make up the shortfall. Stuck between the pages were little begging notes Mrs. Bennet sent to Mr. Bennet asking him to help pay the bills. Scribbled at the bottom of each was Mr. Bennet's curt refusal: 'rotate the old dresses between them, that way each will have a new dress to wear' or the suchlike. The shortfalls were made up by Mrs. Philips. That vulgar old gossip who smelled of port, that aunt Elizabeth was ashamed to acknowledge, that aunt had done more to clothe and shoe her than her father ever had.

Elizabeth went through the rest of the books. The story was much the same. Her mother (and her aunt) paid all the girls' expenses, her father none. Elizabeth flushed to read her father's refusal to help pay for the music master 'because Lizzy told him she could teach Mary better'. Mrs. Bennet pled for money for new shoes 'because Lizzy abuses her shoes so there's nothing left to hand down to Mary' to which Mr. Bennet replied 'let her go barefoot, it's not that cold out.' The last straw was a reply scrawled on the bottom of a note written in 1801 wherein Mrs. Bennet had asked for money: 'produce a son who lives for more than a few months and I will take your request under advisement.' The note was crumpled and had what appeared to be tear stains on it.

Elizabeth ordered Mrs. Reynolds to have the books burnt and then she took to her bed. Which is where Mr. Darcy found her a half hour later (in the face of such an order, to burn books at Pemberley, really, and the obvious distress of her mistress, Mrs. Reynold had done the only sensible thing and called her master who countermanded the order). After Elizabeth had told him what she had learned and showed him the books, and he had comforted her, he asked her a simple question to which there was there was no simple answer.

The question was: "What do you want to do about it?"

"Do? What you mean? It's over and done with, there's nothing that can be done now." Elizabeth started to cry again.

"We can make it good."

"How? He didn't love us; he didn't care."

"We can't do anything about the lack of caring; but we still have some of his money."

When Mr. Bennet abandoned Longbourn he refused to have anything further to do with it. This cavalier attitude towards one's patrimony offended Mr. Darcy so much he demanded, and received, Mr. Bennet's Power of Attorney. Using his newly granted authority Mr. Darcy hired a steward to run Longbourn who soon had the estate running more smoothly than it had ever ran under Mr. Bennet. A problem arose as what to do with the rent received net of the estate expenses. Mr. Bennet told Mr. Darcy to keep it on account of his, Mr. Bennet's, room and board. Mr. Darcy refused; his father-in-law was a guest after all. Mr. Bennet then told Mr. Darcy to give the money to the devil for all he cared.

Mr. Darcy considered the problem, remembered the paucity of dowries the Bennet daughters suffered from, and resolved to invest the monies for their benefit. He knew Elizabeth would refuse her share, he anticipated Jane would refuse hers, he supposed Mary and Kitty would take theirs if offered although neither needed it now, and Wickham would spend Lydia's share as soon as it was received; but they all might need money someday, so he went ahead and set up an investment trust. Then he told Elizabeth.

"But I don't need it" she said.

"Now. You don't need it now. But you may need it someday, call it an insurance policy."

That was in 1813, now almost three years later, there was more than five thousand pounds in the account.

"That money? I thought it was intended for us girls" said Elizabeth.

"It was, but none but you know about it. If you think it best to reimburse your mother and aunt, we can use it for that" Mr. Darcy said.

"They'll probably refuse it, or just give it away. Like that gift box"

Mr. Darcy agreed.

So, nothing was done.

The only news of note on the Mrs. Bennet / Miss Gardiner front contained in Charlotte's 1817 letters (other than that Elizabeth's mother's continued teaching, travelling and spoiling Charlotte's children) was:

'… old Mr. Goulding, a widower these past ten years, proposed to Mrs. Bennet/Miss Gardiner and she turned him down, saying 'a cat doesn't jump on a hot stove twice'; he seems to have taken it well as he continues to act as her escort at all assemblies etc. …'

Thursday, August 6, 1818

Bingley House, Sator Square, Kensington

"… and that is the sordid tale of how my mother deserted her family." Jane gave Sir Charles a wan smile.

"Not so fast. It seems that your mother was pushed out of her family by your father and Mr. Darcy. Would you like to see your mother again?"

"Yes, but …" Jane shook her head. "I don't think even your Mr. Fogg could pull that off."

"But I might." Sir Charles smiled at Jane. "Now that we are all talked out, I believe you owe an answer to my question."

Jane was just about to say … when they heard the front door open and then a commotion in the hall. Charles lifted his forefinger "Hold that thought. The children are back."

The door to the drawing room burst open. "Papa, Papa, look what I found at the park." A ginger haired freckled faced boy of about four held up a small pink rock to Charles. A blond girl of two toddled into the room behind her brother holding onto the hand of her aunt Agnes.

"Allow me to introduce …" started Charles.

"If you do not mind" Jane interrupted "I would like to introduce myself." Then she hitched up her dress, knelt down on the floor and held out her arms. The little boy, exhibiting the easy sociability of his father, readily moved into Jane's embrace. The little girl was a little tentative but with an encouraging push from her aunt she soon was in Jane's embrace as well. Jane hugged them to her bosom and smelled deeply of their heads.

She relaxed her hold on them a bit and looked into their blue eyes. "Alexander, Margaret, please call me Mama." And then she kissed each of their foreheads.

Maggie put her arms around Jane's neck and laid her head on Jane's shoulder.

Alexander said "Mama, you can call me Sandy. Here's a pretty rock I found at the park." He handed Jane the rock. "You can keep it. I'm hungry."

With assistance from Charles Jane got to her feet, Margaret still in her arms. Taking Alexander's hand, she said "Well let us see what's for lunch."

Jane overrode Charles' protest that the children's nurse could take care of getting the children fed. "Not yet, not when I just met them. Come on, we will feed you too." She gave him a big smile "And Charles, I think you have the answer you wanted."