September 5, 1812 - Longbourn
It was a pleasantly warm late summer day and Elizabeth found herself able to enjoy an hour or two of in solitude before tea. Her intent had been to sit in the garden and enjoy a new book of poetry that Uncle Gardiner had sent to her; however, she could not bring her mind to concentrate on the words in front of her. The window of her mother's room was open and she could hear her mother's voice rising and falling in volume as she gossiped with her sister, Mrs. Phillips. She could see, through the library window, her father reading in his comfortable chair while the sounds of a piano indicated that Mary was working on a new piece of music. In the garden, Jane was cutting fresh flowers for the parlour while Kitty whiled the time away on the swing. Elizabeth's book lay open in her lap as thoughts drifted towards those events which had so radically altered the lives of the Bennet family over the past month.
To this day, she could remember little of her tour of The Lakes and her memory of the drive from Ambleside to Longbourn was a compound of mental and physical distress. Fortunately time had blotted out much of the torment.
Those small traces of optimism – that Lydia could be found and married to Wickham - that existed in the hearts of her family, had gradually been extinguished by the futility of the searches and endeavours of her father and uncle to locate them. Alone of her family, Elizabeth had never believed there to be any hope; her knowledge of Wickham's character would not admit of such. The tide of reports emanating from Meryton with regard to Wickham – there was scarcely a tradesman to whom he did not owe money or whose daughter had been subject to his seductions – even, if only half true (which Elizabeth thought likely), could not help but confirm a belief in the licentiousness of his character. There could no longer be any expectation of a happy outcome and Lydia's ruination was to encompass them all.
Already the family had been virtually ostracized. The only regular visitor was their Aunt Phillips to impart such news and gossip as she had obtained in Meryton; and, while Lady Lucas visited once a week, she did so unaccompanied by her daughters and had not invited the Bennet family to Lucas Hall. When Elizabeth and her sisters walked in Meryton, people would acknowledge their greetings but made no effort to stop and talk. Similarly, shopkeepers were more than content to accept their money, but customers in the shops did not initiate conversation as would have happened in the past. While There was to be an assembly in a fortnight, the Bennet sisters would not be attending this year. What would be the point? They were unlikely to be invited to dance and they would be the object of conversation and not participants.
Even attending church services found them in a cocoon of silence, isolated in their pew. Only the rector seemed sympathetic and generally had a small smile and a few words of comfort as he greeted them following the service. Thankfully he had not, in his sermons, dealt on the evils of licentious behaviour. Elizabeth could only rejoice that Mr. Collins was preaching in Kent and not Hertfordshire. The latter's letter to her father decrying Lydia's actions was, in equal parts, foolish and insulting and she could only hope that her father had consigned it to the fire after reading it. With no little amusement, she observed that her rejection of his marriage offer now pleased MR. Collins as much as herself.
She shook her head to clear such thoughts and forced herself to consider how her family was responding to their new situation. Her mother had taken to her rooms almost immediately following the news of the elopement, attended now only by Jane, Mary and the housekeeper – Hill – in whom they could repose much confidence. Elizabeth had attempted to assist them but found her temper not up to the challenge of suffering the complaints of her mother who bitterly found fault with the Forsters for not taking appropriate care of Lydia; her father for not allowing her – Mrs. Bennet – to go to Brighton to chaperone Lydia; Wickham for his licentious behaviour; Elizabeth for not marrying MR. Collins, since presumably Lydia would have been in Kent had she done so; and even Jane for failing to secure MR. Bingley, though Elizabeth could not identify how this would have prevented Lydia's misbehaviour. The only persons for whom no blame was attached were those who were most to blame, Lydia for foolish and improper behaviour and herself for permitting, even encouraging, a frivolous and self-indulgent behaviour of a daughter lost to any sense of propriety.
Kitty was an enigma to her. They had never been close since Kitty was very much Lydia's shadow. Now she seemed adrift. The departure of the militia, the loss of Lydia who had been the instigator of many of their activities, the strictures of her father – incensed because she had withheld from him a prior knowledge of Lydia's growing attachment to Wickham, all combined with a lack of any accomplishment - apart from decorating bonnets - and a weak understanding of any subject, left her with no resources to engage her mind. In truth she looked and acted bored, irritable and idle.
When Elizabeth considered her next oldest sister, Mary, she could only realize how the enforced isolation was accentuating her predominant characteristics. Mary, not overly appreciative of society in the first instance, the loss of such only served to increase the time she could devote to reading sermons and scriptures, moralizing endlessly over the transgressions of Lydia and playing extremely tedious music on the piano. Elizabeth was not sure that she could be held responsible for her response if she had to endure one more lecture on the fragility of a women's virtue, the need to ensure one's behaviour did not attract the attentions of an undeserving man and the irretrievable nature of a loss of reputation on the part of a lady.
Elizabeth was having a much harder time ascertaining Jane's feelings. Caring for their mother consumed much of Jane's time and, for some reason, they had not had as many late night talks prior to sleeping. It had been difficult for Jane to surrender her belief that Wickham would eventually behave in a proper manner and marry Lydia. She could not conceive of such wickedness and, even now, Elizabeth suspected Jane to harbour secret hopes that all would turn out right. Jane's serenity could not be as untouched as her countenance and manner would suggest.
For herself, Elizabeth knew that it her predominant feeling of anger was directed at herself for failing to warn people – and her father specifically – of the wickedness of which Wickham was capable. She regretted being unable to find a way to apprise her father, at least, of the particulars of Wickham's past deeds without revealing the source of her information. At various times, she found herself furious with Lydia for her self-indulgent, thoughtless behaviour; at her mother for indulging Lydia to the ruin of all their reputations; at Wickham for being Wickham; and even at her father for his inability to control and discipline his family.
As time passed, she came to the realization that, as much as she loved her father, his was a sadly flawed character. Oddly enough, despite being perhaps ultimately responsible for the disaster they faced, he was the least affected as his life previously was spent largely ensconced in his library with books and port. He socialized as little as possible, was never averse to avoiding company and treasured peace and quiet and now had a surfeit of both. Elizabeth's had managed to disguise her disappointment with him but now felt less inclined to seek his company in the library. She was uncertain if her father had noticed her discomfort, he certainly had not teased her about it.
Oddly enough her thoughts now turned very rarely to Darcy. If she had hidden in a small corner of heart, any thoughts of a renewal of his addresses, they had died with Jane's letter in August. When she considered his concerns about the propriety of her family, she could not fault his reluctance to attach himself to them. He would surely congratulate himself on having avoided such an attachment when he learned of Lydia's situation.
Darcy's comments with respect to her family now troubled her less than they had when she first read his letter. Its truth was incontrovertible. Her mother's incivility and grossly improper behaviour and the wild unconstrained public behaviour of her two youngest sisters in particular had always been embarrassing. It was clear that they had materially damaged the prospects of Jane and even herself to some degree even before Lydia's disgrace. The Bennet family, with the exception of herself and Jane, had displayed serious improprieties. Previously, Elizabeth could only ignore such behaviour since she could not correct her mother and the latter constantly overruled the efforts of Jane and herself to correct the youngest girls. But Darcy's letter had required her to face things more directly.
Her father, as head of the family, must bear the ultimate responsibility for the family's reputation and respectability. When she compared the behaviour of her uncle and even Darcy himself, to that of her father who was head of the Bennet family, she could not help but become dissatisfied. His was the final voice in decisions but all to often that voice seemed to be lacking.
Her observations of Darcy led her to believe that he took his responsibilities to manage Pemberley very seriously. His business correspondence while staying at Netherfield was large, while he also visited his aunt's estate at Rosings Park annually to help with its management. As well, he was a considerate and involved brother and guardian for a sister more than ten years his junior. And he had been doing so for the last five years from the age of two and twenty. At an age when most young men were engaged in frivolous activities, he was required to assume heavy responsibilities. It spoke to his worthiness that he was able to do so successfully.
However, when she considered her Uncle Gardiner, the deficiencies of her father became even more apparent. She had always viewed her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner as second parents. She now realized how significant they were in teaching appropriate behaviour to herself and Jane. Mrs. Bennet had little knowledge of what constituted appropriate behaviour and her father was too disinterested to instruct or control her behaviour. The Gardiners, because their family responsibilities were yet light, were able to guide the two eldest Bennet sisters - who visited them regularly - at the time when they were first being introduced to society. As the Gardiner's family responsibilities expanded, they had less time to devote to instructing the younger Bennet sisters who then, to their detriment, took their guidance from their mother.
Elizabeth could only look at the situation with dismay; her mother was uncontrolled and her father seemingly interested only in maintaining his peace and quiet. Lydia's sojourn in Brighton and it's consequence was proof of such, if proof were needed. Both Elizabeth and Jane had protested against allowing her to go, mentioning her uncontrolled behaviour, a disregard for even the basic proprieties and the lack of supervision that would likely exist in Brighton. Despite such protestations from Jane and herself, to Brighton Lydia went. Mr. Bennet treasured his peace and believed her to be too poor for her to be in any danger. Elizabeth was not inclined to celebrate having her judgement vindicated.
Elizabeth had never been blind to the Impropriety of her father's behaviour as a husband. She recognized and was grateful for his treatment of her which was all that was affectionate and respectful. She had, in the past, ignored his treatment of her mother in holding her up to ridicule by his children and his treatment bordering on contempt for her younger sisters. The situation in which they now found themselves did not appear to Elizabeth to be one for which either parent was equipped to provide guidance. Both were withdrawn, one to her room and the other to his library.
Elizabeth was not by nature inclined to melancholy nor to inactivity and she felt a need to do something - anything - to improve the outlook of herself, at least, and perhaps her sisters. She had to break out of the ennui and feelings of helplessness and anger that engulfed her and begin to find useful activities to fill the void that now existed. She needed to talk to Jane. She already had a few thoughts and she firmly believed that Jane could be convinced to assist her. She would think more on this tonight and discuss with Jane and perhaps her father tomorrow.
