Chapter 10 - Arriving to Hunsford
Standing on the top step of their Uncles townhouse, Miss Jane Bennet waved as her younger sister glanced over her shoulder and descended to the waiting carriage. An air of melancholy surrounded both women since their walk yesterday. With a sad smile gracing her lips, Jane knew Lizzy must go but wished it were not so. The Gardiner's had been very good to the eldest Bennet sisters and continued to support their entry into polite society without the ill manners of their mother. Still, Miss Bennet's heart wanted the company of her dearly beloved sister for just a few more days. However, Elizabeth was Hunsford bound and could not dally in London any longer.
Two monthsJane sighed. I shall have to wait two entire months before we can speak freely once more. I should have gone to my sister last night, but I find I am only now ready to tell her everything.
Suddenly breaking away from her Aunt and young cousins sharing the stoop, Miss Bennet rushed to the road side. As Elizabeth turned her back to climb into Sir William's carriage, Jane reached out a hand, holding her sister back. Shocked, Lizzy look intently into a pair of confused eyes and saw her sister's inner turmoil.
"What is it, Jane," she asked, slightly alarmed. Here, in the middle of the street, they could not speak freely. After returning from their walk yesterday, Elizabeth held her tongue in the hope her sister would come to her last night or early this morning and they could find a private moment. It seemed, upon her leave taking, finally Jane wished to open her heart.
"Write to me often, Lizzy," Jane pleaded in a tone that sounded almost demanding. "I do not regret my words yesterday, when I spoke of my hopes for your future. However, I need to tell you all I have kept hidden in my heart and now that you are leaving, I find myself wanting you to stay."
"I will return in eight weeks," Elizabeth attempted a smile. "I promise we will have many hours to speak then and I shall write the moment I arrive at Hunsford. Perhaps my letters will provide some little distraction until we meet again."
"I want you to be happy, Lizzy," Jane's eyes lit with determination. "Not for me but for yourself. Remember what I said. Find a young man you can respect and live with for the remainder of your life. You will not always be happy at Longbourn or looking after other's children."
"Mrs. Woodward," Elizabeth started only to be silence by Jane intense glare.
"Please, take every opportunity to make new acquaintances without the prejudice you subjected Mr. Darcy too or the warmth you displayed for Mr. Wickham," warned the older sister. "Promise me, you will be yourself, Lizzy, and consider your future, as I have mine."
With the words of wisdom, Jane scurried back to Mrs. Gardiner and her children. Sending her Aunt Madeline a raised eyebrow and concerned look, Elizabeth could dally no longer. Climbing into the carriage, she had the rest of the journey to consider her sisters philosophical words and her reaction to them, for both she and Jane had always insisted nothing less than love would induce them to matrimony. It seemed Jane's ideas on this had undergone a transformation. Those thoughts precluded Lizzy from conversation with her companions. Both Maria and Sir William understood Jane's disappointment affected their friend and did not push her to speak. Seated together, father and daughter conversed quietly between themselves.
No closer to any conclusions as the horse's hooves ate the miles, the Coaching Inns came and went as they changed horses thrice. The party had been travelling alongside Rosings Park for some time when Sir William's carriage passed through a gate to Hunsford Parsonage. He felt honour bound to announce their imminent arrival and earnt the gratitude of Miss Bennet in the process. Many thoughts had arisen in her mind, especially how the world seemed determined to change around her, with or without consenting to take her opinion on the matter. Their journey almost at an end, Mr. and Mrs. Collins come out to meet the party the moment they heard the coachman announce their guest's arrival.
"Sir William, Maria, Cousin Elizabeth," the silly man bowed deeply in greeting as they climbed out of the carriage. "I am truly honoured to be able to welcome you to my humble abode."
As ridiculous as ever, Lizzy's mind ignored the rest of the odious man's words in favour of the woman at his side. A warm, gracious smile swept over Miss Bennet's lips and shone from her eyes as she looked to her friend waiting patiently to be noticed. Elizabeth and Charlotte approached each other, a content expression covering their faces. Finally, close enough, they kissed on the cheek. Linking hands, Mrs. Collins lead them quickly inside and away from the overly verbose declarations of her husband.
"I am happy to see you, Elizabeth," Charlotte stated. Her words and the accompanying look said more than the usual greeting.
"And I, you," Lizzy responded, truly looking at her friend. "You look remarkably well," Elizabeth couldn't help tease, for it was true.
"And so I am," Charlotte laughed easily, pointing out her husband and father just entering the house. Maria trailed behind, anxious to make a good impression on her brother-in-law. "However, I do not think our contentment will last for much longer, but, I assure you, the interruption shall be brief."
Raising an eyebrow in return, Elizabeth waited patiently through her cousin's tour of the house. As expected, Mr. Collins loquaciousness continued for a full half hour as he demonstrated every small thing Lady Catherine's condescension touched in his home. Finally left alone in her room, Lizzy unpacked without the aid of Charlotte's maid, for the woman now had three ladies to serve. Making her way to the quiet parlour at the rear of the house, Lizzy joined her friend. Standing side by side at the window looking out onto Mr. Collins garden, they observed the man showing Sir William and Maria his bees, his body in constant motion, as where his lips.
"Mr. Collins tends the gardens himself," Charlotte pointed out, allowing one delicate eyebrow to rise, "and spends a good part of every day in them."
"'The exercise must be beneficial," remarked Elizabeth with a twinkle in her eye. She understood the subtle reference and could not be happier for her friend's organisation.
"Well, yes," a smirk played about Charlotte's lips. Expecting the rest of the party to join them shorty, the Mistress had ordered tea be served in the main drawing room. "I encourage him to be in his garden as much as possible. And then he has to walk to Rosings nearly every day."
"So often?" Elizabeth couldn't help the question. She understood exactly how her friend manipulated Mr. Collins. More to the point she understood the necessity of it. "Is that necessary?" Lizzy played along.
"Hmm, perhaps not," Charlotte agreed, "but I confess, I encourage him in that as well."
"Walking is very beneficial exercise," Lizzy offered teasingly.
"Oh, indeed, it is," the lady of the house granted with an increasing smile. "And when he is in the house, he is mostly in his book room, which affords a good view of the road whenever Lady Catherine's carriage should drive by."
"And you prefer to sit in this parlour," Lizzy stated, giving her friend a knowing look.
Glancing at Charlotte with amusement, Elizabeth understood Mrs. Collins arranged her house to her liking. In spite of Lady Catherine and her husband's deferment to that great lady, Charlotte controlled her husband very well. Could I ever be as cheerfully content as my friend in a situation where I could not love or respect my partner in life? It is good that Charlotte has a very different outlook on marriage. I do not believe I could ever settle for less than respect and felicity. If I am to understand both Jane and Mrs. Woodward, I will have to settle for less than my ideal or as my mother says, we shall all starve in the hedgerows.
"Yes," the expression on Charlotte's face turned beatific. "So, it often happens that a whole day passes in which we have not spent more than a few minutes in each other's company."
"I see," Elizabeth commented, understanding completely.
"I find that I can bear the solitude very cheerfully," Charlotte turned back to the window as her friend raised her eyebrow. "I find myself, quite content with my situation, Lizzy."
"I admire your forbearance, Charlotte," Lizzy stated. "I do not believe I could have done half so well as you."
"Then you must wait," Mrs. Collins stated, "until you meet Lady Catharine. I am sure you and I will have much to speak of after we take tea at Rosings Park. I am afraid you will be unable to escape the condescension from that great house, now you have ventured into Kent."
"I can hardly wait," Lizzy laughed. "For now, might we take a stroll? It is such a warm day and the sun is shining. I see no need for Mr. Collins to have all the pleasure of it."
"I see you have been trapped in a coach too long," Charlotte grinned. "Come, Father and my husband return to the house. We shall sit down to tea before exploring the garden together, for the rest of the woods will have to wait our pleasure on the morrow."
Nodding, Elizabeth looked to the vista beyond the window with delight and felt the need to be surrounded by quiet solitude in the setting of nature. The brilliant blue sky and fluffy white clouds would wait a quarter of an hour. Even that long took much of her patience in the company of her overly effusive cousin.
"Come, Lizzy," Charlotte disposed of her relations with the same efficiency she usually did her husband, before she had the maid take away the tea tray, "let us collect our outerwear and gloves. We will go out the front door and through the gate. There is a path that leads into a small grove of woods at the edge of our garden which I am sure you will enjoy. We will venture further in the coming days."
Indeed,Elizabeth thought, so we might not attract the attention of the rest of the party in Mr. Collin's book room. Yes, Charlotte, you have this domestic situation very much to your liking. I only hope I never have to choose material comfort over felicity and respect. While you have this circumstance under control, I do not believe I could have done half so well.
The remainder of her first day in Hunsford passed as Elizabeth expected. Sir William and Mr. Collins attempted to outdo each other with tales of grandeur at the dinner table and again in the evening as they sat in the only drawing room the cottage boasted. One spoke of Rosings Park while the other extoled the virtues of St James Court. By the next morning, a fierce wind wiped up and high grey clouds covered the sun. Before the rest of the house awoke, Lizzy took a fresh roll and piece of fruit from the kitchen and left for a long walk. Staying to the paths Charlotte showed her the day before, she spent a good deal of time outside but ensured she remained within the boundaries of Hunsford Parsonage. It would not do to become lost on her very first full day.
Sharing tea with her hostess and Maria on returning from her morning ramble, Elizabeth retired to her room to write to Jane and then spend several hours reading. Charlotte used the opportunity to keep her husband in his usual pursuits with the ladies occupied. Only Sir William joined Mr. Collins as he ministered to his garden or took up his way she escaped the need of Mr. Collins entertaining his guests and afforded her father the opportunity to speak of St James Court. However, even her father tired of the association after a day or two.
"Lizzy!" Maria rushed up the stairs, making such a commotion on their third day in Kent. Calling at the top of her lungs, Maria hunted for her fellow guest. "Lizzy!"
Startled by the tone of Maria's voice, Elizabeth placed her book on the bed and allowed a quizzical expression to cover her features. Rising, she started for the door with a puzzled look upon her face, unable to account for the disturbance. Before she could open it, Maria rushed through, panting heavily. Slightly alarmed, Lizzy quirked an eyebrow in askance.
"Come into the dining room, for there is such a sight to be seen!" she demanded. Turning full circle, she commanded, "make haste!"
Frowning at first, Elizabeth followed the girl, unsure what she would uncover. At the foot of the stairs, Maria lifted the curtains on a small window and peered outside. Joining the younger woman, a smile graced Elizabeth's face. It threatened to become a full-bodied laugh as she understood this emergency to be nothing but two ladies in a fine carriage with livered footmen.
"Is this all?" she teased Maria, who looked at her with surprise. "I expected at least that the pigs had got into the garden. It is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter," Lizzy stated, not at all pleased with the two sour faced women importuning her friend with rain threatening.
"No, Lizzy," Maria corrected, hanging onto the curtain and using a piteous tone, "that's old Mrs. Jenkinson, not Lady Catherine, and with her is Miss Annede Bourgh."
"Well, she's abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind," Elizabeth commented, a note of disdain entering her voice. They had not yet taken tea at the great house so Lizzy couldn't account for this sudden visit. She could not know of the communications between Mr. Darcy's sister and Miss de Bourgh, not being privy to their personal correspondence. If Elizabeth could read minds, she would be astounded that her presence caused this unexpected call. Lady Catherine's daughter, intrigued by Georgiana's words, wished to become acquainted with Miss Bennet. This came from a curiosity to discover what kind of a woman would attract the attentions of the great Fitzwilliam Darcy.
"What a little creature she is," Maria said still awe struck.
"Yes," Elizabeth commented. Remembering both Mr. Wickham and her cousin stated Miss De Bourgh was to be Mr. Darcy's bride, she looked at the girl once again. Neither were a respectable source of information, yet Lizzy had no reason to disbelieve their communications. A man of Mr. Darcy consequence often married for convenience and family fortune. A frown encompassed her features as this thought seemed rather odd now she'd seen the woman in question, for it appeared the woman might be incapable of producing an heir. "She looks sickly and cross and certainly not hansom enough to temp him. She will make him a proper wife but I fear she will never cope with him."
Mr. Darcy, Lizzy's mind supplied, would never respect a woman who will not stand up to him. That night at Netherfield, he stated an accomplished woman must have many talents beyond the usual. I cannot see this sickly creature able to speak French and German, or dance, sing or play. I cannot tell if her mind in improved by extensive reading but I would guess not. No, Mr. Darcy would never be happy with Miss De Bourgh. How then has such a rumour become so universally known?
Maria, unsure what Elizabeth meant, looked to her with questioning eyes. "Who, Lizzy?" she requested, confused.
Shaking her head, Miss Bennet couldn't answer the question as she attempted to make sense of this situation. Her mind filled with misperception and misunderstanding from the past, Elizabeth needed to retreat and consider her thoughts. Returning to her room, Lizzy couldn't settle to her book. She needed to walk but the wind had increased since this morning making that impossible.
I shall have to stay inside and muddle through this as best I can, but it makes no sense. Elizabeth's mind worked on the problem as she sat on the window seat and gazed out on the woodland between Hunsford and Rosings. Why would Mr. Darcy not mention an engagement whilst in Hertfordshire? I can understand Mr. Wickham making falsehood against him, but what of Mr. Collins? It is true, he is not a sensible man but he would not lie. Perhaps he has heard something from Lady Catherine, who wishes it to be true. When we go to tea at Rosings, I shall attempt to engage Miss de Bourgh in conversation. Perhaps I will be able to assess her feeling for Mr. Darcy and the marriage state. I cannot see this as more than a match built on fortune and consequence. Mr. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh will be trapped in a marriage without love or felicity, much as Charlotte and Mr. Collins. It would be insupportable, surely, even with all the wealth between them.
"Your friend seems to be a pretty, gentle sort of girl, Mrs. Collins," Lady Catherine stated into the deepening silence the next afternoon.
The invitation to take tea at Rosings, as expected, came when Mr. Collins returned from his daily visit to the grand house the same day Miss de Bourg called upon the parsonage. It seemed the mistress wished to know her parson's relations. More particularly, she intended to take a likeness of the woman who refused him. Turing her eye on Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Lady Catherine found she could not take a likeness of the girls character, for she had said little and behaved in a most lady like manner. Indeed, quite the opposite to her expectations, given Mr. Collins oration on the subject.
"Her father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I understand," the great lady continued her monopoly of the conversation.
"Yes, Ma'am," Mr. Collins simpered, only to be cut off.
"Do you have brothers and sisters, Miss Bennet?" Lady Catherine turned her attention to her object, which Elizabeth found unfailingly rude, both in address and manners.
"Yes, Ma'am," Lizzy held her head high and refused to be intimidated, "I am the second of five sisters."
Throughout the interview that followed, Lizzy attempted to make polite conversation that did not go in a single direction. She knew it gained Lady Catherine's ire, however her very being would not allow this woman to dominate her. Elizabeth looked at Miss de Bourgh to gauge her reaction to her mother's ill-bred manners. The girl never once returned the gaze or joined the conversation. By the end of the socially acceptable half hour, Elizabeth felt quite washed out and ready for a long walk in the woods to calm her soul.
As the days passed, Lady Catherine continued to invite Mr. and Mrs. Collins to tea and dine with her at Rosings. The rest of the party, had, of course, been included, excepting Sir William who could not be away from his businesses for more than a week and had since returned to Hertfordshire. Elizabeth found the opportunity on their third visit to sit beside Miss de Bourgh at the dinner table. She intended to use the occasion to take the girls likeness. On closer inspection, Anne de Bourgh must be at least Jane's age, possibly a little older. It made her situation all the more pitiable to Lizzy, when revealed that the young woman had never entered society nor had the chance to attract an offer of marriage.
"Do you walk, Miss de Bourgh?" Lizzy asked, hoping to start a conversation.
"'Her health does not allow it," Mrs. Jenkinson answered for her charge. It seemed the woman acted in Lady Catherine's stead, allowing Anne no opportunity to be herself.
"That is unfortunate," Elizabeth held back the frown, "for it would surely improve any constitution. Do play an instrument, Miss de Bourgh, for music is the window to the soul and quite proficient at soothing any constitution."
At this, Anne looked to her dinner companion with astonishment. "I have never learnt," the small voice came from the tiny creature.
She sounds afraid of her own shadow, this time Elizabeth couldn't help the frown escaping her tight control. "That is a great shame," Lizzy commented. "I have four sisters. Only Mary and I play but that is due to a lack of instruments. Jane, my elder sister would have dearly liked to practice. However, Mary likes to monopolise the pianoforte so she was forced to make to with a lap harp."
"I wish," Anne looked to her mother, ensuring the woman's attentions were elsewhere, for she wished to converse with this particular young lady, "I had brothers and sisters, Miss Bennet. It would make my life easier."
"Oh," Lizzy's expression changed to shock. This had to be the most Miss de Bourgh spoke altogether in the two weeks Elizabeth had resided at Hunsford. Yet the intensity behind the words astounded her and Lizzy realised there was more to this woman than met the eye upon first glance.
Almost as though Lady Catherine heard and wished to have her part, she turned her attention to Elizabeth. "Mrs. Collins said you are a great walker," that lady started on the virtues and vices of such exercise and no one managed to get a word in for the rest of the meal.
~~ooOOoo~~
Dearest Jane,
I received your letter this morning and have hurried to answer it. I hope you have found my daily insights on life at Rosings amusing, even if it will take the best part of a week to reach you. We are to continue dining at that great house twice a week, or so Charlotte informs me. Lady Catherine does not wish for Mr. Collins company to stop because of our visit. I shall keep you posted on the events as if you were with me. They are most diverting. I know you will not believe me when I say we are only bid to Rosings to decrease the monotony within that house.
Sir William has returned to Hertfordshire via London some days ago. As you know he could spare only one week to see his eldest daughter happily situated. Perhaps now Mr. Collins will return to his daily duties with only ladies present in the house. I am sure Charlotte will encourage him into his garden and other obligations required of a clergyman. Truly Jane, I do not know how Charlotte copes day in and day out with such a husband. And yet, despite her situation, she has made a very good life for herself.
I do admire your forbearance whilst we were in London. I begin to truly understand our very precarious position as women as I watch my friend organise her life to her taste. We are only worth the marriages we attract. Charlotte has been very fortunate indeed and will never want for anything, accept a husband who will admire her for what she is and not what he thinks she is. Forgive my arrogance, but I am proud of myself for being able to see it and to understand how our differences have worked in our favour. I confess, I could never have been happy here, not only because of Mr. Collins but the condescension of his noble patroness invades every aspect of life at Hunsford.
I find myself falling in love with the woods and hills here in Kent. I know this is not what you wished for me when we spoke in London, Dearest Jane. Truly, there are few acquaintances outside the villagers. So far, I have not been introduced to even one eligible young man for they run from anyone associated with Rosings. For the moment I am safe from any offers of marriage. Perhaps, I will find a nice red coated man when we return to Meryton in August.
"Oh, Lizzy," Jane couldn't stop the sweet smile from gracing her lip at the words on the page before her.
"What is it Jane?" asked her Aunt, watching her niece read her letter. They had shared Elizabeth's communications with delight.
"I need to tell Lizzy the Militia is leaving Meryton to encamp in Brighton for the summer. It seems she has developed a liking for red coats while in Kent," Jane teased, handing the note to her aunt.
Shocked, Madeline Gardiner took several minutes to understand the joke. "Oh, my dear, if you had been talking of Lydia, I would not have been so surprised. It seems there are few prospects in Kent for Lizzy."
"I had a letter from Mary," Jane confessed. "It seems my youngest sister may finally have learnt her lesson. Mrs. Woodward brought her home for tea one day last week. It did not go well. Do you wish me to read you the account?"
"Please," Madeline requested, a twinkle in her eye. It seemed her niece had benefited from her sister's visit. More at ease with herself, Jane's shy smile immerged. Perhaps, Mrs. Gardiner considered, she is finally allowing her heart to heal. First love, no matter how brief, can be a torment, and often stays with us for many years in our memory. It is such a pity that memories are frequently coloured with our hopes and dreams, rather than reality.
~~ooOOoo~~
In a small, somewhat repaired cottage on Longbourn estate, a filthy girl in little but rags attempted, once again to gain the attention of the young man patching the roof. He ignored her advances, repulsed by her ill kept appearance. Peter Clay had been working for Mr. Bennet too many years to throw away a good position for an assignation with one of his tenants.
"Ere she comes again, boy," the men on the crew laughed. They found her attempts amusing and enjoyed ribbing the youngster.
"Eye," Peter stated with rancour, turning his back on the chit.
"Don't ye ever learn, girl," Mr. Paulson called to the little flirt, "we ain't interested in a piece the likes of yah. No telling what we'd get."
"I'm not interested in the likes of you either," Lydia stamped her foot, angered that the object of her affection completely ignored her.
"Get yar dirty paws off me and keep em off," Peter snarled, angered by her lack of propriety. "Ain't no one interested in what you got to sell. Not that it's be worth the money anyway."
Running back into the house, Lydia had once again been foiled in her attempt to attract male attention. This time the boys' words finally got through. He thought her worse than a flirt. He'd expected to pay for her attentions. Didn't he know she was a gentleman's daughter?
A light switched on, finally. She hadn't been treated as a gentleman's daughter since coming to this cottage. In fact, she hadn't acted as one either. All the time Lizzy or Jane had scolded her never made sense. They still didn't but maybe if she started listening to Mrs. Woodward, she could go home to a nice, heated house with clean clothes and she would be able to attract the attention of men and have some fun once again. However, this time she would do so in a much quieter manner, well away from the prying eyes of her family.
For the last eight weeks, her gowns had become dirtier and more torn. She could sow but not well for it was a very dull activity indeed. Without a maid to wash her clothes, she had gone without a dress for three day as they dried before the fire the first time she attempted to clean them. Lydia learnt to do them one at a time and wait until it dried before starting on the next. Of course, that had occurred only after she finally learnt to start a fire and collect the wood.
Lydia could make simple meals over her open fire now. The first attempts had been fit only for the pigs. Burnt beyond recognition or undercooked, she watched Mrs. Woodward eat her meals supplied from the kitchens at Longbourn. The fire in her expression died with her rumbling belly and she finally learnt to stop complaining at the unfairness of life, for Mrs. Woodward did not bother to listen or react anyway. Finally, Lydia had been forced to ask for help. Her companion allowed her charge the recipe but refrained from aiding her in any way.
Mrs. Woodward gave Lydia housekeeping money at the end of the first month. After several weeks in this godforsaken hut, she'd been allowed into the Longbourn village. It didn't take long to realise her coin wouldn't go far on the necessities like food. There would be nothing left over for a new bonnet or dress. Lydia soon comprehended the shop keeps had been told not to extend her credit and those selling anything pretty refused her entry in her dishevelled state. Walking back to her new home, she carried everything she'd purchased as delivery cost extra and she couldn't afford it.
"I want to go home," she cried, lying on her bed in a state not much better than herself. In the other corner, the servants from Longbourn came to replace Mrs. Woodward's linens twice a week. "I want a clean dress and sheets. I want a proper meal and a hot bath."
"I will ask Mr. Hill to take a letter to your father," Mrs. Woodward offered on seeing the girl heartbroken over her latest rejection. The companion had a plan and Lydia needed to be moved on to the next level of her strategy. "I think you may be ready to enter polite society and take tea with your family. Mark my words, Lydia, one wrong word or action on our visit and we start again. I will not have you throw yourself at the help the way you embarrassed poor young Mr. Clay today."
Four days later, dressed in her best tattered gown, Lydia walked beside Mrs. Woodward to Longbourn. Mr. Bennet, thinking it would be good sport, forgot to tell the ladies exactly when Lydia would arrive. Mrs. Bennet couldn't get far enough away from the foul-smelling girl and her mean understanding did not tally this child as one of her daughters. It took Mary and Catherine several minutes to realise who they entertained, while their mother refused to acknowledge her once favourite. Mrs. Woodward abandoned the girl to take tea with the family while she conversed with Mr. Bennet about Mary and Catherine's continuing education.
Half an hour later, a very subdued Lydia tromped beside her companion on the return journey to their partly reconstructed cottage. "They did not know me," she cried in earnest, her disappointment at not being welcomed with open arms finally hitting home.
"Did not know you," Mrs. Woodward pressed her advantage, "or did not wish to in your current state of poverty?"
Lydia had nothing to say to that. However, the next month would see great changes in the child. Smiling, Mrs. Woodward knew the visit home had done its work. Her charge now knew what would be expected to regain her place in society. Yet, Theodosia was not silly enough to believe Lydia's temperament or character had changed in essentials, only that it could be more easily managed after such an experience.