Recap: Mr. Bennet and Mary passed away from Scarlet Fever while Jane and Elizabeth were staying at Netherfield (November 1811) and the quarantine on Longbourn meant that the sisters had to stay for over a month. During this time Mr. Darcy became close to Elizabeth in a way that made them both uncomfortable and Mr. Bingley's increasing attentions to Jane infuriated his sisters. Darcy left for London, bringing his friend with him and, when the Bennet sisters returned home, the rest of the Netherfield party followed (December 1811). The heir to Longbourn, Mr. Collins, visited (December 1811) and, while staying at Longbourn, proposed to an anxious Kitty, marrying her a month later (January 1812).
Chapter 9
Prior to Kitty's marriage and removal to Hunsford in late January, the Bennets had not ventured much into Meryton, being in mourning as they were. The main exceptions to this were Mrs. Bennet's joyous visits to her sister Phillips on the announcement of said engagement and the excursions to the milliner's which no force could prevent Lydia from taking.
As such, the militia's arrival in the town shortly before Christmas, though eagerly discussed by the family, was not directly witnessed by them and they did not have the opportunity to become acquainted with any of the officers. This was despite their aunt's eagerness to include them in any parties she would throw and their mother's willingness to bend the rules of mourning so that they could do so. It was only Jane and Elizabeth's warning and pleading that prevented their mother and younger sisters from flouting all propriety and landing down at the Meryton assembly the following month.
They did learn something of the soldiers through their aunt's visits to Longbourn. Certain officers seemed more popular with the young ladies of Meryton than others, and came to Mrs. Phillips' attention, given her ravenous thirst for gossip. So it was that the ladies of Longbourn came to be familiar with such names as Forster, Denny and Sanderson and felt almost as if they knew these men, whose faces they couldn't have picked out of a crowd. One man, though, was loved above all others and predominated in their aunt's stories: He danced with the ladies, flattered the Mamas and engaged the people of Meryton with a combination of charisma and good humour, so that even the men were charmed by him. The name on everybody's lips was Mr. Wickham.
By the spring, Elizabeth, after the furore of the wedding was over, had settled into a shadow of her previous routine- the essentially useless existence that an unmarried lady of gentle birth was expected to live. She had been eager to assume a more active role, assuring Mr. Collins that she could run the estate in her father's stead and that only a bailiff would be needed to assist (1). Mr. Collins' seemed quite disturbed by her father's seeing fit to educate her on such matters and even his tendency towards penny-pinching, would not allow her to continue in this vein.
Elizabeth had never before considered that there was anything untoward in her father's actions in having her regularly join him in his study and double check the accounts: she supposed that it had started as an educational exercise and later become a convenience for him, but, as she had matured and her father had come to recognise her intellect, she had taken a broader role: Mr. Bennet would discuss with her any complex decisions to be made, from new agricultural practices to hiring and firing labourers and her opinion became indispensable to him.
She had taken her relationship with her father for granted prior to his death and had never really questioned their unconventional bond, but now recognised its oddity. She was the only one of his daughters that was given this treatment and even Jane was not included in their conferences. Thinking back on it, she realised that her father had been treating her as he would have done an heir and that their evenings spent surrounded by dusty accounts books and agricultural manuals may have been the greatest sign of respect and affection that he had ever shown her.
It could also be said that Mr. Bennet had moulded Lizzy into his ideal of what a woman should be- the type of woman who he would have liked to have married. This just happened to be the direct opposite of his own wife, which was not surprising given his obvious dissatisfaction in their union. This notion saddened Lizzy when she thought of her father's poor judgement and impulsivity in choosing a wife based (she was disgusted to surmise) purely on sexual attraction, and the misery it had caused them both. At the same time, she could only esteem her father when she considered the respect for women's abilities in general, if not for his own spouse in particular, that his education of Elizabeth implied.
If Mr. Collins' disgust was any indication, however, Elizabeth's knowledge of estate administration would not be considered an accomplishment by the men of the world in general. Of course she had had nothing to do with the public facets of the estate's management, nor had she had any contact with the tenants, other than in her more traditional charitable activities as the landlord's daughter; but even her intellectual involvement was abhorrent to Mr. Collins and he insisted on hiring a steward.
Elizabeth's introspection, as well as her boredom, led her to resume her routine of walking the countryside with renewed vigour and she often spent most of the morning out of doors(2) . She particularly enjoyed doing so on blustery, wet days, when she would meet no-one and could forget her worries, running along muddy lanes and trudging through damp fields. She spent many an hour sheltering under the canopy of an obliging tree, staring out at the fields around her and imagining that her life could be different.
Her restlessness would follow her home, no matter how far she walked, and she would retire to bed every night fatigued in body, but restless in spirit. She knew of at least one method to subdue this confusion, had witnessed it, experienced it and was confident that she could successfully replicate it. Only Jane's presence on the other side of the bed prevented her from attempting it.
Elizabeth was on her usual walk one day- a dry, but gusty day- one no casual rambler would suffer. She was tramping uphill to Oakham Mount when a deep growl of thunder filled the darkening sky. She knew what would soon follow and footed it to the summit, where a copse of trees and its newly unfurled foliage would provide some cover. She could not reach it before the clouds opened, however, and was soaked through by the time she could duck under its dense canopy. The floor beneath was, thankfully, dry in places and she knew she could shelter here until the storm abated. The noise of the trees thrashing and the rain teeming distracted her so that she jumped in surprise when, on turning to stare out of the thicket, she heard an amused male voice from amongst the trees.
"I had not thought to meet another walker out in such treacherous conditions, least of all one so gentile."
She spun around to identify the speaker, only to set eyes on the most beautiful face she had ever seen on a man. She had never before thought of any man as being beautiful; she had seen handsome men, distinguished-looking men, but this man, whose feature were so perfect as to be mesmerising and whose person was so fine that he could have been sculpted from the Kanon, could not be described as anything short of beautiful (3). The officer- for his attire identified him as such- was standing in a relaxed, but respectful pose some distance away. His apparel and grooming were spotless and Elizabeth could only imagine what a sight she must present- a wilting, bedraggled rat of a girl. Any alarm she might have felt on finding herself alone with a strange man was immediately disarmed by his gentle smile and easy manner.
"My apologies for startling you, Madam. I saw the rainclouds massing and thought to take cover here before the deluge began."
"I see I had the right of it," he declared with a laugh in his voice, while glancing out at the torrent.
"It is nothing, sir. It is just that I too did not expect to meet anyone here. I had a similar idea myself, but was not fast enough to prevent my total saturation." His charm united with her innately informal nature made her feel perfectly at ease. "You are in the militia, are you not?"
"I am indeed- and very happy to be presently stationed in Meryton, might I add. The general populace have welcomed us most graciously and I do not believe there is a more pleasant town in the country, especially when I can enjoy views such as this one," he proclaimed, gesturing to the open countryside in the valley below. His amiable praise of her home could not but recommend him to Elizabeth.
After a moment's thought he seemed to recall where they were, "I beg your pardon, but I should not be here with you unaccompanied. Please, accept my apologies for any discomfort I have caused you."
With this he bowed formally and would have walked out of the grove and into the lashing rain, had Elizabeth not stopped him. "Please, do not. I would not hear of your going out there in this weather. I cannot adhere to any standard of decorum which would compel me to force a gentleman out into a storm, for no other offense than being inconveniently located. It will ease presently I am sure, and we can both go our separate ways. No-one will be any the wiser."
The gentleman seemed hesitant to comply, but remained under the canopy undecided. Elizabeth sought to reassure him by introducing herself. "My name is Elizabeth Bennet. I live at Longbourn, which is about a mile from here." She curtseyed slightly, but felt rather ridiculous doing so in her current state in the middle of a wood.
His face lit up as he returned the compliment and introduced himself as George Wickham of the _ regiment. Elizabeth was not entirely surprised at his identity, given her aunt's previous admiration, and she began to think that perhaps Mrs. Phillips' compliments of the man's person and manner were not exaggerated.
He expressed his surprise that he had never met her in Meryton. "As you see I am in mourning- for my father," she said gesturing to her still sodden dress, dyed grey for the purpose.
"Oh yes, of course. I am so very sorry for your loss. Whenever I see a lady in mourning attire it brings back memories of my own mother after my father's death: she was devoted to him. Unfortunately she died not long after him."
"So, you see, I know a good deal about mourning myself," he added with a sad smile. Elizabeth merely nodded in response and a sympathetic silence followed.
Mr. Wickham soon roused himself from his reflections. "I must tell you that, though I have never met any of the Bennets, I know your family, by reputation. I am acquainted with your aunt and uncle, I believe, Mr and Mrs. Phillips. They have been so kind as to extend a general invitation to the officers to several card parties they have held. I only regret that your state of mourning has prevented you from joining the party. But they are a jovial pair, to be sure!"
"Why yes they are. I thank you, sir for you compliments." Elizabeth was delighted with him and, disposed to further their acquaintance, did not try to hide her enjoyment of his company.
"My aunt in particular is very generous in keeping us up to date with the comings and goings in Meryton. So, you see Mr. Wickham, I too must admit that your name is familiar to me, as you are a constant in her news reports. I believe I already know quite a bit about you and have been curious to meet you." Her arch smile heightened Wickham's pleasure at finding that she had wished to make his acquaintance.
He regarded her intently for a moment before replying with quiet intensity: "Well then, Miss Bennet, I am pleased to make your acquaintance… at last."
Kitty and Mr. Collins, when they had married, had not taken a honeymoon, much to Kitty's lament, and had immediately returned to the bosom of Lady Catherine's benevolence. This had been quickly followed by two letters from Kitty, whose missives were full of frivolous observations and petty complaints about her new situations and Lady Catherine's tyranny. Of her other responsibilities, she was thankfully silent- indeed Mr. Collins barely rated a mention in Kitty's correspondence, except as a source of vexation.
After a short time Kitty's correspondence became more sporadic and lacklustre. Her letters began to hint at the problems she dealt with in her responsibilities as mistress of the parsonage and it soon became clear that she was struggling with the role she had taken on and was feeling the pressure of trying to fulfil it under the watchful eyes of an overbearing patroness and an increasingly disillusioned husband.
One morning at the breakfast table, Mrs. Bennet received a letter from Mr. Collins, his first, apart from a short thank you note, since the wedding. Still delighted with her achievement in that quarter, she slit open the wax seal with her dirty knife, gleefully anticipating joyful news.
"Oh, what news could this be? And so soon!"
After scanning through the first few paragraphs which extended his effusive civilities, her face dropped on reaching the heart of the letter and discovering that it did not bring the happy tidings she had anticipated. She read the long missive, finishing it with a tight-lipped annoyance that informed her daughters that, though the letter was displeasing to her, it did not contain any really grave news.
"Hmph," was all she said for a moment, putting down the letter and moving to aggressively butter another scone.
"Well I don't know what that girl is thinking! I have tried to advise her, I really have, but it seems to make no difference. If she is not careful, she will end up at a wife-sale and then where will she be?" (4)
Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes and knew better than to react to her mother's histrionics.
"Well what do you think she has done girls? Only run the man's house into the ground not two months into her marriage. Apparently Missy didn't tell us the half of it in her letters- she has mismanaged the accounts, angered Lady Catherine and the servants run wild. She has even taken up a friendship with the maid- they were found trying on outfits in her room, giggling like girls in the nursery.
When Mrs. Bennet had calmed down, Elizabeth managed to read the letter and found that, though her mother's statements had been somewhat exaggerated (Kitty had not 'run the house into the ground', but was merely spending more than Mr. Collins would like and could not seem to grasp how to economise) the report was worrying none the less. There could be little doubt that the marriage was not proving to be a success thus far and, rightly or wrongly, Kitty was getting the blame for it.
The final paragraph brought a shock when she read Mr. Collins' request beseeching Mrs. Bennet to send Jane to Hunsford to 'provide Kitty with some of the education which has clearly been lacking until now', as he put it. How he knew that Jane possessed the necessary knowledge, she was not sure, but she conjectured that Jane's calm, capable demeanour and the assistance he had witnessed her provide to their mother had inspired his confidence in her. When she saw her daughter had reached this part of the letter, Mrs. Bennet addressed it.
"Of course there is no question of Jane going to Hunsford. What if Mr. Bingley were to return? Though, in truth, I had a thought to send you to London, Jane, since he seems to be entrenched there for the duration." This last was said with a peevish conviction that demonstrated that she may no longer be as confident of Bingley's return as she had always claimed to be.
"No, there is nothing in Hunsford, except the company of a dumpy parson and that widow. You had much better go, Lizzy. You are just as capable as Jane- in that area- and are not you the one who helped your father with the books? If that man was more sensible, he would have sent for you in the first place. Then again, he should have married you altogether and we wouldn't have this problem. And don't think I didn't notice you trying to put him off, Lizzy, with your wild opinions! You owe it to Kitty now to make things right." Elizabeth declined to mention that Kitty's being wholly unprepared, without even the most basic education necessary in a wife was rather more her mother's fault than her sister's.
"Yes, that is a capital idea, you will go to Hunsford and Jane will go to London- since I must have a sound reason now, anyway, to refuse your cousin her assistance."
Elizabeth was almost as displeased at Mrs. Bennet's plan for Jane as for herself. She had not mentioned Bingley since his removal and had thought that her mother's obsession with the man was waning until she had concocted this plan. The spark of animation on Jane's face on hearing the proposal was heart-breaking as she knew that the situation was hopeless. Even if she had not heard the words from Mr. Darcy's own mouth, Miss Bingley's snubbing both of Jane's letters was evidence enough that the whole party had decided to drop the Bennets' acquaintance and raising Jane's hopes would only prolong her suffering. As for her own trip to Hunsford, she certainly didn't relish the thought of it, but Elizabeth could put up with a few weeks of Mr. Collins' company to help Kitty and she was eager to judge the situation for herself.
(1) A steward was responsible for the general running of an estate, whereas a bailiff was only responsible for its finances, acting as a go-between between the master and the labourers and tenants: 'The Jane Austen Handbook', Margaret C. Sullivan.
(2) Morning in the Regency period comprised the whole of the day until dinner.
(3) The 'Kanon', or Doryphoros was a sculpture by Greek sculptor Polykleitos demonstrating his treatise of the same name which illustrated the perfect proportions for the human body. Basically it's a sculpture of a hot naked man, though I have to say the haircut leaves something to be desired.
(4) Wife sales were an odd custom and exactly what it says on the tin- the wife would be led by a halter to the nearest market and sold to the highest bidder. Though not strictly legal, the law often turned a blind eye. It was most prevalent among the lower classes, but was a rarity: 'Gender in English Society 1650- 1850', Robert B. Schumaker.
