Chapter 9: Of Looking Back and Pastimes
Francine Gardiner was a vivacious, brave, beautiful young woman. Due to her father's position, she was never afraid that she would make a bad match. Her mother had done her best to educate her to the best of her abilities and as was expected for her time. As such, Francine knew how to cook, bake, sew, and she could sing beautifully. She tried to learn the piano, but it took too long to be any good, and she got bored. She took to the violin instead, and it felt more manageable for her, so her proficiency was good. She enjoyed the smaller instrument and its melancholic sound.
When her brother Edward brought his friend Mr. Bennet to the Gardiner home, Francine had not paid him any notice. He was older than her and very serious. He always had a book in his hands, and he was arrogant and dismissive. He rarely talked to her, and when he did, he more likely talked at her. It was not a conversation. Francine always felt that he was mocking her. Many times, she did not understand his sarcasm. That did not mean it did not hurt. He had a look that was belittling and meant to make her feel small, unimportant, and unintelligent. A year later, Mr. Bennet senior passed, and Thomas had to get married to gain access to his inheritance. Francine was not aware of this.
Thomas, however, started to change his behavior toward her. He pretended to listen. He asked her questions. He complimented her. He even danced with her. Her sister Marianne was convinced Thomas was in love with her. Francine was not sure. He kept talking to Edward and their father in private. Before Francine had any chance to figure out his intentions or, more importantly, her feelings about the situation, her father, Mr. Gardiner senior, called her to his study. He informed her that Mr. Bennet had asked for her hand and that it had been granted. Her father reminded her that it was her duty to marry and provide Thomas with children. He also said that Thomas needed someone like her who could run a household and help him create his legacy.
Francine thought, at the time, that she should be honored to be needed. She thought that legacy must be very important for men. Women did not know about such things. They did not need to know. There was a stab of doubt and concern. Mr. Thomas Bennet did not know her. He did not even respect her much. When she brought up these concerns to her mother, she simply replied that there would be many years to get to know each other after they married. Francine did not understand that reply. She supposed it made sense that she did not know so many things. After all, she was sixteen years old. He was twenty-nine… almost thirty.
What use would it be to her once she was already married to discover things she hated and did not want to live with forever? None. Her mother called her a simpleton. Francine did not know how often people would use that word to talk about her. Mr. Bennet had gone to many balls. He had traveled. He had studied. He was –to most people– a catch. He had an estate called Longbourne. Francine would have tenants and a staff. She was raised to think this would be enough, and so with her sister's constant comments about how lucky she was and her brother's guidance, not to mention her parents' disinterest in her objections, she married Thomas Bennet a few days after her seventeenth birthday.
Francine Bennet nee Gardiner had not been prepared for the wedding night at all. She had been terrified. No one except for her family had seen her in her bedclothes. What her mother bought her for her wedding night was indecent—sheer and frill. Francine did not want to wear it. Her mother insisted she had to. The mental leap of going from a young lady who has been bashed with the importance of modesty and propriety to being married and therefore expected to be comfortable wearing nothing in front of a man one does not even know well is like falling off a cliff to a certain death. Her fingers were shaking as she removed her pins. Her mother insisted all she could wear was a nightgown. Not even her stays, no nothing else to protect her modesty.
When Mr. Bennet had come into her room she was shaking. It was cold, and the nightgown provided no warmth. What followed was horrid. Thomas ordered her to take off her nightgown. She had been so shocked by this request. When she did not immediately disrobe, he reached out and ripped out the tied ribbon. When the gown fell, she instantly covered herself. He slapped her hands away. She started crying. He made her turn around so he could see her back. He then told her to get into the bed on her back. It was awful. He kept touching her where she had been indoctrinated to avoid even gazes, let alone touch. The act was awful. It felt pressured. It felt wrong. He treated her horribly and called her names. She asked him to stop many times. It did not matter. He ignored her. She loudly complained that she was hurting. It did not matter. When it was over, he got off her to leave. She could not stop crying.
"The sooner you stop fighting this, the better for you."
She stayed quiet. She felt such pain and burning. She was terrified that he would want to do the same thing every night. Her innocence was gone, but worst of all, she would soon discover that her new husband wanted to do that all the time. She had been taught to expect it in their bed and at night. It was quite an awful surprise when she found that he wanted that in every room of the house, no matter the time of day. And the worst part was that he would bend her and maneuver her in different positions, each more painful than the next. Francine hated to be left alone with her husband. She became involved in her new community as soon as possible and started leaving the house to spend time with the ladies around her. She started to visit the tenants to get to know them. She would help their small staff in the kitchen and go on walks around the property.
Mr. Bennet seemed to catch on to her avoidance technique. However, he avoided talking to her as much as possible. He allowed her out during the day, but she could not get away from it at night. All of this screeched to a halt when she started feeling weird. Mr. Bennet told her she was exaggerating. She did not get her courses for two months. She felt so tired, and her breasts hurt even without her husband mauling at them. She was so tired. She did not want to get out of bed. All Mr. Bennet did was complain about her laziness. Eventually, he was so upset about her refusing to leave her bed that he called the doctor. Once the doctor confirmed her suspicions and told her she was expecting, all her freedom came screeching to a halt. Mr. Bennet wanted her to stay home. She was not even to visit tenants. She was only allowed to read, which she hated, and to embroider.
Her pregnancy was one of the loneliest times of her life. Mr. Bennet would only be barely civil. He would eat with her in silence, always with a book in his hand. Whenever she tried to start a conversation, he would scarcely nod or 'hmm' at her. And so, Mrs. Bennet began to talk more to the servants. She began to make plans for their firstborn. She hoped they would have a boy. Maybe if he got his heir, he would leave her alone. Her hopes were disappointed. After a harrowing delivery and the worst pain that she had ever felt, she held a healthy baby girl. The baby was the definition of English rose. Despite her beauty and calmness, Mr. Bennet took one look at her, shrugged, and simply said, "We will have to keep trying."
Francine thought Mr. Bennet's desire for an heir was that of every other man. She would not know for several years that the estate she lived on was entailed or that if she failed to give birth to a son, her future and her and her children's safety would be at stake. She did not know that any other male heirs in the Bennet family could inherit and throw them out upon Mr. Bennet's death. Mr. Bennet saw fit to scream it to her after her third daughter was born. The only thing that his revelation accomplished was to worsen her nerves. She started suffering from her nerves after Jane was born. She was constantly terrified that Jane would get hurt. Her mother could not travel to help her with her delivery or those first days. Mr. Bennet had no inclination to ever help with his daughter.
When Lizzie was born, Mr. Bennet first thought she was a boy. No one had a chance to tell him before he took her away. Francine expected to hear him yelling when he found out. He returned her in an hour. His eyes were red. He gave her the baby and said, "At least this one takes after my family." He left. He would at least hold Elizabeth occasionally when she cried. He discovered that the baby loved the outside. He would take her in his arms when she was crying and walk around the estate holding her. She would stop crying and babble incoherently. Jane was a very quiet baby. She rarely cried, and she rarely babbled.
Francine did not understand it. She did notice that he was a lot more patient and kinder to Elizabeth than to herself and Jane. Sometimes, Francine thought that the fact that Lizzie looked more like his side of the family meant -to Thomas, at least- that she was smart. At this point, Francine understood that to Thomas, nothing mattered as much as being intelligent and knowledgeable. He thought she was neither. And the older the girls got, the worse his attempts at hiding that he found his wife ridiculous and dumb. He would make deeply hurtful and humiliating comments about her nerves, about her inability to have interesting conversations, about how permissive of a mother she was… Anything and everything was fair game to criticize.
However, as the years went by, Francine started to doubt that her husband was as brilliant as he thought he was. There were always issues with the tenants that should not have happened with an educated husband. Finances did not look as good as they should have, given the size of their estate. When Mary was born, while she too favored Thomas' appearance, she did not receive the same dotting treatment as Lizzie. Mary was a crier, and she had a great pair of lungs. Mr. Bennet actually left the house for two weeks because he could not stand all the crying all the time. The doctor eventually realized that in the very difficult delivery, Mary had been pulled out because they needed to remove her umbilical cord from around her neck as she was quickly turning blue. When he and the midwife were maneuvering, they had pulled her leg wrong, and it was dislocated from her hip.
Francine had thought she just did not want to move it. She had not felt as stupid as a mother as she did that day. The doctor helped her start treating the child, who started to cry less as soon as her injury was treated. This had worsened Mrs. Bennet's perception of her skills as a mother. When Mr. Bennet was told, he was furious. Francine was afraid he would strike her. He did not. But his unkind words and mean silences multiplied. Mary took after Jane in temperament. After Mary, Mr. Bennet stopped visiting her so often, and she tried to focus on her daughters. Elizabeth was often in the study with Mr. Bennet, and he would read to her and answer all her questions patiently.
Mrs. Bennet loved all her daughters but could not help but resent Lizzie a little. Lizzie was as loving to her as her other daughters. Regardless, she monopolized what little attention and love Mr. Bennet had to give. Lizzie was a loving and happy child. She was always running outside, dirtying her skirts and ruining her shoes. She would climb trees, grab frogs, and play around like a boy. She made 'swords' out of branches. She pretended she was a pirate. While Jane played mother with Mary or pretended that she was a princess with her flower crowns, Lizzie roughhoused with boys in the neighborhood.
They had a disappointment after Mary. Francine was certain that it would have been a boy. Mr. Bennet started to visit her bedroom again after a while. When Catherine was born, Francine hoped it would be her last baby. However, Mr. Bennet insisted they should try one last time for a boy. A little under two years later, Lydia was born. When they had Lydia, the doctor warned them that they could not try to get pregnant anymore. Francine could finally understand Mr. Bennet's connection to one child over the others. Lydia was a mirror image of herself. She had the same looks, the same temperament, the same smiles. Mrs. Bennet connected with Lydia better than her other daughters, but that did not mean she would do as Mr. Bennet and neglect the others.
She did emphasize Jane's beauty a little too much. She did worry about Elizabeth's interest in manly pursuits. She tried to push Mary to have more varied interests and to care more about her appearance, but it was all pointless. At least Catherine and Lydia shared her interest in fashion and dancing. She would have wanted to send them all to London to stay with her brother and his wife, where they could have had a better education, but Mr. Bennet hated London. As she got older, Francine realized that his excuse of hating it went deeper. He could not afford to send their daughters to study there. Saying he hated the frivolity of the city was a lot more convenient than admitting he did not have a good head for numbers and that he could not manage their estate as it should be handled.
Mrs. Bennet sighed as she stared at her husband's frozen face and his slowly rising and falling chest. She had been thinking about her life a lot lately. She could not regret marrying him because that would mean regretting her children, but she wished she could have had a different life. One where her husband loved her from the start. She wished to be loved, not just wanted or desired. The last two fade away as you age and lose your looks. After five daughters, she was not blind to the toll on her body. There were lines on her face. Her hair was graying. She had aches and pains that she did not have before. The worst part was that even with all the time that had passed, Mr. Bennet never saw any of her merits as a partner or as a mother.
He did so many things to vex her that it seemed like this fall was just another way for him to torture her and her nerves. She had been having spasms and palpitations. She had to lie down three times in two days. Now that she knew that there was more to Mr. Darcy than aloofness and arrogance, and now that he had told her he wished to court Lizzie, Francine did not want to do anything to jeopardize that budding relationship. Mr. Darcy had told her he would not allow any destitution of her family. She believed he meant those words, but men were not reliable in the long term, in her experience. Until he married Lizzie, he could back down from his promise. Men could go back on their promises days before a wedding, and the backlash they would experience would be minimal. At the same time, the women they left behind could be seen as unmarriageable.
Francine took a deep breath, "You delight in vexing me," she said as she made him take some broth.
The doctor smiled, "I am sorry, Mrs. Bennet. It was not my intention."
"Oh! No, pardon me. I was talking to Mr. Bennet."
"I see. You should try to make him take some tea and broth several times a day. We do not want him to weaken."
"I will make sure my girls know, doctor. Thank you."
"Of course. I will come back tomorrow, but again. If he regains consciousness, call for me no matter what time."
Thomas tried to take deep breaths in and out, but his chest hurt. He was barely starting to be able to wiggle his fingers. He still had no notion of where he was or who the people caring for him were. He could tell it was colder than he was used to. His lungs were not used to the cold air, and it smelled different. Not that he remembered much, but if it felt strange to him, it was for a reason. Someone pulled the blankets higher up his body. He was glad about it. His feet felt like ice. He could smell lilies. From the conversations around him, he gathered he was Mr. Bennet and that there was a Mrs. Bennet. They had five daughters, three of which were here.
Jane was very quiet but kept him warm and applied his salve very gently. She would measure something she was apparently knitting against his body. She did not talk much. Sometimes, he heard her sniffling. Elizabeth always read to him and moved his arms to exercise him as the doctor recommended. She would brush his hair. At times, she would get close, hold his hands, and cry over them with desperation. Mary would pray a lot and softly sing to him. She was not that good of a singer. Mrs. Bennet was a shaky, nervous wreck. How did he marry such a woman? She sounded insufferable. She was always crying and always complaining about him doing this to her. How did she make his ill health about her? How selfish. He was the one in pain and desperate without being able to move, and she had the gall to complain about him.
Mary caressed Miss Darcy's pianoforte. She wished she could play it. A maid was dusting some small decorations by the fireplace. She smiled encouragingly, probably thinking she wanted to play. But it felt disrespectful to open the instrument and play it when Miss Darcy was not there. The door opened, and she jumped.
"Mr. Darcy! I am so sorry."
Mr. Darcy looked at her, very confused, "Whatever for?"
"I should not have wandered in here on my own," she looked down.
Mr. Darcy smiled and stepped toward her, "Miss Mary… If I remember correctly, you love playing the pianoforte. I do not see any reason why you should stop while here. I always wanted to ask… Who taught you how to play?"
"Jane and Lizzie taught me the basics. The notes, the scales, how to read sheet music… Neither of them loves to play as much as I do… But they were very patient when they taught me."
Mr. Darcy nodded, "You mean that beyond the basics, you are self-taught."
"I suppose you could say so," Mary shrugged.
"That is very impressive… I know the basics. My mother insisted, but I preferred other instruments."
"You play?"
Mr. Darcy tried not to think of learning to play on his mother's lap, "I can play. I play… very rarely. My sister pushes me to play on special occasions like Christmas… or her birthday."
"What other instruments do you play, sir?"
"The cello and the harp. I suppose I can also play the violin, but -if I am honest- I feel I look a bit ridiculous being my size and playing such a small instrument."
Mary's jaw fell. He was making fun of himself, "Oh, I have always wanted to learn the harp, but they are so expensive and hard to get. I thought my efforts were better spent improving in just one instrument."
"That makes sense. Miss Mary, would you be interested in working with a tutor?"
"What?" she blinked. "I… Mr. Darcy, I could not…"
"It is no trouble, Miss Mary. The tutor is coming anyway to check on my sister's progress. I would love to gift you some lessons. You will be here for a few months, and I do not want you to get bored. Between us," he lowered his voice, "we are not the most entertaining of people because both Gigi and I like solitary pastimes."
"So do I. You have both been very kind to us. Miss Darcy has even prayed with me. My younger sisters run away as soon as they see me take out my copy of Fordyce's Sermons," she blushed.
"Well, we love reading, and we try to live a good Christian life."
"You really do."
"Thank you. So, what do you say? Would you be interested in some instruction? It could help you improve your technique… I think there is always room to improve."
"Are you sure it is no trouble? I know us being here is expensive and-"
"Miss Mary, it is no trouble at all. I would not offer something I could not provide... What is your favorite composer?"
"I like Mozart and Boyce…"
"We do not have a lot of Boyce in the sheet music box, but my sister loves Mozart too, so you should be able to find many sheets with his work," he said as he opened said box. He ruffled through the papers. "We have Symphony No. 40 in G minor, Rondo Alla Turca, The Marriage of Figaro… Debussy's Clair de lune… Oh, there is some Pachelbel, too, Canon in D major… Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, Air on the G String, Minuet in G major, Concerto in D minor…"
"I would like to play Canon in D major… if you play with me," Mary looked up through thick lashes, and he realized perhaps all young girls were gifted with the ability to make people do what they wanted. It was as if Georgiana was looking at him with darker eyes. "I mean… only if you are not too busy."
"I do have things to do, and like I said, I am not the most proficient, but if you insist-"
"I do insist. I have rarely seen a man play who is not in a quartet or an orchestra."
"Very well then."
"Which hand do you prefer, sir?"
"Oh no, Miss Mary… You play both hands. I will be playing the cello. Just let me see if it is not too out of tune," Mr. Darcy turned to find a smiling Georgiana holding his cello inside the case.
"Morning, brother!"
He lifted a brow, "Did you two plan this?"
"Mr. Darcy, I would never," Miss Mary blushed.
"No, not you, dear. Gigi. She would. She definitely would. She enjoys my discomfort."
Mary smiled and blushed. He called her 'dear.' No one but her mother and sisters ever called her that.
"But you play so well, William. I rarely get to hear you," Gigi pouted.
"I had already said yes, you cheeky doll," he tapped her nose with his index. "Now, hand it over."
Elizabeth walked back into the house with fresh flowers. She moved aimlessly until she heard beautiful music. She heard a piano and a cello. Was it Miss Darcy and Mary? She did not know Miss Darcy played other instruments, but she supposed she did as she had seen a few of them in the music room. She stepped closer and saw the door was open. Mary played the piano while Georgiana was beside her, ready to turn the pages. But then who-? It was Mr. Darcy who was so beautifully playing the cello. His eyes were closed, and he looked utterly at peace and focused on the music.
Georgiana's smile was so wide, and her eyes were shining. She saw Lizzie in a mirror and motioned for her to come in. She did so as quietly as she could and sat on the sofa behind Mr. Darcy. Lizzie was moved. Not only did he play excellently -without reading any sheet music- but he was also spending time with Mary of his own volition, joining her in doing something she loved. Her heart fell more in love with him with every note he played. When the piece ended, Georgiana and Lizzie started to clap. Mr. Darcy jumped up so fast that he almost threw the cello down.
"Miss Elizabeth!" He exclaimed with a blush.
"That was beautiful, Mary, Mr. Darcy," Lizzie smiled, teary-eyed. "I did not know you could play, sir."
"Well, I usually do not… It turns out that Miss Mary here can also do the look…"
"What look?" Mary asked, confused.
"You know… the 'Gigi'?" Mr. Darcy looked at Lizzie and then at his sister meaningfully.
Lizzie laughed as Georgiana sputtered indignantly. "So, there is a 'Mary' look now, too?"
"Indeed," he laughed.
"Mr. Darcy!" Mary blushed bright red.
"Worry not, Miss Mary. I find you both equally endearing, and I see no problem in giving you what you ask for, within reason, of course," Mr. Darcy smiled. He noticed Lizzie's flowers.
"Thank you for playing with me, sir," Mary curtseyed.
"You are most welcome. Now, Miss Elizabeth, let me guide you to the closest vase. We would not want your efforts to go to waste," he said as he put his cello back inside the case.
"Thank you, sir," she took his offered arm, and they moved to the kitchens.
Jane yawned and stretched out. The afternoon was beautiful, with clear skies and calm winds. She wanted nothing more than to ride around. Her mother returned to relieve her and shushed her out of the room. She had been there most of the morning, only stopped for lunch. She ventured downstairs. She passed the music room, where Mary and Miss Darcy seemed to be having a lovely time. She asked a footman how to get to the stables, and he walked her there.
Mr. Darcy was introducing a horse to Lizzie.
"So this is the handsome horse that brought you back safe and sound?"
"Yes, this is Zeus. Zeus, this is Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said, and the horse inclined his head as if bowing.
"Oh, dear… Handsome and polite. You have a good one here, sir," Lizzie patted Zeus' nose.
The horse neighed in agreement.
"I thought you deserved an extra treat," Lizzie handed Zeus a sugar cube.
"Sugar? Really? He will prefer you over me, now," Mr. Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose.
"No, he will not because you will ride it!"
"Are you sure you do not want to-?" Mr. Darcy removed the saddle from Zeus and saw Miss Bennet. "Miss Bennet!"
"Lizzie, Mr. Darcy," she smiled. "I thought I could take you up on your offer."
"Of course, come in."
"Which one do you recommend?"
"Do you want to stroll around, or are you looking forward to some trotting and more intense activity?"
"Trotting… I have been sitting all day."
"Of course, I recommend Hermes, then."
"Are all your horses named thematically, sir?" Lizzie teased.
He chuckled, "Not all, some were named by my sister when she could not pronounce well. We have a Sadow that was supposed to be Shadow, a Melo that should have been Meadow… Several like that."
Both sisters laughed.
"Miss Bennet, do you ride side saddle or-?"
"Sir?" Jane did not know what to say. She preferred riding astride, but it was not the kind of thing one was supposed to admit in polite company.
He smiled, "Georgiana despises riding side saddle. She fell a couple of times and decided astride was the best way to go. If you do as well, we keep her riding garments here."
"Oh, that is wonderful. Yes, I would prefer that."
"Of course. There is a changing room through there."
"Lizzie, can you help me?"
"Of course."
"Lizzie, but this is a jupe-pantalon!"
"Well, it looks much more comfortable than the long skirts of the traditional habits, and once you dismount, it closes like a skirt."
"I suppose…"
"Wear it. This way, you can jump over the obstacles I am sure you are looking forward to finding," Lizzie smiled as she ensured the skirt covered the pantalon legs.
"It fits you quite well, Miss Bennet. Perhaps a tad bit short. Did her boots fit?"
"Yes. I think we are the same size of shoe."
"Wonderful. Do you want a stable hand to follow you at a distance?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"I do not think I will venture very far."
"How about if you do not come back in an hour, we come find you. Does that work?"
Jane shrugged, "I do not have a watch, but I can estimate."
Mr. Darcy pulled out his pocket watch and handed it to her. "No need," he smiled.
"Thank you."
"Did you find Onyx?" Lizzie realized she had yet to ask.
"No, he was spotted but ran when they tried to come near."
"Oh no."
"I hope he will eventually come home. He never wanders too far," Mr. Darcy frowned a bit.
Jane nodded, and she took a rope that was hanging from a wall.
Mr. Darcy's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she fashioned the rope into a lasso.
"Well, if I happen to run into him, I need something to bring him back," she explained a bit self-consciously.
Mr. Darcy smiled and handed her two carrots, "That is the spirit! Bribery may work, too."
Jane laughed, "It just may."
"If he spooks, please just try to remember the general area where you saw him so I can send my men there."
"Of course."
"Would you like a hand?" Mr. Darcy offered.
"Yes, please," she greeted Hermes and took the reins.
Mr. Darcy knelt and undid the last button, which kept the skirt closed. Jane blushed. She could have done that. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her so she could sit on the saddle.
"Oh, whoever invented this is really smart," Jane exclaimed as she arranged the skirts.
"What do you use to ride at Longbourne?"
"Our father's old breeches under a very long skirt."
"I see. Well, off you go, then. Please stay mostly on proper roads for your safety. Please come back if you hear lightning in the distance toward the east. It usually is a twenty-minute warning before the heavens start pouring here."
"Thank you for letting me know and for lending me Hermes," Jane smiled and took off at a gentle trot to gauge the horse's responsiveness.
"You have made her day. She told me she missed riding a lot last night," Lizzie squeezed his hand.
"Roberts, if Miss Bennet is not back in an hour or if the weather starts to change, go fetch her immediately," Mr. Darcy requested.
"Of course, sir. Albert, have a runner ready to go," Roberts nodded at a young stable hand.
"I should get going. I promised Aunt Maddy to help her knit a scarf," Lizzie smiled.
"Let me walk you there. Does she have enough wool?"
Jane and Hermes galloped fast, feeling the wind and the freedom that came with the sport as they jumped over a log. Jane was vaguely aware of another rider who seemed to be coming into the estate. She would have stopped to be polite, but suddenly, she spotted Onyx and rushed toward him. She took the lasso and got ready to throw it. She was so focused on her target that she did not notice the other rider followed her as best as he could. She was going fast. She jumped a fence after Onyx and managed to throw the lasso and land it properly around the scared horse's neck. She got off Hermes in one smooth move and tied him to Hermes' saddle. She pulled him toward Onyx, thinking that perhaps a familiar horse would calm him. She approached Onyx slowly and in an appeasing manner.
"Shhh, it is alright. You are safe."
"What on Earth do you think you are doing?!" a man dismounted and rushed to the scene. He scared Onyx further, and it went on his hind legs and kicked violently. The man jumped in front of Jane and widened his arms protectively.