by Tilly Davis
Whilst Caroline Bingley had taken to Jane Bennet, and to some extent her sister, whilst at the Assembly Room ball, their arrival for an unexpectedly prolonged stay at Netherfield had been something of an inconvenience to her.
She was already bored of the district, the Bennets being the only family within ten miles who could be said to even come close to her own perceived social standing, which an uncharitable person might class as snobbery, but which she herself saw only as accurate discernment.
She had no wish to further the acquaintance which had been established, and the fact that her actions had unwittingly introduced Mr. Darcy to the charms of the younger sister, whom he had so recently remained aloof from, ensured that Caroline Bingley would do all in her power to stop any further assignations between the parties.
‘I was thinking perhaps of riding over to Longbourn tomorrow afternoon,’ Charles said, as he carved the side of roast beef which had just been presented to the table, laying the rather overcooked slices onto the plates which were then passed down the table to their expectant recipients.
‘Whatever for?’ Caroline said, ‘surely there is plenty to entertain you here,’ a statement she well knew to be a falsehood, for Netherfield, though attractive, was decidedly dull when it came to gentlemanly pursuits.
‘I wish to see if Jane is quite recovered from her recent illness, the continuation of this dank and dreary weather cannot have helped her condition. What say you, Darcy? Shall we ride out tomorrow, or even walk, it is not far across the meadows?’
‘I should be pleased to accompany you,’ Mr. Darcy said, rigorously attacking his roast beef with knife and fork, ‘Mr. Bennet himself is a congenial gentleman, and I am sure he would happily receive us.’
‘Well, I shall not be accompanying you,’ Caroline Bingley said, ‘I have far too much to do here.’
Despite the fact that Caroline had not been invited upon the expedition she did indeed have rather a lot to do at Netherfield, but her occupation consisted primarily in maintaining a relational control over both her younger sister Louisa, and Mr. Darcy’s younger sister Georgiana.
Caroline Bingley considered herself to be a role model for each of the girls, Louisa currently under private tutorage in London, and Georgiana residing at Mr. Darcy’s Pemberley estate away from the attractions which had almost been her downfall. Caroline wrote regularly to each, every day in fact, and maintained an iron grip upon the two young ladies, whose images she wished to mould after that of her own.
‘Well, it is settled then,’ Mr. Bingley said, ‘tomorrow afternoon Darcy and I shall ride over to Longbourn and enquire after Jane’s health, and you, dear sister, shall remain here to ensure your own duties are attended to, whatever they may be.’
‘My duties,’ Caroline said, drawing herself up a little as she spoke, ‘concern the welfare of those under my charge, their true benefactors often finding wanting.’
And at this the meal continued in silence, the sound of knives slicing rigorously into the tough pieces of meat the only noise echoing round the elegant dining room at Netherfield.
Both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were orphans, at least in the sense that now their parents had died they had inherited their respective estates, alongside responsibility for the sisters which remained, though Caroline herself possessed a dowry said to be worth £20,000, an attractive proposition for any man, if she herself were not so unattractive.
At length the party broke up, Caroline returning to her correspondence, and the gentlemen retiring to the library to smoke and take brandy, as was their custom in the evenings.
But the thought of tomorrow’s expedition had excited Mr. Bingley considerably, and he was expectant at the prospect of making further acquaintance with the eldest of the Bennet girls, to whom he had become quite attached. At length, the gentleman retired to bed, a candle still burning in the chambers of Caroline Bingley where she continued to compose a long diatribe to her younger sister about the importance of womanly virtue.
The next day dawned bright and sunny, though with a chill in the air, for by now November had arrived and the sun provided little warmth in the countryside around Netherfield.
But such a fact did not deter Mr. Bingley, nor Mr. Darcy, and at twelve noon, dressed in their best and warmest coats, they set out to make the walk to Longbourn across the meadows and fields which separated the two houses.
Whilst Longbourn could not compete with Netherfield in terms of size, a fact already noted by Caroline Bingley, to whom such things were of considerable importance, the house itself occupied a most pleasant position.
It was set in a small, but pretty, garden, attended by a gentleman from the nearby village of Meryton, who came every Wednesday, rain or shine, to prune and tidy as was necessary.
The house itself was around a hundred years old, covered over in ivy and climbing roses so as to present a most pleasing image, and a home in which Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had lived since their marriage some thirty years ago, a period of time which had, by all accounts, been remarkably happy.
Thus, it was that Longbourn had been the setting for much joy over the years, and a place deeply entwined in the hearts of its occupants, who looked upon it both as house and home.
‘I can see Longbourn through the trees there,’ Mr. Bingley said, as the two men emerged from the long grass of the meadow and over the brow of Nether Hill, which separated the estate from the village.
‘It is a fine house, despite your sister’s protestations to the contrary,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘a fine home for the Bennets.’
‘I am sure we shall find them at some considerable activity,’ Mr. Bingley said, leading the way down the hill, ‘I hope we shall be well received.’
At Longbourn there had been little further talk of Mr. Collins’ letter, itself now lying amidst a pile of further correspondence on Mr. Bennet’s desk. The gentleman in question was prone more to his books than his administration, a fact which exasperated his good wife, and was a source of much amusement to his family. His daughters often delighted in recalling that Mr. Bennet had once forgotten to place an order with the grocer at Christmas, leading the family to dine on that most estimable day only on cold fowl and potatoes.
Today Mr. Bennet was again amongst his books, his wife busying herself around the house, though what such busyness entailed, no one really knew since the income of the family allowed for a modest staff of cook and maid thus freeing Mrs. Bennet for leisurely pursuits, though such were seldom seen.
Owing to the pleasant day, Kitty and Lydia had announced their intention to walk into Meryton and purchase ribbons, a code which both Jane and Elizabeth knew meant that they intended to seek out the officers of the regiment which was stationed there. Their attraction to uniform was a constant source of both amusement and alarm. They would no doubt visit Mrs. Bennet’s sister, a Mrs. Philips, who shared her sister’s ability in observation, and was always most obliging in imparting that which she observed, for, as she put it, ‘the benefit of all,’ idle gossip a thing not to be tolerated.
Mary Bennet was reading in the sitting room, a fire having been kindled and the scene rather merry. Jane and Elizabeth themselves sat with her, and when the maid announced that a Mr. Bingley and a Mr. Darcy had arrived, both women were taken by surprise.
‘Mr. Bingley here?’ Jane said, a look of astonishment on her face.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the maid said, ‘seeking an audience with both you and Miss Elizabeth.’
‘Do show them in,’ Jane said, as both women stood up to greet their guests, Mary retreating into the drawing room as the sound of footsteps signalled the gentlemen’s arrival.
‘My dear Jane,’ the gentleman began, ‘is your health much improved? We decided we simply must make the walk from Netherfield in order to check upon your well-being.’
But Jane’s response was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Bennet into the room who, upon hearing the maid’s announcement, could not allow herself to be separate from the illustrious company now ap
pearing under her roof, her husband wise enough to remain secreted in his study.
‘Gentlemen, welcome, make yourselves most comfortable, please. Call for tea, Elizabeth dear. Now, Mr. Bingley, would you sit here next to Jane, that’s it, and Mr. Darcy, perhaps you would sit here next to me, whilst Elizabeth will sit opposite, there now, to what do we owe the honour of this visit?’
Mrs. Bennet was, if nothing else, well meaning, and having observed the attraction between Mr. Bingley and her eldest daughter, and having heard rumour that his fortune amounted to something quite considerable, she was eager to encourage the match between them, a little too enthusiastically perhaps.
‘I came to enquire as to Jane’s health following her return from Netherfield,’ Mr. Bingley began again, ‘and my friend Mr. Darcy wished to accompany me on the walk, Longbourn is truly beautiful.’
‘Beautiful it I,s yes, though we received a letter just a day or so ago reminding us that its fortunes are not ours and that we could be turned out at the whim of my dear husband’s nephew, such are the rights of men,’ Mrs. Bennet said, casting something of a dampener upon the company.
Unsure of exactly to what Mrs. Bennet was referring, Mr. Bingley continued to address Jane as to her state of health which had, it must be said, greatly improved.
The tea arrived and Elizabeth poured from the teapot into the attractive china cups which her mother kept for such occasions as this, and finding Mr. Darcy somewhat fixated upon her, she blushed a little as she passed the cup to him.
‘And you, Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘are you quite recovered from your exertions as nurse to your sister?’
‘It was a pleasure to be so,’ Elizabeth said.
‘The poor girl,’ Mrs. Bennet continued, ‘traipsing through the fields after her sister, really Jane should not have set out that day, I told her, Mr. Bingley, but she would pay no heed, though no doubt you were ever so pleased to see her, and may I take this chance to say how grateful Mr. Bennet and I are for your kind hospitality in the face of such adversity.’
‘Really, madam, it was not a trouble for us, we would have gratefully played host far longer should it have been necessary, though I am relieved to find Jane in such good spirits.’
‘Well, it is a miracle she recovered as she did, why I could not hope to …’
But at this point the door to the sitting room opened and Mr. Bennet appeared to make his own acquaintance of the two gentlemen and to offer them thanks. After the necessary obeisance, Mr. Bennet requested his wife’s company in a most urgent matter which could not wait a moment later and despite her protestations, the two left Jane and Elizabeth alone with their guests. A fact which perhaps caused all involved to give thanks.
‘You sisters are absent today?’ Mr. Bingley asked.
‘Kitty and Lydia have made the walk into Meryton,’ Elizabeth replied, ‘they enjoy the sights there, and they visit our aunt who herself is a source of considerable information, much of it accurate.’
‘And you have a third sister, do you not?’ Mr. Darcy enquired.
‘Mary, yes, she is something of a retiring girl, I have no doubt that she is about her books at this moment.’
‘We did ever so much wish to see you both again,’ Mr. Bingley said, speaking for his friend who certainly shared his sentiments, fortune dictating that each had been attracted to a different Bennet sister, rather than the same.
‘We are looking forward to receiving another visitor here at Longbourn in the coming days,’ Jane said, ‘our cousin Mr. Collins comes from Kent.’
‘He is the man our mother spoke so cryptically of as you arrived,’ Elizabeth added.
‘Your cousin is the heir to Longbourn?’ asked Mr. Bingley.
‘It is the entitlement of the male heir, though father assures us that he has much life in him still,’ said Jane.
‘I’m sure as a clergyman he is most respectful man,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘if one cannot trust a clergyman to honour then who can one trust?’
And thus, the conversation continued.
Having now ascertained that Miss Jane Bennet was once more in rude health, and having satisfied themselves as to acquainting further with the Bennet girls, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy left Longbourn after an audience lasting around an hour.
Mrs. Bennet, who had realised her husband’s ploy to remove her from the company, made an appearance as they were leaving, and assured both men that they were always welcome at Longbourn, come rain or shine, and that she hoped to see far more of them as their stay at Netherfield continued.
On their parts both Jane and Elizabeth were pleased to have received a visit from such estimable men, and when Lydia and Kitty returned from Meryton, they found themselves with much to impart, to the disappointment of the young ladies whose expedition had been rather uneventful.
‘Did you buy no ribbons?’ Mrs. Bennet asked.
‘We only spoke with our aunt,’ they said, ‘she imparted little of interest.’
‘Well,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘you should have remained at Longbourn, for it has been a most eventful afternoon here.’
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy made the walk back to Netherfield Park as the sun began to set across the meadows, bathing the great house in an attractive orange glow.
‘It will be a cold night this evening,’ Mr. Darcy observed.
‘But one on which our hearts have found themselves warmed considerably, my friend,’ Mr. Bingley said.
For there was little which could now dampen his spirit, the sight of Jane, now restored to full health, raising thoughts of courtship in his mind.
But events have a funny way of taking alternate courses to our vision, and the arrival of Mr. Collins at Longbourn some days later added much interest to the goings-on in the district.
3
A Clergyman Arrives
‘My dear Mr. Bennet,’ his wife observed, ‘I have spent time on nothing these past days except the long-expected arrival of Mr. Collins, how shall I survive the week that he is to stay with us?’
‘I am sure, dear lady, that you will find it in you to play host as congenially as you have ever done so,’ Mr. Bennet said, as the grandfather clock in the hallway at Longbourn struck three and thirty minutes on the eighteenth of November.
‘Girls,’ Mrs. Bennet called, ‘be prepared to welcome your cousin, he is expected in just half an hour’s time.’
The Bennet sisters had found themselves caught up in Mrs. Bennet’s considerable preparations these past few days. The family were not used to receiving overnight visitations, their lives confined largely to the district, with Mr. Bennet making the occasional trip into Bath on business, and Meryton itself providing enough distraction for the girls, who regularly made the walk there and back.
‘I feel that our whole lives are shortly to be scrutinised,’ Mrs. Bennet said, the panic in her voice rising as she realised how much had remained undone by means of preparation, ‘Mr. Collins will be here soon, now, Mary, put your book away, I am sure your cousin is adequate company. Lydia, stop giggling so, no one likes a giddy child, Jane, see to her, if you please. Mr. Bennet, where are your spectacles? You won’t be able to see our guest, let alone converse with.’
It was fortunate that Mrs. Bennet had called the company to order a good half hour prior to Mr. Collins’ arrival since it took that time before she was satisfied that every member of the family were as prepared as she to greet their illustrious guest and benefactor.
At precisely four o’clock, a coach could be heard approaching on the track into the village which passed the house, and as the clock in the hallway completed its chiming of the hour, the party observed Mr. Collins stepping down from his ride. The driver reined in the horses and proceeded to unload several large trunks from the rear, causing Jane to remark that it appeared as though Mr. Collins were already taking possession of Longbourn.
‘Hush, Jane,’ her mother said, as Mr. Bennet stifled a laugh. His daughters really could be most erudite.
Observed through the win
dow of the hallway, Elizabeth could note that Mr. Collins was a short fat man, dressed in the outfit of a clergyman, though even if he had not been thus dressed as one, could still have recognised his disposition as a representative of the established church.
At twenty-five years old Mr. Collins had already lost a considerable amount of his hair, and with an ever-growing waistline, assisted in its expansion by his frequent visits to Rosings Park, the home of his patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the nephew of Mr. Bennet presented such a contrasting image to the similarly aged Messrs. Bingley and Darcy as could be imagined.
‘Welcome to Longbourn, dear nephew,’ Mr. Bennet said, as the carriage made to depart, and Mr. Collins stood at the front of the house, observing his future inheritance, the family proceeding out to greet him.
‘A most fine home, Mr. Bennet,’ he observed, ‘a most fine home indeed, almost of equal to my own parsonage at Hunsford, a most pleasant setting, though it has taken me this whole day to traverse between our two domains.’
‘I trust your journey was comfortable?’ Mr. Bennet enquired.
‘It was tolerable, yes, my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was gracious enough to permit my passage in her own carriage as far as the market town closest to Rosings Park, from there I caught the stagecoach, and from Meryton I hired the driver who has just departed, a long but worthwhile journey. Ah, Mrs. Bennet, a pleasure to make your acquaintance after all these years.’
‘It is a pleasure also to make yours, sir,’ Mrs. Bennet said, offering her hand, and giving a curtsey which she chastised herself for later on, ‘you are most welcome to Longbourn, most welcome indeed, and I am pleased that your journey was not one of sufferance, I myself find long distances a considerable pain.’
‘Such a lady as yourself should not bear such undertakings,’ Mr. Collins observed, ‘and now to your daughters,’ he said, turning to Mr. Bennet.