Where The Heart Belongs

by Tilly Davis

  Both Elizabeth and Jane had attempted to rid themselves of the memory of their fancy visit at Netherfield, the house now let to a Major General Wilkinson, who was to remain there for a month to oversee the regiment still billeted at Meryton.

  The arrival of yet more soldiers in the district caused Kitty and Lydia to take many walks in order to visit Mrs. Bennet’s sister in the village, leading their mother to remark that if they spent as much time at home as they did outdoors, far more of the domestic chores would be accomplished.

  ‘Mr. Bennet, you cannot expect your daughter to marry without placing some sort of financial gift upon her,’ Mrs. Bennet said, as piles of new linens and clothing were being folded into trunks by the housemaid, bought in preparation for Elizabeth’s departure.

  ‘My dear Mrs. Bennet, it would be expedient though to be informed of at least the rough cost of such items prior to their arrival,’ the gentleman said, holding up a bill which amounted to a sum of money he considered more than an adequate payment for his daughter’s future happiness.

  ‘Elizabeth will not go to Kent without being suitably prepared,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘even if we must live on bread and water for a month following the wedding.’

  ‘I think we shall be doing so,’ her husband said, returning to the study.

  Outside a spring shower was coming down, the effects of which was to make the garden shine as if it had been freshly washed, a rainbow appearing in the distance over Netherfield, the direction from which Jane and Elizabeth were now running, having been caught in the shower whilst out for their walk.

  ‘I am wet through,’ Jane cried, as the two girls pelted up the garden path and clattered into the hallway.’

  ‘Come nowhere near me,’ Mrs. Bennet said, as she carried yet more freshly laundered clothing up the stairs, ‘if these whites are stained on Elizabeth’s wedding day then I shall know who to blame.’

  ‘Mother, I am not emigrating to the new world,’ Elizabeth said, ‘Kent is only a day’s travel away, I shall often see you all, why so much fuss?’

  ‘Less often than you think, dear,’ her mother replied, ‘when you are mistress of the rectory you shall be busy at all times, why there will be guests to entertain, the people of the parish to visit, no doubt you will be entertained regularly at Rosings Park if Mr. Collins is to be believed.’

  ‘I doubt Lady Catherine will take kindly to me,’ Elizabeth said, ‘Mr. Darcy is her nephew, if you recall.’

  ‘If Mr. Darcy seeks to make trouble for you in your new position then he is spiteful,’ Mrs Bennet said, and with that she made her way upstairs.

  At that moment Lydia and Kitty arrived, fresh-faced, and also soaked through from the shower.

  ‘We have spent the morning in the company of the officers, in the officers’ mess itself,’ they both cried in unison, ‘Mr. Wickham has shown us all over the headquarters, we even glimpsed the Major General himself, though he is an old man, Mr. Wickham stood so straight and tall as he saluted him in passing. You should see the other officers, perhaps one of the older ones might take an interest in you, Jane,’ Kitty said, ‘why Mr. Wickham …’

  ‘I think we may have heard enough of his name now, thank you, Kitty,’ Mr. Bennet said, emerging from his study in which he had found no peace or quiet owing to the continued commotion in the hallway, ‘I am sure that if it were five sons that I possessed a greater peace would now reign, though no doubt their boisterousness as children would have balanced out the situation, perhaps the lot of a parent is to simply accept that one’s children will be a prevailing source of disturbance.’

  ‘Come now, Father,’ Lydia said, ‘you would have it no other way.’

  ‘There are many other ways I would have it, Lydia, but right now I wish only for silence in order to read my book, good day to you all,’ and with that he shut the study door, and when his wife attempted to enter unannounced later that afternoon she found her way barred by the bolt, her husband making the pretence of sleeping inside, the excitement of the afternoon having taken its toll.

  The day of Elizabeth’s departure dawned, and the family spent a final breakfast together, a sense of sadness enveloping them all.

  Whilst Elizabeth had largely resigned herself to her fate, her sisters had not yet come to terms with the fact that their happy five was about become four. The Bennet sisters, though, like any siblings capable of the most spectacular rows, were a close-knit group, dedicated to one another, though each very different in their ways.

  At breakfast that morning their parents too were silent, and since it was not like Mrs. Bennet to be silent, even on the most solemn of occasions, the sisters wondered what was wrong.

  ‘I should like to look at the Chronicle,’ Mary said.

  ‘Not at the table, dear,’ Mrs. Bennet replied.

  ‘But we always look at the Chronicle at the table,’ her daughter said, appealing to her father who kept his vision straight ahead, and failed to make eye contact with her, instead buttering a piece bread.

  ‘Well, I’m sure it arrived, I saw the boy coming with it earlier,’ Mary continued, ‘surely someone else has seen it?’

  ‘Enough about the Chronicle,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘it is Elizabeth’s final breakfast here before we depart for Kent, surely you would wish to converse with your sister?’

  But no one particularly felt like conversing, and Mary, exasperated at the lack of communication, took it upon herself to find the copy of the Chronicle much to Mrs. Bennet’s protest.

  The middle sister found the folded sheets of the newspaper hidden under a pile of books in the drawing room, and returning triumphantly with it she settled herself back down at the table, whilst around her the family completed its breakfast, Mrs. Bennet now in a heightened sense of alarm as her daughter began to read.

  ‘Mary, put the Chronicle down,’ she said, attempting to snatch it from her, ‘I will not have you behave in such a disobedient manner, I really think …’

  ‘Just tell them,’ Mr. Bennet said, breaking his silence.

  ‘Tell us what?’ Lydia and Kitty said in unison, the others looking inquisitively at their father.

  ‘Mary, as you seem so keen to read from the Chronicle then perhaps you would read to us from the announcements column at the top,’ he said.

  Mary found the page, and began to read out loud, a slight sense of shock spreading across her fact.

  ‘The engagement is announced between Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley in the county of Derbyshire and Miss Caroline Bingley, daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. Percy Bingley of Berkeley Square, London, details to follow, etc.’

  There was a short silence around the table, after which Lydia and Kitty let out an exclamation.

  ‘She is a horrible woman, why would anyone wish to marry her, I thought Mr. Darcy was an honourable gentleman,’ Kitty said.

  ‘My dear Kitty,’ Mr. Bennet said, ‘you are not yet of years to pronounce the honour or not of anyone, Mr. Darcy has no doubt done the honourable thing in seeking to marry the sister of his friend and confidant, whether he is happy to do so is his own business.’

  Elizabeth sat in silence, digesting the words which had just been read to her.

  ‘We didn’t wish for you to discover this today,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘no doubt you would have learned of it soon, but on today of all days, but Mary, you would insist.’

  There was little else that could be said, for Elizabeth it was clear that Mr. Darcy had made his choice, a choice which perhaps he would have made whether she had accepted Mr. Collins’ proposal or not. It was evident that now, more than ever, she must rid herself of fanciful thoughts, and look to the future, a future which in just a short amount of time she was to depart for.

  Thus, the Bennets final breakfast together broke, overshadowed by a melancholy, the announcement of Mr. Darcy’s engagement having put an end to any speculation that the situation may alter.

  Elizabeth was to marry Mr. Collins, and Jane was to now find another more suitable suitor, and wi
th these thoughts in mind the family prepared to say its farewells.

  ‘Be sure to take care of your father whilst I am away,’ Mrs. Bennet called from the carriage, which had been hired specially to take them to Kent.

  ‘Mother, you are only going to be away for a few weeks,’ Jane said, ‘then we shall be joining you and returning together, I am sure father will be fine under our care.’

  ‘And not just your father, Jane, you must see to your sisters too, I do not wish to hear of Lydia and Kitty spending all their time in Meryton, nor of Mary cooped up in the house at all times, and you, Jane, look to your own happiness.’

  Elizabeth had not yet climbed in beside her mother, and she now embraced each of her sisters in turn before coming to Jane.

  ‘You will write to me, won’t you?’ she said.

  ‘Every day,’ Jane replied, ‘and it is only a few weeks until we make the journey to Hunsford to see you married, such joyous days to come,’ and the two embraced one another.

  Elizabeth saved her final embrace for her father, whom she knew she would miss the most, his wise words and kindly smile a constant source of comfort to her.

  ‘Dear Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘how I have thought of this day for such a long time, the first of my daughters to be married. Mr. Collins is a most fortunate gentleman, and our loss can only be his gain. We shall see you very soon,’ and he embraced his daughter, though the exertion of the emotion caused him to cough and splutter.

  ‘Do come along, Elizabeth, or we shall never arrive before nightfall,’ Mrs. Bennet called from the carriage.

  And so, with a final look back at Longbourn, and her family gathered outside, Elizabeth Bennet climbed in next to her mother and watched as the familiar scenery disappeared, her sisters running down the lane after the carriage, waving their goodbyes.

  At Meryton Lodge they paused as Charlotte Lucas appeared at the end of the drive and Elizabeth jumped down to bid her friend farewell, though she would also be attending the wedding in a few weeks’ time.

  ‘Goodbye, dear Charlotte,’ Elizabeth said, as the two friends embraced, ‘how I shall miss you, we will write every day, will we not?’

  ‘Indeed, we shall, and sometimes twice, and I shall visit you in Kent as often as I am able, perhaps father will even allow me to take a coach unaccompanied, I should be brave enough to if it meant seeing you soon,’ she said, Elizabeth laughing.

  ‘But Elizabeth,’ Charlotte continued, ‘please marry for true love and affection, and not for duty.’

  ‘I know what I am to do,’ Elizabeth said, ‘and I have accepted that, Mr. Collins will treat me well, of that I have no doubt. We must leave now, but I shall see you very soon. Goodbye, Charlotte, write to me each day!’

  Elizabeth climbed once more into the coach, and as her mother took up her usual narrative, having quite recovered from her own speechlessness that morning, they made their way through the little town of Meryton and onto the road which led south towards London and on to Kent, the driver remarking that it was a fine day for travel, the horses happily trotting, as Elizabeth’s old life disappeared behind her.

  3

  The Situation at Hunsford

  The carriage ride to Hunsford was one which Elizabeth took considerable delight in, despite the prospect of what awaited her. They passed through the resplendent beauty of the English countryside, Elizabeth rarely having made such a long and interesting journey, her mother pointing out the landmarks, in between complaining at the bumpiness of their ride.

  It took the best part of the day to traverse the distance between Longbourn and Hunsford, and they broke on the London road to enjoy some refreshment, the carriage driver leading the horses to a nearby stream as the two women sat enjoying bread and cheese in the spring sunshine.

  ‘I do hope your sister remembers to assign the domestic tasks to the others,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘your father would go all day without sustenance, or exertion, if he were not reminded of both at regular intervals,’ she continued.

  ‘I’m sure Jane will manage adequately whilst we, whilst you, are gone,’ she said, checking herself.

  ‘I have no doubt that Jane will manage adequately enough,’ her mother said, taking a bite from an apple, ‘your father will miss me though.’

  ‘He isn’t well though, is he, Mother?’ Elizabeth said, the burning thought of her heart now expressing herself.

  ‘Whatever makes you say that?’ Mrs. Bennet asked, ‘he is as strong as a horse, of that I have no doubt.’

  ‘But he coughs, Mother, and you said yourself that he does not exert himself if it can be helped, he walks with such an odd gait,’ Elizabeth said.

  Mrs. Bennet sighed and looked at Elizabeth.

  ‘He would never admit to such a thing, but you’re right, I believe, he is not the same as he was a year ago. He disguises it well enough but one can see the effects that time has taken on him, that is why your marriage to Mr. Collins is so important, if your father were to go to his rest, and heaven forbid that it should be soon, your sisters and I will at least remain under our roof, though I should have to set the youngest to sewing work in order to bring in an income.’

  ‘It won’t come to that mother,’ Elizabeth said, ‘come now, all shall be well, let us not arrive at Hunsford with heavy hearts but greet Mr. Collins with some joy,’ and resolving herself into a state of happiness, Elizabeth led her mother back towards the carriage.

  The rest of the journey passed uneventfully, they skirted around London, her mother pointing to the vague outline of St. Paul’s Cathedral on the horizon, and crossed the Thames before driving on into Kent.

  It was now late afternoon and the sun was lying low in the sky, it having been a most perfect spring day, and one on which travel of this sort was pleasant rather than tiresome.

  As they came into the district of Hunsford the clock of Mr. Collins’ church tower began to strike the five o’clock hour, and both women now looked out eagerly for the parsonage, with every turn expected to bring it into view. Momentarily they passed Rosings Park itself, or at least its paling, marking the boundary on the west side, Elizabeth smiling to herself as she recalled just how much she had heard about its venerable inhabitant whose nephew she was so well acquainted with.

  The parsonage lay close to the estate, directly opposite the church, both of which were surrounded by high privet fences, a lychgate marking the entrance to the small graveyard, and opposite it a whitewashed wooden gate showing the entrance to Mr. Collins’ parsonage.

  It being early spring the shadows were now beginning to draw in, as the carriage pulled up outside, and Elizabeth looked eagerly, though with understandable trepidation, at her new home. Mrs. Bennet pronounced it a particularly fine living for a newly ordained clergyman.

  Mr. Collins had been looking out for the arrival of his wife-to-be since earlier that afternoon, and as he heard the sound of the approaching carriage he made his way down the path of the parsonage and through the little gate, straightening his collar and standing in anticipation as the carriage door opened.

  ‘My dear Mr. Collins,’ Mrs. Bennet said, allowing herself to be assisted down, ‘we have travelled all day and here we now are, and may I say what a fine district it is here, a fine district indeed, sir, most worthy of a man of your standing, what a fine house, and the church appears ever so magnificent.’

  ‘I am glad your journey was a pleasant one,’ he said, now assisting his cousin down from the carriage.

  ‘And Cousin Elizabeth, may I say how attractive you appear this day, as you have done each day that I have lain eyes upon you. Welcome to Hunsford, and to my humble abode, it is perhaps not as fine as some rectories, but I am confident you will find it an adequate home, both in the next few weeks for you, Mrs. Bennet, and for our life here together, Elizabeth,’ he said, leading them inside, as the coach driver unloaded their trunks.

  ‘Now Cousin Elizabeth this is to be your room,’ Mr. Collins said, leading them up a narrow staircase to the upper floor of the hous
e. The room was simply furnished with a bed and washstand, a small corner cupboard and a clothes chest in an alcove. Two little windows looked out towards the church, and the clergyman had had the sense to kindle a fire so that the room was warm and inviting. Elizabeth took to it immediately and thanked her cousin for his kindness.

  Mrs. Bennet was to reside in the next door room, Mr. Collins’ own chamber lying at the end of the passageway. She pronounced her own quarters as more than adequate, and once the two women had settled in upstairs they descended the stairs to the kitchen where the housemaid had laid out a simple supper of cold meat, potatoes and greens.

  ‘It being Sunday tomorrow,’ Mr. Collins said as they ate, ‘I shall expect you to attend divine service both at Matins, Holy Communion and at Evensong, the morning service is at nine o’clock, and the evening service at five. I have no doubt that Lady Catherine de Bourgh will attend church in the morning, and I shall make a point of introducing you to her personally.’

  ‘We would attend church in Meryton, sir,’ Mrs. Bennet said, a little offended that her religious observances were questioned in this way, ‘and I am sure we shall be delighted to meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh, after all, we have heard ever such a lot about her.’

  Mr. Collins did not notice the subtle irony of the lady’s comment, and continued to extol the virtues of the parish, pointing out that tomorrow Elizabeth would meet many of the people with whom she would now spend her time, a prospect which he indicated would bring many benefits, though she herself was rather less sure.

  After such a tiring day of travel both women sought to retire early, Mr. Collins lighting candles for them to take upstairs, he himself reading by the light of the fire as the night drew in around Hunsford.

  The next morning dawned bright and pleasant, and if Elizabeth had merely been making an excursion to visit her cousin in Kent she would have found the setting most agreeable.