by Tilly Davis
But at this interlude let us now return briefly to Longbourn, where Mr. Darcy had just departed and Mr. Bingley remained.
‘And does your sister remain at Netherfield?’ Mrs. Bennet asked, in her most casual manner, both Elizabeth and Jane giving her a long hard stare.
‘She returned to London,’ Mr. Bingley, ‘the country air was not conducive to her, far better is she situated at our London home on Berkeley Square.’
‘One can only imagine what the opportunities afforded one in London are,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘I should have very much liked my own girls to take a season there, though Mr. Bennet would not allow it.’
‘It is not a place I find much favour in,’ Mr. Bingley, ‘far better to be amongst the good folk of a district such as this than to find oneself amongst London society, though my sister seems to enjoy it.’
‘We are very pleased you shall be here permanently amongst us,’ Elizabeth said.
‘Well, I hope Fitzwilliam will still visit regularly after you are married,’ Mr. Bingley said.
‘I shall make sure of it,’ Elizabeth replied.
Another awkward silence descended, Mr. Bingley looking with a nervous smile at Jane. For once Mrs. Bennet appeared to have a shred of common awareness about her, and suddenly she stood up and asked Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty to assist her in the garden, that place being entirely devoid of anything to assist with.
‘Come now, girls, we must leave Mr. Bingley and Jane to talk, I am sure they have much to say to one another.’
And taking her direction, the sisters left the room, Mr. Bennet returning to his study, grateful for his chair and the warmth of the fire. Jane and Mr. Bingley now sat in an even more awkward situation than they had found themselves in before, for neither enjoyed such circumstances, created or otherwise.
‘I …’
‘I …’
They both said.
‘Please forgive me,’ Mr. Bingley said, ‘do proceed.’
‘No, please, sir, you surely had something far more important than I to say.’
‘No…er…nothing of importance, merely that the…the weather has been very good these past days,’ Mr. Bingley said.
‘The weather, yes, the weather has been pleasant, hasn’t it, and does the garden good to have a little warmth upon it in the spring, don’t you think?’ Jane said.
‘Oh, most certainly.’
They continued their most awkward conversation relating to the weather and the garden for some moments before each fell silent again.
But at length Mr. Bingley resolved that he really should speak the thoughts of his heart and clearing his throat, he addressed Jane thus.
‘I am so pleased that Elizabeth has assented to Mr. Darcy’s proposal, she deserves the happiness which he will bring her.’
‘You were not angry at his breaking off the engagement to Caroline - forgive me - Miss Bingley?’
‘Not at all, well, perhaps at first, but if I might be so bold as to tell you, my sister spoke in such ill terms of Elizabeth that I myself was repulsed by what she said.’
‘Elizabeth conveyed what Mr. Darcy told her of the breaking of the engagement,’ Jane said, ‘I was shocked by the language which your sister employed against her.’
‘My sister desired Fitzwilliam for herself, such passions are hard to quash, however I found myself with little sympathy and when I received his letter this morning informing me of the engagement, I felt it only right to come here personally to offer my congratulations.’
‘And we are glad you did,’ Jane said.
‘Really?’ Mr. Bingley said, looking at Jane, ‘you know I myself have been a dreadful fool, ever since we first met.’
‘How so?’ Jane asked.
At this Mr. Bingley blushed and looked down at his shoes which, having been well polished that morning, were now splattered with mud from his walk.
‘I have long been used to women of society pushing themselves forward to me,’ he began, ‘it is why I detest London so much, an endless string of young women, or rather their mothers, pushing themselves towards me in an attempt to ascertain my favour, simply based upon the perception of my wealth, but my arrival here brought quite a different set of circumstances, ones that I confess I was unable to adapt to.’
Jane was a little confused at his words, and who would not be, Mr. Bingley failing to adequately express his sentiments, but trying again nonetheless.
‘What I am saying, in a very ineloquent way,’ he continued, ‘is that your own favour did not seem to be garnered in this way, whilst others at the Assembly Room ball behaved in much the same way as they do in London, you kept back, stayed your distance, but I could not help but notice you. As the days and weeks went by, the time of your illness and stay at Netherfield, our dinner together and so forth, I came to recognise that perhaps you harboured feelings for me which were not based solely upon my wealth. A refreshing thing indeed. But more so I recognised my own desire to further our acquaintance.’
‘And why did you not, sir?’ Jane asked.
‘At the moment I felt able to do so, we received the word that Elizabeth was to be married to her cousin and I must confess that I felt terribly sorry for Fitzwilliam but also for myself, my foolishness meant that I believed you yourself would seek such a marriage and would no longer take interest in me. I realise perhaps I was stupid in that regard.’
‘The ways of the heart are complicated,’ Jane observed, ‘on my part I believed that you no longer showed interest in me out of solidarity with your friend, I was unwilling to place myself forward lest it should anger you or your sister, or indeed Mr. Darcy.’
‘No anger would I have expressed,’ Mr. Bingley said, ‘but now perhaps I can make amends, if only by explaining my own faults.’
At this he fell silent.
‘Circumstances have caused us to drift apart,’ Jane said, ‘but circumstances seem also to have brought us back together, and now that you are to be permanently resident at Netherfield, perhaps we shall see a great deal more of one another?’
‘I should like that, I should like it very much indeed, we will visit each other perhaps? Or take walks in the parkland, did you know there is the most beautiful waterfall and pool on the east side of the estate? The area at the side is covered in wildflowers, it makes the most attractive of sights, I should very much like to show you.’
‘I’d be delighted to accompany you,’ Jane said, as she and Mr. Bingley smiled at one another.
‘Very well then,’ he exclaimed, standing up, ‘I shall send word across and we shall arrange the date and time, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to have come here and made amends.’
‘There was nothing to make amends for, sir, it was merely a necessity for us both to explain our positions, which now appear clear.’
‘Indeed they do, indeed they do,’ Mr. Bingley said, ‘and now I must return to Netherfield, but fear not, I shall be in touch very soon.’
And with that, for the two remained on slightly awkward terms, Mr. Bingley left Longbourn, bidding goodbye to Mrs. Bennet and the other sisters who were pretending to appear busy in the gardens at the front of the house.
As soon as Mr. Bingley was out of sight, they made their way immediately inside to find Jane sitting in the parlour, a smile playing across her face.
‘Did he propose marriage?’ Mrs. Bennet said.
‘Mother,’ Jane said, ‘don’t be so ridiculous.’
‘Well, two of my daughters are betrothed, it is the season,’ she replied.
‘He did not propose marriage,’ Jane continued.
‘Then why are you smiling so?’ Kitty said.
‘If you’ll allow me to speak I shall tell you,’ Jane said, laughing, ‘Mr. Bingley and I have come to the common understanding that we both misunderstood the other’s feelings and so we have resolved, now that he is returned to Netherfield, to make a point of seeing one another socially, on a more regular basis.’
‘Courtship,’ Mrs. Bennet cried, ‘Mr. Benne
t, Mr. Bennet, come quickly and here this news, your daughter is being courted by Mr. Bingley of Netherfield.’
‘Mother, I have simply agreed to join the gentleman for a walk to Crossly Falls, he imagined I had not seen them before, which of course I pretended to be the case, but it will be a pleasant walk nonetheless.’
‘A walk?’ her mother said, ‘a walk is just splendid, it is a courtship then, if a gentleman asks a lady to walk with him on his estate. Oh, a daughter to be married to an officer, a daughter to be married to a man in the inherit of a Derbyshire estate and now a daughter to be mistress of the most prominent house in the district, no doubt you shall be married by special licence, yes by special licence at Netherfield.’
And with that she bustled off, still calling Mr. Bennet’s name as the four sisters sat together in the parlour.
‘He is a most charming man,’ Kitty said, ‘most charming indeed, but this only leaves myself and Mary to be married now.’
‘I am not sure I should wish to be married,’ Mary said, ‘I should prefer to remain here.’
‘Then remain here you shall,’ Elizabeth said.
‘But what of Mr. Collins?’ Mary asked.
‘Mr. Collins will be paid a handsome sum by Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley if the time ever came when he wished to remove us from Longbourn,’ Kitty said.
‘Kitty,’ both Elizabeth and Jane said at once, chastising their sister for her assumptions. Nevertheless, all there present knew it to be true.
Jane did indeed walk with Mr. Bingley some days later to the falls at Crossly, where he picked wildflowers for her, and the two sat long into the afternoon watching the ever-cascading water.
Some days later the Bennet family dined once again at Netherfield, Mr. Bennet commenting afterwards upon how pleasant the atmosphere was now that Caroline Bingley was no longer present. The two continued to meet, Mr. Bingley often walking into Meryton and calling upon Jane as he went, she a regular visitor to the house where Mr. Bingley allowed her to take volumes from the library for Mary.
Thus, the weeks passed, and it became evident that the friendship between the two had blossomed, so much so that it was commented upon by many as to their suitability for marriage, a fact which made both Jane and Mr. Bingley blush, though neither denied it.
So, it was that time passed in the district of Meryton, and it was not long before the marriage of Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth was imminent, the date set for the twenty-fourth of July, when all of Meryton would turn out to see the happy Bennet bride, and her equally happy groom.
2
Of Marriage
‘Lydia is here, Mother,’ Kitty cried, as she sat expectantly looking from the drawing room window as the trap bearing her sister and Mr. Wickham drew up outside.
‘She is a full hour earlier than expected,’ Mrs. Bennet cried, ‘I have not even beaten the dust from the rugs in the bedroom yet.’
‘The rugs can wait, Mother,’ Kitty said, ‘come now, let us go and greet Lydia, it appears she is wearing a new bonnet.’
Lydia was indeed wearing a new bonnet and the sound of her arrival had driven all of the Bennets outside to meet her, Mr. Bennet walking awkwardly on his stick for he was suffering from a chill, despite it now being the height of summer. As the carriage drew up, Lydia jumped up and waved to her family as though she were about to make an important announcement.
‘We have arrived,’ she declared, ‘we have arrived.’
‘As we can see,’ Mary noted.
‘Don’t you look ever so pretty, Lydia, doesn’t she Mr. Bennet, ever so pretty,’ Mrs. Bennet said.
‘Ever so indeed,’ her father replied.
Mr. Wickham himself now stood up and assisted his wife down from their carriage, she greeting her sisters in her usual manner, reminding them of how wonderful it was to be married to such a man.
Mr. Bennet still had his reservations as to the gentleman’s suitability, a thought shared at least by his two elder daughters, who saw in Mr. Wickham the continued potential for mischief.
‘I trust your journey was a good one?’ Mr. Bennet said to Mr. Wickham.
‘Indeed, it was, sir,’ he replied.
‘We overnighted at the most beautiful inn, didn’t we, George?’ Lydia interrupted.
‘We did indeed,’ her husband replied.
‘But now I am here to assist,’ Lydia continued, ‘after all it requires a married woman to advise on matters of marriage, isn’t that right, Mother?’
‘Indeed it is,’ Mrs. Bennet replied, somewhat taken aback by her daughter’s statement, Lydia’s sisters seeing it for what it was.
It was an exceptionally warm day, and the garden was permeated with the perfume of roses and lavender, bees buzzing amidst the flowers, and a mere wisp of white cloud passing overhead. It was the twenty-second of July, just two days before Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s wedding and with much of the preparation now accomplished there was little to do except wait.
Lydia was most put out that she should not be offered a position of bridesmaid to her sister, but she was reminded that as a married woman it was now not her place to appear in this, that honour given once again to Kitty, and also to Mary who bore it grudgingly. Jane and Charlotte Lucas would assist Elizabeth with her preparations, just as they had done at Hunsford all those months ago, the memory of which appeared like a dream.
‘Lady Catherine de Bourgh has written to Fitzwilliam,’ Elizabeth said to Jane that afternoon, after Lydia and Mr. Wickham had settled themselves in at Longbourn.
‘And what was the topic of her letter?’ Jane enquired.
‘Apparently she writes to disapprove of our marriage in the very strongest terms and to say that her daughter’s health is such that neither of them can make the journey from Rosings Park to be present at the wedding.’
‘Forgive my lack of charity, dear sister,’ Jane said, smiling, ‘but I believe your wedding will be a far happier affair due to this sad occurrence.’
‘I could not agree more,’ Elizabeth said, herself now laughing, ‘I do not think such sentiments worry Fitzwilliam very much anymore.’
‘Charles has heard nothing from his sister in two weeks,’ Jane continued, ‘I believe that is another person who will not grace us with her presence on Saturday.’
‘I had expected as much,’ Elizabeth said.
The two sisters were folding and pressing linens in preparation for the celebrations following the marriage. Mrs. Bennet had spared no expense in ordering food and victuals for the wedding breakfast, having declared in the presence of Lydia that if she could not be present for the first marriage of a daughter of hers, she would ensure the second one was marked with all the grandeur she could muster.
‘Where is Mr. Darcy? Will we see him before the wedding?’ Lydia asked, as she and Mr. Wickham appeared in the kitchen a short while later, the linens now folded and neatly stacked in baskets.
‘He is at Netherfield now,’ Elizabeth replied, ‘we have said our farewells, I shall not see him before Saturday now.’
‘Oh, how exciting, I am very much looking forward to seeing him, I haven’t laid eyes upon him since our own wedding, it really was …’
‘Lydia,’ Mr. Wickham hissed.
‘Your wedding?’ Elizabeth said, ‘why ever was Mr. Darcy at your wedding?’
‘Oh, he was there…he was there because…because he wished to be so,’ Lydia said, realising she had just committed something of a faux pas, her speech often emerging prior to her thoughts collating.
‘But why would he wish to be so, I understand, and I mean no offence by these words, but I understand that you, George, and Mr. Darcy do not see eye to eye on matters,’ Elizabeth said, remaining puzzled.
‘It is true, he and I have had our differences, but he has been kind enough to heal the divisions,’ Mr. Wickham said.
‘But surely, he would have mentioned the fact to me, why he must have travelled to London at the time we thought him to be in Pemberley?’ Elizabeth continued, she did not like deception
and the thought that her betrothed had lied to her filled her with consternation.
‘Come now, Lydia, explain more fully why Mr. Darcy should have been present at your wedding,’ Jane said, sensing the distress which this knowledge was now causing Elizabeth.
Lydia and Mr. Wickham looked at one another.
‘Mr. Darcy has been most kind to us,’ she began, ‘but he did not wish for you to know owing to the fact that he believed knowledge of his act should cause you to believe he was simply trying to buy your affections.’
‘In what way kind?’ Elizabeth said.
‘Well, you see,’ Mr. Wickham said, ‘I did indeed behave most dishonourably, but more so due to personal circumstances than want of scandal, my affections for Lydia were such that passion carried away my head, and my heart led the way. Mr. Darcy came with Sir William Lucas and at our audience he promised that my discharge from the regiment could be an honourable one if I assented to marry Lydia and that if I did so he would provide me with a stipend each year until I gained independence.’
‘That is a most noble thing for him to do,’ Jane said, ‘but we should thank him for his kindness, there was no need for him to omit the truth in the matter.’
‘He simply did not wish it to appear as though he was seeking to buy your favour,’ Lydia said, ‘oh, how awful I feel for betraying him.’
‘You have not betrayed him,’ Elizabeth said, ‘only made me love him a little more, such kindness in a man is rare and I am grateful to him for watching over our family.’
Cheered considerably by this revelation, Elizabeth continued about her work, the thought of marrying the man she truly loved foremost in her mind. She could not wait for Saturday and to be pronounced as the wife of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
The day of the wedding dawned bright and sunny, it was to be another hot day in Meryton and as the sun rose over Netherfield and Longbourn, there was an atmosphere of expectation in the air, the Bennets rising early to begin their preparations.