Her Indomitable Resolve

by Jann Rowland

  Her Indomitable Resolve

  Jann Rowland

  By Jann Rowland

  Published by One Good Sonnet Publishing:

  Pride and Prejudice Adaptations

  Her Indomitable Resolve

  Mrs. Bennet’s Favorite Daughter

  Flight to Gretna Green

  With Love’s Light Wings

  Another Proposal

  A Matchmaking Mother

  The Challenge of Entail

  The Impulse of the Moment

  Mr. Bennet Takes Charge

  A Gift for Elizabeth

  This is a work of fiction, based on the works of Jane Austen. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are products of Jane Austen’s original novel, the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  HER INDOMITABLE RESOLVE

  Copyright © 2020 Jann Rowland

  Cover Design by Jann Rowland

  Published by One Good Sonnet Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781989212295

  ISBN-13: 1989212298

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, digital, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  To my family who have, as always, shown

  their unconditional love and encouragement.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Chapter XXXI

  Chapter XXXII

  Chapter XXXIII

  Chapter XXXIV

  About the Author

  Chapter I

  Eager to be away from the arguing that had overtaken Longbourn of late, Elizabeth Bennet slipped through the front door and strode down the drive toward the freedom of the path beyond. It was fortunate the day was fine and there had been little rain, for she might have been confined to the house otherwise, where the situation was intolerable. Knowing, however, that a lengthy walk such as that in which she wished to indulge would bring a lecture at best, Elizabeth chose the path meandering past the church, knowing it was a circuit she could complete in less than an hour. It would bring her back to Longbourn too soon, but it was better than the alternative.

  As the path slipped behind her, Elizabeth felt the calmness of nature intrude on her senses, filling her with a peace which had been lacking of late. It was always thus, for she had been walking the paths of the estate for as long as she had been deemed old enough to avoid becoming lost, by now knowing them as well as she knew the paths of the house in which she lived. With the changes at Longbourn, it was one of the only pleasures which remained, and she could not even indulge in it without opposition.

  A sigh escaped Elizabeth’s lips as she thought of those changes. As a young girl, Elizabeth had felt a sense of invincibility, of the permanence of everything around her, the notion that nothing would ever change. Such childish notions could not remain unchallenged, for time’s passage granted knowledge and tempered her childishness with an understanding of the way the world actually worked. While knowledge of the changeable and finite nature of life had been granted to her, it was nevertheless still difficult to endure at times.

  It had all begun four years ago with the visit of a man none of them had ever met, one of whom her father had always spoken with scorn; more truthfully, Mr. Bennet’s scorn had revealed his contempt for the man’s father. Mr. William Collins was a parson, a simpleton, an absurd mixture of pomposity and obsequiousness, and—most importantly—her father’s heir due to an entail on the estate. The man’s stated intention at the time was to choose a wife from among his cousin’s daughters, his determination spurred on by his patroness, a woman those at Longbourn had never met, but heard much—far too much, as it happened.

  Elizabeth, being but fourteen years of age at the time, had been relieved to find herself too young to be a candidate for the position, unable to imagine a life spent with such a ridiculous man. It was fortunate for the family that Mary, the eldest daughter, one suited to be the wife of a parson due to her interest in the Bible, was not of like mind. The man had been in residence fewer than two weeks when he proposed and Mary accepted.

  Since the Bennet sisters, one and all, had little in the way of dowry to support them, Mary’s alliance was fortunate in that it saved them from a life of genteel poverty when Mr. Bennet had suddenly passed more than two years after his eldest was married. By that time Lydia, Elizabeth’s second-eldest sister, had already married an officer, following him abroad when he was stationed overseas. Elizabeth supposed they should all be grateful Captain Ramsay’s command had taken him to one of the few locations where peace reigned, for if he was killed in action, Lydia would return to Longbourn, a circumstance Elizabeth did not wish to contemplate.

  That left Kitty and Jane, along with Elizabeth, the three youngest daughters. While Mr. Collins waxed long and ineloquently about his former calling as a parson, it was clear to Elizabeth that he resented supporting not only his wife’s mother but her three youngest daughters too. Mary was a dutiful woman, one who would not allow her husband to put them out, which sometimes Elizabeth thought he wished to do. Mary’s refusal to bend to his wishes did not make matters in the house comfortable.

  Kitty, to her good fortune, had moved to London to study with art masters, having an abundance of talent that begged to be developed. As this occurred as soon as her mourning for her father ended, it had left Elizabeth and Jane at Longbourn with their mother and the Collinses. All had been calm for a time, for while Mr. Collins took every opportunity to show his displeasure with their presence, his words became nothing more than the buzzing of a gnat, which Elizabeth ignored.

  That had all changed with the coming of Mr. Bingley to the neighborhood. Netherfield, the neighboring estate to Longbourn, had stood empty for several years, a gaping wound in the neighborhood gone unhealed. The gentleman who had mended that breach was handsome, genial, and in possession of a substantial income—this last being the most important to the young ladies of the neighborhood looking for a husband.

  It was to Jane he turned his attention, his manner growing more ardent the longer he was with them. Elizabeth, who could think nothing good of her brother-in-law, had thought in cynical sarcasm several times it was well that Mr. Bingley was not a man to be intimidated by the ridiculous, such as that embodied by Mr. Collins. Or perhaps it was his ardor for Jane which allowed him to withstand Mr. Collins’s rampant silliness.

  Whatever the truth may be, Mr. Bingley had proposed, and Jane had accepted, not that Jane’s returning regard had ever been in doubt. Their wedding was scheduled for early the next year, and the preparations for the celebration proceeded apace. This was the source of that morning’s argument and of many others like it.

  Of particular contention was the subject of the wedding breakfast. To understand the reason for the dispute, one must und
erstand the characters of the primary combatants. Mrs. Bennet had long been the mistress of Longbourn and had not taken her demotion to dowager with any grace. When she had been the mistress of the estate, Mrs. Bennet had known nothing of economy, a circumstance her husband had lamented more than once.

  By contrast, Mary was a frugal woman, one who watched every penny with care. Mrs. Bennet had been known to say—not within Mary’s hearing, of course—that her eldest daughter was nothing more than a miser, so tight did she keep the purse strings. Mr. Collins went along with anything his wife said, having no head for finances, much like he had no head for much of anything else. It had not missed Elizabeth’s notice that her sister was the real authority at Longbourn—Mr. Collins was allowed to think he managed the estate, but whatever Mary suggested was done at once. There had been many times when the master had boasted about this decision or that improvement he had made, but Elizabeth knew better. And it was just as well—Mr. Bennet had been an indifferent manager in his time, yet even he would have been horrified at the damage Mr. Collins would have done to the estate had Mary allowed him to do as he wished.

  The difference between the two women was, therefore, the reason for the argument that morning, and many more besides. Mrs. Bennet insisted the celebration on the occasion of Jane’s wedding demanded a lavish feast fit for the nobility, while Mary would not hear of it, declaring there were not enough funds to allow Mrs. Bennet’s extravagance. Jane, the sweet woman that she was, attempted to placate both her sister and mother at the same time. By this time, however, the combatants were entrenched in their positions and would not move from them, nor would they listen to Jane, one who had never been adept at making herself heard.

  “You are trying to ruin your sister’s wedding!” Mrs. Bennet had shrieked not long before Elizabeth escaped from the house.

  “I do no such thing,” had been Mary’s cold reply. “Jane is my younger sister and I have every intention of celebrating her wedding as the joyous occasion it is. At the same time, I must insist on moderation. Longbourn is not a large estate; we cannot spend so much that we become insolvent.”

  “When your father was the master, I had no such limitations,” spat a resentful Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Bennet never suggested we could not entertain and keep our position as a family.”

  “Our position as a family is in no jeopardy,” replied Mary, keeping an admirable calm about calm her.

  “It is if you insist on such miserly arrangements.” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes narrowed and she added: “If that husband of yours knew how to operate Longbourn properly, there would be no need to economize.”

  “That is where you are wrong, Mother. The reason Father never prevented you from spending as much as you wished is that he could not bother to rein you in. I am sorry if you dislike it, but we shall no longer maintain such overindulgence, for we cannot afford it.”

  It was at that moment Elizabeth had slipped from the room to make her escape. Given the unintelligible yelling that had followed her from the house, she thought her mother had made some incoherent rant, accusing her daughter of all manner of evils. Elizabeth neither knew nor cared. Though Jane, self-effacing and mild, would never own to it, Elizabeth was certain her sister would claim she needed no lavish celebrations on the occasion of her nuptials.

  Elizabeth could understand both sides of the argument. As Elizabeth had been close to her father, she knew how he sometimes lamented his wife’s habits and understood Mary was speaking the truth when she spoke of her father’s inability to control Mrs. Bennet. On the other hand, Elizabeth had often thought Mary was a little miserly with the family’s money.

  Since her father’s death, the situation had changed to a large extent, and not all was for the better. It was clear to her that Mr. Collins had not considered the possibility of circumstances that would dictate he care for his wife’s mother and younger sisters should he inherit the estate before the sisters were all married. While he was not an evil man, Elizabeth had little in common with him and knew he cared little for her or her sisters. Had he not married her eldest sister, he would have evicted them with little thought or even compassion for their plight.

  In the end, Mary was his wife, and Elizabeth and her sister and mother remained welcome at Longbourn, little though Mr. Collins seemed to wish them there. They had a home, a roof over their heads, food on the table, dresses to wear, and, therefore, need not fear for their survival. But money was a matter of much contention, and Mrs. Bennet did not appreciate how her daughter had, as she saw it, limited her activities. Elizabeth, herself, found the allowance she received from her father reduced, and new dresses had become all but nonexistent.

  While she could do without such things if need be, there were other changes that were more unpleasant. Mr. Collins took issue with some of her reading material and Mary had supported him in this, moralizing as she always had. The most bitter betrayal, in Elizabeth’s eyes, was how Mr. Collins had packed up Mr. Bennet’s wealth of books and sold them to the local bookseller, a man from whom Mr. Bennet had purchased most of them. Those he had deemed evil, including some of Elizabeth’s most cherished mementos of her father, he had taken and burned, claiming he could not, in good conscience, return them to circulation where they might corrupt some other unfortunate. The man was a veritable Quaker in some of his views.

  With her uncle’s help, Elizabeth had preserved some few, which he kept at his London home against her eventual removal from Longbourn. But Mr. Collins’s actions still rankled Elizabeth; she doubted she would ever forgive him for the loss of such treasured items.

  The one blessing was her father’s foresight in placing his unmarried daughters’ guardianship in the hands of her uncle Mr. Gardiner. Had Mr. Collins possessed that authority over Elizabeth, she shuddered to think of what her life would be like. It was bad enough just living under the man’s roof!

  That had also been a source of contention, though once Mary made her views known in a manner even her stupid husband could not misunderstand, he had allowed the subject to drop. Mr. Collins thought Mr. Gardiner should take on the support of all the remaining Bennet ladies, since he was also their legal guardian, and had insisted soon after his arrival that they send his wife’s sisters to London. Mary would not hear of it, and they stayed in Hertfordshire, all except for Kitty, whom Elizabeth sometimes envied as fortunate. That did not prevent Mr. Collins from making little needling comments whenever he had the chance. It was fortunate for Elizabeth’s sake that she possessed the ability to ignore him with ease.

  As Elizabeth turned her steps toward her home, she considered all that had happened and the changes to come. With Jane departing for her own home soon, Elizabeth would be the only unmarried Bennet daughter remaining at Longbourn, a circumstance she knew would not be comfortable for anyone. The question was, what could she do about it? Jane, she was certain, would insist Elizabeth live with her and her husband, but Elizabeth thought a new wife would wish to have her home to herself for a time. The Gardiners were another option, but they were also hosting Kitty, and Elizabeth did not wish to intrude.

  Elizabeth did not know what she should do. However, she was convinced the situation would become intolerable before long; Mary and her mother she could withstand, but Mr. Collins was nigh unendurable.

  In this manner, Elizabeth passed her walk, the path leading her back to Longbourn long before she had any wish to return. Knowing, however, she had best avoid a long absence, she stepped forward with determination and the hope of avoiding Mr. Collins when she entered the house. Some wishes, however, were destined to be disappointed.

  As she walked up the drive, Elizabeth felt relief to hear nothing but silence; the argument, it appeared, had ended, though she knew her mother would have sequestered herself, nursing her grievance, though Jane might be attending her. Mary, Elizabeth knew from experience, would be unmoved, convinced as she was by the rightness of her position. Elizabeth could not gainsay her right to feel that way.

  As Elizabeth stepped thr
ough the door and removed her outerwear, any hope of going unnoticed was dashed when Mr. Collins stepped into the vestibule from the hall. Elizabeth had not heard a door open, meaning he had been nearby, either by chance or design. He could not have seen her from the study, as that room was on the rear of the house, away from the drive. The thought of that room, so beloved to her when her father was alive, caused a pang in Elizabeth’s heart. She had not entered it for many months now, not since the last time she had shared it with Mr. Bennet before his untimely death.

  “Where have you been, Cousin?” Mr. Collins still referred to his wife’s sisters as his “cousins,” though Elizabeth did not know why. He called her mother Mrs. Bennet too, seeming to find comfort in formality.

  “I stepped out for a little fresh air, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth, handing her pelisse, bonnet, and gloves to a maid, giving the girl a warm smile. “It has not been long since I left.”

  Regarding her through narrowed eyes, Mr. Collins paused before speaking, considering—Elizabeth knew—how best to rein in what he felt was her wildness. This exact scene had played out so many times that Elizabeth knew what he would say before he said it. Did he not realize how often he spoke the same words to her with as little result? He was so fatuous, she thought it likely he did not remember their confrontations from one moment to the next.

  “I have often noted your propensity to walk out with such frequency,” said he, confirming Elizabeth’s expectations. “Though I understand my cousin indulged and spoiled you, I am not the same sort of man as he. As my former patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, often said, ‘young ladies should not be walking here and there without escort, for it shows a distinct lack of judgment and can result in a loss of virtue if she cavorts about with nary a thought of what is proper.’ As always, her ladyship’s advice is sound. In the future, Cousin, I would abjure you to take greater care for your reputation, for if something untoward happens, you would suffer grievously.”