“I love you, Isabella. I always have. Indeed, I had thought, on the day of our picnic in Dovedale, that there was a chance your feelings were not very different from what mine were,” he said and Isabella was left momentarily speechless.
She had not expected such a declaration, certainly not in the carriage en route to Pemberley! She had no other course but to listen. Her own handkerchief was sodden as she tried to dry her eyes; she took the one he proffered and blew her nose before she spoke.
“Do you mean that your feelings are unchanged since those times?” she asked hesitantly.
“Oh no, I do not mean that at all. My feelings have certainly changed, but only to become deeper and more constant. They have made me determined to persuade you, dearest Isabella, and I hope your parents, that I am worthy of you. Will you let me try?” he asked and this time there could be no uncertainty about his intentions.
Isabella smiled and spoke slowly, “Mr Bentley, are you asking me to listen to a proposal of marriage?”
He replied with another question. “Dearest Isabella, if I were, may I ask if I would be entitled to entertain some hope of a favourable answer?”
“Only if I thought you loved me as truly and as dearly as I love you,” she said, and of course, there can be no doubt at all of his response.
Not only did he declare his love in the most ardent manner that their present situation would allow, but he told her also of the many years when he had lived in Europe, alone, longing for her, hoping he could perhaps return to England and see her again, having established his complete independence from his stepfather, whose disgrace had wounded him sorely and cost him so much.
“But then I met Mr Jonathan Bingley, who told me of your marriage to Doctor Forrester, and I abandoned all hope. I thought Fate had decreed that you were never to be mine. Dearest Isabella, I was for a very long time a most unhappy man.”
At these words, which he had spoken while holding both her hands in his, she said, “I am so sorry. I wish with all my heart that it could have been different…” and to his great delight, she leaned forward and kissed him.
Afterwards, she was silent, wanting to enjoy the special satisfaction of hearing him declare again his feelings for her. He explained, when she asked why he had not proposed upon that happy afternoon in Dovedale, that he had already heard from his mother of Mr Henderson's iniquitous business dealings and had hoped to change his own circumstances first, establishing his independence before approaching her father.
“Isabella, if I had asked that afternoon, would you have accepted me?” he asked and she answered simply, “I believe I would,” and his countenance reflected the pain of knowing how sadly awry his plans had gone. He told her too why he had never married, knowing no other woman would ever have his total loyalty as long as he loved her.
Isabella listened, delighted. Nothing in her life so far had brought such unalloyed pleasure. She listened, then, slowly, she found words, carefully chosen and spoken with great gentleness, to tell him how she had married and loved Henry Forrester.
“He was a good, kind, and compassionate man, easy to love. We did a great deal of good work together for the children of this district, but I have never forgotten that happy Summer when we became good friends, you and I. Such memories are too rare in my life to be forgotten. I have treasured them all these years.”
He tried to tell her that she had no need to explain, but she was determined that he should know how she had felt.
“I do not wish to deny that I loved my husband, but you, my dear Phillip, you always occupied a special place in my mind and were sorely missed. Often I was too busy to have much time to contemplate what might have been had things been different and I was glad of that; but when I did think of you, it was always with affection.”
“Did you not blame me for my stepfather's actions?” he asked. Her response was emphatic.
“Never, but I was too young, too easily overwhelmed by the hideous truth, which was revealed to me quite suddenly, to rely only upon my own judgment. I wish I had known then what I know now, but I had had little experience of the world outside of my family.
“Still, I did not see you as tainted by his reputation, which is why I asked if we could be friends as before. When you did not respond, I believed you were unwilling or unable to agree,” she said, and this time, it was his turn to be wracked by remorse.
“Isabella, my darling, do you not think if I could have, I would have wanted us to be friends? How was it possible for me, with the feelings I had for you, to agree to be friends when my dearest hopes for us had been dashed? Every meeting would have brought only greater grief. Can you not understand my situation?” His anguish was unmistakable.
She could of course, now, with the maturity of her years and life experience, see more clearly, and seeing, she not only understood but loved him for it. She also found it easier than before to say so and enjoy his pleasure when she did. Perhaps it was because they were both older now and had endured more of the slings and arrows of life's struggle, or it may have been that having been married and widowed, she felt less inhibited with him and he with her. Whatever the reason, it made for an openness and ease in their association, which was both fresh and compelling. Between them, all pretence was abandoned.
He confessed then that when he had learned he was being employed by Mr Gardiner's company, it had been partly the hope of meeting her again, however fleetingly, that had brought him into Derbyshire.
“I thought perhaps after all these years, it may not be quite so painful to meet and, perhaps to be friends. I recalled that some years ago, I had heard from Mrs Tate that you had spoken of me in kind and generous terms, even though you had refused my offer of marriage and that you had wished me to know this. I hoped that you may not have changed your opinion of me. It was all I hoped for. I knew very little of your life and was reluctant to ask.
“However, when some months after I had accepted the position at Manchester, I heard from Mr Kennedy the terrible news of Doctor Forrester's death, I was deeply shocked. Much as I longed to see you, I feared that any approach from me, however well meant, may be rebuffed as indelicate. Which is why, my dear Isabella, I stayed away from the funeral and for months afterwards. Indeed, I was glad when I heard you had gone to stay with your aunt, Mrs Wilson, in Kent.”
Isabella assured him that she understood and appreciated his reserve. While she denied she would have rebuffed him, with disarming candour she acknowledged he was right not to attempt to see her then.
“I did not know then that you were back in England, much less that you were working for the company in Manchester. I was so remorseful about Henry's death, I felt I should have been with him; my feelings were so confused, I may well have said things which I did not mean and you would have gone away believing them and we may never have discovered our true feelings.”
It was a prospect too terrible to contemplate, which was immediately dismissed; assurances of love and esteem were given and received, with mutual agreement that they were the sweeter for being so long delayed.
Having taken some time to prepare themselves for the company they would presently face, they finally arrived at Pemberley some two hours later than they had expected to be. Strangely, neither of them had been at all perturbed by the need to explain the lateness of their arrival to their hosts.
Pemberley looked splendid against the night sky. With lights in all its rooms, its handsome façade was an imposing sight.
Mr Bentley was pleasantly surprised, as much by the generous hospitality of his hosts as by the beauty of their home. He admired everything and acknowledged to Isabella that he had rarely seen such elegance and good taste as was evidenced here. But all evening, nothing could surpass the sense of astonishment and delight he felt at the events of the afternoon, which had completely changed his life much more than he had dared to hope.
The soireé, with its fine presentation of music, was almost over as they were ushered into a reception room across the
hall. Presently, Jonathan Bingley entered the room and, seeing Isabella seated by the window, came towards her with a welcoming smile.
“Isabella, there you are. We have been wondering where you had got to. Aunt Lizzie has been worried all evening,” then seeing her companion, he greeted him warmly. “Bentley, I was told you were expected. How very good to see you again. I believe you are well settled in Manchester. Look, you must meet my wife…” he said turning to present Anna.
They went out together into the main hall, and Caroline emerged from the drawing room as a burst of applause signalled the end of the main entertainment. Seeing her daughter with Mr Bentley, she rushed to her side.
“Bella, my dear, you are so very late! You have missed all the best performances. What was it kept you and where is Rachel?” she asked.
When she was told, briefly and without undue drama, so as not to alarm or distress her, the tale of Rachel's fall and her sprained ankle, Caroline was concerned.
“How is she? Poor child, she is forever climbing upon tables and chairs, going where she should not, and getting into scrapes. Is she in great pain?”
Isabella explained, “No, Mama. Mr Bentley was very kind; he went at once for the doctor, who recommended treatment. Rachel was much more comfortable afterwards. Mrs Grey is looking after her and Mary will sleep in her room tonight.”
Caroline turned to Mr Bentley. “I cannot thank you enough, Mr Bentley, how very fortunate that you happened to be there. Now, I can tell Cousin Lizzie that it was Rachel's fall that kept you. She was most anxious. Isabella, your aunt Lizzie does not trust the railways; she thought it might have been an accident that had delayed Mr Bentley. Thank goodness it was not.”
Then, recalling the reason for Mr Bentley's journey to London, she asked, “And your mother, Mr Bentley, is she recovered from her illness?”
He thanked her and replied that Mrs Henderson had been ill with a respiratory condition but was now out of danger.
“It was my keenness to ascertain that she was on the way to recovery that led to the delay in my return, else I should have been back in Derbyshire yesterday,” he explained.
Before Caroline could ask any more questions, Isabella drew her mother towards her, placed a hand on Mr Bentley's arm, and said simply, “Mama dear, Mr Bentley and I have some news for you. We are engaged and you are the first to know!”
Standing in the middle of the great hall at Pemberley, Caroline looked at her daughter, who appeared to her more radiantly lovely at that moment than ever before. They embraced and there were tears in their eyes, as Mr Bentley stood by, smiling but looking a little helpless.
Caroline could not hide her delight. She embraced them both right there. Then they went together to find Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy, Elizabeth, and all the others who had to be told.
In the next little while, the news circulated quickly among members of the family and their closest friends, all of whom came to congratulate and admire the handsome couple and wish them well for the future.
Jonathan Bingley and his wife Anna were among the first, while Emma Wilson was perhaps happiest for them; having helped Isabella through the most difficult time of her life, she was especially delighted. Knowing in her own life the extraordinary happiness of love discovered and enjoyed in maturity, she had hoped Isabella might do likewise with a man as worthy as her own husband James.
That Mr Bentley, for whom Isabella had admitted a strong attachment, had returned to claim her love was especially pleasing. From her brother Jonathan, Emma had received only the best reports of Mr Bentley, while both her daughters, who had made his acquaintance in London, had remarked upon his good looks, distinguished appearance, and exemplary manners. She could not deny they made a most attractive couple; she hoped, with all her heart, they would also be a happy one.
Later, as the rest of the party moved out of the dining room where a splendid repast had been served, Elizabeth found her cousin in the vestibule, still seemingly amazed, unable to say a word. Caroline had not quite taken in the good news for which she had waited so eagerly and for so long.
Elizabeth drew her gently into an ante-room, where with tears in her eyes, Caroline expressed her delight at Isabella's engagement to Mr Bentley.
“I cannot tell you, Cousin Lizzie, how much this means to me. It has been for years like a deep ache in me, seeing Isabella alone and unhappy when I knew how happy she could have been had she followed her heart instead of our advice and accepted him in the first place.
“I do not mean in any way to denigrate dear Henry Forrester, who was a good man, but Isabella did not know her heart when she refused Mr Bentley. She had been persuaded that it was right to refuse him because of his stepfather's shameful connection with the slave ships; but I have known for some time that it was cruel advice and the wrong decision. I know it was all very shocking, but, Lizzie, Mr Bentley had no involvement in any of it at all and we had no right to influence her as we did. He loved her dearly and they could have been so happy together.”
Elizabeth, who recalled her own contribution to the furore at the time, tried to comfort her cousin.
“Dear Caroline, you did what you thought was right; we all thought it was right to protect Isabella from what was deemed to be a most unfortunate connection. Henderson was exposed and went to prison and his entire family suffered as a consequence. You wanted to protect Isabella from all that,” she said.
“And indeed I did, but only by destroying her prospect of happiness,” replied Caroline. “It was stupid and arrogant. I have regretted it for some time now and am very grateful that she is to have another chance. Mr Bentley loves her still and I know she loves him. Lizzie, you and I and Jane have all known such happiness with the men we chose to love; it is so unfair that Isabella has been denied it for so long.”
They repaired to the drawing room, where they found Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam deep in conversation. There could be no doubt of the subject of their discussion. Mr Darcy, thought Caroline, looked especially pleased. Elizabeth thought she knew why; he had always been uncomfortable with their interference. Soon, the guests were gathered together and Mr Darcy proposed a toast to the newly engaged pair, wishing them happiness—a sentiment echoed by all present.
Not everyone knew Mr Bentley; those who did regarded him as worthy of the fine young woman they all knew Isabella to be. Most of them had known her since childhood and had great affection for her. Her work, together with her late husband's, at the hospital, and her generous, unassuming nature were recognised and loved. While it was not generally known that she had long cherished an affection for Mr Bentley as he had for her, their present happiness was so manifest, few doubted their union would be a felicitous one. Caroline, for one, was convinced that her daughter, in making her own decision, had followed her heart as she had done all those years ago. Fitzwilliam was glad it was settled at last. Despite his earlier reservations, he told his wife, he had always liked Bentley, and his wife encouraged him to believe it. Clearly his discussions on the subject with Mr Darcy had convinced him.
The party ended late and Mr and Mrs Darcy together with their daughter Cassandra and their son-in-law Richard Gardiner bade their guests farewell.
“Congratulations, Lizzie, it has been a most remarkable evening,” said Mr Darcy, and his wife agreed. “It has indeed and I must confess, in some quite unexpected ways!”
As they retired upstairs to take tea and talk over the events of the day, as the sisters were wont to do, Jane Bingley summed up her feelings, “Lizzie dear, I think Isabella is going to be very happy with her Mr Bentley, don't you? I do not mean to suggest she was unhappy with Doctor Forrester, who was such a dear, good man, but I must confess, I have not seen her so radiant ever before. I do believe, Lizzie, that like my Emma, she has been blessed with the chance of a very special felicity.”
To which sage remark, Elizabeth could only add, “Indeed, Jane, I think you are right, as usual. For my part, I am very pleased that Isabella and Mr Bentley are
to wed; but even more importantly, that our dear cousin Caroline's romantic heart will be content at last.”
END OF PART FIVE
IN THE NEW YEAR, ISABELLA'S family came to visit.
After a quiet family wedding, which was the particular wish of both parties, Mr Bentley had taken his bride home to Manchester. While they certainly did not have to live above the shop, as Mrs Fitzwilliam had supposed, the house he had acquired for them could not be compared in spaciousness or style to those of her late grandfather or her father, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Indeed, there was not to be had, within sight of the city of Manchester, such a property as Oakleigh or the farm at Matlock, where Isabella had spent most of her life. Much of the surrounding rural land was being swallowed up by expanding industry, spreading like an unpleasant rash upon the countryside.
But with the help of a friend, a Lancastrian born and bred, with useful connections in the building business, Mr Bentley had secured a very acceptable, detached villa, in a quiet, respectable street. Comfortable and simple in design, it stood in its own small garden, shaded by a group of fine old trees, the like of which many of the inhabitants of the surrounding factory towns, with their back-to-back terraces and shabby alley ways, may never see in a lifetime.
My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Page 38