by Massey, Beth
Her urgency in informing me was appreciated, but my anxiety was increased with the knowledge of such a man being in the neighbourhood. Much of my inability to sleep is the result of dread that your cousin will expose my shame to the world. The reputation of my family, and particularly of my sisters, might not survive such a scandal. My other concern, and I am sure it generates little sympathy with you, is that I feared a scheme on the part of Mr Wickham and Lord Wolfbridge to force me to give them my ’ill gotten gains,’ as you would call it, in exchange for silence. My apprehension required me to spend time with Mr Wickham at a party at my aunt and uncle’s home. I found nothing to corroborate my theory, but instead was told how you had denied him a valuable living that was the bequest of your father. I believed not one word of his sad tale. He had barely made my acquaintance before he was maligning your character.
I allowed Mr Wickham to kiss my hand in order to perpetuate the impression that he had charmed me… you caught me in the act of deceiving a deceiver. My father once told me of an ancient Chinese general who said, “all warfare is deception.” I have long considered my attempts to protect my family to be a form of warfare. It was in that interest that I barely spoke to Mrs Younge during my journey to London. I had thought your reasons for hiring her foolish. In my mind, she was a dangerous link to the Darcy family. I had forgotten all about her until you accused me of conspiring with her that last morning. My actions in this never ending battle seem to have once again brought down your scorn on my character. It was my intention to tell you of Wickham’s assault on your good name the night of the ball.
You are mistaken that I do not know your sister. I made her acquaintance in the bookshop in Lambton the day she was retrieving the Perrault books you had ordered. That was shortly before my final confinement at Pemberley, and Dr Wilder introduced me as his cousin. She was delightful, and very excited about the birth of your first child. I knew at that moment, she would be a wonderful aunt. Mr Wickham proclaimed Miss Darcy proud, and in that instant, I knew all his statements to be false. Dr Wilder and Mrs Reynolds have always related the highest regard for Miss Darcy in their correspondence to me. The way Wickham looked when he talked of her made me fear for her safety, and became a most important motive for this correspondence. Your good opinion of me is much less important than making amends for past transgressions and protecting Miss Darcy. You are the best of brothers, and I know you will protect your sister.
Recently, my own need for a protector forced me to confide my disgrace to my father. I hope you are able to forgive my betrayal of our agreement. I made the decision while asking his permission to waltz with you, and he persuaded me to confess my secret. The partial lifting of my burden has allowed me some comfort, and I am gratified my father has become a staunch defender of my reputation. I have suffered greatly from thinking he would rebuke me for my failure to remain chaste, but he has exhibited much sympathy for my plight.
He immediately put in place a plan to guard me, and the neighbourhood, from Mr Wickham. Mr Reynolds has provided some information on the unsavoury nature of Wickham’s character among the population of Derbyshire that my father and Sir William Lucas will communicate to Colonel Forster. They will also recommend that Colonel Forster write to Colonel Fitzwilliam for testimony as to Mr Wickham’s character. My father and Mr Reynolds plan to visit the uncle of another young woman, Miss King, to warn him of Mr Wickham being suspected of charming women for their fortunes.
I will only add, I hope the many celebrations of this season of birthdays, including that of our Lord, will bring you joy. God bless you.
Elizabeth Bennet
Bethany smiled broadly when her father entered. “Papa, thank you for my party. The ices and madeleines were scrumptious.” Bethany giggled at her use of such a big word. Aunt Georgie taught me that word and Dr Jamie told me the name of those cakes I love.” Bethany stood up in bed and twirled around. “I love being five, and I love my pony. I am going to name her Robin… like in the story book… You know, Robin Hood.”
“But Bethany, Robin Hood was a male, and your pony is a female.”
She was momentarily unsure of her decision, but soon a big grin emerged on her face. She put her hands on her hips and refused to back down. “I know, I know, but when I visited her in the stables… she went right up to the big horses and took their oats.” Bethany laughed as she said, “She is very brave.”
Bethany flung her arms around her father’s neck and kissed him before she sat back down. He helped her beneath the covers and tucked the blanket under her chin. “Oh, and Papa, thank you for saying you will not call me Baby Duck anymore. I am soooo grown up now; and I do love my necklace. Dr Jamie said that black spot is a dead ant.” Bethany looked up earnestly at her father and said, “Tell me about my mother. Did she love me?”
Darcy was as discomposed by her remark about not calling her Baby Duck as her mother had been. He felt tears sting his eyes, and once again he was filled with remorse for thinking the worst of her because of that damn Wickham.
“Papa, are you sad? Is it because she did not love me?”
“No, Bethany, she loved you very much. She felt very sad when she was forced to leave you.”
“Yes, and I think God was mean to make her go.”
“Bethany, you should not say such things.” Her father felt the same way, but it was not God he thought mean, but himself.
After leaving his daughter, Fitzwilliam Darcy retired to his bedchamber. He read her letter two more times. Her concern for Georgiana was touching, and her father’s resolve to ensure Wickham did not harm his daughters, or those of his neighbours filled Darcy with shame. He had known of the man’s calumny, and had not said a word to any in Hertfordshire. Despite knowing Wickham was a fortune hunter, he had never once thought of protecting Miss Elizabeth or Miss King from his clutches. He had only thought of his need to keep his family’s name from dishonour. It had been his fears for Georgiana’s reputation that had caused him to raise Mrs Younge as a possible conspirator.
Living with the threat of exposure had been her life for more than five years. It was only right that she now had her father to protect and comfort her. Today had been her birthday too, and Mr Bennet had told him she refused to celebrate—and she acted as though it was the saddest day of the year. Why had he not taken the time to understand the words he was hearing in Hertfordshire?
She had said she did not want his ‘love’, but wanted his ‘good opinion’. He realized too late, there was much about her to admire.
Elizabeth Bennet sat in solitude on the window seat in her room. It was almost midnight on the day she was born one and twenty years ago, and the day she had given birth five years before. Her dislike of this day had caused her family to no longer attempt to wish her happiness. However, her father had deviated from her preference this year. When they were alone in his study, he had handed her a large package tied up with string. Inside were enough yards of amber silk, dark green velvet and blue and rose sprigged muslin to make four gowns.
“Elizabeth, you have denied yourself long enough. You are a lovely young woman, and your clothes should reflect your beauty. Make sure your new gowns are ready by December twentieth. Sir Walter is arriving that day, and we would not want you to be seen in his presence in less than the best. Every year he tells me you are looking more and more “shabby.” This year I, myself, plan to outshine Walter. I am thinking of going to London with Mary, Kitty and your mother for the wedding clothes. While there I plan to have a tailcoat made in the finest dark green wool, with a waistcoat of a lighter green… about the colour of the dress you wore to the Netherfield ball. I have heard that is what all the fashionable, haughty gentlemen are wearing this season.
Elizabeth had laughed. “Oh, Papa, I should have confessed to you years ago. Already you have made me feel less anxious and safer… not to mention you have helped me find some humour in my macabre life. Unhappiness does, indeed, have comic aspects one should never underestimate.”
; Sir Walter Trent arrived at the home of his boyhood friend, Thomas Bennet, on the twentieth of December. His coach was the best money could rent, and to his daughter’s chagrin, it was filled with boxes. Some were Christmas presents, but most were his wardrobe.
He had always gotten on famously with Mrs Bennet. She had been the most beautiful young woman in the county, and had she had the benefit of a London modiste, she would have been as fashionable as he. Everyone said she set the best table in all of Hertfordshire, and she would have done a great credit to him arranging the entertainments at Netherfield. She definitely had her priorities straight, but unfortunately she had been beneath him in status, and had only a five thousand pound dowry. Had he been less conscious of his position and his family’s history, he would have married her instead of letting his untitled best friend have the honour. Both would have been much more satisfied with their marriages had they married the other’s spouse, but Sir Walter’s circumstances had demanded a more prudent and pecuniary approach to marriage.
Despite his own history, the master of Netherfield had encouraged his son in his pursuit of Miss Bennet. It was really wrong to call it pursuit. They had attached themselves to each other as children, and it was useless to try to tear them asunder. Jane would not have brought money to the marriage, but she was the most beautiful young woman Sir Walter had ever seen. She would have ensured their line remained handsome throughout the next several generations.
On Christmas morning, during a most splendid breakfast organized by Fanny, Sir Walter answered Thomas Bennet’s question about the status of Netherfield. Mr Bennet had heard rumours around town that Mr Bingley did not plan to return. He asked for clarification.
“I have been assured the rent for Netherfield through next September, but I will be looking for another tenant after that. Mr Bingley is not even certain he will return to Hertfordshire before the end of the lease. I really should sell the estate and be done with it. I hate the idea of losing my ancestral home, but without a son, I do not see what difference it makes.”
Jane Bennet heard his words and knew she had, indeed, been abandoned. There would be no next time for her.
Mr Collins had no family or friends in attendance at his wedding. His acceptance into the Bennet family’s inner circle had changed him. For the first time in his life, he knew he had honourable people he could count on to aid him with life’s endeavours. His patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh stood out in marked contrast to this loving family. In only a few short months, he had come to realize she cared little for him or his flock. Before he came to Hertfordshire, he had been her most willing sycophant—one always agreeable to follow her advice on the most trivial subject. Debating with his beloved Mary had led him to remember that God’s work—and not the prestige of a good living—had been his calling; and he, unlike Lady Catherine, had studied diligently toward that end.
A wave of shame overtook Mr Collins as he waited for his beloved at the altar. He had not become a clergyman to style his hair to please his patroness, or make certain to plant bulbs for spring, at dawn on the morning after the first full moon in September. What superstitious nonsense! Looking toward the back of the church, he saw his Mary begin her walk toward the altar. Oh my, she was so beautiful and so very good and wise—he was the most blessed man on earth. Suddenly he remembered something Lady Catherine had suggested that was the most fortuitous of advice. As he waited to say the vows that would begin his new life, he joyfully prayed.
“Heavenly Father, thank you for allowing me to see the wisdom in Lady Catherine’s instructions to travel to Hertfordshire. Without her insight into the need for me to view the property I would one day inherit, I might never have written a letter proposing peace to my cousin. And on this most auspicious day, I am reminded of the other reason she had for my journey to Longbourn. How many times, dear God, had she condescended to advise me to marry as soon as I could, provided I chose with discretion.”
His lovely Mary was now by his side and with smiles for each other, they joined hands. Mr Collins finished his prayer with, “Precious Lord, this is the woman I have selected. Together, we will bring your uplifting message of redemption through Jesus Christ to the worshippers of Hunsford parish.’’
Jane and Elizabeth, watched the ceremony beside each other. This wedding marked the end of their time together as the five Bennet sisters. Soon Kitty would be leaving, and Lydia would not be far behind. Elizabeth reached for her sister’s hand as tears of happiness mingled with those of bitterness.
At bedtime on Twelfth Night, Fitzwilliam Darcy tucked his son in bed and wished him “Happy Birthday” one last time.
He proceeded to his daughter’s room to kiss her good night. He noticed she seemed a bit subdued. “Bethany, what is the matter? Did you not enjoy Lew’s birthday party?”
“I did, Papa, but it does not seem fair he got a pony at four, and I had to wait till five. Is it because he is a boy?”
“No, Bethie, it is because he is taller than you were at four. Also, do you not think it will be great fun for the three of us to ride together every morning?”
“Yes, but it still seems wrong. Am I very short?”
“No, of course not… I am sure you are going to be much taller than your mother.”
“She was short?”
The words came out before he knew what he was saying. “Yes, she is quite petite.”
“Is?”
“I mean was.”
Bethany did not notice her father’s troubled look. She had gone back to thinking of the two ponies. “I told Lew he had to name his pony Little John. If my pony is Robin—his pony must be Little John. What do you think, Papa?”
Bethany noticed her father had that sad, faraway look he often wore… especially since he had come back from Mr Bingley’s. He said, “I think those are excellent names. We will have to wait until the weather is better to start riding each day. I am going to London next week, and I will meet you at your grandmother’s for Easter.”
“Why cannot we go with you?’’
“I have estate business to accomplish. I want you, Lew and Georgie to go to your grandmother’s early.”
“Oh, Papa, I would rather go to Aunt Cassie’s.”
Once again, his thoughts returned to her mother. Darcy knew his cousin was in residence at Elderton. A vision of Miss Elizabeth asking for his promise to prevent Bethany from even being alone with Edmund came to him. He could not ensure they were never alone if he was not there to prevent it, and he was determined to never doubt her or disrespect her mother again. For the first time since the day she made the request, he wondered why she had been so adamant. Did she fear something more sinister than the exposure of Bethany’s parentage? He would question Richard about his brother when they were together in Kent.
“Grandmama says I talk too much, and she wants Millie to do something with my hair so it will lie flat.”
Fitzwilliam looked horrified at the suggestion. “Bethany, you have the most beautiful hair. I must speak to Millie.” His face changed from horror to fury. “The reason she says you talk too much is because she wants to be the only one who speaks.”
Bethany stared at her father in disbelief. He had never been so disrespectful to her grandmother.
“I know it will not be very pleasant at Rosings, but Richard is coming with me. That should make you happy.”
Bethany’s smile lit the flecks of gold in her eyes. “Oh, goody, Cousin Richard. He always makes me laugh.”
40 WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Sir Walter Trent and Mr Bennet sat in his bookroom drinking brandy smuggled in from France. The Baronet had decided only the finest would do as a gift for his oldest and dearest friend. The proximity of Longbourn and Netherfield had brought the duo into acquaintance in their infancy, and they had remained almost like brothers for more than forty years. Though an odd couple, their companionship endured.
Sir Walter was accused of caring more for appearance than substance while Thomas Bennet often seemed det
ached from his responsibilities. Neither gave much of an outward show of being diligent parents, but both in their own way loved their children fiercely.
Walter’s only son had been named for his friend. Thomas would have reciprocated, except he had no sons, only daughters. The two men had rejoiced when their oldest children, Thomas Trent and Jane Bennet had attached themselves to each other at about the same age as their fathers. When Tom died from a trifling cold, it changed both men and much of the current state of both families could be traced back to that event.
Today, the two long time friends were engaged in a serious discussion of how best to secure the futures of Jane and Becky. Sir Walter considered Jane a second daughter, and felt concern for her odd reaction to Mr Bingley’s abandonment. She did not seem sad, as he would have expected, but instead had developed a very uncharacteristic edge of cynicism. For the first time, he could see an aspect of his friend’s personality coming through in his beautiful, serene daughter.
“Tom, I have written to Isabella to request she and Lord Hastings sponsor Becky and Jane for this Season. As you know, my sister’s daughters are married, and their house in town is quite fashionable. Rebecca would never participate by herself, but with Jane as her companion; I hope she can be persuaded to make an effort. She needs to marry, and honestly, I am most worried about our Jane.”