by P. O. Dixon
“Yes, Papa. It is true,” Elizabeth had replied.
“Very well—and this offer of marriage you have refused?”
She nodded. “I have, sir.”
“Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?”
“Yes, or I will never see her again.”
“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”
Having received her father’s support in such a life-changing matter, Elizabeth could not help smiling at such a conclusion, but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed. Till that day, Mrs. Bennet’s ire had not abated in the least.
“Hush,” cried her mother, “Neither of you will go. I mean for your sister Miss Lizzy to go, for she is the one who needs to find herself a husband! I did everything in my power to make an excellent match for your headstrong sister, and what did she do but spurn me at every turn. Let her go to London and see for herself just how trying my job really is. I declare it is far, far more than I deserve.”
Chapter 3
Darcy was standing by the fireplace in Bingley’s elder sister’s parlor, warming his hands, when Miss Caroline Bingley sashayed into the room. A comely young lady with a flair for all that was fashionable, Miss Bingley was everything that Darcy did not desire in a woman.
“Mr. Darcy! What a lovely surprise seeing you this morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Rather than greeting the young lady in the usual way, Darcy folded one arm over the other. “You invited me here this morning, did you not, Miss Bingley?”
“But of course. I suppose I am merely surprised by the promptness of your arrival.”
“Your servant did say you wished to discuss a matter of great urgency.”
“Pray, have a seat, and I shall ring for tea.”
“This is not exactly a social call. As you no doubt are aware, your brother and I are planning to travel to Hertfordshire very soon. I have a number of other matters to attend in preparation for my leave-taking.”
“Indeed, Charles spoke of your plans late yesterday. He went out of his way to emphasize that only you were invited.”
“He said that you and your sister were previously engaged.”
“True, but some engagements are meant to be broken,” Miss Bingley replied. “I think I should join the two of you in Hertfordshire. Heavens knows that is the last place on Earth I would wish to be during such a festive season, especially when so many of my friends are in town, but I am willing to make the sacrifice for the sake of my brother’s future felicity.”
“Perhaps you should not. Consider this if you will, Miss Bingley. Your presence will rather encourage Charles to host his neighbors what with your presiding over his table, would it not? Who is to say that he will not go so far as give another ball—what with the success of the last one? Whereas, your absence will effectively preclude such a possibility.”
“I suppose you are correct, Mr. Darcy,” the young lady conceded.
“Of course, I am. Trust me, everyone is better served by your remaining here in London. With so many of your closest friends here for the winter, as you say, you shall have no want of festive diversions.”
“Very well, I shall not join my brother in Hertfordshire. Saying that, I shall rely upon you to see that Charles does not find himself a hapless victim of that dreadful family. I shall be forever in your debt for your service to my brother just last month. I should hate to suppose all of our best efforts to separate him from Miss Jane Bennet’s smiles were in vain.”
Darcy eyed the young lady intently. “I will only promise to encourage your brother and my close friend to behave in a manner which serves his best interest.”
* * *
For the Gardiners, this Christmas season promised to be a little different from the Christmas before at Longbourn Village, what with more eager anticipation from their own children who were getting older and beginning to appreciate the spirit of the season.
Mrs. Gardiner threw a loving look at each of her four children ranging in age from four to ten, each in their turn. They were growing up so fast. Soon, they might not be so agreeable to being packed up and whisked off to Longbourn for the Christmas season. Their country cousins are such favorites of the children, but my nieces are of an age where soon they will have husbands and start families of their own.
Again, Mrs. Gardiner regarded each of her offspring with a smile.
Who was to say how many Christmases to come we shall all have the pleasure of celebrating at Longbourn?
Mrs. Gardiner could hardly think of the Bennets at that time of the year without giving a thought to their tenuous situation as a consequence of the entail on their family home to the male line of the family. Not that she relished the morbid sentiments that inevitably came, but she was too intelligent not to know and understand what such a prospect would mean for her relations and even her own family, for her husband being the wealthier even if not the elder of Mrs. Fanny Bennet’s two siblings, there was a certain, often explicitly stated, expectation that Mr. Gardiner would be the one to fill in any voids that might result in the event of Mr. Bennet’s untimely passing.
Why we shall be thrown into the hedgerow rang throughout Mrs. Gardiner’s ears. It was her sister-in-law’s favorite refrain whenever they were together—as familiar to her as a Christmas carol. If she did not know better, Mrs. Gardiner might easily expect her children could sing their aunt’s sad, sad song word by word as well.
A favorite of her nieces, Mrs. Gardiner looked forward to spending time with each of them. This visit promised many hours surrounded by the two youngest girls looking at fashion magazines. Both were under the age of seventeen, and already both were out in society. As fate would have it, the militia was encamped outside of Meryton.
No doubt my young nieces, Kitty and Lydia, will regale me with endless tales of their acquaintance with handsome officers in red coats, and given that they cannot be bothered with writing letters, I must look forward to hearing of their exploits going all the way back to the moment of the officers’ arrival.
From her niece Mary, Mrs. Gardiner expected that she and her family would be the beneficiaries of a lengthy exhibition on the pianoforte so soon as they were settled in at Longbourn from their travels. She could actually say she looked forward to such an evening for such calm tranquility would be replaced by the frenzy that being in a household of children, several teenaged girls, and an excitable sister-in-law entailed.
And was Mrs. Bennet ever excited. Mrs. Gardiner sighed. When has my sister-in-law ever had more cause for excitability laced with vexation than this year?
The causes of said vexation had been the most frequently mentioned occurrence in her letters from Longbourn of late: the defection of Mr. Charles Bingley, a single man of large fortune who had let the neighboring estate of Netherfield Park and who was meant to marry the eldest Bennet daughter, and the betrayal of Mr. William Collins, the heir-apparent of Longbourn who had proposed to Miss Charlotte Lucas behind Mrs. Bennet’s back when everyone knew he was supposed to choose a bride from among her daughters. Indeed, such were the lady’s complaints as written by her, repeatedly.
Mrs. Gardiner’s favorite niece, Elizabeth, wrote of the two incidences in quite a different fashion. Indeed, Mr. Bingley had left Hertfordshire with the promise of an imminent return and in failing to do so had been the means of breaking her sister’s heart, and although it was plain for all to see that he liked Jane very much, there had been no promise of a future of marital felicity between them.
As for Mr. Collins, Elizabeth had stated in no uncertain terms that she would not have him owing to his ridiculous sycophantic nature. His so-called betrayal was in Elizabeth’s way of thinking one of the best things that ever happene
d to her. Her only regret was that her mother was determined to make Elizabeth’s life miserable as a consequence of her rejection.
For that reason, as much as any other, Mrs. Gardiner could not wait to arrive at Longbourn, so she might be of some comfort to her favorite nieces, Elizabeth and Jane. It had already been decided that the eldest Bennet daughter would return to London with them.
If my dearest Lizzy’s situation is as dire as her letters suggest, perhaps I shall persuade her to return to town with us as well.
Chapter 4
As the younger Bennet daughters went merrily about their way, decking the halls of Longbourn with boughs of holly, ivy, and much needed strategically arranged sprigs of mistletoe according to Lydia, Jane merely acted the part.
Angelic eyes which otherwise sparkled during that particular time of the year were somewhat less so of late. Elizabeth could only attribute it to the imminent return of Mr. Charles Bingley. Not that Jane did not long for his return, but her mother’s constant prognostications that the gentleman’s purpose in coming was to offer his hand in marriage to Jane were taking their toll on Jane’s sensibilities. She told her sister Elizabeth as much when the two of them were alone.
“I begin to be sorry that he comes at all,” said Jane in all earnest. “I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of.”
“Mama means well,” replied Elizabeth as a means of consoling her sister.
“No doubt, but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she says. Happy shall I be when his stay at Netherfield is over!”
“I wish I could say anything to comfort you,” replied Elizabeth, “but it is wholly out of my power. I have firsthand knowledge of the unpleasant effects of mama’s lamentations. Her repeated exaltations are no less vexing.” She took Jane by the hand. “Soon enough our aunt Mrs. Gardiner will arrive for Christmas, along with our uncle and our little cousins. Pray the addition of so many loved ones to our family circle will temper Mama’s fascination with what may or may not happen when the Netherfield party returns.”
Some hours later, the Longbourn household was blessed by the much-anticipated arrival of the Gardiner family.
The first part of Mrs. Gardiner’s business was to distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was done, she had a less active part to play, and it became her turn to listen.
Mrs. Bennet had her share of grievances to relate and much to complain of. They had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her girls had been upon the point of marriage only to have nothing become of it.
Just as Mrs. Gardiner had taught herself to expect, her sister’s greater disappointment centered on Elizabeth.
“Obstinate, headstrong girl!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Oh, Sister! It is very hard to think that she might have been Mr. Collins’s wife by this time, had it not been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, and she refused him. The consequence of it is that Lady Lucas will have a daughter married before I have and that the Longbourn estate is just as much entailed as ever.
“The Lucases are very artful people indeed, sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted so in my own family, and to have neighbors who think of themselves before anybody else.
“However, I do believe we are to be the recipients of a Christmas miracle so far as my Jane is concerned, for Mr. Bingley is said to be returning to Netherfield Park any day. What other reason would he return if not to marry my Jane? He is also rumored to be accompanied solely by a gentleman friend, for his sisters will remain in town. Why, I might very well be blessed with two future sons-in-law, at least.
“That and your coming for Christmas is the greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us of long sleeves.”
Having received the chief of this news before, save Mr. Bingley’s imminent return, in the course of Jane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her, Mrs. Gardiner made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion for her nieces, turned the conversation.
When alone with Elizabeth afterward, she spoke more on the subject. “Mr. Bingley’s imminent return is good news, indeed. I shall look forward to meeting the young man. I truly hope my sister’s optimism is well-founded and his return is a true sign of his constancy.”
“I certainly hope it is, too,” said Elizabeth. “It would most assuredly reaffirm my belief in love, for the notion that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in love with only a few days before is one I do not wish to accept as a possibility.”
“I rather consider the expression of ‘violently in love’ is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from a half hour’s acquaintance as to a real, strong attachment.”
“I might easily concede your point, but if ever the expression was aptly applied, it is in this case. I never saw a more promising inclination. Bingley was growing quite inattentive to other people and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball, he offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance. I spoke to him twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?”
“If the kind of love you espouse is indeed the kind of love he feels for Jane, then she is a lucky woman indeed. I only pray his return does not further disappoint, because, with her disposition, she may never get over it.
“Whereas if such a disappointment were to happen to you, Lizzy, you would laugh yourself out of it soon enough.”
“I shall not argue the veracity of your assertion, dearest aunt, but I daresay it is a sad testament to my female sensibilities. I have often heard it said that a girl likes to be a little crossed in love every once in a while.
“Wish me anything other than I might be denied such an enviable prospect. Such a worthy distinction is something no one should ever live without.”
Chapter 5
The first of many such occasions planned for the duration of the Gardiners’ stay was an engagement at Longbourn. Some of the officers, of which Mr. Wickham was sure to be one, were among the guests. Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth’s warm commendation by way of her letters, carefully observed them both throughout the evening.
Without supposing them to be very seriously in love, from what she saw, their preference of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy. Thus, she resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject so soon as she could and represent to her niece the imprudence of encouraging such an attachment.
Having spent a fair amount of time speaking with the officer herself, Mrs. Gardiner could well understand why her nieces considered him such a favorite. Here was a gentleman capable of rendering even threadbare topics on the weather and the like fascinating.
To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure wholly unconnected with his general powers, for their former lives in Derbyshire afforded the two of them any number of mutual acquaintances. Talk of old friends in general and Pemberley, in particular, invoked in Mrs. Gardiner sentiments that bore a mixture of pleasure and circumspect. How one man could be so utterly charming and yet so disquietly jaded was a cause for concern, giving Mrs. Gardiner to wonder what indeed Mr. Wickham was about.
Her caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given on the first favorable opportunity of speaking to her alone. After honestly telling her what she thought, she thus continued, “You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you are warned against it. Therefore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself or endeavor to involve Mr. Wickham in an affection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent.
“I have nothing to say against him even if I am n
ot completely free of concern. I suppose it is a consequence of my steadfast belief that you can do so much better than to give over your independence, your livelihood, and dare I say your felicity to the somewhat limited means of a foot soldier.”
“Who is to say that I am not of a mind that wealth and status are not prerequisites for happiness in marriage?”
The older woman arched her brow. “Lizzy, you must not let such fanciful notions run away with you. You have sense, and we all expect you to use it. Your father would depend on your resolution and good conduct, I am sure. Surely you would not wish to disappoint your father.”
“My dear aunt, you are being very serious.”
“Yes, and I hope you will be serious as well.”
“Then, you need not suffer any alarm. I will take care of myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I can prevent it.”
“Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Gardiner in a graver, slightly admonishing tone.
“I beg your pardon. I will try again. At present, I am not in love with Mr. Wickham. But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw.”
“Pray, continue,” Mrs. Gardiner implored.
“I can only say that if he becomes really attached to me—I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence of it.
“My father’s opinion of me does me the highest honor, and I should be miserable to forfeit it.”
Elizabeth and her aunt upon parting were both assured that the kind hints from the latter had not been offered in vain. Later, while wandering about the lanes in want of a reprieve from all the excitement at Longbourn, Elizabeth reflected on her aunt’s advice.
How ironic that her aunt Gardiner had offered advice best provided by a mother. How ironic indeed, for her mother would never caution one of her daughters against marriage—however advantageous such an alliance might or might not be.