by Jann Rowland
Implacable Resentment
Jann Rowland
This is a work of fiction, based on the works of Jane Austen. All of the characters and events portrayed in this novel are products of Jane Austen’s original novel, the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
IMPLACABLE RESENTMENT
Copyright © 2015 Jann Rowland
Published by One Good Sonnet Publishing
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0993797768
ISBN-13: 978-0993797767
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 all those who continue to show love, and support,
patience, trust, kindness and belief.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Ever writing,
Little sleeping,
It can hide a,
Zest for living.
A thanks to all who,
Bless and support me.
Especially to,
Tomoko, Lelia,
Helpers, supporters.
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 I
It is an inescapable truth that a gentleman, when confronted with a set of untenable circumstances, must take it upon himself to ease the situation when the principals involved in said situation are unable—or unwilling—to resolve matters for themselves.
Edward Gardiner was painfully aware of that fact as he walked the corridors of his brother’s house one fateful morning, determined that something must be done to ease the situation before something tragic happened.
He stepped up to the door of his brother’s bookroom, and after a staccato rap on the door, he heard the command to enter, a prompt with which Gardiner lost no time in complying.
The bookroom was his brother’s sole consolation in a house where the boisterous concerns of a wife and five daughters were paramount, and although Gardiner was not precisely forbidden from going inside the room (unlike his female relations), he was not precisely welcomed in Mr. Bennet’s sanctum either. The room was not overly large, but every available wall space was covered with bookshelves, and although there was still space left on the shelves for further purchases, Gardiner could tell Bennet had not been remiss in adding to his collection over the years since they had first become acquainted.
Seating himself in the chair opposite the desk, Gardiner studied his brother, comparing himself to the older man seated across from him. Gardiner had been taught from an early age the importance of industry; his father had instilled in him a sense of responsibility, not only to himself, but also to his family, those with whom he worked, and society in general. By contrast, his brother Bennet rarely felt the need to stir from his bookroom, preferring to shut himself away from the world, ignore his family, and comfort himself with his books. Gardiner was not certain how the work of the estate was ever accomplished, as he had rarely seen Bennet exert himself in any manner for the betterment of the estate or his children. Circumstances being what they were, Gardiner knew it was imperative that his brother start planning for the future of his family should no heir be produced.
He was greeted shortly and offered a glass of port. Mr. Bennet seemed curious as to what brought his brother into his bookroom and, after a moment, posed the question.
Mr. Gardiner began the conversation thus:
“I have come to speak to you today about a matter of some concern.”
Mr. Bennet regarded his brother through narrowed eyes. “Well, then, speak your mind.”
“It is regarding Elizabeth, brother.”
Mr. Bennet nodded his head, as if his suspicions were confirmed. “What has that child done now? Surely this is something you could have taken up with your sister; I am certain she will see to the girl’s punishment if she has misbehaved.”
Gardiner had to smother his inclination to exclaim in disbelief. “From what I have seen of Elizabeth, she is far too timid and emotionally fragile to misbehave as you suggest.”
Much to Gardiner’s dismay, his brother chose to ignore his words about the girl’s emotional state. “Then why have you interrupted my solitude? Whatever you have to say about the child could certainly have been said at dinner or when the family is gathered together in the parlor.”
Gardiner forbore mentioning that the opportunity to have any kind of discussion while the family was gathered together was unlikely due to Bennet’s propensity for spending every waking moment with his books. Instead, Gardiner came right to the point.
“I would like to know what has happened to her, brother. While I have not seen her in some time now due to being preoccupied with my business, I am startled at the change that has come over her. When I last saw the child, she was a bright and precocious girl of two, and now at nine, she can hardly be recognized as the same child.”
“And what of it? All children change substantially in six years’ time.”
Gardiner was not to be put off. “Please do not insult my intelligence, brother. Sarah and I can both see what is happening here, and neither of us is comfortable with the way Elizabeth is being treated by this family.”
A dangerous glint appeared in Bennet’s eye, and for a moment, Gardiner considered whether his brother was a little mad. The thought was brief and barely flickered across Gardiner’s consciousness. However, the anger on Bennet’s face was evident.
“What are you suggesting, Gardiner?” demanded he. “Do you think I abuse my daughter?”
“Calm yourself, Bennet. I was suggesting nothing of the kind. Anyone with eyes in their head can see the child bears no marks of physical abuse. I was speaking of emotional scars, not physical ones.”
Bennet’s response was to bluster. “I have no idea of what you are speaking. Now, if we are finished, I would very much appreciate the use of my bookroom.”
“No, Bennet, we are not finished. Do not sit there and try to tell me you cannot see what is happening in your house under your very nose—and with your tacit approval, I might add!”
The two men glared at each other over the desk, the tension in the room no less than Gardiner would have expected for a discussion of this nature. He reflected grimly that there had been a time when he would have been hesitant to challenge a man who was not only his elder brother by marriage, but who was also his superior in the eyes of society. It was a fortunate thing, indeed, that his dealings and experience with the world had done away with his youthful reticence when speaking those of the upper classes.
“I am sorry to bring you pain, brother, but I fear I must speak clearly. Sarah and I are very concerned for the emotional wellbeing of your second daughter. She wears the dullest, most threadbare dresses I have ever seen on a young girl—dresses I would not exp
ect to see worn by the lowest of urchins on the back streets of London. No one in this family, outside of Jane, has a kind word to say to her, and even then, if Jane speaks kindly to Elizabeth in the company of her mother, she is immediately scolded and told not to waste her . . . breath on . . . well, let us just say I shall not repeat my sister’s words. Furthermore, your wife treats her as a being worthy of only contempt, as if she is something less than human, and it may have escaped your notice, but the younger girls, Lydia in particular, have begun to emulate their mother, and they treat her with the utmost in disdain and cruelty. And unless I am very much mistaken, I suspect the child’s education has been all but nonexistent; indeed, I would hazard a guess that at the age of nine, she is still unable to read. Need I go on?”
Throughout Gardiner’s recital, he could see the defiance and anger drain from his brother’s countenance, to be replaced with a profound sorrow, the likes of which he had only seen once on Bennet’s face. “You would be correct. To the best of my knowledge, she has had no education and is illiterate.”
“Can you not even say her name, brother?”
Bennet’s countenance darkened once again, but he did not deign to respond to the charge.
“Robert, as a brother and a friend, I feel it is my place to intervene on Elizabeth’s behalf. She is desperately unhappy, and spends every spare minute of her time out of doors, going as far from the house as she can and still be on the grounds, obviously wishing to be as far removed from her family as she can contrive. At the dinner table, she rarely forces more than a few mouthfuls of food past her lips. She is so thin as to be almost emaciated, and soon, you are likely to lose a daughter; she will no doubt starve herself to death—if the unhappiness of her situation does not make her do something desperate before then.”
Mr. Bennet let out a long sigh and stared at the book sitting on his desk, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. “Believe me, Edward; I know all of this.”
“Then why have you not done something about it?” demanded Gardiner.
“Because I . . . cannot. I fully understand the situation with Elizabeth and have berated myself on my inability to do anything about it many times. I cannot even begin to relate the number of times I have sat here, listening my wife mistreating her, steeling myself to have a word with Maggie over it, only to find myself powerless to move from my desk. Your sister has treated her cruelly, the other girls have been encouraged to speak to her with contempt, and I have allowed all of this to happen. I simply cannot . . . Every time I see the child, I remember.”
“Robert, I understand your pain. Is it not time to let go of the past?”
Gardiner’s statement brought the fire back into his brother’s eyes. “How can you possibly understand? You who are childless,” spat Bennet as he rose to his feet and began pacing the room.
Gardiner never felt more in need of guidance than at that moment, and he said a quick prayer to the Lord above for patience and understanding. “Then let us say that I can empathize, brother.”
“Empathize!” Bennet’s tone was cloaked in bitterness. “I should like to see your reaction to similar circumstances. I should like to see you witness . . .” Bennet’s voice faltered, and he sat down in his chair again heavily, desperately fighting to gain control over his emotions.
Gardiner regarded him for several moments. He suspected his appeals would amount to naught, but there was no other option but to try. It seemed as though his brother and sister were still trapped on that fateful day more than six years before, and nothing could convince them to let the past go and move on. If Gardiner could not make his brother see reason and take action for Elizabeth’s welfare, then he would have no recourse but to fall back on the other option he and his wife had discussed.
“Robert, I understand that it has been hard for you—the births of the younger girls must have made it doubly difficult—but have you never considered the fact that as a child of two, Elizabeth should not have been held responsible for what happened? Indeed, I am inclined to think that negligence was more the cause than willful disobedience.”
Bennet barked a short, mirthless burst of laughter. “You certainly think highly of your sister! Negligence indeed!”
“Can you deny it?”
“I cannot,” said Bennet after a moment’s pause. “The circumstances . . . let us simply say I have tried to tell myself this more often than I can relate.”
“Can you not exert yourself for her welfare, Robert? As I recall, she was once the apple of your eye.”
His countenance cast in a morose expression, Mr. Bennet stared at his desk for several moments. “I am sorry, Edward, but I can do nothing. I told you—every time I think to do something, the mere sight of her causes me to remember . . . Ah! I cannot even speak of it! She is the cause of our family’s distress; she is the instrument of this family’s eventual downfall. I cannot forgive her for this.”
Gardiner sighed and leaned back in his seat, unhappy that his conjectures regarding the result of his appeal should prove so prophetically correct. There was only one thing left to do, and he hoped most fervently that his brother would be amenable to the proposition.
“In that case, brother, I fear it is up to me to resolve the situation.”
Bennet peered at him, his gaze sharp and penetrating. “What do you mean?”
“Let us take Elizabeth with us to London.”
“You, a newlywed man, wish to take a girl of nine to live with you and your wife? What will Mrs. Gardiner have to say about this?”
“It was her suggestion, Robert. The plight of your second daughter has touched us both, and we cannot, in good conscience, allow the situation to continue as it has. I wish to God I had paid more attention to your family and visited Longbourn a few years ago. If I had, I would have intervened long ago. I fear the damage to Elizabeth will not be easily overcome, as it has been six years in the making.”
Bennet hung his head in shame at the pronouncement, allowing Gardiner to feel some measure of hope.
“I am not attempting to place any blame,” said Gardiner. “But something must be done, and although I would prefer that you take up your daughter’s cause so that she may stay with her family, I fear this is impossible. Allow us to take her to London with us. We will care for her, provide her with an education, and love her as you and Maggie are unable to do. Think of her welfare, Robert.”
The silence in the room was deafening, and as it wore on, Gardiner began to feel fear that his offer would be rejected. What would he do if it was? Could he, in defiance of all that was proper, remove Elizabeth from his brother’s house forcibly? Yet could he in good conscience leave her in a situation which was crushing her? At the very least, he did not suppose his brother would stop him if he did decide to take so drastic a measure—surely he could not be roused from his bookroom for such an effort.
Finally, Bennet’s eyes rose from where they have been fixed at some spot on his desk, and he tried one last feeble protest. “Your sister will not approve. She will be most put out that you would take her least deserving daughter to enjoy the delights of London.”
“Bennet, to be perfectly frank, Maggie’s opinion does not concern me in the slightest. I have always known my sister was not blessed with the greatest of sense, and although I knew she was capable of spiteful behavior, I never would have imagined it would be directed in such a vindictive manner at one of her own children. I am quite determined that something must be done. You and Maggie are destroying that poor girl, and I cannot stand idly by and do nothing. If you will give me your consent, I will readily deal with my sister.”
With a sigh, Bennet extended his hand. “It is settled then, Edward. Take the girl with you to London. It is for the best.”
Gardiner shook his brother’s hand, feeling no small measure of relief. “Thank you, Robert. Believe me when I say we shall treat her as our very own.”
“She will be far better off with you, I am certain. I advise you to keep this development to yourself
until it is time for you to leave—you will hear no end of nervous suffering and complaints of ill-usage once Maggie becomes aware of your plans.”
“I am well aware of my sister’s disposition. Be that as it may, it is of little import, as we intend to leave today.”
“So soon?” asked Bennet, the surprise clearly evident on his face.
“I believe it to be necessary. We must remove Elizabeth from this house as soon as possible for her own good, and Sarah has been preparing all morning for such an eventuality. We will celebrate Christmas in town with Elizabeth.”
Bennet winced as the implications of what he had just been told entered his consciousness. Nevertheless, he nodded curtly to his brother, indicating his consent. “I hope you understand what I am doing for the girl, Edward. Maggie will be upset that you are leaving so soon after you arrived, and that is not even taking into account the objections she will raise over your plans to take her daughter with you. You will only have to put up with her nerves until you close the carriage door behind you, while I will likely have to deal with them for months to come.”
Gardiner inclined his head in understanding. “Consider it the least you can do in light of the situation. If you had been able to control your wife’s behavior toward your daughter, we would not be in this situation.”
Bennet said nothing in response, merely waving his brother from the room, his hand already reaching for the book that had been discarding. Expecting no less, Gardiner nodded in response and strode to the door, pausing to turn and regard his brother, knowing it could be some years again before they met.
“Brother, if I make a suggestion. Now that you are ceding guardianship of Elizabeth to me, it would behoove you to think of your other daughters. Hiding yourself away in your bookroom will not provide for your children once you are gone, especially if there is to be no heir. I strongly suggest you curb Maggie’s spending and put some money aside for their eventual care.”