by Jann Rowland
Bennet scowled but did not deign to look up from his book. Sighing with regret, Gardiner turned his back on his brother and left to inform his wife of their impending departure.
And so it was that—not more than an hour later—the Gardiners took their leave of the Bennets, ensconced themselves in their carriage, and settled down for the half-day trip to their house in town, feeling drained and emotionally sick due to the events of the morning.
As Bennet had predicted, Mrs. Bennet was aghast at the change in arrangements and had been vocal in her disapproval of the scheme, railing at her brother for his ill-judged and blatant interfering in the workings of her family. Surely, if he meant to take one of her daughters back with him to town for a visit, he should take Jane, the sweetest and most beautiful child in the world. Needless to say, her fury reached new heights when she learned that Elizabeth’s sojourn in town was to be a permanent arrangement. She had berated and cajoled, demanding that the scheme be given up, and when that had failed, she had turned her venom on her daughter, making it abundantly clear she wanted nothing more to do with such a worthless child. Elizabeth had listened to her mother’s diatribe with what Gardiner had come to understand was her customary stoic and emotionless mask. Yet the single teardrop trickling down the side of Elizabeth’s face at her mother’s words had not escaped his attention.
Elizabeth’s distress being the final straw, Gardiner had immediately risen and ordered the coach, instructing his wife to take Elizabeth outside to await the carriage and mentally thanking his foresight to have everything prepared for a quick departure. He had delayed telling his sister of their plans until the last possible moment, expecting just such an outcome. Once Sarah and Elizabeth were out of the room, Gardiner proceeded to tell his sister exactly what he thought of her behavior, and then he had taken his leave of the house with all possible haste.
The carriage had been ready in moments, and quickly stowing their possessions—as well as the few meager possessions Elizabeth owned—they made to leave Longbourn behind them. During the entire period of uproar, Mr. Bennet had not once removed himself from his bookroom to take leave of the daughter he would likely not see for many years—a good many years if Gardiner had anything to say in the matter.
On his way out the door, Gardiner had seen his sister go directly to her husband’s bookroom, and almost immediately the sound of raised voices had reached him, causing him to be even more firmly resolved to quit the house. The only member of Elizabeth’s family to follow them out to take leave of Elizabeth had been sweet Jane, who, being the eldest and the only one of her siblings to understand—or care—that her younger sister was to quit the house permanently, had pulled Elizabeth into a firm embrace and admonished her to be happy in her new home. Elizabeth had merely nodded in her heartbreaking emotionless fashion and had then climbed up into the coach at Sarah’s urging.
Looking back on the sad state of affairs in his sister’s home, Gardiner could not help but feel sorry at the way it had all turned out. His brother Bennet had been correct—taking a young girl into his home was not the most ideal of circumstances for a newly married young man. But Elizabeth’s reaction to the morning’s drama had put to rest any lingering doubts—if Gardiner had indeed had any—over the necessity of her removal from her parents’ home. For the first part of the journey, Elizabeth huddled in the corner of the carriage and resisted all attempts to be coaxed to sit nearer to her relations. It was only after they left the vicinity of Meryton that she was finally persuaded to sit beside her aunt. After a moment of Sarah’s tender ministrations, the dam burst, and Elizabeth buried her head in her aunt’s lap, her body shaking with wracking sobs, as if her heart would break into pieces. Gardiner could feel his heart breaking along with hers.
Once she finally cried herself to sleep, the rest of the journey passed swiftly, with husband and wife spending the time in earnest conversation over how to reclaim their niece from the unhappy circumstances of her childhood. It was clear that the damage to her self-esteem was extensive, and her recovery would be long and arduous.
Chapter II
Ten years later
It is said that still waters run deep, and in the case of Jane Bennet, that maxim was certainly not without foundation. The eldest of a family wholly comprised of daughters, she was a gentle soul, and most of those with whom she interacted considered her to be lovely and amiable, yet one who was not in the habit of feeling deeply. Nothing could be further from the truth.
On a particular day in late September, Jane stepped into the carriage bound for Netherfield, eager to be away from her home for a short time. She loved her family, and she generally thought well of them, little though some of them seemed to deserve it at times. Escaping the chaos which was so prevalent in the home was a boon, and never did she feel it more than at that moment. The author of the morning’s excitement had been, of course, Mrs. Bennet.
In truth, Jane’s feelings for her mother were complex. On the one hand, the dutiful daughter in Jane insisted that Mrs. Bennet was owed her allegiance and respect. The woman had given birth to her, after all—surely she deserved Jane’s gratitude for that fact alone!
But it was so very difficult at times. Mrs. Bennet was a silly woman, with no true understanding of proper behavior in gentle families, herself having been the neglected daughter of a tradesman. Therefore, her behavior was often a trial for Jane, and Mr. Bennet had never seen fit to take his wife in hand and curb her ways. In fact, her father rarely bestirred himself from his library, preferring the company of his books to that of his family. Other than family meals and the occasional social event, only rare occasions could cause him to emerge at all.
That morning, her father had not even been present at the breakfast table when Jane received an invitation to join Mr. Bingley’s sisters for dinner. Never had Jane been so happy that the day was warm and fair, for if rain had threatened, Jane was certain that Mrs. Bennet would have insisted that she go on Nelly—the old horse her father kept for the rare occasions when he could actually be induced to ride around the estate—and thereby necessitate her stay overnight. Of course, such a stratagem could have easily been foiled should the sisters have offered to send her home in their carriage.
Regardless of the circumstances, Jane was happy to be going to Netherfield. She was quickly becoming close confidantes with the two ladies of Netherfield and enjoyed her time with them. Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst had been quite kind to her, declaring her to be their particular friend within days of arriving in Hertfordshire. And then there was Mr. Bingley, the man with whom, even after so short an acquaintance, she was beginning to feel an attachment unlike any she had ever felt before . . . .
Jane shied away from such thoughts. There were many reasons for her to esteem Mr. Bingley—his amiable nature, his friendly discourse, and his handsome mien among the most prevalent—and there were many reasons why she sincerely hoped that her relationship with Mr. Bingley would lead to a more permanent arrangement. But Jane had known disappointment in her life, and she was not about to allow her fancy to get the better of her. Not when she had only known the man for less than a full month.
The Bennet carriage entered the drive at Netherfield a short time later, and when it stopped in front of the large manor, Jane stepped out with the assistance of a footman.
“Dear Jane!” exclaimed Miss Bingley as she alighted. “How good of you to come!”
By her side, Mrs. Hurst greeted her, though she did so with less enthusiasm than her sister, which Jane had come to understand was in line with Mrs. Hurst’s character.
“Thank you very much for your kind invitation,” said Jane.
“You are very welcome,” said Miss Bingley. “In fact, I believe it is you who do us a favor. You would not wish for my sister and me to quarrel, would you?”
“No, indeed,” replied Jane.
“Then it is well that you have come,” said Mrs. Hurst. “With the gentlemen away from the house, only a disagreement can result. No
w, let us go into the sitting room.”
When they were settled in the aforementioned room, they began to converse in a pleasant fashion, much as old friends would. However, as they were new acquaintances, there was a certain probing quality to some of the questions, no doubt due to the fact that Jane’s new friends wished to know her better.
When they adjourned to the dining room, the conversation continued, and the talk turned to extended family and friends. Jane soon learned that the Bingleys had two aunts and an uncle, all of whom lived in the York area, from whence they had originated. As Mr. Bingley was the son of the eldest sibling, he had inherited the family business, though his uncle still owned part of it and was very much involved in its daily operations. These connections were somewhat quickly passed over, and Miss Bingley took care to ensure Jane understood that it had been their father’s wish that Mr. Bingley would rise above his roots in trade and enter the ranks of landed gentlemen.
Soon thereafter, the conversation turned to Jane’s relations, and it was at that point that she became a little uncomfortable, though she did her best to hide the fact from her hosts.
“You are the eldest of four sisters, is that correct?” asked Louisa Hurst.
The truthful person in Jane could only hesitate a moment before replying, “Actually, there are five of us.”
“Five?” asked Miss Bingley with a raised eyebrow. “I am sure that I have only seen three sisters at any of the gatherings in the area which we have attended.”
“My next youngest sister is away from home, living with my aunt and uncle in London.”
An interested expression came over Miss Bingley’s face. “Living with her aunt and uncle, is she?”
“Yes,” replied Jane, not wishing to discuss the situation any further.
Unfortunately, the subject seemed to have caught the sisters’ attention, and neither seemed willing to allow it to drop.
“That must be difficult,” said Mrs. Hurst in a commiserating tone. “My sister and I quarrel on occasion, but I should not wish to be separated from her for long periods.”
“But it must make the reunions all that much sweeter,” added Miss Bingley.
“Indeed, it does,” replied Jane in a quiet tone. “I very much miss Elizabeth, and I look forward to seeing her again.”
The sisters seemed to understand that she did not wish to speak of the matter any further, and they turned the conversation slightly.
“It is very hard indeed when a sibling must be sent away for reasons of economy,” said Miss Bingley. “Members our set are rarely required to do such things.”
“Oh, Elizabeth is not with my aunt and uncle because my father cannot keep her,” said Jane, though she immediately wished that she had kept her own counsel. “Rather, Elizabeth lives with my uncle in order that she may take advantage of the opportunity for education in London.”
After so many years, the lie came easily to her lips. Jane had only been a young girl when Elizabeth had left Longbourn, but she still remembered the whispers of gossip which had plagued them. Her father had soon decreed that to protect the family, they would spread the word that Elizabeth had gone to live with Mrs. Bennet’s brother in London due to a desire for more education, particularly in the field of music. Of course, it had not escaped the gossips’ attention that Elizabeth had not visited her family once since she had quit the neighborhood, but talk had died down to the point where it was now mentioned by only the most determined.
That did not make the necessity of lying about why Elizabeth no longer lived at home any easier. Jane was a truthful person, and the subject had always left a sour taste in her mouth. Kitty and Lydia did not seem to mind, heedless and wild as they were, and Jane was not sure what Mary thought, as she rarely voiced any opinion which did not originate from the Bible or Fordyce. The subject always brought out the worst in her mother, though it could just as easily be a cold and disdainful huff as an attack of her infamous fluttering nerves. And as for Mr. Bennet . . . Well, Jane had never been close to her father—not that anyone in her family was—so she could not say precisely what he thought of the matter.
“Your sister has had access to music masters, has she?” asked Mrs. Hurst seeming impressed. “Is she very talented?”
“By all accounts, she is,” prevaricated Jane. “You understand that I have not heard her play in some time.”
“It is very pleasing when a young lady attends to such things,” said Mrs. Hurst quickly, when her sister appeared about to interject something into the conversation. “Are you able to play, Miss Bennet?”
“I do play,” said Jane. “I enjoy it very much and it has been my solace for many years.” It had been her solace for some time, given the trials she endured with her family. “I do not claim to be a true proficient, as my access to masters has been limited, but I do enjoy it.”
The conversation turned to talk of music thereafter, and Jane had to force herself not to breathe a heavy sign of relief. Talk of Elizabeth made her uncomfortable, especially as it always caused her to think of what Elizabeth had endured before her departure.
Recently, Jane had discovered that Elizabeth was soon to return. It would certainly be uncomfortable for her, as the prejudice within the family was as violent as it had been before she left. But Jane remembered the happy times they had had, and she recalled the bright, happy child who had followed her and loved her. They had been close when they were very young, and Jane wished to recapture that closeness. Furthermore, Jane was determined to make Elizabeth feel as welcome as possible, though she knew she could be the only member of the family would do so.
When Jane Bennet departed, Caroline Bingley turned to her sister with a raised eyebrow. “Well?”
“I am excessively fond of Jane Bennet, as you well know,” replied Louisa.
Caroline waved her off before she turned and led the way back toward the sitting room. “Yes, yes, we have already canvassed that fact. She is a dear, sweet girl. That much is indisputable.”
“If you are asking whether I consider her to be a suitable prospective wife for our brother, the answer is, as you well know, that though Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman, Charles can do much better.”
Caroline entered the room after stopping to order a tea service from a nearby footman. She knew that she could always count on Louisa to support her.
It was too bad, she thought with some regret. Miss Bennet was indeed a wonderful girl, and under other circumstances, Caroline would have been happy to accept her into the family. In addition to her sweetness, she also possessed an extremely self-effacing and modest disposition, and she would likely be susceptible to suggestion. Caroline’s control over the family would remain uncontested.
Unfortunately, the more pertinent concern was the possession of a substantial dowry and, even more importantly, connections to assist in the Bingley family’s continued acceptance in the highest levels of society. Louisa had married Hurst, and though he was a drunkard of little intelligence and horrible manners, he was a gentleman and possessed an acceptable measure of wealth and connections. By marrying him, the Bingleys had taken the first step into higher society. It was now up to Caroline and her brother to further raise the family’s fortune by marrying well. And she had just such a gentleman in mind for herself . . . .
“I wish Mr. Darcy were here,” mused Caroline.
Louisa shook her head. “You always wish for Mr. Darcy’s presence, so that is not a surprise.”
“He would be able to dissuade our brother from showing Miss Bennet too much attention.”
“I believe that you credit Mr. Darcy with more influence over our brother than he actually possesses.”
Louisa was prompted to further explain by Caroline’s dubiously raised eyebrow. “I believe that Charles’s own actions have led to our being able to persuade him from further pursuit of his previous interests. Should he show any true interest in a young woman, I am not certain we would be able to persuade him to change his interest to another
.”
“All the more reason for Mr. Darcy to intervene before Charles begins to become seriously attached to Miss Bennet,” replied Caroline in a firm tone which invited no dispute.
Silenced reigned between the sisters for several moments, and when the tea service arrived, they served themselves and sat drinking in silence for some time. At length, Caroline broke the silence to address a matter which had been on her mind since earlier that evening.
“What did you think of this talk of the banished sister?”
Louisa blinked with surprise. “Banished sister?”
This time, it was Caroline’s turn to feel exasperation with her sister; Louisa never had been able to read between the lines.
“The sister in London?” prompted Caroline.
A blank stare was Louisa’s response, and Caroline had to suppress a sigh.
“Miss Bennet mentioned nothing about a banishment,” said Louisa.
“Do you truly think that she would speak so openly about it to us?” demanded Caroline. “And did you also miss the way she became uncomfortable discussing the subject?”
“I noticed no deception.”
“Nor did I, though there most definitely were signs that all is not as it appears.” Caroline was silent for several moments, considering the matter. At length, she mused, “I wonder if the truth of the matter is something which we could use should Charles become seriously attached to Miss Bennet.”
Louisa fixed her with a stern glare, and for a brief moment, Caroline almost felt like a child being scolded by her elder sister. Almost. Those days were long gone, after all.
“Take care, Caroline,” chided Louisa. “These are good people, regardless of whether you feel they are beneath us. I am certain that the situation with the second Bennet sister cannot be anything out of the common way, and even if there is something to your suspicion, it is none of our concern.”
“I was not speaking of spreading rumors or ruining the Bennets,” protested Caroline. Inside, however, she knew that should the situation become dire enough, there was not much she would not do to safeguard her family’s position in society. “I was merely suggesting that we might use the circumstance with Miss Bennet’s sister to convince Charles to pursue someone else.”