Implacable Resentment

by Jann Rowland

  By contrast, Mary was serious, rarely laughed or even spoke, and generally seemed ill at ease with everyone. She appeared to enjoy playing the pianoforte. But Elizabeth was grateful that Mary did not seem inclined to sing, as the one time Elizabeth heard her do so, she displayed a rather weak voice and an affected manner. Her playing was competent but evinced little feeling for the music. Elizabeth, who had spent many an hour practicing, fancied that she was much more proficient and had a much prettier voice, though she was not vain enough to think herself a superior performer. The other pastime which Mary indulged in to excess was the reading of moral texts and religious treatises of all kinds. Of course, this was accompanied by a tendency to inject banal platitudes into conversation which always seemed forced and which generally concerned proper behavior. With such sisters as Catherine and Lydia, Elizabeth could only understand Mary’s preoccupation and agree with her assessment.

  In addition, Mary was the plainest of the four girls, though in reality she was not at all unattractive. It did not help that Mrs. Bennet frequently bemoaned her daughter’s appearance and suggested that Mary would find it difficult to ever find a husband. The first time Mrs. Bennet had said something disparaging her daughter’s beauty, Elizabeth had hardly been able to believe it. To do such in front of her daughter displayed a lack of sensitivity which was reprehensible.

  Mary’s behavior was often tiresome, though Elizabeth vastly preferred it to Catherine and Lydia’s wildness. In truth, Elizabeth pitied Mary. The girl was ignored by her father and her mother—except when her mother bemoaned her lack of beauty—and held in contempt by her younger sisters. While Jane was kind to Mary, they were very dissimilar in both their character and interests. Elizabeth was certain that Mary had it within her to be a pleasant girl, but one would have to make their way through Mary’s moralistic tendencies to discover that side of her. And though Elizabeth made overtures in those first few days, Mary firmly, but politely, rebuffed her.

  Jane was everything that Elizabeth remembered. She was kind to all, was often cheerful when Elizabeth felt that she had no right to be, and possessed such a serene disposition that Elizabeth felt her incapable of offending anyone. Unfortunately, she was also very reticent, rarely betraying a reaction to anything, and she seemed almost incapable of thinking poorly of anyone. But after considering the issue further, Elizabeth realized that rather than not thinking poorly of others, Jane was in actuality disposed to attributing the best possible motives to everyone she met. Though it was an admirable character trait, it was somewhat dangerous in a woman who was also very beautiful.

  Still, Elizabeth could find little to criticize in her elder sister. In a family which appeared to be connected by name only—and with the examples of three younger sisters who displayed less than proper behavior—it was no less than astonishing that Jane was so unaffected and sincere. And that did not even take into account the behavior of her parents.

  The very thought of her parents always caused Elizabeth to feel the need to suppress a sigh. She was aware of the fact that she should look up to her parents and afford them a measure of respect due to the simple fact that they had brought her into the world. Unfortunately, Elizabeth knew that neither deserved such respect.

  Mrs. Bennet’s present behavior was undoubtedly the easier to understand. She was a simple woman, delighting in gossip and possessing little discernment and less intelligence. It was clear that her youngest, Lydia, was her favorite, likely because Lydia was most like her in both face and character. Indeed, Mrs. Bennet could be as silly as her youngest daughters, laughing and gossiping with them as if she were a young girl herself. The news that a company of the militia was to winter in Meryton induced the three of them to squeal in delight, all convinced that the girls could not fail to capture the eye of some handsome major or perhaps even a colonel. Mrs. Bennet was also engaged fervently in the business of seeing her daughters married off as soon as could be, and it did not seem to matter to whom, as long as the man was eligible and could support a wife. Elizabeth herself was excluded from this all-consuming desire, though she did not repine the fact.

  Of course, the first meeting between Elizabeth and her mother had told Elizabeth that Mrs. Bennet had not let go of her resentment despite the passing of a decade. Indeed, Elizabeth suspected that her mother could remember and hold a grudge for millennia if required. Thus far, Mrs. Bennet had taken the simple expedient of ignoring Elizabeth whenever possible, though she was certainly not above making the occasional veiled remark at her daughter’s expense. Elizabeth let all this pass, knowing that her mother’s opinion was of little consequence.

  The one member of the family who she could not make out, however, was her father. Mr. Bennet was an odd mix of traits, she supposed, and though her memories of her father were not at all unhappy, neither were they happy. Mr. Bennet had never been cruel to her himself before she had left with the Gardiners, but he had never stopped Mrs. Bennet’s emotional cruelty.

  Now, however, Elizabeth found herself wary of the man. The first night when the family had gathered for dinner, she had entered the dining room with Jane, not knowing quite what to expect. Jane immediately sat to her father’s right, as was her privilege, but at her father’s left, which was where Elizabeth should have sat if she had had a happier family situation, Mary was already seated, as she would have done during the years of Elizabeth’s absence.

  “If you will sit, we can begin,” said Mr. Bennet when Elizabeth hesitated.

  Elizabeth, knowing that it would be best for her to immediately obey and avoid bringing attention upon herself, sat in the only location where there was an unoccupied place setting—in the middle between Mary and Lydia.

  “Yes, sir,” murmured she, taking her seat.

  On her one side, Lydia merely snorted at her, while Mary took no notice of her at all, and Elizabeth immediately understood that she had been placed there to bring her both the greatest humiliation and to deny her the benefit of sitting where she would be able to easily converse with Jane, who was the only one who had attempted to make her feel welcome.

  Though Elizabeth would not have dreamed of saying anything concerning the arrangements, she was unnerved to see her father’s eyes upon her only a moment after the family had begun to serve themselves.

  “I see you have arrived,” said Mr. Bennet as he availed himself of some of the potatoes.

  “I have, sir,” replied Elizabeth in a quiet tone.

  He appeared to be waiting for her to say something further—she fancied that he expected her to complain about the seating arrangements—but she had determined that would not give them the satisfaction of her questioning their motives and kept her silence. She felt his cold gaze upon her for several moments, but she took no notice and affected a concentration on her meal.

  Thus began her custom of sitting between Mary and Lydia at mealtimes, generally saying very little unless addressed directly (which happened infrequently), and leaving as soon as she could after the meal was finished. She became grateful for the fact that she was not seated next to her father, as the man made her feel particularly uncomfortable. It was nothing he said or did. In fact, he rarely addressed her at all. It was more the fact that she could often feel his eyes upon her, and they were not friendly in the slightest. In fact, if Elizabeth was to describe his gaze, she would have said his eyes were cold and almost lifeless. Yet at the same time, his eyes almost appeared to bore right through her, piercing her with their sharpness. Elizabeth attempted to ignore the discomfort his stares engendered. She sensed that whatever else he was, he was not violent, and she decided that she had nothing to fear from him on that front.

  The first night in the parlor, Elizabeth sat by herself reading a book, distancing herself even from Jane, who was working on some embroidery. She wished to know her sister better, but she knew instinctively that Mrs. Bennet would not look kindly on any overt overtures of friendship between her two eldest daughters.

  That evening was the first time Eliza
beth found her father watching her in a disconcerting manner. She thought that he almost seemed on the verge of speaking to her several times, but whether it was her fancy or he decided otherwise, he did not engage her in conversation, and on the following nights, he never appeared close to speaking her again. But his eyes followed her, always watching in that same lifeless fashion. It was almost as if the man was contemplating a wall rather than a daughter he had not seen in ten years.

  Elizabeth’s first experience with Meryton society came a few days after her arrival. The Lucases had invited the Bennets and several other prominent families of the area to their estate. Once she arrived there, Elizabeth was to discover that the evening at Lucas Lodge was not simply a typical evening engaged with country society.

  The manor house itself was similar to most other country estates Elizabeth had seen. It was built on a smaller scale than Longbourn, made of red brick and sprawling over one floor, though that floor appeared to be quite extensive. It was obvious by looking at it that the estate had undergone construction several times to add additional rooms, so that when one entered into the house, the manor was a rambling maze of hallways and rooms which would undoubtedly be confusing to one who was not familiar with it.

  It was equally evident that the Bennets were comfortable here and that the families were well acquainted with one another. Lucas Lodge was the closest estate to Longbourn, and as such, it made sense that the families were on good terms with one another. The Lucas family had just moved to the lodge when Elizabeth had left for London, so she really had no memories at all of them.

  “Mr. Bennet,” greeted a heavyset but jovial man upon their entrance into the room where the family awaited their arrival. “How good of you to join us this fine evening.”

  A veritable sea of faces met Elizabeth’s eyes, and none of them were familiar. The little information that she had been given suggested that the evening’s festivities would be limited to the Bennets, the Lucases, and another family or two. Staring back at her—with no little curiosity, she noticed—were such numbers that it must have been almost every prominent family in the area, and they all paused in their various conversations to watch the Bennets as they entered the room, staring at the mysterious daughter who had been away for so many years. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth gazed back over the assemblage, determined to show them all that she had nothing to hide.

  “And this must be Miss Elizabeth!” enthused the man as he stepped forward to greet her. “But I forget my manners,” continued he, though his joviality never faded a jot. “Jane, perhaps you could do the honors?”

  It was a good thing that she had not been standing by any other member of her family, Elizabeth reflected as she glanced at Jane. Though the rest of her family obviously understood that they needed to act in a manner that would not invite scandal, she did not trust several of them to not blurt something out thoughtlessly.

  Jane—dear, sweet Jane, who was already becoming a favorite to Elizabeth—smiled with pleasure. “Of course, Sir William. Sir William Lucas, this is my younger sister Elizabeth Bennet, returned to us from my uncle’s house in London. Elizabeth, this is Sir William Lucas, the master of Lucas Lodge and our closest neighbor.”

  “How do you do?” inquired Elizabeth as she sank into a curtsey.

  “Very well indeed,” said Sir William with an enthusiasm which was far from the common sort. “And I am very happy to see you again. I see that you have grown into a very beautiful woman. I am very sure that your return shall bring great pleasure to all. We have lived here long enough that I do recall a few escapades of yours from when you were a girl.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “I am certain I have outgrown such antics, Sir William.”

  “I am sure you have,” said the man with a gentle laugh.

  “Yes, indeed, she is here now, Lucas,” said her father, interrupting their conversation and startling Elizabeth in the process. “I believe that we would prefer that you did not make such a fuss over Elizabeth’s return.”

  His words were spoken with a stern glare at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. Contrary to what he might be thinking, Elizabeth would much rather that her return be commented on as little as possible, so she kept silent.

  But Sir William was not to be deterred. “Nonsense, Bennet!” cried he. “It is indeed a reason for celebration, which is why we have invited you all here this evening. Besides, I believe your daughter needs to become reacquainted with the members of our little society. I shall be happy to perform that office, I assure you.”

  There was nothing indeed that Mr. Bennet could say to that, but though he did not betray it in his countenance, Elizabeth got the distinct impression that he was not happy with Sir William’s insistence. The whole matter perplexed Elizabeth. If he did not wish for her to become acquainted with the local families, then why had he called her back? But she was given no time to ponder such a question, as Sir William was at that moment guiding her away from her family.

  What followed was a confusing array of introductions, banal pleasantries, and names which she could not hope to remember during the course of one evening. In short order, she was introduced to a succession of Longs, Gouldings, Kings, Robinsons, and others, most of whom she would forget by the end of the evening.

  Most of these went by in a blur, but there were two particular introductions which stood out in her mind once the evening had been completed. One of the first groups Sir William approached to perform the introductions was his own family, and Elizabeth was greeted warmly. Lady Lucas was all that was agreeable and obliging, though she appeared to be very similar to Mrs. Bennet in essentials.

  But it was Sir William’s eldest daughter who was most prominent in Elizabeth’s mind. She was a dark-haired yet handsome woman, and she stood a little taller than Elizabeth and was likely several years older. She was also friendly and kind, though a little quiet, and she spoke to Elizabeth with affection.

  “It is wonderful to see you again, Miss Elizabeth,” said she.

  “Again?” asked Elizabeth, searching her memory for some hint of the other woman.

  Miss Lucas smiled kindly. “It is not surprising you would not remember me, as you were still so very young when you left. You were a little scamp as a child. The first time I met you, I had left the house for a walk not long after we arrived at Lucas Lodge, and I spotted you high in the branches of a tree.”

  Memories assaulted Elizabeth, and she suddenly remembered the meeting very well indeed. It had been a particularly trying morning after listening to her mother berate her yet again for some imagined mischief, and she had escaped the house and wandered near Longbourn’s border with Lucas Lodge. To attempt to elude anyone in her family returning her to the house, Elizabeth had climbed a tree and had sat there with tears running down her cheeks.

  “I remember now,” said Elizabeth, smiling at Miss Lucas. “You shared some of your sweets with me that morning and helped cheer me up.”

  “Well, it helped somewhat,” replied Miss Lucas, peering at Elizabeth strangely.

  Elizabeth was not certain how much Miss Lucas knew or suspected of her absence, but she decided to ignore the issue for now. Elizabeth was not certain how much Miss Lucas knew or suspected of her absence, but she decided to ignore the issue for now.

  “I thank you again for the sweets, Miss Lucas,” said Elizabeth in a light-hearted tone. “I was very happy to have a friend that morning.”

  “It was my pleasure,” replied Miss Lucas. “But I do feel like we would have been great friends if you had remained in the area. I would be pleased of you would call me ‘Charlotte.’”

  “And you must call me ‘Elizabeth,’” replied Elizabeth with a grateful smile.

  Soon thereafter, she was led away by Sir Lucas and forced to partake in the seemingly never-ending succession of introductions.

  It was near the end of her time with Sir William that the second memorable introduction was made. She and her host had approached a small group comprised of three gen
tlemen and three ladies—one of whom was her sister Jane—and Sir William began speaking in his ever ebullient tone.

  “And here are the newest additions to our little neighborhood,” said he, “though I am certain you are already acquainted with your eldest sister.”

  Elizabeth smiled at Jane before turning her attention to the rest of the group.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Sir William, “please allow me to introduce Mr. Bingley, who is currently leasing Netherfield Park. With him are his eldest sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and his youngest sister, Miss Caroline Bingley.”

  Elizabeth looked at the two ladies and two gentlemen as they were introduced, noting in the back of her mind that Sir William did not seem to be acquainted with the third gentleman in the group.

  Mr. Bingley smiled in an animated fashion which betrayed an artless and open character. “Miss Elizabeth, how do you do? I am glad to finally meet you. Your sister has spoken of you.”

  The way that he looked at Jane told Elizabeth that he admired her sister, and though Elizabeth could not discern her sister’s feelings with any certainty, she felt confident that Jane was not opposed to his attentions. Indeed, she wondered why she had not heard any mention of such a thing in the time since she had arrived. She could hardly imagine her mother being circumspect about potential nuptials, after all.

  “And I am very happy to meet you, sir,” said Elizabeth.

  “Indeed!” enthused Mr. Bingley. “I understand from your sister that you have been in London studying music at the home of your aunt and uncle. Shall we hear you display your talents this evening?”

  It was not an unusual request, and it was one which Elizabeth had been expecting. But though she was well aware of her competence, she was bashful at the thought of playing in front of so many people.