When Mr Jones had finished listening to Jane, he issued two bottles of opium. She was to take a dose of it each time that the headaches became severe. Mrs Bennet was worried. She had heard of the curse that the opium was. The tales of those who took the stuff were dreadful. “Mrs Bennet” the apothecary gravely said when they were downstairs in the parlour. “I am afraid that I bear bad news. I fear your daughter has not much longer in this world. Do not fear for I only prescribe the opium to my patients who are close to death’s door” Mrs Bennet clutched her breast, could her daughter really be so dreadfully ill? Why just two days go she was smiling and whirling around the dance floor as if she had not a care in the world. She had not the words to ask if this truly was so severe. She could not contemplate losing her daughter at such a young age. The apothecary recognised Mrs Bennet’s actions. “I am sorry to be the bearer of such dire news, but if my diagnosis is correct, Miss Bennet is suffering from something that we have very little way of detecting until after the patient passes away. You see, I am afraid that Jane might be suffering from a growth in her brain. I have heard of such cases before, though I have not seen one in my own practice until now. I will only know for certain, if I am allowed the privilege of cutting open her brain after her death. Yet if I am right, then she will continue to get these blinding headaches as the growth increases. In the cases I have read about it depends on where the growth is situated as to what happens in the brain. In your daughter’s case, I believe the changes in personality and the slurred speech are all part of the symptoms of the same thing. I am sorry, but as this is something that we do not yet fully understand and have no way of confirming at the present time, the only thing I can do is give Miss Bennet something to keep her comfortable. I do not know how long she has. If this is progressing rapidly, as the symptoms suggest, then she may not have more than a few hours or days left. If it progresses slowly, she could hang on for weeks or months or even years. There is no way of knowing what will happen. However, I would advise sending for her sisters and letting them know the situation.” With that sad prognosis, Mr Jones left the Bennet parlour and quit the house. Mrs Bennet stayed in a state of confusion for many minutes until her sister Mrs Gardiner came into the room.
Slowly Mrs Bennet related the whole sorry tale to Mrs Gardiner, who was shocked and appalled. By the time that she and the other guests at Longbourn had realised that there was something wrong, Jane had been carried upstairs and only Mr and Mrs Bennet knew what was happening. Now the sad reality was beginning to make itself known around the house. A melancholy air descended on the house, and soon all were tiptoeing around the house as if it was a crime to speak above a whisper or to make any noise. Mrs Gardiner was a big help to Mrs Bennet, and went to Netherfield herself to bear the sad news to the married Bennet girls. It was a comfort to Mrs Bennet that her brother's wife should be so helpful and kind to her. The biggest surprise, though, was in Lady Catherine. The great Lady had been staying at Longbourn over twelve-tide as she wished to avoid being with the younger generation. Now her advice and aid were invaluable. Lady Catherine was able to take over many of the menial tasks around the home and ease Mrs Bennet’s mind of those cares, which meant that she was able to spend most of her time with her ailing daughter.
Elizabeth was the first of the sisters to arrive. The moment she had heard the news from Mrs Gardiner, she had called her carriage and rushed back to Longbourn, leaving only the briefest of notes for her husband, who she knew would follow her. Mary and Catherine were slower only because they waited for their husbands to join them before making the trip to their childhood home. Mrs Bennet was about to leave for a little bit so that Elizabeth and Jane could speak together, but Jane expressed a wish that her mother would not leave. Elizabeth took over tending to Jane’s needs, and an exhausted Mrs Bennet took up her vigil on the other side of the bed. She dozed slightly as the two girls laughed and exchanged a few secrets. Nothing much seemed to matter at the moment. Lady Catherine looked around the door but had sat too many vigils by her daughter’s side to consider that the family would want any interruptions now.
“Mama, Lizzy says she cannot hear them, but I swear there is a band of drummers outside the window. Oh, please would one of you look and tell me?”
Mrs Bennet looked at Elizabeth. This could not be good. She could not hear the drums either. She assumed that this was just another part of Jane’s symptoms. Mrs Bennet decided to humour her daughter and got up and went to the window. As she expected, there was nothing there but the lush green of the Hertfordshire countryside. However, winking at Elizabeth, Mrs Bennet said, “Yes Jane, I hear them, they are standing on the lawn playing a tattoo in your honour.”
Jane smiled a serene smile and silently listened to the music of the drum that only she could hear. Elizabeth and her mother sat together in a companionable, worried silence. They knew that by the end of the day Jane would no longer be with them. The hue of her face had already changed from that of a healthy girl’s in her early twenties to that of a sickly pallor and as the day moved on, the sickly pallor became more and more pronounced. Around midmorning, Jane had tried to get up to use the chamber pot, but she had found that she no longer had control of her legs. She would rise from her bed no more.
It was early in the afternoon, when the rest of her sisters and their husbands joined Elizabeth and Mrs Bennet in the sickroom. Lydia and Kitty sat together, not speaking, and holding hands. Mary tried to be prosaic, but her joy with Tom made everything sound more cheerful than solemn. Jane did not mind. She knew her time was up, and seeing Mary become so joyful was something that she was happy about. The young men disappeared downstairs after condoling with Mrs Bennet and Jane. They left their wives to the task of sitting with their sister. Mr Bennet came up near nightfall bringing two other young men with him. Mr Darcy had been detained by his own estate business and trusted his wife to be doing exactly what she was. He had come to make sure that she taken a small amount of rest, but she would not leave her sister. With only a cursory glance at his sister by marriage, Darcy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would not last the night. He did not press Elizabeth to leave Jane, but rather made her promise that she would rest directly the melancholy event took place. Mrs Bennet thought that it was a bit crass to be so blunt, but Elizabeth just nodded and gave her agreement. Darcy then made the appropriate remarks to both Jane and Mrs Bennet before he too disappeared downstairs. However, the other young man now appeared in Jane’s doorway. He was unsure of himself, and pain was written over his every feature. Mrs Bennet was pleased to see him and recognised his need to say goodbye. So, she waved him into the room, and ushered out the girls. This would be a private encounter.
The girls took the chance to go downstairs and get some comfort from their husbands, but Mrs Bennet stayed and put her ear to the door. She needed to know how this interview would go. Jane should not be upset at this time.
“Oh, Jane.” Mrs Bennet knew that Bingley had taken Jane’s hand just as he had so many times during their engagement. “I cannot live without you. I have tried, and I will try again, but I find I do not have the will to live without you. You said you did not love me. Yet the Jane I knew was full of love and joy and so selfless. I know not what effected your change of heart my love, I only know that without you my life has no meaning.”
Mrs Bennet opened the door surreptitiously so that she could hear Jane’s response. Mr Bingley had his back to the door so did not see Mrs Bennet’s actions. “Charles, I am sorry. I… did love you, it just was not enough.”
“Do not say that, my love. If you were stronger, I would still marry you today.”
Jane laughed a weak laugh. “It is too late, my love. I cannot and could not be what you needed. You seem to like my sister, Lydia. Marry her. Make her happy and find some peace in that you have my sister to hold and to cherish. You have my blessing. May she be to you everything I was and more. I did not deserve you.”
Mr Bingley did not deny what Jane had said but was too over
come by grief to say anything more. He did not relinquish Jane’s hand, and she did not try to remove it from his grasp. Mrs Bennet slowly withdrew and gave the couple some further privacy. She went downstairs and flung open the door to her husband’s study, but where she and her husband usually sat was another couple locked in a warm embrace. Mrs Bennet blushed, they obviously had not noticed her entrance.
“Hush, Elizabeth. Everything will turn out for the best,” Darcy said.
“I know,” Elizabeth sniffled into the lapel of his jacket. “I just… She is my sister, and we had so many cross words just the other day. I said some awful things to her. My tongue is too sharp sometimes.”
Darcy gently caressed his wife’s back, unaware that they were being observed. “My dearest, sweetest Elizabeth. Jane was not acting according to her character, you said so yourself. You need to forgive yourself and her. This guilt will only harm your memory of her.” Gently he cupped her chin and lifted her face to look in his eyes, “I love you, Elizabeth, and I know that you would never deliberately harm or hurt another person. With every fibre of my being, I will always love the beautiful woman that you are.”
Mrs Bennet was about to interrupt them when she felt the warm arms of her husband sneak around her waist. Gently he backed her out of the library and quietly closed the door. “Allow them their privacy, Mrs Bennet. Come, we shall retire to your chambers; we can both join Bingley in the vigil in a little while. He needs this time alone with our Jane.” Mrs Bennet could not remember the last time her husband had been so gentle in his handling of her. The cares of having a child who was special had built walls between them that seemed to be crumbling at the present time. She melted into her husband’s embrace and the two of them went upstairs, thankful that their girls would have the support of men who loved them. Mrs Bennet could support Lydia when the time came. She would make sure of that, but right now the support of her own husband’s serenity and care was worth more to her than anything else.
It was around eight at night when the family joined Bingley once more in Jane’s room. Jane was not speaking anymore, and the room had the stench of impending death in it. The warm atmosphere had become oppressive, and Mrs Bennet flung open the window in the vain hope that it would breathe life into the room and animate her eldest daughter once more. Each married lady in the room leaned on her husband for support, and Lydia once more held Catherine’s hand. It was as if by these simple actions of love and peace they could keep away the impending melancholy. Yet death is a sullen and cruel master that none can defeat, and soon they would all feel his cruel blade.
Twelve Pipers Piping
5th January
Death had thrown a melancholy pall over the proceedings, and there was no getting away from it. Tonight, was Twelfth Night, but none of the Bennet clan felt like celebrating. Too much had happened these past twelve days for the family to be in a festive mood any longer. The inevitable end had come for Jane at three that morning. Mrs Bennet had stayed with her daughter until the undertakers had arrived to remove the body. Mr Jones had promised that he would look at Janes brain quickly, but Mrs Bennet had not the will or patience to listen to his assurances. She was tired and had lost her eldest daughter. The grief was too much at this time for her to care whether or not her daughter’s brain would be examined quickly or not. She was not sure she wanted Jane’s brain examined at all.
Mr Bennet was waiting in her rooms when she arrived to sleep. She smiled at her husband sleepily. He knew exactly what she needed. He always had. They retired to bed together, much the same as they had in the early days of their marriage. She smiled. Many on the outside mistook her husband’s caustic humour for being uncaring, but she knew better. They were closer than ever before. They had always been close. They were a unit, and nobody had ever come between their love. This morning she was just happy to sleep in her husband’s comforting arms. Later on, they would need to deal with their visitors, and a Twelfth Night celebration that they had no taste for. Together they would face anything and everything that would be thrown at them. Mrs Bennet quickly fell into a disturbed and restless slumber.
For a brief few minutes Mrs Bennet’s mind was calm and free of the recent cares that she had undergone. She woke tightly embraced and tangled in her husband’s arms. She wished with all her heart that she might never have to leave this safe cocoon that they had for themselves, yet it was not to last. News of the sad events at Longbourn had spread throughout Meryton, and the local militia had sent a couple of pipers to play a tribute to the poor departed girl. It had been a sweet but misguided gesture. They woke the whole house after just two hours of restless slumber. Lydia was the most vocal in her complaints asking how they could be so inconsiderate, yet her complaints were mirrored to varying degrees by all the occupants of Longbourn house. It was eventually Darcy who went down to talk to the sergeant major and arrange for the pipers to return later in the day when the family would appreciate them better.
Mrs Bennet was surprised to see that Mr Bingley had gravitated towards Lydia and had paced himself on the sofa next to her in the parlour. His red eyes betrayed the grief that he was quietly bearing, as he unconsciously pulled Lydia into his arms as she wept for her sister. Mrs Bennet would have been very uneasy about this if she had not heard Jane’s command to Bingley on the subject. This was Jane’s wish. Elizabeth had quietly picked up the mantle of being the eldest sister and was watching her sisters express their grief. Mrs Bennet was proud of her daughters and their husbands. None of them betrayed the same hysterical nervousness that she herself suffered from and knew was coming. Yet for now it was more a nervous agitation, there was still much that needed to be done, but it would wait until after the guests had left the next day. The group retired to rest for a few more hours before beginning a muted Twelfth Night.
Lady Catherine had been better than her word. Everything had been looked after and went like clockwork. Mrs Bennet was both impressed and awed at the beautiful decorations she saw around her parlour. They almost made her want to sing and dance. Yet there was a muted edge to the decorations that spoke of the grief and recent events. A second room had been prepared for the evening also, that was far more sombre. Each member of the family was given a choice. Lady Catherine had taken over as the hostess of the Twelfth Night celebrations so that none might be disappointed, and the family could sit in the second sitting room and observe their grief and enter mourning. Mrs Bennet was thankful for the consideration of her esteemed guest; recent events weighed heavily on her mind, so she chose to sit out with her family. All of the Bennets sat in quiet grief as they listened to the raucous events of the night play out.
Mrs Bennet sat closest to the door, and she heard when Sir Thomas Bertram pulled his niece out of the party. He had found a suitor for her, and she no longer had any say about marrying Sir Thomas’ choice. The glee with which Sir Thomas forced the girl to accept the match made Mrs Bennet wince. The poor girl would not be happy in a match that was not of her choosing, and this one sounded truly awful. The man had all the pomposity and dullness of Mr Collins and Mr Rushworth combined, and was three times the poor girl’s age. Miss Fanny Price was to become Mrs Fanny Hastings. Mrs Bennet listened with interest to the information, but all she could glean was that Sir Thomas had written to find out if there were any men of fortune who would be suitable for the girl. Mr Hastings, it transpired, was the one who most closely fit the requirements. He was a widower who had no children. His estate was worth a clear seven thousand per year and all he wanted Fanny for was to provide him with an heir. He cared not for her looks or her mind. She was a young woman of childbearing age, who needed a husband. She was therefore suitable. That Sir Thomas had sweetened the deal with a dowry double that of the Bennet girls, was immaterial. Also, his estate was at the furthest reaches of Cornwall, so Fanny would be separated from her cousin Edmund and could no longer cause any trouble in that regard. It had been in Sir Thomas’ mind an elegant solution to a situation that threatened to undo them all. She woul
d be married in four weeks' time. The banns were already being read in the two parishes.
Mrs Bennet shook her head and could not help thinking that the poor girl had been punished too harshly. Yes, she had publicly humiliated her family, but she had done so because she believed that Edmund had made promises to her. Mrs Bennet had to admire the courage that it took to stand up and do that. Her punishment should not be the complete banishment that she was experiencing. Mrs Bennet shook her head to try and dispel her thoughts. She barely had the time to return her thoughts to her family when Emma entered the room.
“Lizzy, I am so sorry you lost Jane.” She sat down next to Elizabeth and grabbed her friend’s hands. Elizabeth’s tears flowed but she thanked her friend for her consideration. Throughout the night, so many of their friends had stopped by to condole with them that the family was overwhelmed. Each one meant well and it as a show of love for Jane that they could not have imagined, but each condolence was a reminder of the girl that they had lost. The hole that was left by Jane in the family would always be there, Jane would always be missed. Each one that came to condole made it harder to face the next. Catherine and Lydia had already retired for the night because the struggle was too much for them. Mrs Bennet wished that they could all retire for the night, but the number who wished to express their condolences just kept coming. In the end, she had to content herself with instructions to the servants that they were not at home to the callers. The Twelfth Night party that was going on would have to continue without the visitors being allowed to see the family.
Twelvetide Chaos Page 9