by Jann Rowland
It was clear she had caught him by surprise, for he fairly gaped at her. Then he burst out laughing. “Well, well, I had not expected this. If he can see your worth so quickly, then I must think him an intelligent man, indeed! I anticipate meeting him very much!”
“Papa!” chided Elizabeth.
“You must allow your old papa the pride of his favorite daughter, Lizzy. Any man who is clever enough to see your worth so quickly must be acceptable in my opinion.”
Embarrassed, Elizabeth changed the subject. “You mentioned another reason for your journey here?”
Though it was clear Mr. Bennet was loath to leave off his teasing he soon sobered and began to walk again. “It was your questions about your aunt which played the other part in my decision to come, Lizzy. You were not explicit, but I suspect she did not relate the full of the matter, or what she said favored her own viewpoint, but I could only guess.”
“That is correct,” replied Elizabeth. Then she proceeded to relate the matter to her father, explaining what her aunt had told her. As expected, Mr. Bennet’s view of what had happened was quite different from his sister’s, though he listened to her intently to ensure he understood the charges which were laid at his door. When she had finished her explanation, he sighed and stared off into the distance for several moments before he spoke.
“As you have surmised,” said he at length, “your aunt’s account is accurate to a certain extent, but it is, nevertheless, colored by her own perceptions.”
“In what way, Papa?”
Mr. Bennet turned back to her. “You are aware of your mother’s origins, so I shall not delve into that subject. Your aunt was, indeed, dismayed when I announced my intention to marry your mother. My father had already passed on by then, so I was master of Longbourn, and though my mother was alive, she made no objection to my choice, declaring that I was my own master and capable of managing my own affairs.
“In fact, your mother and my mother got on famously. My mother taught her as much of managing the house of a gentleman as she could before her death, which unfortunately occurred less than a year after our marriage. Your mother was devastated at the death of my mother and took many months to recover.”
“I did not know,” said Elizabeth quietly. “You have not spoken of my grandparents much.”
“There did not seem to be any reason to do so, other than to acquaint you all with the history of the Bennets, which I have attempted to do. For some time, speaking of her mentor was painful to your mother, so I avoided the topic. After a time, it became a habit, one which we have kept to this day.”
“And Aunt Claire?”
“Unlike your grandmother, your aunt railed against my choice and was not afraid to let your mother know it. While Claire continued to live with us until her marriage—which was not until after your grandmother’s death—it was quite uncomfortable at Longbourn. Your aunt did everything she could to undermine your mother, even after I explicitly told her she would not be welcome at my estate if she did not cease her objectionable behavior.” Mr. Bennet snorted. “Claire only laughed at me, saying there was nowhere else for her to go. The Collinses were our only living relations, and she knew I would never send her there.
“As for this matter of a suitor, your aunt is correct that the man decided against proposing, but she is wrong as to the reason. In fact, her suitor—a man who lived north of Stevenage—decided against her because of her behavior after my marriage. He came himself to inform me of his decision, confessing his worries concerning her behavior. If she was so objectionable to me and my wife, he was concerned for how she would act after she became his wife.
“Of course, Claire blamed your mother and her ‘common origins’ for the loss of her suitor, and though I attempted to tell her the true reason for his retreat, she would not listen to me.”
“How did she become known to Uncle Drummond?”
“He was a friend of one of my friends,” said Mr. Bennet. “By the time your uncle had inherited Kingsdown, the estate had been reduced to a fraction of its former size and income. Your uncle wished to marry a woman of dowry, but at the time, no one of the neighborhood would commit their daughters to him for fear he would be the same as his father. My friend vouched for his industry and the goodness of his nature, and Claire and I met him. With nary a hesitation, your aunt declared that she would marry him, and though I was shocked, nothing I said could talk her out of it.”
“But did you not wish her to marry?”
“Wish her to marry, yes, but not in such circumstances. I wanted her to be courted. To learn more about him, and for him to learn of her. I tried speaking to your uncle, to inform him of what her behavior had been, but at the time he was desperate for the funds, so he proposed, she accepted, and they were married soon after.
“Before she left for her new home, however, she informed me that she married for the sole reason of removing herself from my home and what she considered the tainting of our family legacy. She blamed everything on me—her failed courtship, her fall from what she thought she could expect in life, how she was forced to marry an unsuitable man. She made it clear that she was the one to suffer from my disgrace, and left in the bitterest of spirits.”
“I can hardly take this all in,” said Elizabeth. “I never knew any of it.”
“It was never intended that you should know of it.” Mr. Bennet stopped and looked at her seriously. “I know this tale does not reflect well on your aunt, and I did not wish your perception of her to be colored by it. I could not have imagined she would tell you as much as she did.”
“I assume you wish my sisters to remain ignorant of it?”
“That would be for the best,” confirmed her father. “What good is there in their knowing? None of you have met her since you were small children, and though the connection will become closer again with your marriage, I cannot think that she will wish it to become known. I believe that deep down Claire knows that she was wrong, though I do not think she will ever own to it. There is nothing to be done but leave it in the past. If she had not spoken of it to you, we would not be having this conversation.
“Now, I have a desire to meet this man who has had the temerity to propose to my favorite daughter.” Mr. Bennet’s tease brought a blush to Elizabeth’s face again. “If you will finish your preparations, we may go directly.”
“Very well, Papa. I shan’t be long.”
As he watched his favorite daughter walk back to the house, Bennet was struck with a sense of melancholy. She was the bright light in his life, his companion, his debate partner, and his happiness all rolled into one package, complete with bright eyes and a sunny disposition. He would miss her, now that she was to live in Derbyshire with her young man.
On the other hand, unburdening himself to her proved to be a cathartic experience. There were others who were aware of the history, of course; Drummond himself, Gardiner—who still wished to have no contact with Claire due to how she had treated his sister, regardless of his esteem for Drummond—and even the Phillipses had some knowledge of the matter. But speaking of it to Elizabeth, one who had possessed no knowledge and could provide a new perspective, helped relieve the burden on Bennet’s shoulders, one of which he had not even been aware.
Bennet knew his sister had not been completely incorrect as to the reasons for his marriage and her objection to Maggie in particular. Bennet had proposed to her in a moment of infatuation, blinded by her happy disposition and beauty to her lack of sense and irritable nature. Still, he liked to think that he and Maggie did well enough together, though the infatuation had long since died. His mother’s death had come at an unfortunate time—had she had another year to work with Maggie, he thought his mother might have been able to mold her into a respectable gentlewoman. That he himself had not done enough was a fact of which Bennet was not unaware, but in his defense, his mother’s death had affected him severely as well. And nothing he had taught her would have ameliorated the situation brought about by
the succession of five daughters born without a son.
Regardless, it had not been Claire’s place to act as she had. Her disappointments in life were her own doing.
“Are you telling tales, Brother?”
Bennet turned to see his sister standing nearby, staring at him with her usual contempt. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you, Claire.”
“I assume you came to poison that daughter of yours against me by pushing the blame of your disgrace away from where it rightly belongs.”
“Had I desired to do that, I could have done it before she came so as to save myself the annoyance of another long journey.” Bennet dared her to respond, and when she did not, he added: “It was not I who dredged the river of old wrongs and brought it to light again. I have not spoken of the matter to any of my children before today, but I could not allow Elizabeth to be misinformed.”
“Misinformed!” Claire’s tone was dripping with resentment. “Do you deny you married an unsuitable woman and sullied our line? Even my husband has done his duty by fathering three boys. Your wife could not even manage that much.”
“There is much about life we do not understand, Claire,” replied Bennet. “But I do not believe a woman has any control over the sex of her offspring, any more than the man possesses.
“But though you do not approve of my wife, she has settled into her role as mistress of my estate with tolerable ease, and has given me five beautiful daughters. I find that I have, on the whole, no cause to repine.”
Claire did not respond, though her lips thinned in anger. Looking at her, Bennet was struck by a notion, one he had not considered before, but which seemed likelier the longer he thought of it. This woman, who had once been his sister, still seemed to wish to be proven correct about his wife. In fact, she burned with the desire to be acknowledged correct. It was unfortunate for her that Bennet was not about to gratify that desire.
“A word of advice for you, Claire,” said Bennet. “I suggest you forget your pride and resign yourself to be as happy as you can in your life. And most of all, you should descend from your high horse. Your continued anger at life is doing no one, least of all yourself, any good.”
With those words, Bennet turned and walked toward the house. He had no time for a bitter woman when there were many other things of more importance on which to focus.
Chapter XXIX
Although the carriage ride to Pemberley was not long, it seemed interminable to Elizabeth. Elizabeth could not imagine what her sister’s reaction to seeing her father again would be, and except from some second-hand accounts of Jane’s rarely seeing her family since Elizabeth’s departure, she was not certain how Mr. Bennet’s relations with his eldest daughter stood. The only one of them who was truly excited for the upcoming visit was Olivia.
“What a shock Jane will get!” exclaimed Olivia as the carriage rolled along the road. “You did not tell her of your coming to Derbyshire, did you, Uncle?”
“No, Olivia,” said Mr. Bennet with a smile for the young girl. “When Jane left Hertfordshire, I had not yet made the decision to come and had not even conceived of the idea yet.”
“It was a surprise to see you. You did not tell Lizzy you were to come?”
“I did not. By the time I decided to come, I was off, so there was no time to inform her, though I did send an express to your father.”
“How strange Papa did not mention it, even to Lizzy.”
“I asked him not to. I was hoping to surprise your cousin.”
Olivia clapped her hands with glee. “Then you were successful! Lizzy had no notion you would come, though if you had been ten minutes later, you would have missed us altogether.”
“Oh?” asked Mr. Bennet, raising an eyebrow at Elizabeth.
“Yes, for we were about to go to Pemberley ourselves.”
In this manner, the girl continued to chatter, and though Mr. Bennet only gave her banal replies, Elizabeth could readily understand that they were designed to persuade the girl to reveal stories of Elizabeth’s activities in Derbyshire. Thus, much of what had happened had soon been prompted from the girl’s mouth—their outings with those of the area, Lady Emily’s visits, William’s attentions, and his sister’s friendship. Though Elizabeth did not think she had done anything particularly noteworthy, certainly nothing to provoke embarrassment, still she found herself uncomfortable by what Olivia revealed. Was it possible to be mortified beyond all endurance by nothing more than receiving a good man’s attentions? She would not have thought so before.
When the carriage stopped at Pemberley, Elizabeth was eager to disembark, and they did so and made their way inside. From the looks Mr. Bennet was giving their surroundings, he was impressed by what he was seeing. Mrs. Reynolds was curious about the man’s presence, but like any experienced servant, she did not ask questions.
The door to the sitting-room was opened, and Elizabeth led her father into the room, to the surprise of more than one of the inhabitants.
“Papa!” exclaimed Jane upon seeing her father. “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Bennet chuckled and greeted his eldest daughter. “I found I had business with your sister. My coming was unannounced, though I hope I will be welcome nonetheless.”
“Of course, you are,” said William, standing and approaching them. He turned to Elizabeth with a broad grin—which seemed to suggest pleasure that he would be able to ask her father’s permission long before he might otherwise have been able to—and requested an introduction.
Elizabeth obliged readily, including Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana in her introductions. When that had been completed, Mr. Bingley stepped forward and greeted his father-in-law with a vigorous handshake.
“Mr. Bennet, I am surprised to see you here. I had no idea you were contemplating following us to Derbyshire.”
“I had no notion of it myself, Bingley,” replied Mr. Bennet. “But I found I needed to speak with Elizabeth, and once I had made that determination, I wasted no time in setting out.”
Mr. Bingley laughed. “That is much like I would do it. I have always said that should I decide to leave a place, I should do it on a moment’s thought.”
“I never would have guessed,” was Mr. Bennet’s dry reply.
“You are very welcome here, Mr. Bennet,” said William. “In fact, your presence is quite serendipitous.”
“I rather thought so myself, Mr. Darcy.”
“Are my mother and sisters well, Papa?” asked Jane, though she hesitated first.
“They are. Your Aunt Gardiner is visiting, and I do not doubt that between them they have the estate well in hand.”
“I hope the journey from Gracechurch Street was not too taxing for your aunt,” interjected Miss Bingley. “I understand she has several children of her own to care for.”
Though Miss Bingley’s words were solicitous in tone, anyone who knew her—and most likely those who did not—were aware of the contempt in her voice. Mr. Bennet regarded her with a steady look, but the woman, likely aware of his understanding of her meaning, possessed no shame, her returning gaze all innocence.
“Mrs. Gardiner has made the journey many times, Miss Bingley,” was Mr. Bennet’s reply. “And she employs a governess to help care for her children.”
“That is well then,” said Miss Bingley, nodding cheerfully. “Since she must also care for your daughters, I would not wish her strength to be taxed unduly.”
Mr. Bennet bestowed a faint smile on the woman. “As I said previously, I am certain they have matters in hand. My wife knows what must be done, and Mrs. Gardiner is there to assist. They have both been mothers for some years, and have cared for their children in an exemplary fashion. Someday if you have children of your own, you will no doubt understand.”
Miss Bingley sucked in a breath, offended by Mr. Bennet’s words, but Mr. Bingley quickly interjected, with a stern look at his sister. “I do not doubt the competence of Mrs. Bennet or Mrs. Gardiner.
I was quite impressed with the Gardiners when we met them in London. Very genteel, amiable folk, indeed.”
They sat down with the existing company, but Elizabeth did not miss the look Mr. Bingley shot at his sister, warning her to lock her tongue away. Miss Bingley, though she appeared like she had drunk vinegar, nevertheless stayed silent for the most part, though she and Jane carried on a whispered conversation between them. For Jane’s part, though her surprise at seeing her father had been evident when he had arrived, it had faded to a confusion which appeared to be even greater than that Elizabeth had witnessed only the day before. The façade she had shown upon her return from her wedding tour had begun to crack, though Elizabeth could not determine what was behind it. Would it be the true Jane, or would it be something even more objectionable than before?
“Miss Bennet,” asked William in a quiet tone as he took a seat beside her. The action drew the attention of Miss Bingley, and it was easy to see the woman did not appreciate his attention to Elizabeth. “Does your father know?”
“He does,” replied Elizabeth.
“Then I shall find a pretense to speak with him alone.”
“Are you so impatient, sir?” asked Elizabeth, fixing him with a playful smile.
“I have been given the opportunity to secure your hand long before I might otherwise have expected,” replied William, showing her not a hint of a tease. “Of course, I am impatient.”
“Then offer to show him your library. The only issue I see is that you might not be able to remove him from the room once he is inside, and you might not be able to hold his attention for long enough to ask.”
“I believe I will take that chance. Before I excuse myself, however, I would like to take the opportunity of securing your hand for the first dance at the assembly next week. Is that agreeable to you?”
Elizabeth feigned offense. “Only the first dance, sir?”
“I am certain there will be other opportunities to secure other dances that night. But since I cannot claim you for all the dances, I believe I will settle for the first, if you please.”