“They will not be easily forgotten or forgiven.”
Jane was shaking by the time she had finished and Charlotte went to her at once, grateful for the kindness of heart that had caused her to speak as she had done. Charlotte claimed she’d had no knowledge of the extent of Miss Bingley’s influence over her daughter, but Elizabeth did know and was determined that her friend should be made aware of the truth.
She told her of the letter Bingley had received from Caroline, which had contained a threat that Amelia-Jane would leave Jonathan and, presumably, move to Bath if he persisted with his plan to purchase Netherfield Park.
“She has undoubtedly encouraged Amelia-Jane to believe that it would be right and proper for her to refuse to move to Hertfordshire, with her husband, if she did not wish to go,” Elizabeth explained.
Charlotte was astounded and hurt. “Eliza, why should she do such a thing? Jonathan is her nephew! What could she hope to gain?”
Elizabeth was scathing in her criticism of Miss Bingley.
“Ever since her brother first met Jane and fell in love with her in Hertfordshire, all those years ago, Caroline Bingley, who, as you know, imagined herself to be the object of Mr Darcy’s matrimonial plans, did everything in her power to thwart their marriage and, when she could not, proceeded to make things difficult for Jane and myself, whenever an occasion presented itself,” she explained and, as Charlotte listened in some astonishment, continued, “My marriage to Mr Darcy clearly drove her to desperation, and though we have attempted to treat her with politeness at all times, she has never forgotten. Having failed to find a man sufficiently rich, fashionable, and of a suitable status to satisfy her ambitions, she has remained unwed and embittered. With very little to occupy her, except gossip and an empty social round, she has time enough for the sort of mischief that she made with Jonathan and Amelia-Jane.”
“But why did she pick on my poor daughter?” cried Charlotte, who had very little understanding of Miss Bingley’s machinations.
“She probably saw in her someone young and a little naïve, perhaps, whom she could influence. I do not pretend to know very much about Miss Bingley’s mind, but I was convinced her influence on Amelia-Jane would not be benign. I recall clearly the words of Mrs Reynolds, who was our housekeeper at Pemberley, about the influence of Miss Bingley on Georgiana Darcy; she was very unhappy, felt it did her no good at all.”
Charlotte was still unconvinced.
“But surely, Eliza, is it likely that Miss Bingley would try deliberately to harm either Amelia-Jane or Jonathan?”
“I do not mean to suggest, Charlotte, that she set out to harm them physically; I do not believe that even Caroline, arrogant and proud though she may be, would have advised anything as foolhardy and dangerous as travelling to Bath, at night, in an unsuitable vehicle, in the midst of a thunderstorm. For that particular piece of stupidity, we have to thank Caroline’s friend Mrs Arabella Watkins and the mysterious Mr Alexander. But, remember it was Caroline Bingley’s meddling, her interference that had Amelia-Jane involved with Mrs Watkins and God knows with what silly notions they filled her brain. No, Charlotte, Miss Bingley is going to have to live with this catastrophe on her conscience for quite a while,” she replied.
Charlotte had not seen Elizabeth in such a mood before, nor heard her speak of anyone with such anger and passion. Not since Wickham’s elopement with Lydia had there been reason to do so.
Jane, despite her own reluctance to single out her sister-in-law for criticism, had to agree.
“Yes, Charlotte, I do agree with Lizzie that Caroline must carry some of the blame. Emma has told me today that Mrs Watkins encouraged Amelia-Jane’s complaints and led her to believe that what she was doing was correct. She has had this from the housekeeper, Mrs Giles, who has expressed outrage at the liberties taken by Mrs Watkins and her gentleman friend while they were at Grosvenor Street.”
Emma, who had come upstairs to inform them that Jonathan had returned from Annie Ashton’s funeral, heard the comment and felt impelled to add her own opinion. “Indeed, Aunt Charlotte, you would be astonished at some of the things we have heard. Jonathan is still unaware of all this, but I intend to acquaint both Jonathan and my father with the facts. I do not believe either of them understand the extent to which Miss Bingley and her friends are responsible for this tragedy. It was they who fostered an atmosphere of discontent and supported her constant complaints about what was in many ways a most advantageous and happy marriage to a good man, whose love for her and their children has never been in question. Papa should know that his sister contributed to the destruction of that marriage and the death of poor Amelia-Jane, even though Miss Bingley will never admit to it.”
Charlotte was incredulous. “Jane, Eliza, I had no knowledge of this,” she said.
Jane, usually a reluctant participant in recrimination, confirmed that Mr Bingley had responded to his sister’s letter with a rather curt note, quite unlike his usual affable style, urging her to stay out of her nephew’s marital problems.
“He suggested that they should be encouraged to resolve their difficulties themselves, since her interference could only aggravate them,” said Jane, recalling that her husband had read his letter to her before despatching it.
“I was quite surprised at the sharpness of his tone and said so, but he was adamant that Caroline should be warned to mind her own business. He was very angry,” she said, and even in the midst of their sorrow, they smiled at the idea of a very angry Charles Bingley! No one could imagine it!
Emma and Jane went down to the parlour and found Jonathan with Anne-Marie and Miss Faulkner. Teresa had taken a weary little Cathy to bed.
Jonathan thanked both Emma and Anna Faulkner for their invaluable help with the children.
“I cannot thank both of you enough for your kindness and help. Miss Faulkner, it is hardly fair that you should give up your time to sit with the children, I really do thank you very much indeed. Emma, I know how tired you must be and yet, tomorrow, we must all travel to Hertfordshire.”
He told them then of the arrangements for the funeral, to be held at the church in Longbourn, as Charlotte had wished.
Soon afterwards, Bingley and Mr Darcy arrived and went with Jonathan into the study, where they spent some time together. Both father and son looked so anguished, it was with relief that Elizabeth and Jane went out to acquire their mourning gowns, even though there was no pleasure to be had in the task.
Emma and Anna Faulkner stayed on with Jonathan for a while longer, awaiting the carriage that was to call for them, during which time he told them of the heartrending funeral he had attended in Kent that morning.
“Annie Ashton was a bright, happy girl; I remember her when she would come over to play with the girls, always cheerful and lively. She was devoted to them and to Amelia-Jane. The Ashtons have lost their only daughter, because she was Amelia-Jane’s maid and was taken on this ridiculous journey, and yet, they were so civil to me. I expected some resentment, hatred even, but there was none of it. Not a harsh word, no resentful stares; they thanked me for coming … I could not believe it. I have never been so disconcerted … I felt so utterly unworthy of their regard and gratitude!” he said.
Emma was quick to comfort him. “My dear brother, you really must not take all this upon yourself; how are you to blame for any of what happened? I feel for the Ashtons, we can understand their pain, but they must know it was an accident, something over which you could have had no control,” she declared.
“Indeed,” he said, nodding as if in agreement, but adding with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, “but, no doubt they would have expected me to have some modicum of control over the activities of my wife.”
When she looked uncertain, he added, “No, Emma, you are very kind, but I know how they must feel. It is common knowledge in the village of Hunsford and around the Rosings Estate that Amelia-Jane had decided to le
ave me and move to Bath.
“The servants at the Dower House knew it; Annie Ashton’s family knew it, too. Mrs Harrison’s servants told her of it. It seems, I was the only person who did not know.”
His voice seemed to break and a sudden, involuntary gasp from Anna, who had been sitting quietly by the window while Jonathan and Emma talked, lest her presence should embarrass them, drew his attention to her and he was immediately apologetic.
“Miss Faulkner, we have embarrassed you with these unhappy details of our troubles, I am truly sorry. We should not burden you with these particulars … please pay no attention, it was thoughtless of me.”
Anna was startled into speaking out at once. “Mr Bingley, pray do not apologise, you are surely entitled to speak your own mind on any subject in your own house, even more at such a time as this. My presence here is purely incidental; I am truly happy to be of any assistance at this time and do not wish to cause you the slightest inconvenience. Please let me assure you that anything I may have heard in this house will go no further than myself. Though we were never very close, Amelia-Jane was my cousin.”
He was most appreciative of her words and as she and Emma rose to leave, took her hand and thanked her again for her kindness.
Embracing his sister, he asked that James Wilson and the Armandes be informed of the funeral arrangements and escorted them to the waiting carriage.
As he handed them into the carriage, first Emma and then Miss Faulkner, he thanked them once more and, as they drove away, Anna observed him standing on the pavement, looking at the vehicle as it proceeded down the street, and wondered if he were thinking of that other, ill-fated vehicle which must have left this place just as theirs had done, on another journey but a few days ago.
How utterly had his life changed since then, she thought, feeling in her heart deep sympathy for his anguish.
***
The prospect of a further half day’s journey to Hertfordshire on the following day, and perhaps another night or two at Longbourn, did not please Elizabeth, but there was nothing they could do. Charlotte had asked for her daughter to be laid to rest amongst her family, and Jonathan had agreed.
Bingley and Jane decided to remain at the house in Grosvenor Street with Jonathan and the girls, while Elizabeth and Darcy went on to Portman Square.
It was the first time they had been alone since they had received the news of the accident. When they retired to their room, Elizabeth asked, “Do you suppose Amelia-Jane really meant to leave Jonathan and her children?”
It was a question that had engaged her thoughts for some time.
Darcy was unsure. “Who can say, my dear? It certainly seems that way. It is indeed difficult to believe she would depart in so unceremonious a manner, in such an unsuitable vehicle—I believe the police have told James that it lost a wheel on the downhill run from Maidenhead!—with no reason or plan in mind. It is an extraordinary thing to have done.”
“It appears she gave Jonathan no warning,” said Elizabeth. “She left no letters, said no farewells, not even to the children. Emma says when Jonathan heard she had left, he was so shocked, he could not speak for several minutes.”
“I can well believe it. Jonathan has such a strong sense of family loyalty and self-discipline, it would never occur to him that anyone, however distressed, could behave in such a way. It seems an act of reckless self-indulgence,” said Darcy, whose affection and respect for Jonathan was of the highest order.
Apart from their son-in-law, Richard Gardiner, Jonathan Bingley was, in Mr Darcy’s book, the very best of men. He could not accept that so terrible a blow had fallen upon such a man of honour and integrity. And yet, he knew, as did Elizabeth, that disappointment and sorrow could strike without warning or logical reason, destroying dreams and inflicting deep wounds.
Elizabeth and Darcy had suffered the loss of their eldest son in just such a circumstance, where Death like a thief in the night steals the core of one’s happiness and nothing, no matter how many other joys may follow, ever restores the loss.
During a long and weary night, they relived those terrible hours and days, as they thought of Jonathan and his children and sought to comfort each other before sleep would finally come.
***
It was a cold, crisp morning when they attended the funeral service at the village church, which was filled with neighbours, friends, and family.
Charlotte Collins’ mother, father, and eldest brother lay in the same churchyard where no doubt Charlotte herself hoped to rest one day.
It had been a grim, painful day for everyone, most of all for Charlotte.
Proud of the achievement of bringing up three young daughters single-handed and seeing them all well married, Charlotte had been ravaged by the shame and guilt she felt on her daughter’s behalf.
Even though it was not yet generally known that Amelia-Jane had been killed while leaving her husband and children in a senseless and wilful act, Charlotte knew and, in her heart, felt deep remorse.
She saw Amelia-Jane’s actions as a betrayal not only of her husband and children, but of all she had believed in and taught her children by both precept and example.
Furthermore, Charlotte regarded Jonathan Bingley so highly; he combined qualities of goodness and generosity with an engaging disposition inherited from his excellent parents. To have to live with the thought that her daughter had caused him so much grief was almost too much to bear.
Over and over again during the past week, she had expressed to Jonathan her personal sorrow and regret and, each time, he had patiently assured her, with great generosity of spirit, that she must not take on the guilt of her daughter’s actions.
“My dear Mrs Collins,” he had said, “were I to look for someone to blame for this misfortune, other than myself or my late wife, you would be the very last person I would choose. I beg of you, do not distress yourself and do not take on the burden of our guilt, it will be a fruitless and bitter load,” he had advised.
He had sought, then, to comfort her by assuring her that he and Amelia-Jane had enjoyed many years of happiness and he would never regret their marriage, nor permit her name to be dishonoured because of her recent indiscretions. Charlotte knew he spoke sincerely, for indeed, at no time had she ever had reason to doubt his feelings for Amelia-Jane and had long regarded them as happily and successfully married. She’d had no indication that there was any serious disharmony between them, which was why the last few days had seemed like a nightmare.
For Jonathan, the entire week had been so appalling, that the desolation of the final day was merely an added tribulation that had to be endured.
He had been surprised by the large numbers of people who had travelled to Longbourn, including many Parliamentary colleagues who joined family and friends at the church.
He was grateful for the support of all his family, who stood with him and Anne-Marie as, heartsick and grieving, they had struggled through the ceremonies. Astonishingly, Charlotte Collins and her two elder daughters, Catherine Harrison and Rebecca Tate, seemed calm and demonstrated great strength as they joined him at the graveside.
Charles, his son, stood apart from his father and sisters, while Caroline Bingley did not attend. Her sister, Mrs Hurst, arrived and was heard to say that Caroline had suffered a seizure on hearing the news of the accident and the deaths of Amelia-Jane and her friends.
Cassandra Darcy had overheard her say that Miss Bingley had been confined to bed since then. Her mother Elizabeth, on hearing this piece of news, remarked abruptly that it might be best for all concerned if Miss Bingley were permanently confined!
Even Jane, who was hardly ever heard to utter a harsh word against anyone, could not resist expressing her gratitude that indisposition had prevented Miss Bingley from attending Amelia-Jane’s funeral, for, she declared, she was quite sure no one, not even her nearest and dearest, would have welcomed her pr
esence.
It was a sentiment echoed by almost everyone there.
Finally, it was all over and Jonathan, free at last of the need to maintain a brave exterior, left the gathering at Longbourn and drove alone to Netherfield, where he could give vent to his own feelings, without fear of exposure. It was there that Mr Darcy and Richard Gardiner found him an hour or so later, walking aimlessly in the park.
While understanding his desire for solitude, they encouraged him to return to Longbourn, where Emma Wilson and Anna Faulkner had spent all afternoon comforting Anne-Marie and her younger sisters.
“You must come back, Jonathan. The girls need you with them at this time,” said Richard, and Darcy added that he and Fitzwilliam had succeeded in fending off the queries of most of his friends from London.
“I think you can assume quite safely that they accept it was an accident and will leave you alone; there will be no gossip,” he said as they persuaded him to return with them.
While most of the family returned to their respective homes, Mr and Mrs Bingley stayed on at Netherfield with Jonathan and his daughters.
Young Charles Bingley, however, in an uncharitable act that no one could understand or condone, returned to Edinburgh without a word to his father. Jane and Bingley had tried hard to persuade him to stay, but he had remained intransigent, saying only that his father had never had a great deal of time for him and he did not believe things would be any different now.
***
Returning to the house in Grosvenor Street some weeks later, having first accompanied Anne-Marie to Harwood House and the care of her friend Eliza Harwood, Jonathan Bingley found several calling cards and messages of condolence awaiting his attention. He spent an hour or more responding to them. Most were from colleagues and friends who had been unable to travel to Longbourn for the funeral.
Having finished the rather tedious task, he decided to walk up the street and call on the Wilsons. Since the funeral, after which they had returned to London, he had missed their company. He yearned for Emma’s kindness and her husband’s unvarying generosity of spirit.
Netherfield Park Revisited Page 17