Netherfield Park Revisited

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Darcy wrote, however, assuring Jonathan that they all prayed for Anne-Marie’s swift recovery and promising they would visit them later in the year.

  Jonathan, your aunt Lizzie and I are both delighted with your still secret news, of which we have had some intimation from your mother. We hope to see you before we travel to Woodlands for the Summer and to wish you both joy, personally.

  Meanwhile, you may be assured of our discretion; we understand that it is not as yet generally known.

  Aunt Lizzie sends her love to all of you and especially to Anne-Marie.

  We look forward to seeing you before long.

  God bless you,

  Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  With their plans for Easter now in some confusion, Jonathan decided that it would be best to travel to Netherfield as soon as Anne-Marie was fit enough to make the journey. Jonathan’s parents, his sister Emma, and her husband were expected to make up the party.

  For Charles, the visit to Netherfield would be his first. Anna had told him a great deal about the place and he was looking forward to seeing it.

  “I understand you had an important role in advising on the redecorating of the old place,” he had said, as they had sat with Anne-Marie one afternoon.

  Anna had blushed, not expecting that he would have heard of her work, but then admitted that, yes, she had made some suggestions.

  “They were mainly to do with changes in colours of drapes and shades, where Mr Bingley felt they were either too heavy or inappropriate for the room, as in the case of your sisters’ rooms. The original drapes were heavy brocade in a dull gold and brown pattern; they have been replaced with something more cheerful, and you shall be judge when you see it.”

  Charles could not fail to be impressed by her confidence and charm. He was beginning to understand why his father seemed to find her indispensable to his happiness.

  As the days passed and Anne-Marie’s health improved, they made plans for their journey. A larger vehicle had to be procured to take them, since more room was required so Anne-Marie would be comfortable. Anna also insisted that they should break journey to allow the patient bed rest for a few hours before proceeding to Netherfield.

  Unfortunately, the weather turned cold and miserable as soon as they had left London, and she was very concerned lest Anne-Marie should catch a cold or a chill and her condition worsen. Every possible effort was made to keep her warm and comfortable and, when they reached Netherfield, they were rewarded by a change in the weather, as the wind dropped, the showers eased, and the sun came out again. Charles noted with approval the constant care and attention that Anna Faulkner devoted to Anne-Marie, placing her interest first on every occasion.

  At Netherfield, they were met by an anxious Mrs Perrot, who bustled ahead as Charles carried his sister up the stairs to her room, which had been prepared for her, and placed her in a warm bed with fresh linen and comfortable pillows, which made an immediate improvement to her demeanour.

  She thanked him with great affection.

  “Thank you, dear Charles, you have made me so happy just by being here with us again. We have all missed you, especially Papa,” and, when he tried to hush her, urging her not to tire herself, she shook her head and said, “No indeed, I am not tired. It has actually helped me get well, seeing you back again. You will be good to dear Anna, won’t you? She is an angel.”

  He nodded and smiled.

  “Of course, I shall be on my best behaviour, I give you my word. I can see that Miss Faulkner has done a wonderful job caring for you.”

  He left and went downstairs and found Anna with Teresa and Cathy in the sitting room, where tea had been served. His younger sisters greeted him effusively, not having seen him in many months, and there were tears a-plenty.

  After tea, they took him upstairs to show him their rooms, and when he returned, he was full of praise for Anna’s excellent taste.

  “Miss Faulkner, I must congratulate you. The girls’ rooms are exquisite. When I get my rooms in town and set up my practice, I should apply to you for advice on their refurbishment,” and, noting her look of disbelief, he protested, “No, I beg you to believe me, I am not teasing you. You have superb taste and I could not do better, I am sure of it.”

  Jonathan, meanwhile, had been around the park with his steward and came indoors to find a happy family gathering in the sitting room. Seeing the look of pleasure that suffused his countenance, Anna and Charles exchanged glances and smiled. They both appeared to understand how he must feel, though neither had discussed it before.

  That night, Anna slept in Anne-Marie’s room, and to her great relief, there appeared to be no adverse reaction to her journey from London. On the morrow, it was intended to send for Dr Faulkner to ensure that Anne-Marie’s recovery was proceeding satisfactorily.

  The Faulkners, who had only recently returned from Ramsgate, had had no news of Anne-Marie’s illness, and when called, Dr Faulkner rushed over to Netherfield, fearing the worst. He had met a colleague at Ramsgate, who had warned him of the virulent strains of fever that were common in London, some of which had caused deaths among the elderly.

  Having read Dr Morton’s notes, Dr Faulkner was most impressed with Anne-Marie’s recovery. Assured by both the patient and her father that it was more than the medication, it was Anna’s excellent nursing that was responsible, Dr Faulkner felt very proud of his daughter.

  Some days later, Charles was preparing to leave for Edinburgh. It had become plain to him that his father and Miss Faulkner were in love, and although he had no knowledge of their secret engagement, he was certain they must have an understanding.

  As they parted, Jonathan expressed the hope that they would see him again at Netherfield soon, to which Charles replied, “Sir, if I have read your feelings correctly, I think I will soon be returning on a much happier occasion. Congratulations, she is without doubt one of the finest, most charming women it has been my pleasure to meet. I think you are very fortunate and I am sure you will be exceedingly happy.”

  His father was so moved he could hardly speak and struggled for words to thank his son. Little had been said of their estrangement or its cause.

  But, by his concern and support during the last few difficult weeks, as well as his genuine desire to be as amiable as possible to everyone, Charles had indicated clearly that the feud between them was over.

  Anna was sorry to see him go and said so.

  “I have enjoyed our talks,” she said, and Charles, replying that he had too, promised he would be back, quite soon.

  She had known him not at all, yet now she felt she knew and understood him. As they had tended his sister in her illness and talked together during the long afternoons or, after dinner, when at Jonathan’s request she had sung or played for them, Anna had discovered more about this rather angry young man. Occasionally, he had revealed a gentler side of his nature that, for her, was special, because it linked him to the man she loved, his father, whose gentle kindness was the very heart of his nature.

  Before leaving, he sought her out in the sitting room upstairs, where she often went to work or read on her own. Apologising for intruding upon her, he spoke warmly and sincerely, thanking her for her devoted care of his sister as well as the friendship she had shown him.

  “I very much appreciated our conversations and your beautiful music, Miss Faulkner; that was a most unexpected pleasure. I look forward to returning soon, when I am sure we shall have much more to celebrate.”

  Anna thanked him and noted as he kissed her hand that his eyes were very like his father’s.

  ***

  As the weather improved, Anne-Marie grew stronger.

  When her grandparents, the Bingleys, arrived together with Emma and James Wilson, her spirits lifted considerably, and she was almost her former self again. She, like Anna, had deep affection and admiration for Emma Wilson, whose singular qualiti
es of strength and generosity of spirit, coupled with an elegance of taste, had set her apart as an example to the younger women in the family.

  “I confess, I do not know how Emma manages to deal so well with all the busybodies and troublesome constituents that James must cope with,” she said to her father as they sat together listening to Emma tell some of her many amusing anecdotes. “It must be her kind heart and great charm.”

  Jonathan laughed. “I think, my dear, you will find that in most cases, she finds a sense of humour even more useful than her kind heart,” he said.

  When James was called upon to declare which of his wife’s qualities were the most useful in coping with his constituents, he replied without a moment’s hesitation.

  “I have no difficulty there; it has to be her courage. Indeed, if you had seen her calm the nerves of an irate farmer who would have had me hanged when he discovered I had supported the Repeal of the Corn Laws, you would agree with me. I cannot believe that I would have survived in the Parliament without her considerable courage and honesty.”

  As he spoke, he looked across at Emma, and none of those present who saw the warmth of their affection, could have doubted his word.

  Anna, who loved her prospective sister dearly, wondered if she and Jonathan ever would discover the kind of love that sustained Emma and James.

  The sad news about Mr Gardiner’s illness had taken some of the gaiety out of their party and cast a pall upon their Easter festivities. His daughters Emily and Caroline were helping their mother care for their father, while Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy were both on hand in case of an emergency.

  Anna, sensing some of the family’s sadness, decided it was time for her to return to her own parents at Haye Park. Despite her inner feelings of happiness and her tender feelings towards Jonathan, which she knew to be returned in full measure, she felt no sense of elation.

  Now that her parents were acquainted with her decision to accept Jonathan Bingley’s proposal, she knew her mother would press her for a wedding date, and she asked that they keep news of the engagement secret for a while longer.

  At first, her mother, who had been delighted with the news, was disappointed that she could not tell her friends.

  “May I not tell my sister Charlotte?” she pleaded, but when Anna explained to her mother that it would seem a little insensitive to be celebrating engagements and fixing wedding dates while poor Mr Gardiner’s health was still uncertain, Maria Faulkner agreed.

  She did, however, caution her daughter that secret engagements could be troublesome, what with “pesky neighbours and relations always asking when was the happy day?”

  But any reservations she may have had were overwhelmed by contemplation of her daughter’s future as the wife of Jonathan Bingley and Mistress of Netherfield Park. It was a prospect she could not have dreamed of a few years ago.

  “Indeed,” she remarked to her husband, as they went to bed, “he is a man whose character and fortune are of such quality as to make her the envy of women all over the county. Do you not agree, my dear?”

  Dr Faulkner did agree, though he may have expressed it rather differently.

  He had received from Mr Bingley a very gracious letter, in which he had informed Dr Faulkner of his gratitude and joy at having been accepted by Miss Faulkner and pledged himself to make her happy. Jonathan had also mentioned Anna’s wish that their engagement remain a matter of confidence for a while longer.

  Anna herself had not stopped to think about it, but when her mother spoke of pesky neighbours asking questions, she laughed.

  “It is very unlikely that they will be sufficiently curious about me to ask such questions, Mama. Many of them have probably consigned me to spinsterhood, by now. I am almost twenty-seven and certain to be an old maid, in their eyes. I think you will not be bothered by too many questions from curious neighbours,” she had said.

  It was an indication of her lack of vanity and also of a certain naïveté, which she was only later to realise and perhaps to regret.

  Discouraged by her father and her own sound common sense from indulging in pointless gossip herself, Anna did not believe that she could ever be the subject of such activity. She was genuinely convinced that at her age, when most women were either already married or else confirmed spinsters, being in no way a threat to any of the eligible young ladies of the district, she was an unlikely target.

  Moreover, she reasoned, the long-standing connections between their two families would surely protect Jonathan and herself from such mischief.

  She was to discover, too late, that in this she was, unhappily, mistaken.

  Jane Bingley, who by now had decided that her granddaughter Anne-Marie was sufficiently recovered to enjoy a picnic in the park, felt also that it allowed her to indulge her feelings of satisfaction at the happiness of her son. She could not wait to write to her sister and tell her all about it and in fact began her letter while the preparations for the picnic were afoot.

  My dearest Lizzie, she wrote:

  Imagine my joy, when we arrived to find that not only was Anne-Marie very much recovered from her distressing illness, but here was my dear Jonathan walking around as if an angel had just brought him a gift!

  One did not have to look far for the cause of this amazing condition, for it was soon clear that Anna Faulkner had a similar if less obvious version of the same.

  They are quite clearly in love and secretly engaged, I said to Bingley, who would not go so far, but later that evening, they came to my room and told me themselves. Oh Lizzie, I cannot tell you how happy I was; they seem so right for one another.

  Now, as if there was not enough joy for one woman’s heart to hold, young Charles had arrived from Edinburgh on hearing his sister was ill and stayed with them for three weeks! During which time, it seems, his feud with Jonathan has ended. I feel Anna has had some part to play in this as well. Lizzie, she is a wonderful young woman; Anne-Marie swears she saved her life, but even if that may be regarded as an exaggeration, no one denies that Anna’s devoted care helped make her well again.

  Jonathan is very fortunate, as indeed are we, for as I said to Bingley, being so accomplished, she could quite easily have married some eligible young man about town in London or even in Paris (there are so many Americans in Europe now) and she would have been lost to us.

  As it turns out, she will make Jonathan, who loves her dearly, an excellent wife and be an exemplary companion to his daughters. They are already good friends. I can see they will all be very happy at Netherfield, dear Netherfield, which holds so many happy memories for us …

  Completing her letter later that day, Jane sent her love to her sister and brother-in-law, her dear aunt and uncle, and all her cousins. Clearly, she was content and happy at Netherfield.

  Before closing her letter, she stopped to write a final line.

  Oh Lizzie, if only we could all be as happy as I am at this moment, would life not be perfect?

  Reading her sister’s letter, a few days later, Elizabeth sighed.

  “Oh Jane, will you never realise that life just isn’t like that?” she smiled as she passed the closely written pages across to her husband, who was just finishing his breakfast.

  Darcy read it through quickly while Elizabeth poured out more tea; then, with a somewhat indulgent smile, he said, “Jane would not be Jane if she did not believe in perfect happiness and the innate goodness of human beings. She is an idealist and refuses to think ill of anyone, until their guilt is conclusively proven.”

  Elizabeth laughed.

  “Indeed, you are right, she will give the most malevolent villain the benefit of the doubt,” she said, recalling how reluctant Jane had been to condemn Wickham totally, even after his iniquity was exposed. Similarly, with Lydia, she had always hoped for some amendment in her behaviour.

  “She would be the one to ask, hopefully, ‘Could it be t
hat he really loves her? Can there have been some dreadful mistake?’ My dear sister has never been the one to point the finger at anyone. Yet of us all, Jane, with her goodness and kindness, has the best credentials to judge any conduct.”

  Mr Darcy was more philosophical.

  “Lizzie, we need people like Jane in the world. They provide the antidote to all the cynical and suspicious minds that tell us that society is full of malice and corruption. Your sister believes in people, and that is important; she is not naïve or foolish, she simply hopes to find goodness where most of us expect to find evil. She aspires to be happy and share her felicity with others. It is a genuinely blessed intention.”

  He was warm in his praise of her sister, and Elizabeth was happy to hear it. He continued, “Bingley has confessed to me that, on occasions when he returns home after a difficult business deal or one in which he has found it hard to trust the men he was dealing with, it is Jane who restores his faith in human nature.”

  Elizabeth had no wish to argue with him.

  “Jane is a darling and I would not have her any different. She is very fortunate that her husband and all her children are so amenable she has had little or no strife to contend with. Our children were never so willing to accept my ideas and opinions,” Elizabeth said, and Darcy relented.

  Understanding the source of his wife’s sadness, he sought to comfort her, but would not indulge her.

  “Come now, Lizzie, I will not have you feeling sorry for yourself. I know Cassy and Julian are strong willed and have their own opinions about everything, but I have always supported you, have I not?’ he asked, and she smiled.

  “Yes indeed, you have, and I am truly grateful, Darcy. I would like to be more like Jane and think well of all my fellow men, at least until I am proved wrong or their pretence is clear. As you well know, I did just that on at least one infamous occasion, only to be badly deceived and have my entire family imposed upon most shamefully; quite apart from the pain and mortification to yourself and the continuing aggravation we all suffer, as a consequence,” she said. “So, there is now a cautious streak in me, which will not let me believe everything people say or claim to be, unless I know them well enough to be confident of their character.”