Longbourn to London

by Beutler Linda

  Caroline started to cry silently. Louisa cooed to her but looked at Jane and Georgiana, and they understood it was time for Bingley’s sisters to be alone.

  Elizabeth waited in the hall and stopped pacing when her dearest and her newest sisters emerged from the bedroom, affected by the churning chaos of Caroline’s emotions. Elizabeth was alarmed that she had forgotten Darcy’s letter, now shoved in her pocket. She was afflicted by an odd sense that she had somehow betrayed him with carelessness for allowing his words to fall into Caroline’s malevolent hands. Such were her thoughts as the three women embraced each other, and Elizabeth finally broke down. She tried mightily to suppress sobs. Jane and Georgiana were quick to guide her to the room she would occupy that night.

  “Oh, Jane, Georgiana. How will he forgive me?”

  “Lizzy!” Jane sat on the bed next to Elizabeth and rubbed her sister’s hands vigorously. “What is there to forgive? You were not careless. We must admit the entire fault lies with Caroline. That much is clear. She had every opportunity to return the letter to you or to me. Instead she got me out of the room as quickly as she could, and sought to form a conspiracy with Louisa. Fortunately, Louisa is good at heart—truly she is, Lizzy—and she retrieved the letter before Caroline could read much of it aloud. Have you read it?”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “Do so now, Lizzy. I heard her read the first sentences and it is such a beautiful expression of his devotion that even Caroline could not continue reading. In the face of such love, she had to admit her failure, which unleashed her rage.”

  With trembling hands, Elizabeth drew the letter from her pocket. It was not in her nature to be secretive with Jane. Georgiana sat to her right and Elizabeth supposed the younger woman already knew many of her secrets. “Do you mind if I read it aloud? I am sure he is not improper… ‘The first letter you have ever written to me is in my hands. I have not set it down since opening it, as it is now my dearest possession. Your words have given me such happiness, I must respond immediately; I would not have you in any suspense over their delightful effect on me.’”

  Elizabeth could read no more and held the letter to her chest. Finally, she whispered, “Is he not the best of men?”

  Jane nodded to Georgiana and said to Elizabeth, “We shall let you finish this in private. We shall be in the drawing room awaiting Charles and the colonel. I would not have Charles hear of this event from Mr. Hurst. Please join us when you have finished.”

  Elizabeth smiled wanly at Jane and Georgiana. “Thank you. I shall not be but a few minutes.” She returned to Darcy’s words. The letter was everything she hoped it would be. He did not think the worst of her for having written in so forthright a manner—in fact, quite the opposite. She dried her tears, and knew Darcy would see this trying afternoon for what it was—the final act of Caroline’s farcical one-sided courtship.

  ***

  In London, Darcy’s business with the jewellers went well. The emerald ring would be perfect as Elizabeth’s betrothal ring. The jewellers ensured the setting was secure, cleaned and polished the stone, and returned the ring to Darcy in a brown velvet box.

  He planned to give it to her as soon as they were together again, and he thought perhaps he might even preface the gift with a third proposal. His second proposal, Darcy still found wanting, though it certainly had the desired effect. He had merely stated that feelings he had at the time of the first proposal had not changed, which was hardly true as his devotion to her had become much deeper, joined as it was with gratitude. He had been warmed, and much relieved, by her uncharacteristically inarticulate but nevertheless positive reply. He now wished he had thought to bring this ring with him.

  The diamond ring would be reset with emeralds encircling it, and he would give it to her at Pemberley in the summer. He had an idea about enhancing his mother’s pink pearls and those would be ready for the wedding night. Darcy had taken a bag of loose pearls, and wished for them to be drilled and put onto golden hairpins for Elizabeth to wear for the wedding. Much to Darcy’s surprise, the jeweller had slightly larger pearls already made up in such a fashion. He purchased a set to be sent to her directly by the jeweller’s special courier with a note from Darcy. They even had a small room with just a chair and table where gentlemen such as he might compose a gift card in private, on the jeweller’s stationary.

  17 November 1812

  Grandison & Co. Jewellers, Ltd.

  Kensington, London

  Dearest Elizabeth,

  Several times I have told you how beautiful I thought you on the night of the Netherfield Ball. If you have not yet made other arrangements, I put this quite forward suggestion to you—knowing you may think it improper but also knowing you will try to humour your adoring bridegroom—that your hair be styled as it was the night of the ball and adorned with these pearls.

  I know the custom is for brides to wear bonnets or veils or—horror of horrors—a conglomeration of both. Please give my suggestion your fondest consideration, but if you cannot find it in your dear heart to fly in the face of convention, please accept them anyway, knowing in our future life together, you will have many occasions when they may be of use. In any case, you will be my beautiful bride.

  With deepest love,

  F. Darcy

  ***

  The evening at Netherfield passed more calmly than the first hour but was not without its trials. Bingley was mortified when he learned of Caroline’s actions. Elizabeth was amazed he could be so disturbed— not supposing the always-ebullient Bingley had a breaking point— but was not aware of all the slights and insults Caroline had been spitting at her with unveiled contempt, and even at Darcy for appearing so besotted. Netherfield seemed to bring out the worst in Caroline Bingley.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam watched the family drama develop with no little concern and now realised that Jane Bennet was bringing more civil relations to her marriage than was Charles Bingley. He intended to write Darcy and say as much. The colonel was most impressed with Jane and was sorry he had not accompanied Darcy to Netherfield a year ago. As the story went, Bingley fell in love with Jane at first sight, and the colonel could well believe it. There was something remarkable about the two eldest Bennet sisters, and he was sorry not to have been the first in line in either case.

  Louisa stayed with her sister most of the evening, and Jane acted as hostess, giving a good account of herself in the role. Hurst was as talkative as anyone had ever heard him, absurdly currying Bingley’s and Elizabeth’s favours with apologies for Caroline long after the subject had been worn thin.

  Elizabeth longed to sit up late into the night with Jane, dissecting the afternoon’s events and deciding how to tell Darcy, but Bingley seemed reluctant to relinquish Jane’s attention or Georgiana’s company. The party grew quiet, and Elizabeth was left with the impression that everyone in the drawing room wished to speak without her presence. She sighed and decided. “I must wish you all a good evening, and I shall see you in the morning. I shall draft a letter to Mr. Darcy. Jane, if you might tap at my door when you come up? I may not have the tone of the letter just right and would seek your good opinion.”

  “Of course, Lizzy. I shall join you presently.”

  As the door of the drawing room closed behind her, Elizabeth would have sworn she heard several sighs of relief. Are they all so afraid of my response to Caroline that they will not discuss the matter in front of me? Am I thought such a harridan?

  The next morning, Elizabeth’s letter was included in an express with correspondence from Bingley to Darcy, which Elizabeth assumed covered the matter of Caroline’s behaviour and Bingley’s explanation and apology. Elizabeth also noticed a letter to Darcy from Georgiana in the packet, and even one from Jane. Perhaps they all decided the best policy was to offer several accounts, letting Darcy seek the truth from many sources.

  Chapter 12

  An Eventful Week…part 3

  “Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.”


  William Shakespeare

  Much Ado about Nothing

  Although Fitzwilliam Darcy fully understood his own definition of innocence regarding his beloved’s knowledge of the sensual realm and marital relations, he would have been surprised to know that she defined him as an innocent in the art of the giving of gifts and in the understanding of their effect upon those who were not the actual recipient. He had no way of knowing the effect his presents had on anyone but Elizabeth, but had he sought that lady’s advice, she might have warned him that her mother would respond in a way wholly unreasonable but not unpredictable.

  It would not have occurred to Darcy that Mrs. Bennet would have an opinion on the subject of how his bride would style her hair on her wedding day, or that anyone, Mrs. Bennet included, would seek to be obeyed if their desires ran contrary to the wishes of a bride. And so it was, for the second time, that Elizabeth received a gift from Darcy that drew the disapprobation of his future motherin-law. For Mrs. Bennet, the first gift to her daughter was not fine enough, and the second far too grand.

  The courier from Grandison’s arrived at Longbourn two days after Elizabeth and Jane returned from Netherfield. This auspicious person presented himself two hours after a box from a prominent London milliner had arrived, addressed to Miss Jane Bennet, containing two wedding bonnets, from which Jane was to choose one and return the rejected specimen.

  Elizabeth, Mrs. Gardiner, Mrs. Bennet, and Jane were in Jane and Elizabeth’s bedroom, studying the two hats and watching Jane try on one, then the other, interminably. Three of the ladies found the simpler embroidered white veil over a low frame to be the most becoming to the lady and her wedding gown—of which she was not yet in possession, it being given its final hemming in Meryton—but Mrs. Bennet preferred the bonnet with a more pronounced brim that Elizabeth, under her breath, likened to the prow of a ship. It trailed an elbow length veil with rather more beading than suited the absent gown.

  When Mrs. Bennet left to confer briefly about the evening’s dinner, Elizabeth suggested to Jane that they and their sisters each wear a specimen of the more ornate bonnet and advertise themselves as “an Armada of Bennets.” Jane was convulsed with laughter, and Mrs. Gardiner was chuckling as Elizabeth paraded around the room in the offending chapeau when Mrs. Bennet re-entered the room. She was instantly livid.

  “Lizzy! You will ruin that lovely bonnet, and Jane will have no proper veil for her wedding. And we shall have to pay for it. I am sure, as Mrs. Darcy you will order whatever you want and abuse your clothes howsoever you please, but you are not married yet, Miss Lizzy…”

  “Mama,” Jane looked at her mother with heart melting sincerity, “you know Lizzy is right. The lower bonnet and longer veil will suit me much better. The larger white bonnet is, I am sorry to say, also uncomfortable.” Jane took the hat from her sister’s head, examining how it was fashioned inside. Whoever had sewn it had done so very ill.

  Mrs. Bennet breathed a loud sigh and gazed with favour on her most beautiful daughter. “If it is uncomfortable, dear Jane, then I would not have you wear it. All of your tears that day should be tears of joy.”

  Jane stood wearing the veil she liked best, and embraced her mother. “Thank you, Mama.”

  As both hats were being packed into their boxes, a smart rapping was heard on the front door. Hill answered as the four ladies stepped onto the upstairs landing to watch. They could not hear what was said, but Hill turned and called up the stairs, “Miss Elizabeth, this courier has a gift for you from Grandison’s Jewellers, in London.”

  Elizabeth blushed and started down the stairs, only to be edged aside by her mother. “Grandison’s! I shall take the package, young man!” Mrs. Bennet rushed to the courier.

  “Please, I do beg your pardon, ma’am, but are you Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” The courier tried to sound as civil and friendly as possible.

  “Do not be ridiculous. I am her mother.” Mrs. Bennet reached for the beautifully wrapped package.

  The courier took a step back. “I am indeed very sorry, ma’am, but it is Grandison’s policy to deliver our items into the hands of their intended recipients. I do apologise.”

  Elizabeth stepped forward. “I am Elizabeth Bennet, sir.” She gave him a rueful smile.

  “For you, ma’am, from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” The courier executed a handsome and well-practiced bow. “You will find a card from the gentleman inside the package.”

  Elizabeth looked to Hill, not knowing whether a gratuity should be offered. “Ah, ma’am,” said the courier, recognising the look. “I cannot accept a gratuity from you; it has been paid by the sender.”

  “Thank you,” murmured Elizabeth. She was still blushing. The courier left, riding in a small, unmarked carriage with a driver and secretly well-armed footman.

  “Open it, girl!” Mrs. Bennet was beside herself.

  Elizabeth tore the wrapping, revealing a handsome wooden box with a hinged lid. Darcy’s card was inside but Elizabeth tucked it into her pocket before her mother could abscond with it. Inside the box was a velvet pouch. Elizabeth could feel loose items in it and opened the drawstrings to withdraw a golden hairpin topped with a pearl the size of a silver tuppence.

  “Oh, Lizzy! How lovely! How many are there?” Jane was at her elbow.

  Jane took the pouch and poured it into her sister’s cupped hands. There were fifteen perfectly matched pearl hairpins. Tears stung Elizabeth’s eyes. “Jane, oh Jane.” She looked at her sister with a smile starting to crumple around its edges. “He has said he loves my dark hair,” she whispered. Her throat tightened.

  The pouch was laid on the table and the hairpins arrayed upon the velvet. “We shall give you a moment to read your card, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner. She pointedly placed her arm around Mrs. Bennet’s shoulders and turned her away saying, “We shall be in the drawing room.”

  “What can Mr. Darcy have to say that needs such privacy?” groused Mrs. Bennet as Jane joined her mother and aunt.

  Elizabeth read the card and did cry but smiled through the tears. She knew her mother would never allow the pearls to be worn for the wedding. After replacing them in their pouch and the pouch into its box, Elizabeth took a deep breath, preparing nevertheless to make Darcy’s case.

  ***

  An hour later, Elizabeth and Jane were both in tears—Elizabeth from vexed frustration and Jane in sympathy. Mrs. Bennet was shrill and shouting. Mrs. Gardiner was quietly infuriated. It was she who finally said, “We do not need to settle this now. When the bridal gowns are delivered tomorrow and the girls try them on, we can be assured the selection for Jane is the best one. When you see Lizzy’s gown, Fanny, you can judge what might suit her most. There is still fabric enough and time enough to follow our first plan to make her a proper veil to match her gown. Perhaps the pearls might be incorporated into it?”

  “Mr. Darcy may spend whatever he chooses, but we must show him the Bennets are not so profligate. Lizzy may wear the bonnet Jane is not wearing. It will be less expense than making Lizzy a new hat.”

  Elizabeth began to protest but a hand on her arm stilled her as her aunt pursued their point. “Fanny, dear Sister. At your request, Lizzy is wearing a colour called candlelight. The bonnet is white. She cannot possibly wear it. If you would spurn Mr. Darcy’s request, we must at least have Lizzy in a veil or bonnet matching her gown.”

  “Nonsense. No one will notice. Lizzy must wear the second bonnet.”

  Elizabeth eyed her mother warily and stood. “Madam,” she addressed her mother formally, “had not Mr. Darcy given me these pearls and suggested I wear them for my wedding, would you so much as suggest I wear a white bonnet with a candlelight gown?”

  Mrs. Bennet dithered before responding. “Your Mr. Darcy may be a man of fashion, Lizzy, but we are not without our own resources of taste.”

  “In what county is it the height of fashion for a bride to appear mismatched?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, incredulous.

  “Oh bother!” Mrs. Bennet stood,
trying to face down Elizabeth, who was two inches taller than her mother. “I won’t have it, Lizzy. I shall not have you upstage Jane. You are always trying to put yourself ahead of her, and your father pushes you to it every minute. I suppose you will run to him now, Miss Lizzy, for his protection, but I shall not have it. I shall not have it!” She flounced from the room, and her heavy tread was heard ascending the stairs to her sitting room.

  Jane and Elizabeth stared after her, their tears abated by stunned silence.

  “Close your mouths, dears, you look like startled fish,” their aunt murmured. “It is time to let the dust settle. Nothing shall be deemed decided until the gowns arrive. Do not fret, either of you.”

  The sisters nodded, and Elizabeth left the room to write the necessary thank-you note to Darcy. She settled herself in the small sitting room after drinking a glass of water to restore her equanimity. Two lovely gifts and each creating havoc in their different ways. I pray he will send no more, poor dear man. How amazed he will be when he learns of it all. But what am I to say to him? She sighed, trying to clear her head.

  Elizabeth breathed deeply to calm herself, and closed her eyes. A vision appeared in her mind of sitting at a looking glass preparing for a ball, putting the pearl pins into her hair, and over her shoulder, Fitzwilliam Darcy’s handsome face, with dimples pronounced in approval, watching her in the glass. She opened her eyes, the vision dissolved, and she laughed.

  18 November 1812

  Longbourn

  My Dear Fitzwilliam,

  Do not think for a moment, dear sir, that I do not see what you are about. Your generous and beautiful gift of pearl hairpins is clearly meant to help you improve your memory of past events. I know you do not yet follow my philosophy of remembering the past only as it gives us pleasure, and you seek to improve the future in order to banish the past. It remains to be seen whose way of thinking is best, but I am thankful for your gift and even more thankful that we have our entire future together to determine which of us has the better approach.