by J Dawn King
“I told you this wasn’t a good plan.” Darcy well remembered Bingley pleading with him to pen the letter.
Again, Charles ran his hand through his hair, taming the top part a bit.
“There is too much to lose. When Mr. Gardiner told us he was going to move his family out to the Goulding ranch, along with his eldest niece, I felt this was my best chance of getting ahead of the crowd. If she is as lovely as he claims, the men will come from a hundred miles around to court her. I could not take a chance of not attaching her to me before she left Baltimore. I had to have your help.”
“I understand.”
“You do?” Bingley looked closer at this friend. “I am surprised you did not want her for yourself. You don’t, do you?”
Darcy could hear the concern in his voice and was, therefore, quick to reassure him.
“No, I’m not necessarily looking for a wife at this time. Don’t worry, Miss Bennet is all yours.”
Relief flooded Bingley’s face.
“The real test, Charles, will be when she writes back. Through her words you’ll know if she has any intelligence. Imagine the horror of being stuck with a woman who has a pretty face and an empty head.”
While Darcy shuddered, Bingley smiled. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Elizabeth rested the end of her pencil on her chin. She had re-read Mr. Bingley’s letter so many times, it was indelibly imprinted in her memory. She felt the weight of replying in a manner consistent with Jane’s personality. However, each sentence describing the young man and his home resounded in her heart until she found herself pouring her own emotions onto the pages.
February 11, 1869
Baltimore, Maryland
Dear Mr. Bingley,
With pleasure I received your letter of September 4, 1868. Our uncle Gardiner delivered it to my hand only yesterday. Please be reassured of his safe arrival to our home.
Our family listened with delight to the account of his travels. I cannot imagine the adventure of sailing from one ocean to another, though my dreams are to one day do that very thing. Combined with the descriptions of your part of the country, I am intrigued to learn more.
My father is a tutor of classic literature, so I easily recognized Lord Byron’s words. I would share with you a favorite portion of a story on the same theme, which describe my desires and goals, and wonder if you know its source.
“A quiet, secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor—such is my idea of happiness.”
We live a simple life, sir. Due to circumstances far beyond our control, my next younger sister, Elizabeth, and I have managed our household since the beginning of the war. My heart aches for the loss of your parents. Though ours were traumatized by the news of battles and the death of the sons of many of their peers, they are still present with us.
My uncle could not clearly recall the details he shared with you about myself and my family. Since you introduced me to your sisters, I will do the same. I recently turned twenty-two and have four younger sisters. Elizabeth, whom we call Lizzy, is twenty. Mary, the middle sister, is nineteen and has a deeply-embedded passion for spiritual edification. Catherine and Lydia are the youngest at seventeen and fifteen respectively. Lydia has a zest for life, and Kitty follows her wherever she goes. All of us have fair hair and blue eyes apart from Lizzy.
Mr. Bingley, my uncle has invited me to travel with him and his wife to Oregon later in the year to winter with them at their new home. He has said it is in fairly close proximity to your own property of Netherfield Ranch. I would be pleased to accept an introduction. In the meantime, my hope is that you choose to write again as I found much enjoyment in your letter.
As always,
Miss Jane Bennet
Four weeks later, Bingley burst through the door of Darcy’s home. Pemberley had a housekeeper and a foreman to see to the outside chores. Bingley had managed to evade them both.
“She wrote.” He waved a letter at his friend. “You have to write her back.”
Darcy had not had the chance to rise from his chair behind his desk, so held out his hand to receive the letter. His cursory glance revealed fine, even handwriting. By the time he reached the second paragraph, his curiosity at this young woman was piqued. She yearned for adventure? When she quoted Family Happiness by Leo Tolstoy a few sentences later, he realized his own heart was in danger. Horror at the thought had him carefully placing the letter on the surface of his desk. This document had not been intended for him. He was surprised at the disappointment filling his heart.
Breathing in deeply, he picked up the paper and finished the letter. Before he could speak, Bingley interrupted his thoughts.
“She is an angel, is she not?” Bingley barely paused. “I’m determined, Darcy. Miss Jane Bennet will be Mrs. Bingley before she has spent a week on Oregon soil. I can’t wait. I mean, I’ll have to wait, won’t I, though I don’t want to.”
Bingley leaned over the top of the desk until he could read Miss Bennet’s letter upside down. “You’ll write her right away, won’t you? Please, Darcy. Don’t delay. I’m all anticipation of hearing from her again.”
Darcy blew out the breath he had been holding. When had his life gotten so hard?
Two months later – Oregon City, Oregon
“I believe she is practically perfect.” Charles Bingley handed the well-traveled letter over to his closest friend. They had checked for mail as soon as they arrived at the post office, and the latest note, the third response, had been waiting for Bingley.
Fitzwilliam Darcy quickly scanned the letter and then leaned back on the front porch railing to read it a second time. The words danced off the page straight into his heart. Miss Jane Bennet was both articulate and intelligent. Her choice of expressions and use of a precise script painted her as a woman Darcy longed to know. However, it was to his friend she had written. The letter was not his. “No, Bingley,” he thought to himself. “I believe she is not practically perfect. She is perfect.”
Even though trains had been crossing from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean for almost a month on the tracks of the Transcontinental Railroad, the trip was not without its hardships. The cool morning air seeped through the thin panes of glass in the compartment windows along with ash and soot from the steam engines. Benches made from hardwoods ran down each side of the railcar, swaying and bouncing in a never ending fight to unseat the rider.
With each clang of the metal wheels against the rails, the two sisters moved closer to their destination—San Francisco, California. They would remain in the city long enough to acquire transport via ship to their future home in Oregon City. Elizabeth couldn’t wait.
Her intention had been to keep a journal of her adventure to later share with her father. However, the movement of the passenger car made the task impossible.
Elizabeth and Jane were currently watching two sets of twins belonging to the couple seated in front of them. At eight years of age, Timothy and Markus Pedersen were as active as every other boy they had known. Christine and Whitney, though two years younger, had enough vitality to keep up with their brothers. The effort to keep them from running up and down the center aisle was a monumental task for the parents; one they routinely failed. Another part of Tolstoy’s book came to mind as Elizabeth watched the boys launch themselves out of their seats for the millionth time that day.
“I wanted movement and not a calm course of existence. I wanted excitement and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I felt it in myself a superabundance of energy which found no outlet in our quiet life.”
The parents were exhausted and fell asleep as soon as they left the post stop where the Union Pacific railroad gang had met the Central Pacific team at Promontory, Utah.
By far, the majority of the train travel was behind them. They had been
fortunate when the days were dry. Dust through the windows was preferable to being soaked with rain water. They could brush off the debris at each stop, but would have had to sit in the dampness until the air temperature dried them out in a downpour.
Elizabeth Bennet loved each and every minute of it. She had seen her first buffalo while on the Mid-West plains. In her excitement, she had drawn everyone’s attention to the massive animal. She had done the same for the second and the third, until finally realizing that once you saw one buffalo, you pretty much had seen them all. Even so, the sight still thrilled her.
When crossing the Rocky Mountains, she spied the oddest looking mammal she had ever seen. At first she had thought it was an elk, similar to what Mr. Bingley had written about in his third letter. Almost immediately after, Elizabeth saw a majestic beast with narrow horns extending to the sky and realized the first animal must have been a moose. She wondered if they had moose in the Willamette Valley—something to ask Mr. Bingley when she finally saw him.
When Jane had finally herded the twins to their bench, she flopped down onto her designated seat at the end of their row. Both she and Elizabeth took turns keeping an eye on them for their parents.
“How much longer, Lizzy?” Jane brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
Elizabeth smiled broadly, but then closed her mouth quickly so she wouldn’t get gritty sand inside.
“We shall arrive soon enough.” Digging out the picnic hamper from under the seat, she passed around the canteens of water they had refilled at the last train stop. The children drank as if they had spent the past eight days on the desert.
“Jane, might I re-read Mr. Bingley’s letters? I can’t seem to keep my attention on my book.” She recognized it to be a paltry excuse. Her sister did not hesitate to hand them over.
As the children finally fell asleep, the sisters used the last of the evening’s light to select a letter from the pile. There were four altogether. The first had introduced Mr. Bingley. The second had richly described his daily life. The letter was sprinkled with words and phrases from Shakespeare and other British writers. She had to wonder at the gentleman’s extensive education. Possibly he had gone overseas to attend either Oxford or Cambridge? Jealousy at his being able to do so filled her chest, until she realized how ridiculous she was. Possibly, he had been educated at home by his father as she had been.
Letter number three provided more information about Bingley’s area of Oregon, yet it was number four which was her favorite. When she wrote to Mr. Bingley of the sameness of her daily existence, he replied by speaking of the intrinsic value of a woman and how he yearned to provide a home worthy of her. He spoke of his mother in a way that reflected his deep love and respect for the woman responsible for his birth. The tender manner with which he wrote of his younger sister made her feel the need to be equally as cherished. Elizabeth could not contain her sigh.
Aunt and Uncle Gardiner’s plans had fallen through, and Elizabeth had not wanted Jane to traverse the country on her own. The sale of Uncle Gardiner’s business enterprise was taking longer than he had planned, so he and his wife would not be able to leave Baltimore until Gardiner’s Import and Export Service belonged to someone else. There was no guessing how long it would take.
It was the paragraph at the end of the final letter that had spurred Elizabeth to insist she travel with her sister. Mr. Bingley’s neighbor, Mr. Will Darcy, had apparently decided it was time for him to seek a wife as well.
Your letters have had a positive influence on my friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy, whom we call Will. His property abuts mine on the northern boundary. Should your sister, Elizabeth, be inclined to travel with you to Oregon and become your closest neighbor, he has offered his hand in marriage as I offer mine to you.
Therefore, Elizabeth had retrimmed her best dress, packed it carefully, and accepted one of the tickets the two men had included with the letter.
By the time Bingley concluded with “deep affection”, Elizabeth felt the chambers of her protected heart melt. With this re-reading of letter number four, Elizabeth Anne Bennet felt the danger of, for the first time, falling in love…with her favorite sister’s suitor.
Shame and guilt settled upon her like a heavy cloak. She glanced at Jane and felt relief at finding her head bent over letter number one. When pink started rising from her neck to her forehead, Elizabeth realized her sister was reading the part where Mr. Bingley said he hoped she would find him the husband she always wanted. Elizabeth’s sigh was borne of immense pain. She needed to stop this foolishness now!
Folding the letter, she waited until Jane had finished and then handed it over to her. She was resolved to read no more. Suddenly, she wished the train crawled slower, or that it was going in any direction other than west. She was determined to conquer these feelings before they reached the California coast. Mr. Darcy would be her husband, not Mr. Bingley.
Charles Bingley looked in the mirror for at least the twentieth time since they had arrived at the hotel, Oregon House. Both men had bathed and changed into their finest clothing before riding into town. Unfortunately, Oregon weather in every month of the year was typically rainy, and this day was no different. Fortunately, Darcy had thought to pack extra clothes in his saddle bag and had encouraged his friend to do the same.
The steamship’s captain had sent a rider from Portland to let them know they would be sailing up the Willamette once the main cargo was unloaded. The two Bennet sisters should be arriving at the dock only a few blocks from the hotel sometime that day unless there was difficulty with the wind, current, or the cargo. Darcy had stationed himself by the front window of the second story room to best watch for incoming marine traffic. He had reserved rooms for the ladies in addition to the rooms he and Bingley occupied.
As was his nature, he had arranged for the young women to have an excellent view of the best Oregon City had to offer. Built in front of a large park-like square, each room inside the Oregon House had a fireplace, a cozy bed, and facilities where they could wash up after the trip. The day promised to be warm as the breeze had blown the early morning rain clouds from the sky. The walk from the docks would be lovely.
Deep inside he prayed Bingley would find Elizabeth Bennet much more attractive than the beautiful eldest sister. Although Darcy’s intention had been to look for a wife after his sister, Georgiana, was married and settled in her own home, the letters from Jane Bennet had thawed his cold reserve until fledgling feelings of affection had filtered into his heart.
From the receipt of the first reply, he had often found himself walking the hallways of his home in the silence of the evening unexpectedly wishing he had a lovely companion to share it with. He had never before felt lonely. With each successive letter, the feelings had grown with intensity until he did something so out of character it still surprised him. He offered marriage to a complete stranger—not even the stranger he actually desired. He would marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet—not her sister, Jane.
Jane Bennet was not his. She would never be his. He needed to stop this attraction immediately.
“Do you think she will find me attractive?” Bingley asked for at least as many times as he had looked in the mirror.
“I am not going to comment on your appearance, my friend. You can change nothing at this point, so calm yourself.” What a hypocrite! Darcy had packed his finest linen shirt and tie, shined his boots, stopped by the barber to have him trim his wavy dark hair, and made sure he waited to shave until just before the steamship arrived. His treacherous heart had him grooming himself to his best for Miss Jane Bennet. He wished Bingley to take one look at Miss Elizabeth and decide she was the one for him. He huffed aloud.
“You can be impatient with me all you want, Darcy. I am soon to meet my bride. You are as well.”
Will Darcy wished he hadn’t been so set in his ways when he spoke with Mr. Gardiner. Being a cautious man with a plan for the future, he had not responded as quickly as Bingley. Had he done so, it would be him wai
ting for the woman he held in his heart, instead of second best.
From a distance, he could see a vessel as it rounded the last bend before it would glide quickly into port. The river ran rapidly before the horseshoe falls, so it took a skilled mariner to deliver the passengers safely. He waited until it was much closer before he informed his friend. They both grabbed their hats and walked out the door.
San Francisco, California, had been a marvel to the weary travelers. Brimming with gold-seekers and foreign workers, Elizabeth and Jane had found lodgings at the Occidental Hotel, rejoicing at the luxury of having a bed which was soft and unmoving. Once in their rooms, the waiting bath and laundry had been worth the extra days they had spent before gaining passage to Oregon.
Jane had chosen to remain behind to rest, while Elizabeth accompanied the Pedersen family to points of interest around the city. They sampled Chinese fare, each of them craving the small dumplings filled with seafood of some sort as well as Dungeness crab on the waterfront. It had been a wonderful coincidence to discover the twins were traveling to Oregon City, Oregon, on the same ship.
By the time they crossed the violent waves at the mouth of the Columbia River, they were, all of them, ready to be back on solid ground. The rain and wind had not stopped the whole time they were at sea, and both Jane and Elizabeth worried they would be wilted and ragged by the time they met Mr. Bingley. Nonetheless, the sun appeared as they sailed upriver, and they were fully dry from the wind by the time the ship made its first stop in Portland, almost a day’s journey west of their intended destination.
Again, they sought comfort in a dockside hotel. When the travelers reboarded the vessel the next day for the remainder of their journey by water, the ladies were attired in their best.