Prudence and Practicality

by C. J. Hill

  “I cannot rejoice as much as you in our escape. I would prefer that there was some way in which I could alleviate my friend’s suffering just a little, but Elizabeth will certainly not let me know of this trouble herself and so I cannot intrude. It breaks my heart to think of her pain.”

  William looked at his wife and admired her goodness of spirit while feeling the sting of her retort; in truth he was very much relieved at his narrow escape but realised that he should have kept his opinions to himself, especially in light of his wife’s feelings towards the family. He tried to retrench his position a little and thereby regain Charlotte’s good opinion.

  “My dear, of course I do not wish my cousins ill but the matter must be reflected upon as a lesson to be learnt; the loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable and its repercussions will necessarily be felt by all members connected to that female. Perhaps I should not have stated my case so baldly but the fact remains that is it a narrow escape for me and my position; should I now be married to a sister of that non-virtuous female, I could not imagine a worse outcome for my situation with the house of de Bourgh. Rest assured, my dear, Lady Catherine would not be pleased at having her clergyman involved in such a family’s troubles. I might have to leave my post even now if she considers it to be prudent due to our minor connection. I must consider how to broach the subject with her so that she is not forced to make this decision. You see? Even I am now contaminated by Lydia’s actions. She is affecting even my position in life as we speak and has no knowledge of it. It is most disagreeable.”

  Charlotte squirmed at the mention of Lady Catherine and hastened to advise her husband of the folly of broaching the subject at all – how would the news ever be carried to that lady’s ears otherwise? But William remained adamant; he would go the following morning – two visits in one day and with such different motives could not be wise – and apprise her ladyship of the calamity, throw himself upon her mercy and beg for her understanding regarding his dubious relations.

  “For remember, Charlotte. Honesty is always the best policy in every matter; you may be sure that any attempt to hide the truth will be sure to be found out and never will you be trusted again by those whom you have tried to fool with lies or subterfuge.”

  “Of course, I agree with you, my dear, in general, but I maintain that informing Lady Catherine of this matter is unnecessary. What outcome do you expect to gain from the meeting? You will give her even more reason to look down upon you and your connections, and me, as it involves my dearest friend’s sister. What concern is it of hers other than to give her power over those in less fortunate circumstances? She can, after all, offer none of her usual assistance in the matter which she is so fond of dispensing and so will have to resort to casting blame and recriminations as a remedy. If you care not how it will look for you, I beg you not to incriminate my friend or me in your attempt to assuage your imagined guilty connection. Please sleep upon your decision tonight and find a better answer in the morning.”

  William, while visibly moved by Charlotte’s outburst, considered further discussion unnecessary, merely bowing and leaving her alone in the garden; he had no doubt as to the correct procedure in such a case as this and no amount of pleading would convince him otherwise. He also felt it his duty, as a parson and a cousin, to write immediately to the afflicted family and offer his condolences; the death of their daughter would have been preferable to this lamentable event.

  XXXI

  It was with great trepidation that Charlotte watched her husband prepare for his visit to Rosings the next morning; his fastidiousness over his appearance made remarkable by the length of time he spent in front of the hall mirror – a object he generally violently abhorred as a promoter of vanity - but this morning’s excessive lengths were to ensure that nothing could be faulted in his outward appearance. His connections he could do nothing about.

  While engrossed in his preparations, privately he continued to compose his address to Lady Catherine, and to invent several scenarios for that meeting and his eloquent response to each should it become necessary.

  “I wish you well with your meeting with Lady Catherine today, William, even though I still cannot agree entirely with your actions. I know that you feel it is the right thing to do; my only hope is that Lady Catherine receives the news with unusual equanimity and understands how little we are involved in it.” She smiled uncertainly at him as she said the words but hoped rather than believed them to be true.

  “Do not trouble yourself unduly, my dear, I am sure all will be well. I have thought long and hard about the rights and wrongs of the situation and every time the answer appears the same. It is my duty to be honest and live without a blemish upon my character. I must never open the way for deception and distrust to rear their ugly heads. No, my dear, honesty is the best policy in every case regardless of the temptation to circumvent it when it would be more palatable.

  “Go about your daily business as usual but remain calm and do not exert yourself unnecessarily; remember that you are the protector of our family line and must guard both yourself and the baby from harm and anxiety, for, truly, there is nothing to be anxious about, I give you my word. I have an exceptional level of understanding with her ladyship and I am sure all will be well.

  “Why do you not write our news to your family? I am sure they will be most delighted at the prospect of becoming grandparents and aunts and uncles. Focus on positive thoughts, my dear, and expect me home within the hour.”

  So after William left, Charlotte spent an hour sitting at her writing desk in the sunny window of the parlour apprising her mother and her friend of her expectations. Of the fate that had befallen the Bennet family, she responded briefly to her mother but to her friend, not at all, even though it pained her to be so reticent when all she desired was to commiserate and attempt to relieve Eliza’s suffering.

  However, it was not until almost ten days later that Charlotte was to understand the enormity of what her husband had imparted to Lady Catherine on that day. She had endured, on ensuing visits to Rosings, the constant allusions by her ladyship to the affair but had done nothing to encourage the discussion; fortunately, Lady Catherine had grown tired of the topic.

  William had returned from his visit with Lady Catherine that day content in the knowledge that he had not only done his duty to his employer in informing her of the behaviour of one of his distant relations but had also indicated to her ladyship, in no uncertain terms, his utter and complete abhorrence of the nature of the behaviour and exactly what he believed should be done to punish it. His intolerance was, he had found, remarkably similar to that of Lady Catherine who concurred with his strictures and condemned Lydia as an example of a most selfish and irresponsible girl who had used her allures and trickery to gain her own ends; a female of the type one could expect only to emanate from parents who allowed all of their daughters to be out at once without the benefit of a proper education. It showed the consequences of a most liberal upbringing and it was astonishing how Miss Elizabeth had managed to emerge from such a family comparatively unscathed, apart from her outspoken opinions.

  Their agreement was so satisfactory that William had seen no impediment to his continued success at Hunsford and, upon his return to the Parsonage, his bolstered self-righteousness had impelled him to his desk where, unbeknownst to Charlotte, he had penned a most condemnatory and inherently insulting letter to Mr. Bennet.

  However, when asked later by his wife as to the verity of its contents, he disputed that such a tone was intended, merely that he had wanted to convey, in the most sincere terms his, and Lady Catherine’s understanding of the grievous affliction under which the family was now suffering and to offer some heartfelt advice regarding the future treatment of their wayward daughter.

  It came about as Charlotte was taking a turn in the garden admiring how well the new vegetables that William had planted were progressing, before reading a letter that had arrived in the morning’s post from Elizabeth. The news conta
ined therein, however, did not prolong that feeling of contentment; Charlotte had to sit down, distressed, as she read the contents.

  Longbourn House

  Dear Charlotte,

  I thank you for your letter containing such welcome and happy news! I am overjoyed for you, as to become a mother is something which, I know, you have longed for and had almost given up hope of attaining. The child will be blessed to have a mother such as you and, I hope, I shall be allowed to be a distant but doting aunt. Take every care of your health, Charlotte, and enjoy this exciting part of your life to the fullest.

  We have been in receipt of many letters recently – some, such as yours, containing more pleasant news than others. We received a letter from Mr. Collins which caused some anger and dismay amongst those of us who do not feel the need of sermons or being condemned to a life of a social pariah because of the mistakes of a younger sister.

  I do not believe for a moment, Charlotte, that you are in any way to blame or, indeed, had any knowledge of his letter or its contents, or I would not broach the subject with you; I could not identify your kind and understanding nature as a balance to any of the words it contained and so believe it to be wholly conceived by your husband as a kind of reproach and vengeance against the family in general and the daughter in particular who refused his approaches when he was first in Meryton.

  To state that it would be better my sister were dead rather than in her unfortunate present predicament, was cruel of him but then to inform my father that this current misfortune was due entirely to his negligence in the upbringing of Lydia was unreasonable and unkind, especially when my father had just spent the best part of two weeks searching the streets of London with my uncle Gardiner, only to return down-hearted, exhausted and empty-handed. To then express his relief at his narrow escape from being more closely attached to such a family was unworthy of Mr. Collins and his profession.

  I know that this information must come as a shock to you, Charlotte, as clearly you had nothing to do with this dreadful letter and its contents, but I felt that you must, in the interest of our intimate and long-lasting friendship, know the facts so that nothing will be awkward between us. I confess that I would not be able to speak easily with you as a friend if I thought that you had known about this and had condoned its contents and the sending of it in any way.

  Be assured that, for the most part, the contents of the letter were largely dismissed by its readers and I know that you will deal with this information in your own sensible manner. But if you could forestall any future, similar missives, it would be greatly appreciated!

  Hopefully, however, such letters may not be necessary as I now have some good news to impart concerning the situation.

  Firstly, my uncle Gardiner has finally found where Lydia and Wickham have been hiding in London and has started the process towards their marriage! What a relief for us all! It will be done with all necessary haste, as you can imagine, once the particulars have been managed. Mamma is overjoyed in every respect except that she refuses to understand the necessity of Lydia being married in London; she wants the wedding to be in Meryton with all our friends! Can you imagine what a scandal that would create? Never mind, we console her as best we can and she is determined to have them to stay just as soon as they can arrange a visit.

  I thought to have other, more pleasant news to impart to you from my tour with my aunt and uncle but it is not to be, so it would appear. Until the trouble with Lydia arose about us like a dark storm cloud, we had a most pleasant time of it; we even visited Pemberley! What do you think of that? At first we were told that Mr. Darcy and his whole family were away for the Summer but then, to my great shame and embarrassment, he caught us surveying the landscaping in his garden! I was mortified!

  Surprisingly, his manner has quite changed. He wanted to know my aunt and uncle, inviting us to dinner and at-homes several times during our short visit. He is exceedingly different when on his own grounds and quite the charming host; the exact opposite of the man we met in Meryton. My aunt and uncle were quite taken in! Mr. Bingley and his sisters were there as well as Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, who is quite charming and a little shy of strangers but had heard all about me from her brother and was quite pleased to converse with me at length– if you can imagine that!

  Unfortunately, our pleasant visit was interrupted by the escapade of my sister and we had to leave immediately, and, after such a disgrace to our family, I should not expect any further invitations to Pemberley to be forthcoming but it was most pleasant and unexpected, and I am very glad to have come to know Mr. Darcy as he truly is.

  Do not hate me for my frankness regarding Mr. Collins’ letter, my dear Charlotte. Do, please, try to persuade him to use his influence for positive effects rather than negative; it would surely only be of benefit to him in his profession.

  I hope that I will have better news to impart in my next letter but in the meantime, rest and plan for a most happy future!

  With love from your friend,

  Elizabeth Bennet

  Charlotte re-read the letter with great agitation, her anger at her husband’s interference in her friend’s life becoming more profound with every word she read.

  How right Lizzy was to air her distress; even though she claimed not to have been too affected by it, clearly, it had upset her enough to alert Charlotte to its existence. Thank goodness she could, in all truthfulness, claim no knowledge of the letter or its contents, but she had been remiss in allowing William to discuss the matter with Lady Catherine. Bad news always travels fastest with vindictiveness as its courser and Lady Catherine was certainly no admirer of Elizabeth’s wit or independent spirit. How secretly delighted she must have been to receive confirmation of her dislike of the family from which Elizabeth originated. Lady Catherine’s thinly-veiled irritation when Elizabeth had proffered her pert opinions or when she had held her own court by the piano with Darcy and Fitzwilliam, excluding Lady Catherine from the conversation, obviously still rankled; that any other woman should dominate conversation or company was unthinkable at Rosings. Now, rightfully, in Lady Catherine’s mind, that spirit had been crushed by a sister who obviously had the same attitude to rank. A fitting punishment for those who clearly had not learnt their place in society. Charlotte could see it all playing out in her mind – the silent jubilation and judgemental delight occasioned by William’s discovery, disguised as sincere sympathy, and she deeply regretted her moment of weakness in giving William a free reign with information that was not actually his to disperse. Now, if nothing else, her friend could not consider her to be a trusted confidante; she had lost that trust just as soon as she had allowed William to read her mother’s letter.

  On the other hand, Charlotte reasoned, William was now her husband and, therefore, her first priority and someone to whom she owed the most allegiance, above any friendship however long an acquaintance it may have been. Her first loyalty should be to him and their partnership and not to the protection of her friend from being humiliated by an ill-advised letter and its contents. William was entirely within his rights as a member of the family to express his opinions about the situation; whether those opinions were sought or needed was immaterial. She found herself in a quandary, weighing the two sides of the arguments against each other.

  And that was his attitude to Charlotte’s questions when she finally met with him at the dinner table that day. He listened, astounded, at her accusations of cruelty to a family already suffering great distress and remained unmoved, although a little uncomfortable, when she itemised the contents of the letter that had been recounted to her by Lizzy.

  “Oh, but cousin Elizabeth was not to be the recipient of the letter at all,” he airily replied, “ and I see no reason why she should have read it. It was addressed to her father and it was to him that I directed my concerns. She is in no position to reprove me and my opinions on such a matter!”

  “You are mistaken, William,” Charlotte replied firmly. “You did not take into account
the feelings of the people involved in such a personal situation. How do you think Mr. Bennet would have felt if he had received and read your letter in the midst of such turmoil and confusion? After all you have done recently to repair the rift between you and him, how could you have sent such a cruel letter in his time of trial? It is most fortunate that he did not receive your letter since he was absent searching for his daughter in London at the time - Jane and Elizabeth had been instructed to open all his mail. They were the ones most affected and hurt by your lack of sympathy and understanding. They were the ones who had to suffer your harsh opinions of their family’s reputation of which, believe me, they were completely aware without you reminding them. I do not know if Mr. Bennet has seen the missive but you may rest assured that his two eldest daughters will long remember your unkind words which were only designed to hurt in their hour of need; they will not forgive it lightly, I assure you.”

  Mr. Collins drew himself up, insulted.

  “When a man writes to another man, it is of a different style than writing to a lady. Of course, I would not have spoken in such a manner if I had known that it would be read by my fair cousins; it was directed at their father in an attempt to bring him into awareness of the ill-judged and liberal manner in which he has allowed his daughters to be raised. My intent was merely to illuminate his errors in judgment so as not to have the situation repeated with any of his other daughters in the future.”