Mr. Bennet
Thefrigidmorningairbit at Bennet’s cheeks as he took the familiar path to Oakham Mount. Whenever the weather allowed, he made the walk—a daily ritual born of remembrance for Elizabeth. Three months had passed since he had seen or heard from his dearest Lizzy; two since Longbourn’s fortunes had changed.
His efforts to end the entail had borne fruit. As soon as the first of the profits were realised, he had approached his distant cousin, Mr Josiah Collins, with an offer of financial compensation to discharge the claim. Collins held his wife’s estate, a decaying manor which, in its best years, had yielded fifteen hundred pounds a year. They settled on a sum of twenty thousand pounds in exchange for Josiah and his male heirs relinquishing all right to Longbourn in perpetuity. The money, Collins declared, would restore his estate and send his son to school.
Bennet had his doubts. Josiah Collins had ever been a poor steward of his affairs. Yet the papers were signed, and the business concluded. Longbourn was entailed no more. He made Jane his heir. His eldest daughter would inherit the estate and a handsome dowry besides.
The profits continued, and Bennet followed Cartwright’s counsel scrupulously. And when it came time to reform his household, his resolve to improve had hardened. None of Mrs Bennet’s wailing could sway him from his purpose.
He recalled the morning he had informed his wife that a governess was engaged for the younger girls. Mrs Bennet had protested, insisting that her daughters needed no instruction from a stranger.
With gentle prodding, he had guided her. “My love, every lady of standing keeps a governess. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia will profit by the arrangement.”
“But how shall we afford it?”
“I have secured the means through careful planning.” He avoided giving her further detail. “Indeed, I believe I have set aside enough for you to refurbish the back parlour.”
Mrs Bennet clapped her hands in delight, showered him with gratitude, and raised no further objection to the governess. She even lent her support when he told the younger girls of Miss Henrietta Morris’s arrival. Her brother, Mr Edward Gardiner, had engaged the lady; whose references were impeccable, and who was said to have particular success with spirited young pupils.
Kitty and Lydia had rebelled at the strictures imposed on them. At almost thirteen and eleven, they fancied themselves wise in the ways of the world. Miss Morris proved equal to the challenge, and through steady management, gained their trust. Under her patient care, they learnt to speak softly and to conduct themselves with decorum. Mary, too, set aside her moral treatises and sermons in favour of sensible novels and the study of history. In three short months, Longbourn had transformed beyond recognition.
If only Lizzywerehere to see it,he thought, feeling morose.
When he returned to the house, Mr Bennet was surprised to find a letter from Elizabeth awaiting him. Mrs Hill had kept it safe and hovered in his study, her hands twisting as she watched him take it up. He examined the direction with a frown; it differed from the one to which his own letters had been sent.Had Fiennes deceived him concerning their residence?
He broke the seal and read—once, twice, and a third time—before laying it aside. His fears were confirmed: Fiennes had forbidden his wife all correspondence with her family.
Clever girl, Lizzy.The thought of his daughter’s manoeuvring stirred a rare smile, pride softening his melancholy. Bennet looked up and saw the housekeeper still lingering by the door. “As well as may be, Hill.” She curtsied in silent understanding and withdrew, closing the door with a soft snick.
This Lady Westland appeared a woman of sense; he thanked the Lord that his daughter had found such a friend. Setting aside the passages for Mrs Bennet and Jane, he folded the letter, intending to reflect further on Elizabeth’s entreaties and reproofs.
I shall tell my Lizzy all that has passed at once,he resolved.And I shall have Jane add some lines of her own.
The letter could not have come at a better time. Mrs Bennet’s lamentations over her daughter’s silence had grown louder over the past weeks, and his paltry excuses were wearing thin. Now, at last, he might soothe her with news from their daughter. He drew paper and quill and began his reply.
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
24 January 1807
My Dearest Lizzy,
Words cannot express how happy I was to receive your letter this morning. How proud I am to know that you have managed to outwit that man. Brava, my sweet, clever girl. You make me proud. Pray, give my thanks to Lady Westland for her kindness in helping you in this way; she seems a true friend.
It comforts me to hear you are well in body, though I fear for your spirits. Mine echo yours. However much I try to keep them light, the weight of guilt and regret presses on me still. Oh, my dearest child, there is much I must tell you.
You remember my speculation with Mr Cartwright. We once feared he might prove dishonest—I am glad to tell you we were mistaken. Hardly a month after your marriage, he arrived with news that our investment had prospered beyond all expectation. Indeed, the profits are greater than I could have imagined, and they continue to grow.
We have enough to see your sisters well-dowered. I have already begun to carry out the improvements you once urged. I have hired a governess who even now is working with your sisters to improve their character, deportment, and temperaments. Already, she has worked wonders. Moreover, I have brought an end to Longbourn’s entail. Mr Collins accepted a generous sum in return for renouncing his own and his descendants’ claims for good.
I mean tobe a better man and a better father, sweetling. This I promise you. Would that I could have spared you from your fate.
Jane is well. She tries to hide her concern for you from your mother and sisters, though without much success. I shall tell her all when she comes down later, and she can add her own note. Pray, write to your mama and sisters as often as you are able. I shall frank every letter without hesitation.
I shall close now, dearest Lizzy. Know that, though I would humbly and gratefully accept your forgiveness, I shall not ask it. Accept instead my heartfelt wishes for your health—if not your happiness.
Your loving father,
Papa
