I confess, Lizzy, that I am glad of it. Cousin Anne would not make an engaging sister. Yet I must not be unjust, for Fitzwilliam says she cannot help being a shy and retiring soul. She possesses a dowry of forty thousand pounds and has inherited Rosings Park besides. I believe my cousin Richard ought to try for her. Should they fall in love, he would be set for life with both house and fortune, and being born a second son is no easy matter.
I was at last in company with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst this past week. Miss Bingley declared she had heard my brother was returned to town and wished to be among the first to welcome him.
I inquired after Mr. Bingley, but all Miss Bingley would say is that he has been out of town these several weeks on business. He is in the north, in Yorkshire, and is expected to return to London within a fortnight. I must tell you, Lizzy, that when she gave me this account, she cast a look at my brother that was sly in its meaning, though, as he never looks at her, he perceived neither smirk nor insinuation.
I must close. My brother cautioned me to keep my letter to one page, lest I compel you to exhaust your purse upon postage. Pray write soon, for I miss you very much.
With love,
Georgiana
Elizabeth remained seated beneath the oak and pondered the letter in her hand. Would Mr. Darcy be compelled by his aunt to marry his cousin? Was she also beautiful? A dowry of forty thousand pounds was beyond anything Elizabeth could properly conceive. Mary had written of Rosings Park in such terms that it seemed less a house than a grand mansion or a castle.
To be an heiress with powerful connections would alter the course of any woman’s life. Had she possessed such advantages, she might have dared to set her cap at Mr. Darcy, for then she would have been worthy of him.
Elizabeth laughed at her own fancy. It would suffice if she did not end her days in genteel poverty, lodged in some obscure boarding house in the country.
She read again the portion that concerned Mr. Bingley. He had been absent for several weeks on business in the north. Perhaps the matter had been urgent, and that alone had prevented him from taking his leave of Jane.
Next, she opened Mary’s letter, hoping to find mention of Mr. Darcy, yet she was disappointed to discover none. Mary wrote at length of Kitty and of her parish duties. Kitty was acquitting herself well and appeared to be maturing under Mary’s direction. In the final line, Mary observed that Kitty had made the acquaintance of Miss Darcy and that the two young women would be permitted to correspond.
There the letter ended.
Elizabeth folded it with care, then turned to the letter from her aunt.
May 28, 1811
Dear Lizzy,
Your uncle has at last delivered Lydia to the school in the south. She had grown weary of being relegated to the nursery, and though she had shown great affection for little Edward, she was pining for men, for dances, and for pretty clothes. She was much indulged by your mother and has become an entitled child, imagining that the world owes her its attentions. Though she was helpful with my beloved boy, I am relieved to see her properly settled at school.
Your uncle reports that she threw a tantrum when they boarded the ferry at Portsmouth, for it was then she realized that her school is situated upon an island, and she was greatly affronted. It is a pastoral place, and the school stands in a remote corner. Your uncle feared that the headmistress might refuse her upon witnessing her behavior, yet the lady assured him she was well accustomed to ill-conducted children. Lydia took great offense at being called a child, as she considers herself quite grown.
Lizzy, I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but your mother did Lydia a grave disservice in allowing her to be out at fourteen. I pray that the school may remedy what has been neglected. Edward is prepared to leave her there for four years, provided it proves satisfactory. Pray, hope for the best, my dear, or I shall have that young ladyreturned to my care. I confess I am astonished she did not find herself in greater difficulty before this.
Mr. Darcy paid us a visit and expressed his regret that he could not fulfill the proposed excursion to your favorite bookstore and to Gunter’s. He took his leave, as they depart for Derbyshire in the morning. We spent some time speaking of Lambton, and he was very much at ease. He mentioned that he knew my father in his youth and once required a few stitches to his forehead and hand after falling from a tree. He was both amiable and in good spirits.
I have heard nothing from the Bingleys, though I am not surprised. Mr. Bingley strikes me as one of those amiable gentlemen who treat you as a friend only so long as one stands within his view, and once he moves on, one is quite forgotten. Perhaps it is for the best, for from the account you both gave of his sister, I am inclined to believe that Jane may be happier out of such a connection.
Pray write soon. I trust you are all in good spirits and that your father’s health continues to improve. Inform us at once if there is anything we may do for you.
With love,
Aunt Maddie
Elizabeth sighed. Poor Jane. It appeared that Mr. Bingley was well and truly gone from her life. Yet her youngest sister was now securely placed and in no immediate danger of bringing disgrace upon the family. For that blessing alone, her heart was filled with gratitude toward Uncle Edward.
She lifted her head, and her eyes narrowed when she saw Mr. Goulding, standing outside the haberdashery, observing her intently. His look repulsed her. What could incline a man of his years and declining health toward a young woman? She could not comprehend why he would not seek the society of someone nearer his own age. Such a lady would surely share more of his concerns and possess greater common ground for conversation.
She did not raise her eyes to him again, lest he mistake it for an invitation. She slipped the letters into her reticule and hastened back toward Longbourn.
Chapter 29: Netherfield Park
Later that same week, Elizabeth and Jane stood in the queue at the post office, awaiting their turn at the counter. Mrs. Long concluded her business and stepped away from the clerk. Upon perceiving the sisters, she approached them at once.
“My dear girls, I am so very sorry for your loss. Your mother was so young. I can scarcely credit that she is taken from us. How do you fare?”
Jane lowered her eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Long. We endeavor to bear her passing as best we can.”
