Not only had a fifth daughter joined the family, but the worst blow of all was when Jones explained that Bennet’s wife would not be able to carry another child. All his dreams of teaching his son about the Bennets’ history of hundreds of years and the family’s legacy at Longbourn disappeared likewisps of smoke on the wind. Worst of all, his illiterate cousin Collins or his son—William Collins had been born in May 1787—would have the estate on Bennet’s demise. A Bennet would never manage Longbourn again.
After Lizzy was born, Bennet had been considering Gardiner’s proposal that he invest Fanny’s dowry of five thousand pounds with his brother-in-law and add to it from Longbourn’s profits each year. Mary’s birth made him decide not to trouble himself. The birth of first Kitty and then Lydia convinced him that there was no reason to exert himself. Why should he increase the estate’s income for another to benefit from it after he was called home?
Bennet never saw any reason to read the entail documents, just as his father before him had not done so. What the son did not realise was his father did not feel the need to do so because he had a son and heir. Hence, while Fanny complained of her nerves daily, and many times more than once per day, Bennet was in his study reading and sipping port. Worst of all was the way Bennet began to make Fanny the butt of his jokes, unleashing his sardonic and sarcastic humour against her. Left in the middle of the way the parents behaved were their five daughters. Their father never tempered his remarks about their mother in their presence.
Until her mother had begun to display her nervous condition, Jane was an outgoing girl who, although not as intelligent as Lizzy, was very similar to her in character. When Lydia was born, Jane had been just shy of her eighth birthday. She had become more reticent as her mamma’s complaints increased with the birth of each of Jane’s sisters. The greatest change after Lyddie was born was when Papa began to openly mock Mamma. To cope with the changes in the house, especially Papa’s and Mamma’s attitudes towards each other, Jane’s mask of serenity was born, as was her desire to see only the positive in everything and everyone.
The change in Elizabeth, who had been almost six when Lyddie was born, was less obvious to the outside observer. To escape the atmosphere in the house, Elizabeth began to spend much time out of doors, which led to her rambling as far as her little legs would carry her. As she got older, Elizabeth began to think that she was very good at sketching the characters of others. She understood who her mother and father were and was certain her sketch of them was accurate. Her belief in the infallibility of her sketches was born. She conveniently forgot that Mamma and Papa used to be very different. However, each time Mamma told her that her looks were nothing to Jane’s, Elizabeth wrapped her intellect about her like a suit of armour.
Jane and Elizabeth were the closest of friends, and both were very grateful to spend three months each year with Uncle Edward and Aunt Maddie—they had married three years before Lydia’s birth—thanks to the fact that when they were with the Gardiners in London, they were out of the rather poisonous atmosphere of their house.
Aunt Maddie was the daughter of a man gently born—her father was the rector of the church in Lambton where she had been raised—and as such, she taught Jane and Lizzy all about propriety and how to behave as gentleladies. Before she could begin to teach Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, Aunt Maddie had become with child, and the Bennet sisters’ first cousin, Edward—called Eddy—had been born. Jane and Lizzy still visited the Gardiners; the visits were, however, no longer for three months.
Maddie Gardiner next delivered twin girls, Lillian, called Lilly, and May, less than two years after Eddy. For the first year of their cousins’ lives there had been no visits to 23 Gracechurch Street for any Bennet girl. Once visits began again, they were now less than a month in length, it was only one girl at a time; and it was not every year.
Other than the education the two eldest Bennet sistersreceived from their aunt, Bennet would employ masters to teach a daughter from time to time. Their mother did not see the need for a governess, and their father did not think it a battle worth fighting. Hence, the girls were allowed to study what they desired, and if needed, their father would answer any questions they had.
One thing that delighted Bennet was that Lizzy loved books like he did; she was extremely intelligent, and best of all, she had a similar sense of humour to his. Lizzy became his favourite.
Fanny also had her favourites, two of them. Jane, because she was beautiful; Fanny pinned her hopes of a good marriage, which would save them from the hedgerows, on Jane’s narrow shoulders. The other was Lydia, because in looks and character, Lydia was most like herself. As angry as she had been after Lydia’s birth which lost her the ability to bear children, the youngest Bennet was her clear favourite, even above Jane. As such, Fanny indulged Lydia’s every whim and would never say ‘no’ to her. That left Mary and Kitty as the unnoticed children.
To gain the attention she so badly craved, Mary took to reading and spouting moralistic platitudes—most of which she did not comprehend—from Reverend Fordyce’sSermons to Young Women. The fact that at the time the good reverend was unmarried and had never been the guardian of any females, young or old, did not deter Mary. She also decided that she would be the most accomplished Bennet at the pianoforte. Citing the virtue of frugality as mentioned by Reverend Fordyce, Mary did not request a music master and set about teaching herself to play the instrument.
Kitty discovered that the only way to garner attention from Mamma was to ape Lydia’s behaviour and follow her in all things. No matter how bad Lydia’s behaviour became, Kitty followed wherever she led. Allowing Lydia to lead did not gainas much attention from Mamma as her younger sister, but it did get Kitty more, which was better than nothing.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Jane was pushed out in 1804, and no matter how much Elizabeth begged her father to not allow it because Jane was not ready for the step, he did not intercede.
Chapter1
Hunsford, March 1812
As they travelled, in what Elizabeth believed was the final hour before they reached their destination, her thoughts drifted to her broken-hearted sister in London.
Elizabeth had debated refusing to come to Hunsford in favour of going to London to be with Jane. Her sister was suffering terrible sadness after Mr Bingley had raised her expectations and caused Jane to fall in love with him only to disappear without so much as a farewell. All the Bennets knew was what that the jumped-up daughter of a Cit—they were proud of all of their relations in trade, but the woman’s behaviour earned her the appellation—the harpy who was Miss Bingley, wrote in that despicable letter to Jane. The woman had claimed, and Elizabeth did not believe this for an instant, that Mr Bingley was only trifling with Jane and had returned to London to court the proud Miss Darcy. Further, the delusional woman also claimed that she would soon be Mrs Darcy.
That last sentiment more than any other told Elizabeth that Miss Bingley was lying. Anyone with eyes could see that Mr Darcy had no interest in Miss Bingley, and that was before Mr Wickham told her that Mr Darcy was engaged to his cousin, the heiress of Rosings Park. Mr Collins had confirmed the same.
She shook her head to expel any thoughts of the rude, arrogant, proud man. Thinking about Mr Darcy, especially what he had done to poor Mr Wickham and, she suspected, toJane as well, only made her angry. Instead, Elizabeth concentrated on where they were. After close to eight hours of travel since they departed Longbourn, and with a stop at The Belle Inn in Bromley, Elizabeth sensed that Sir William’s carriage was close to their destination. In the distance to the left, she caught a glimpse of a mansion which she assumed was the one at Rosings Park.
It was not the grand edifice which held Elizabeth’s attention. Rather, all the verdant trees she saw on either side of the lane they were travelling along were what held her interest. She was hopeful there would be many places for her to ramble in nature. According to Mr Collins, during one of his pontifications about the greatest estate in all the realm, her cousin had related how Lady Catherine had her gardens regimented so that like colours were together, the plants were all the same size in the various flowerbeds, and not a blade of grass was out of place. If there was one thing Elizabeth disliked greatly, it was overly manicured gardens. She much preferred to be where nature had been allowed its head, just like the wilderness on one side of Longbourn’s park.
Based on Mr Collins’s ramblings about the perfection that was Lady Catherine, he had mentioned a grove not far from his house. Elizabeth hoped that it had not beenorderedby thegreatLady Catherine de Bourgh.
Elizabeth knew she would have to fight to school her features when she met the lady and her daughter, Mr Darcy’s betrothed. Thanks to her cousin’s ravings and some things Mr Wickham had told her, she was sure that Lady Catherine would be vastly amusing. That they would meet was almost a certainty because Charlotte had written in one of her letters that Lady Catherine invited the residents of the parsonage to tea a few times a week and dinner at least twice in the same period of time.
All her thoughts were pushed to the side as the conveyanceslowed and turned onto a stone-covered drive. From her window, Elizabeth could see the parsonage; it was a grey stone building. The church, according to Charlotte, was St Cuthbert’s, and could be seen rising above the roof of the parsonage—at least the spire with a large cross atop was visible. She saw her cousin and Charlotte standing before the house.
The coachmen drew the pair of horses to a halt, and Sir William’s footman placed a step and opened the door.
They arrived on Monday, the sixteenth day of March, a day short of a fortnight before Easter. So long as it was bearable to reside in her cousin’s house, Elizabeth would remain for six weeks, departing on the final Friday of April.
“Welcome, Cousin Elizabeth,” William Collins, the parson of the parish of Hunsford, said in greeting while his wife, Charlotte—Miss Lucas as was—stood next to her husband. “You can see what a good situation mywifeenjoys.”
“I thank you for yourgraciouswelcome, Mr Collins.” Elizabeth gave a quick curtsy and moved to take Charlotte’s hands after seeing a light blush rise in her friend’s cheeks when her husband attempted to demonstrate to Elizabeth her error in refusing him. “How are you, my friend? Are you happy?” Thankfully, her cousin was welcoming Sir William and Maria, the new Miss Lucas, so his attention was not focused on her.
Seeing her obsequious, unintelligent, odiferous, and ridiculous cousin reminded Elizabeth of all the reasons she had refused his offer of marriage in November 1811, less than four and twenty hours before he proposed to and was accepted by Charlotte. How could the man try to make her regret refusing him while standing next to his wife? She smiled to herself that although, unfortunately, her mother had not kept to her resolve to never speak to Elizabeth again for refusing Mr Collins, until Sir William collected her to convey her to Hunsford, Mamma had been rather voluble in her laments about herdisobedient,ungrateful,undutiful, andwilfuldaughter.
