Her Indomitable Resolve

by Jann Rowland

  Chapter XV

  Letters from home were a frustrating occurrence. This was true for both sisters, though Jane, with her bottomless well of patience, was better able to endure it.

  A few days after meeting Lady Susan, Jane and Elizabeth were sitting together at breakfast; Mr. Bingley had left early that morning, citing some business, and Miss Bingley had not yet descended. The butler entered the room to deliver the mail, handing it to Jane, who thanked him before setting it to the side. A few moments later, Jane leafed through the assorted letters, putting several aside for her husband. Then, near the bottom of the pile, she came across one which made her pause.

  “A letter from Mama,” said she, holding it up and peering at it.

  Jane did not miss Elizabeth’s grimace, but she handed the letter over without comment. “I appreciate receiving news from Mama,” said Elizabeth, “but of late her letters have been nothing more than complaints.”

  That Jane was well aware of this fact was exhibited in the way she nodded her head in agreement, though she added: “Perhaps this time will be different.”

  It was the one facet of her sister’s character which could irritate Elizabeth, though she would not say so to Jane. Jane could receive a letter every day for two months from the same person, with the same things written within, and still hope the next would be different.

  “I suspect there will be little more of interest,” said Elizabeth, breaking the seal. “The last letter I received from Mama, was a litany of complaints about Mr. Collins and Mary. Mr. Collins is a brute. Mr. Collins is no gentleman. The man speaks down to her and insults her. This I can well understand. But then she speaks of Mary and her tight purse strings and laments her inability to do as she did when our father was the master of Longbourn.”

  “Do you consider Mary to be a miser?” asked Jane, turning an interested look on her.

  Elizabeth frowned and considered her sister’s question; it was a matter of which they had never spoken. “At times, I suppose Mary can be a little tyrannical. It is not surprising, however, considering Mama’s grip on the concept of economizing is nigh nonexistent.”

  “Mama was not that bad, Lizzy,” chided Jane.

  “In this, you must allow me the greater understanding, Jane,” replied Elizabeth, reining in her impatience with Jane’s words. “I assisted Papa for several years before his death, and if anything, Papa understated Mama’s penchant for exceeding his income. Though perhaps Mary is a little excessive in her control over Mama’s purchasing, I suspect it was necessary, given Mama’s excesses. You should also remember that Mama does have the interest of her dowry to use at her discretion.”

  “That is naught but two hundred pounds,” observed Jane.

  Elizabeth nodded with some impatience. “What need has she for more? Mama need not worry about feeding the family, entertaining, or purchases for the estate. The money is hers to use alone on her expenses. What need does she have for that much money?”

  “I do not know, Lizzy,” said Jane with a sigh.

  While her sister turned back to her breakfast, Elizabeth turned her attention to the letter, while she nibbled on some toast as she read. The first part of the letter was what Elizabeth had expected, though in this letter her mother focused on the odious nature of Mr. Collins more than Mary’s unkindness. The second half, however, shocked her, such that Elizabeth did not quite know what to make of the matter.

  “Mama writes with news of Lydia!” exclaimed Elizabeth when she read her sister’s name.

  “Lydia?” asked Jane, turning to her with curiosity. “Has it not been some months since she wrote?”

  “It must be more than six months,” replied Elizabeth. “Perhaps as many as nine.”

  “What does she say?”

  “Grave news, indeed, for it seems Lydia’s husband died in a skirmish.”

  “Lydia’s husband has passed?” asked Jane, aghast at what she was hearing. “But how?”

  “It says little more than I have already stated; I suspect Lydia’s letter said little more than this. But listen, Jane, for you shall be even more shocked by what Mama says next.”

  I had hoped, upon hearing Lydia’s grievous news, that my daughter would soon make her way home to us, for no one can comfort a bereaved heart with more tender affection than a mother. But even in this I am denied, for Lydia has already remarried!

  “Remarried!” cried Jane. “So soon after being widowed?”

  “I cannot say, Jane, for Mama does not write when her first husband passed, or when she married the second. Nor does she say anything more than the man’s name: a Colonel Brandt.”

  Jane nodded slowly. “Her first husband was a captain, was he not?” At Elizabeth’s nod, Jane said: “That is, at least, a step up for Lydia.”

  That was true, though it did not make the situation any better to Elizabeth’s eyes. “Given what I know of Lydia’s behavior—I suspect she has not changed to any great degree since she went away—it seems she did not even consider such things as mourning when confronted by her husband’s death. Given Lydia’s behavior, it is possible she was already involved in some foolishness or another.”

  “Lizzy!” protested Jane. “That is unkind!”

  “Perhaps it is, Jane,” was Elizabeth’s unrepentant reply. “However, you know our sister as well as I do, for all I was still young when she left. Papa used to speak about Lydia and, to a lesser extent, Kitty as being the silliest girls in the country. While Papa could have done something about it and chose not to, in essence, he was not incorrect.”

  “I know, Lizzy,” said Jane, though uncomfortable with the topic. “But I should prefer to avoid branding my sister as a fallen woman with so little evidence as this.”

  “Yes, I suppose you are correct, Jane,” replied Elizabeth.

  For several moments, Elizabeth remained quiet, considering the letter she had just read. Never close to Lydia, Elizabeth had not looked on her with the sense of awe younger siblings often had for their elders. Lydia, brash and loud, bold and determined, had gone her own way, following none of their father’s counsel, however infrequent its application, making quite a spectacle of herself wherever she went. Even Elizabeth, though not out yet herself, had known of her sister’s flirting with ruin and seen some of the looks her neighbors had given her, even though they, as members of a small-town community, were more forgiving of such things than they might be in London.

  Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth knew, had been more than a little relieved to bid farewell to his second daughter, for he had informed Elizabeth of that much several times. In the back of his mind, however, Mr. Bennet had worried about what might happen should Lydia lose her husband, forcing her return to Longbourn. Well, it seemed the former had happened, but it was not followed by the latter.

  “I cannot but rejoice that Lydia has found herself a situation again, regardless of how it happened,” said Elizabeth.

  Curious, Jane turned to her, wondering at her meaning, which Elizabeth took as a question. “If she had not, she might have made her way back to Longbourn. Can you imagine Lydia living with Mary and Mr. Collins? The house would have been rent asunder with acrimony and conflict, and you know Mama would have backed Lydia up in everything she did.”

  Jane, understanding the crux of Elizabeth’s comment, paled. “Then she might have come to my house, for I cannot imagine Mr. Collins would have withstood her for long.”

  “I see you understand the problem,” replied Elizabeth. “Can you imagine Lydia and Miss Bingley together? It would be a worse pairing than Miss Bingley and me!”

  The weak chuckle with which Jane responded carried little mirth. “And I cannot imagine that Charles would endure her ways for long. Her behavior is . . . exuberant enough that I cannot think he would appreciate it.”

  Trust Jane to put the indefensible in as diplomatic a way as she could. “I think it very advantageous to the entire family that she has found another situation,” repeated Elizabeth. “Though I do not wish my sister ill and r
egret she is sundered from us, I think it would be best if she remained there and did not return to England.”

  “Yes, I cannot but agree.”

  “Perhaps someday she will return, and we can only hope a little wiser,” said Elizabeth. “The question is, what do I write to Mama when I respond?”

  Jane pursed her lips. “It would not do to avoid the subject, but you would not wish to inform her of your true opinion, lest it provokes her displeasure in response.”

  “Then acknowledge it, speak words of regret for Mama’s disappointment, and turn to other subjects,” said Elizabeth.

  “That would be for the best.”

  “That is what I shall do then.” Elizabeth paused and smirked at her sister. “Just remember, Jane: you shall be required to do the same, for Mama shall send you a letter in due time, and probably before you wish to receive one.”

  “You have another letter from your mother, do you?” asked Miss Bingley as she swept into the room. “How fortunate it is that you have such a diligent correspondent who informs you of all the gossip in your little community.”

  Though there was a nasty undertone in Miss Bingley’s voice, it did not bother Elizabeth at all, for it was a relief that Miss Bingley had not entered the room even a few moments before. Thus, it was nothing for Elizabeth to smile, nod, and give Miss Bingley a bland reply before turning to her meal.

  “Are you to go out today, Miss Bingley?” said Elizabeth, more to make conversation rather than from any genuine interest. It was rather early for the woman to stir herself from her room, for she was an adherent to the concept of town hours, and rarely made an appearance before noon.

  “Today, I believe I am quite settled here at home,” replied Miss Bingley. Then she turned to Jane. “Jane, dear, I believe we can expect my sister to visit this morning. It is unfortunate she was indisposed these past days, for I wished to inform her everything about our visit with Lady Susan!”

  “She is now recovered?” asked Jane.

  “As I understand,” replied Miss Bingley. “I sent a note around yesterday evening asking her to visit us this morning, for there is so much to tell her.”

  More like commanded, rather than asked, thought Elizabeth, knowing what she did of the relationship between the two sisters.

  Noncommittal, Jane replied: “Louisa is welcome to visit us at any time. Do you know if Hurst will join them?”

  “Oh, I would imagine he will,” said Miss Bingley in a tone of supreme indifference, “for he is always underfoot somewhere.”

  That was a novel way to refer to a brother-in-law, thought Elizabeth, and one who, at present, was the only member of the family who could claim to be of the gentle class other than Jane. Miss Bingley, however, said nothing further of Mr. Hurst, instead concentrating on her favorite topic of late: their visit with Lady Susan. To hear her talk of it, Lady Susan had had no attention for anyone other than Miss Bingley herself, and they had parted as the firmest of friends. As Elizabeth had heard her speak thus many times these last days, she felt at liberty to ignore her prattling.

  When Mr. Bingley returned home, Jane relayed to him the information in Elizabeth’s letter away from Miss Bingley’s hearing, for which Elizabeth was grateful. Though she could not hear them and had no wish to intrude, Elizabeth saw both the grim looks on his countenance and his nod, which hinted at relief, when he learned Lydia was not to return home. As Mr. Bingley had come to Meryton long after Lydia quit it, his only information concerning the one sister he had never met was accounts of her from her sisters and others who had known her. It was clear to Elizabeth he had heard enough to have a picture of her character.

  When Mrs. Hurst visited, accompanied by her husband, Elizabeth noted, Bingley and Jane welcomed them with pleasure, but Miss Bingley greeted them with nothing more than unconcealed impatience. Miss Bingley could not wait until they had taken their seats before the avalanche of words began, regaling her sister with tales of their visit which only bore cursory accuracy to actual events as those who had been present could testify. More than once Mr. Bingley caught Elizabeth’s eye and rolled his eyes or shook his head at his sister’s exaggeration.

  “You should have seen it, Louisa!” cried Caroline, caught in the grips of some ecstasy. “There has never been anything like it, for Lady Susan was eager to make my acquaintance and released my company with only the greatest of reluctance.”

  “That is excellent news, Caroline,” said Hurst, regarding his sister with a hint of laughter playing about the upturned corners of his lips. “It is fortunate you have found such a wonderful friend.” Mr. Hurst then turned to Elizabeth and Jane and said: “I hope your reception was similar, for I would not wish to accuse so august a person as Lady Susan of neglect.”

  “I found Lady Susan to be nothing less than welcoming,” replied Jane.

  “We sat and spoke with her for some time, Mr. Hurst,” added Elizabeth, “along with Georgiana. I must echo the sentiments of your sister and mine: our welcome was nothing less than unreserved.”

  “Excellent,” said Mr. Hurst.

  “Oh, Eliza and Jane did well enough, I suppose,” said Miss Bingley. “But wait until you hear what happened next!”

  “Really, dear Caroline?” drawled Mr. Hurst. “Do tell, for I am impatient with curiosity.”

  It was Elizabeth’s opinion that Mr. Hurst’s manner bespoke foreknowledge, which would make sense since Mr. Bingley was his brother. Miss Bingley, though she directed a hard look at her sister’s husband, lost no time in informing them.

  “Why, we have received an invitation to Lady Susan’s annual ball! It is one of the premier events of the season, and now we shall attend it and mingle with the highest society has to offer. Is that not a fine thing, Louisa?”

  Mrs. Hurst allowed that it was, though with a distinct lack of enthusiasm to Elizabeth’s perception. Miss Bingley continued to chatter on about the subject, speaking of her expectations, the people she would see, and how others would notice her fine qualities, what this meant for their family’s future, and her anticipation, which she informed them several times over, was nigh unendurable.

  “Well, Louisa,” said she at length. “What do you say to that? Is it not everything of which we have always dreamed?”

  “I can see why you are excited, Caroline,” said Mr. Hurst. “But I am confused as well; why would this affect Louisa?”

  “Why, because we have made the acquaintance of Lady Susan and she has invited us to her ball!”

  “Trust me, I know all about it, for you have spoken of little else since we arrived. What I fail to understand is why it could affect Louisa and me that you have made Lady Susan’s acquaintance.”

  Miss Bingley looked on him as if she thought him daft. “Because my acquaintance is as good as an acquaintance for my sister.”

  “It is dangerous to assume such things, Caroline, as I have already told you. We cannot assume your acquaintance with her implies our inclusion.”

  “That is nonsense!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. She turned beseeching eyes on her brother and said: “Lady Susan’s invitation must have included Hurst and Louisa too. Is that not so?”

  Bingley paused and glanced at his brother, who leaned back in his chair with complete unconcern. “I must side with Hurst on this, Caroline, for I do not believe we should assume anything.”

  “But it must!”

  The scene confused Elizabeth, for she could not determine why it was so important to Miss Bingley that she include her sister in her schemes. Was it not enough for her ambitions that she had been favored by Lady Susan?

  “Can you not speak to Mr. Darcy, Charles?”

  Mr. Bingley paused and shared a look with Mr. Hurst, who nodded, indicating his brother should reply. The gentleman did so, but his reluctance was obvious to them all.

  “I suppose I could ask Darcy.”

  “That will not be necessary,” interjected Mr. Hurst.

  Miss Bingley’s objection was poised on the tip of her tongue, but Mr. H
urst prevented it. “As we agreed before, Caroline, it is dangerous to assume. I should be pleased to make Lady Susan’s acquaintance, for it is my understanding that she sets a fine table. However, I shall wait for her to make the overture, for I do not wish a vengeful countess to haul me over the carpet. There is no need to speak to Darcy, Bingley, for Louisa and I shall not regret our absence if Lady Susan does not invite us.”

  “Very well, Hurst,” said Mr. Bingley with a nod. “An eminently sensible position, I must agree.”

  The one who did not agree glared at them both, petulance filling her gaze, but she was wise enough to hold her tongue. That was fortunate, for Elizabeth did not think her brothers wished to inform her of the proprieties of the situation a third time.

  As for Mrs. Hurst, though Elizabeth could not claim to know her well at all, their recent conversation had given her a certain insight into the woman’s character. While Miss Bingley was afire with the obsession to raise herself to the highest rung on the societal ladder she could manage, Elizabeth did not think her sister was of a similar ambition. In fact, Elizabeth had a distinct impression that Mrs. Hurst was relieved to be excluded. That was interesting, as Elizabeth would not have thought Mrs. Hurst anything other than Miss Bingley’s twin in that respect when they had been in Hertfordshire.

  As the days passed and turned into weeks, Elizabeth grew more comfortable with her surroundings, reflecting that while she could do without London and its fabulous amusements, it was interesting to experience it once. Even so, the Bingleys’ measured schedule suited her very well. Miss Bingley was not so restrained, often attended events with her sister or in the company of other friends, and while she sneered at their lack of stamina, they did not pay her any heed. The longer Elizabeth remained in London, the less she saw of Kitty too, for she was much engaged with her admirer and seemed to have less interest in their balls and parties.

  Soon the month of May was upon them and with it, the warmer months and all their pleasure and greater freedom of movement were upon them. Elizabeth often found herself in the company of her new friends, both Mr. Darcy and his sister. Though Miss Bingley was as much in evidence in those days, watchful for any sign of them, Elizabeth found they often used whatever means were at their disposal to avoid her, and as Elizabeth had no desire to bring it to Miss Bingley’s attention, she remained unaware of how much congress there was between them.