Elizabeth could not reply; her delicacy of feeling toward her sister forbade her from speaking on such a subject further, though she had much she wished she could say and learn about it. She only replied, “Why, for Jane’s sake? Jane has only just met him, Papa. She is by no means—”
“I saw them together, however,” Mr. Bennet said. “And eventually, she must marry somebody.”
It was such an odd thing for him to say, so unlike what her father normally thought and spoke of, that Elizabeth became more convinced than she had ever been before of Lady Sarah’s truly cooling in her affection toward her stepdaughters. If Mr. Bennet had now a reason to be hopeful that his daughters would marry early, then he must have noticed his wife’s sentiments—and for their ill-treatment to reach their father’s notice, it must be truly severe.
“Jane,” Elizabeth said when the girls were going to bed, “I beg you would forgive my intrusion. I only speak now because of something my father said, and because it is too important to remain silent about it.”
“Good heavens!” cried Jane, who had been brushing her hair by the mirror, both girls being already dressed for bed. “What can it be?”
“You have said that you worry you must marry soon, for your sisters’ sakes. I must beg you not to be hasty, however. It would be a mistake to accept the first offer made to you, if you do not think the situation would make you happy.”
Jane gave Elizabeth a patient smile. “I have already declined the first offer made to me, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “The second, then. Or third, or any offer, if you are not in love.”
“You are thinking of Mr. Dixon.”
“I am,” Elizabeth said, “and I am thinking of words of your own from not long ago, when you said you did not want to be hurried into marrying and falling in love. I beg you would not hurry. Your happiness is much more important to your sisters than anything else. We could not be comfortable if you were not so!”
Jane turned and looked at Elizabeth with affection in her eyes. “Thank you, Lizzy, but I know what I am doing. I have no intention of marrying without love.”
This was said so unconvincingly that Elizabeth could not think of a single word to say in reply. She and Jane did not like to keep many secrets from one another, but Elizabeth had lately found that Jane did, under certain circumstances, attempt to deceive her sisters. If she thought it would protect them, she would not tell them the whole truth. Now, Elizabeth worried that Jane’s true feelings toward Mr. Dixon might never be fully known to her. At least Mr. Dixon seemed to love her—yet how could he, when he barely knew her? It seemed more likely that he was infatuated, and such a feeling was equally likely to vanish as it was to last. No perspective, no resolution seemed a good one to Elizabeth—save for one. She must discover a way to get back in her stepmother’s good graces. That was the only way any of the girls could avoid being forced into making some sort of compromise, either of comfort, dignity, or—heaven forbid—principle.
CHAPTER 9
__________
When Mr. Bennet’s week in London ended, the girls’ stay in Gracechurch Street reached its halfway point. For the duration of their father’s visit, they had not seen Miss Whipple—for they were too much engaged with family activities to venture to her part of town. Jane had sent a note, however, informing their friend of the reason for their silence, and she dispatched another note on the day of her father’s departure. It came as no surprise, therefore, that Sunday afternoon brought Miss Whipple and her governess to call at Gracechurch Street.
“You have neglected me wretchedly,” she said with a pout when she entered the Gardiners’ parlor, where the ladies had been having tea.
Elizabeth thought such a complaint was rather ridiculous, but her sister seemed to see only what was affectionate in it. “You cannot be angry,” Jane answered with mild concern, “when you consider how happy we were to see our father, and how glad it made him to see us.”
Had Jane known her friend better, she would be aware that Miss Whipple could in fact be angry about a great number of unreasonable things, but this did not happen to be one of them. “I am only speaking in jest, my dear Miss Bennet,” she replied, with a look of mischief in her eye. “Your father, of course, has the first claim on you! But then, my claim must be high as well, for without you, I have nobody.”
Elizabeth did not believe this for an instant. She had seen Miss Whipple among her friends at the party at Mrs. Jackson’s. She had acquaintances enough not to need the Bennet sisters’ society, and yet she continued to seek it. It was a puzzling circumstance, for she must have known that at least one sister did not particularly like her, and the other was apt to like everybody. The truth was that the Bennet sisters were accessories in Miss Whipple’s wardrobe; she liked to be surrounded by fashionable young ladies, and Jane and Elizabeth were just the thing to suit.
“You cannot have been totally abandoned,” Elizabeth answered. Then, shrewdly—for she knew Miss Whipple loved nothing more than a compliment—she added, “Your popularity must make you highly sought after everywhere. Pray, how have you spent your week? You cannot find ours interesting, compared with yours.”
Miss Whipple, highly flattered, began to describe the parties and concerts she had attended. Elizabeth listened attentively, for she suspected that her own engagements when she and Jane joined her in Wimpole Street would follow a similar pattern. They would be invited to parties, all of which they would attend, and when no invitations were to be had, they would see shows. Never had Miss Whipple spent an evening unengaged in this period of despondency she had endured during Mr. Bennet’s visit.
“I suppose you know that the traveling circus is in town,” she said, “and while I did not wish to attend, Mr. Clemens—the husband of my dear friend Charlotte—had a share in bringing them to town, which was very bad of him, do not you think?”
“Why should we think so?” Jane asked. Neither sister had ever been to a circus, nor heard much about one.
“It is so distasteful,” Miss Whipple replied. “I would much rather see a play—which I did, on Tuesday. I saw The Beggar’s Opera at the Haymarket. It was divine!”
Elizabeth could not quite comprehend a mind that would characterize The Beggar’s Opera as divine, and therefore she remained silent while Jane replied.
“We also went to the theatre,” Jane said. “Papa likes it—and Lady Sarah does, as well.”
Miss Whipple nodded eagerly. “Yes, I suppose her whole family enjoys the theatre.”
“Indeed, Papa believes—,” Jane began, but she was interrupted.
“No, no, not your father. I am sure,” she added hastily, “that he likes everything proper, just as he ought to do. No, I meant her brother and sisters. Nieces and nephews, too. I know you see them, too, when they are in town.”
Elizabeth could hardly conceal her smile, seeing that Miss Whipple’s interest in the Radcliffe family had not lessened—and that she was barely endeavoring to disguise it. “I do not know what they do in town,” Jane replied. “Lady Sarah visits them, but she seldom brings us along.”
Ignoring this, Miss Whipple said, “Now that you are again without visitors, you must join me at a party. Mrs. Jackson is very musical, you know, and she is having a musical party on Saturday. I am sorry not to have any other parties for you to attend before then, but you know I am quite desolate—quite without any entertainment. I long for you both to come to me!”
Elizabeth and Jane glanced at each other, smiling—for it was clear that they could expect a great deal of enjoyment when they came to Miss Whipple in a fortnight. The sheer number of parties Mrs. Jackson evidently threw guaranteed at least one party a week, and then there would be invitations to concerts and plays, and who knew what else? Fearing their aunt’s being burdened by the large number of dresses and ball gowns each sister owned, they had sent a full trunk each back to Longbourn with Miss Watson and the younger girls. Now, it might behoove them to have the trunks sent back. Elizabeth, a
fter very little deliberation, determined the best person to assist with this was Miss Watson herself. Her father would not be able to assist her without making Lady Sarah aware of what he was doing, and Lady Sarah’s involvement was out of the question. Their sisters were too young to be useful in the business, and moreover, they had never learnt to be discreet. Miss Watson, Elizabeth suspected, would not even need to be reminded; her subtlety was a guarantee.
After Miss Whipple’s rather long visit ended and Mrs. Gardiner went upstairs with a fussy child, Elizabeth went to the writing desk to compose her note to Longbourn. She did not ask for money, though her personal wallet was growing light. Lady Sarah had not sent any clothing allowance for the girls’ extended stay in town, and such an unprecedented omission must have been intentional. It sent a message. Nothing had happened since her letter to Miss Watson three weeks before to indicate that Lady Sarah was warming toward the girls, and therefore Elizabeth had no choice but to suspect that their position of relative favor with their stepmother was changing. Lady Sarah was never overtly cruel, but she did have a method for punishing those in her innermost circle who did not submit to her control willingly, and Elizabeth was slowly learning that there was more than one way to show cruelty. Lady Sarah ruled her home with precision and diligence, and Mr. Bennet seldom so much as raised his eyebrows at anything she suggested. Elizabeth alone was most likely to contradict her wishes. Yet Lady Sarah had always liked Elizabeth. She was pretty and intelligent, and she reminded her of herself—though Elizabeth flattered herself, she was a more temperate version. Jane was one whom nobody had expected to anger her stepmother, being of all the sisters most mild and persuadable, and certainly kindest in her manners and her heart. Perhaps the unsuspected nature of her rebellion against Lady Sarah’s wishes had contributed to the vehemence of the lady’s anger, and perhaps Elizabeth’s closeness to Jane had earned her an equal share of it. Regardless, very little could be expected in the way of assistance now. Elizabeth still had some spending money, and now she recognized the necessity of making it last.
To Miss Watson, she wrote:
My dear Miss Watson,
I am exceedingly sorry that you cannot be with us in London. We have not been quite so merry that you ought to be totally envious of us, but yet merry enough that I believe you would rather be here than there—at least, on days when we attend balls with Miss Whipple. That lady, I believe you will not be surprised, is as she ever was. But I know that she means well, and you would tell me to be patient with her. I would find that task easier, if it were not so obvious that she believes we are intimate with the Earl Radcliffe and the whole Radcliffe family, and the eldest son in particular. She is quite mad for him—an odd reaction from somebody who has not met him! I have told her a hundred times that I hardly know him, but she asks a hundred times and one!
We were delighted to see Papa last week, and we were pleased he brought a note from you. I suppose by now you have received our reply, but I did not remember then that I had a request to make of you, and therefore I must send another note. Would it be too much trouble to send the trunks that Jane and I left in your care? We do not know that the gowns we have packed for our stay in Gracechurch Street will be sufficient for the activities Miss Whipple has planned when we go to her tomorrow fortnight. Please do not trouble Lady Sarah for any money for new dresses; we are quite happy with our old ones, if they can be conveyed to us.
Please give all our love to our sisters and brother, and of course to Lady Sarah and dear Papa. We long to see the girls again, as it feels like ages that we have been apart. I have nothing else to add, which was not shared in my first letter.
Yours most affectionately,
Etc.
Elizabeth sealed and sent her letter that very afternoon, aware that it might take several days for Miss Watson to have an opportunity to send the trunks without drawing Lady Sarah’s notice. Her stepmother was not always at home; it was common for her to bring her little ones on short journeys to visit various places, and when this occurred, Elizabeth was confident that her governess would do all in her power to convey the trunks to London.
Meanwhile, she and Jane were much engaged with their aunt, who was every day more pleased with her nieces. Gatherings among their set took place regularly, for Mr. Gardiner was successful in business and mostly intermingled with others successful in business. It was a class of people with whom Elizabeth had previously interacted but little, and she found them pleasant enough. Their character often made up for what their manners lacked. However, Jane’s growing intimacy with Mr. Dixon was enough to cause anxiety both to Elizabeth and her aunt.
At parties and dinners, Jane and Mr. Dixon were utterly devoted to one another. When there was dancing, neither ever danced with anybody else; no young men seemed to like his chances enough to ask Miss Bennet, and no young ladies seemed to feel there was any hope of being asked by Mr. Dixon. Mrs. Gardiner was concerned enough that she made a point of mentioning Mr. Dixon’s lack of substantial fortune, and his need for a wife with a large dowry to make him truly comfortable, but Jane seemed hardly to acknowledge her advice.
Elizabeth was exceedingly troubled by it, for such behavior was not only inappropriate but completely out of character for the sister she knew. It was so very odd that Jane should commit such a faux pas as to stand up with the same gentleman for every dance of the evening, or to expose herself publicly to the notice that such devotion to a single man must raise. Elizabeth worried that it was beginning to be too late to prevent ideas from forming that must give Jane a reputation Elizabeth was sure she did not want.
Jane’s efforts to make a good match were so totally unlike the sister Elizabeth knew. She was always so reserved and cautious that Elizabeth could not imagine the feelings she was now evincing to be sincere. If Jane really liked Mr. Dixon, it would be another thing, but Elizabeth did not believe she did. It was all a vain, misguided attempt to provide for her sisters, and Elizabeth knew not what to say to convince Jane that such measures were unnecessary. Her heart felt a soft ache as she longed for Miss Watson, who always knew what to do and say. Miss Watson was as close to a mother as Elizabeth had, and she and her sisters had always listened carefully to their governess’s advice. She felt bereft without her, and Mrs. Gardiner might have been an absolutely perfect woman and still felt like a poor substitute. She wanted somebody who knew her; she wanted her oldest friend. Marooned in London with nobody but a sister who was acting less and less herself, Elizabeth felt like she had nobody.
She was more cross than usual when Miss Whipple’s carriage arrived to convey herself and Jane to the musical party at Mrs. Jackson’s house. Mrs. Gardiner was not to join them, for she was home with a sick child, but she sent the girls along with a servant and a strict directive to be as merry as they could.
How Elizabeth longed to heed her advice! She hated being cross, but as she sat silently opposite Jane in Miss Whipple’s carriage, having so many questions she was unable to ask, so many thoughts she was unwelcome to share, it seemed almost impossible to restore herself to good cheer. How lucky it was, then, that the party was to be a musical one. Almost as soon as the Miss Bennets set foot in the garden behind the house where the concert was to be played, the pall over her heart lifted.
The musicians—a quartet of stringed instruments—were playing an air of Haydn’s, and the little cove behind them had trees providing shade for the fifty-odd guests who had gathered to hear them play. Not seeing Miss Whipple immediately, Jane and Elizabeth were received most graciously by Mrs. Jackson as they approached the party.
“Why, there they are! The most beautiful young ladies in the whole of London, as I am sure you are both well aware. Look how they blush!” she cried to nobody in particular as she clasped Jane’s hands. “I am so delighted that you have come! Miss Whipple said you would be just after her. She said her carriage was just departing to convey you—but then, where is dear Juliana now?” Laughing, she said, “I am sure you shall find her out at last
, for she is never quiet for long!”
These words were all spoken in a rush, and when more guests arrived behind Elizabeth and Jane, Mrs. Jackson was instantly with them, warmly welcoming and gushing compliments to them in just the same way.
Jane looked at Elizabeth and smiled. “Shall we look for Miss Whipple, or listen to the music?”
“Music, please,” Elizabeth said emphatically. “It is as Mrs. Jackson says. Miss Whipple will not be quiet for long; we may count on seeing her sooner or later.”
But Jane frowned. “I cannot bear for her to think we were not looking for her, however,” she said.
“Nay,” Elizabeth objected, “she knew when we would arrive, and from whence we would come. If she had wanted to see us, it was within her power to find us out. We cannot be expected to suspend our pleasure in the concert music only to seek her, when for all we know she may be enjoying herself elsewhere.”
Jane replied, “I cannot imagine what she could be doing that would render us unwelcome, if we did find her out.”
“We will never agree about this,” Elizabeth replied, “for we have totally different wishes. You wish to be on a good footing with Miss Whipple, which I maintain is far easier to do than you realize. I wish to enjoy the music, which we will miss if we go on a quest to locate her. Besides, when she wants to find us, this will be the first place she looks. We will meet with her sooner if we listen to the concert.”
Jane could not be convinced, however. Elizabeth was not ordinarily of a mind to persist in disagreement with Jane. She was far more likely to submit to her elder sister’s wishes out of mere respect. However, the growing distance she had been feeling between herself and her sister and her questioning of that sister’s judgement made her reluctant to do as she ordinarily would. It was agreed erelong that Jane would seek Miss Whipple while Elizabeth would listen to the concert. They parted, and Elizabeth again found herself fighting against a tendency to lowness that such a rare disagreement produced.
Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth Page 10
