The Bell

by Mary Lydon Simonsen

  “Oh dear!” Lizzy said. “Mama would not want him here.”

  Every time Mr. Collins’s name was mentioned, Mrs. Bennet launched an assault on a man she had never met and who was not responsible for the entail. She concluded her tirade by stating that Mr. Bennet’s health was precarious and that he could die at any moment despite her husband’s insistence that he had no intention of dying just to accommodate Mr. Collins and the entail. The parson’s presence at Longbourn would only serve to exacerbate an already intolerable situation.

  “After reading about a possible visit, Mama took to her bed. But—”

  “But what?” a hopeful Lizzy asked.

  “Aunt Phillips came with news from the village—she is with Mama as we speak. Apparently, a young gentleman from the North has taken an interest in Netherfield Park. According to our aunt, who has her news from Mrs. Morris, the man’s name is Mr. Bingley, and he is handsome and wealthy and available.”

  “The perfect combination.”

  “Unfortunately, the lease is not yet signed. It seems that Mr. Bingley will not do anything without the approval of his friend, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, who was in Meryton last week with two of his own men to have a look at Netherfield Park. In anticipation of his visit, the Darlingtons hired Jack Slater to do some minor repairs to the roof, and Mr. Corey cleaned all the fireplaces. Mrs. Darlington must have had some indication that the gentleman was truly interested or she would not have gone to the expense of the repairs.”

  Lizzy considered this to be good news. As Netherfield Park abutted Longbourn, it would be a good thing to have someone—anyone—in residence. It was a lovely house and estate, and when the Crenshaws were in residence, it had played host to numerous parties and balls. It needed a permanent resident to bring it back to life. “And Mr. Darcy? Is he young, handsome, and wealthy like his friend?”

  Jane explained that Mr. Darcy was definitely wealthy, but as for being young and handsome, Mrs. Phillips had indicated that he was an elderly gentleman. Jane’s expression registered her disappointment.

  “Do not frown, Jane. This is the best of two worlds. You will marry Mr. Darcy, and I shall wed Mr. Bingley.”

  “Why do I get the elderly Mr. Darcy while you get the young and virile Mr. Bingley?”

  “Because you are so good with the elderly. Aunt Susan reminded me on multiple occasions what a pleasure it is for you to visit and how attentive you are to her needs.”

  Jane made no comment concerning her aunt’s obvious insult. The eldest Bennet daughter knew she was her Aunt Susan’s favorite because their aunt had indicated as much on multiple occasions, but then Jane was everyone’s favorite as she was incapable of being unkind to anyone, even their cranky Aunt Susan. She also knew that Aunt Susan had, on occasion, spoken to Papa about Lizzy, telling him that his favorite daughter must learn to hold her tongue or she would never find a husband as men were not interested in ladies with opinions. Papa’s response had been: “Is that why you never married?”

  “Of course, I am teasing,” Lizzy quickly added. “I am sure that as soon as Mr. Bingley sets eyes on you, he will fall head over heels in love. When that happens, you will be rich enough to take care of your poor relations. I, for one, would be satisfied with an attic suite where I shall spend my days reading novels and eating sweets.”

  “Whether I marry Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley, I promise that you may have a suite of rooms on the first floor of the mansion. Warmer in the winter,” Jane said with a smile.

  “Thank you, Jane. You are too kind.”

  “Your bedchamber will be right next to Mama’s.”

  * * *

  Nothing at Netherfield Park had gone as Mrs. Darlington had planned. Her purpose in leasing the estate was to have a retreat from the din and dirt of Bristol. While her husband remained in that noisy port city tending to business, she and her two daughters would enjoy the clean country air of Hertfordshire. Although her daughters had assured her that it was an excellent plan, when it actually came time to decamp from Bristol, neither wished to leave their friends. Things only got worse when Dorothea, the elder daughter, had married. As it turned out, she was excessively fond of her husband and would not leave him. And where Dorothea led, Clarice followed, and in short order, the younger Darlington daughter, too, was married.

  It was soon apparent that the whole scheme had been doomed to failure from the start, and she had declared to Mr. Darlington that it was her intention to give up the lease. Unfortunately, they had signed a five-year lease, and they were only three years into it. Her husband, who knew how to hold on to a penny, said that the only way to get out of the lease was to find someone to sublet it from them.

  Despite the lovely manor and park, since moving to Netherfield Park, Mrs. Darlington had found local society limited. The neighborhood was small—no more than two dozen families, at most. For someone who had grown up in a port city, she found her neighbors to have scant knowledge of anything beyond Meryton and its neighboring farms. While the men spoke of commerce and agriculture, the women, especially those with daughters of a marriageable age, dwelt almost exclusively on finding husbands for their girls. With her two daughters well married, even this entertainment was of no interest to her, and she had made little attempt to really get to know any of them, the only exception being Lady Lucas.

  After receiving permission from Mr. Crenshaw to sublet Netherfield Park, she had contacted Mr. Morris, but that had been more than a year ago. Apparently, Netherfield Park was too large for a farmer but too small for a member of the aristocracy. Mrs. Darlington thought her only hope rested in finding someone from the noveau riche—perhaps the son of the owner of a manufactory or mill. Yes, a mill owner as the mills of Manchester were not only producing cotton but gold-plated men of industry.

  Fortunately, according to Mr. Morris, there was light on the horizon. The letting agent had written to Mrs. Darlington to say that a certain Mr. Bingley had shown an eager interest in the property, so much so that he had sent one of his agents to inspect the property. Morris described Mr. Bingley as a bachelor from the North and a man of wealth and refinement. A bachelor, Mrs. Darlington had thought, would do very well in Meryton as the neighborhood supported too many ladies and not enough gentleman. And in Mr. Bingley’s favor, some of the girls were quite pretty and stepped lively. The two eldest Bennet daughters immediately came to mind.

  Upon receipt of the letter, Mrs. Darlington had closeted herself with her daughters to form a plan to entice Mr. Bingley to sign the lease and settled on a small card party where a select group of people could mingle. There would be four card tables with four people at each table. Each set would be allotted a certain amount of time. Whoever was winning at the end of the scheduled time would be declared the winner, and at that point, all parties changed tables. Those not playing cards would be able to enjoy a conversation until such time as a table became available. She planned to ask Sir William Lucas to serve as director for the evening—something along the line of a Master of Ceremonies. Such a plan would provide Mr. Bingley an opportunity to meet his neighbors, especially the unmarried maidens of Meryton.

  It was important to have only the best people in the neighborhood at the card party, and for that reason, attendance would be by invitation only. She immediately thought of Lady Lucas, her only real friend. That, of course, meant that Charlotte, the eldest Lucas daughter, would top the guest list. But that was fine with Mrs. Darlington as Charlotte, although rather plain, was a sensible girl and quite a gifted conversationalist. As she thought about which young ladies to invite, Mrs. Darlington smiled. She had never considered herself to be a matchmaker—her daughters had found their spouses with no help from her—but this had all the makings of a marriage fair.

  * * *

  It was less than a week later that Aunt Phillips returned to Longbourn. She was barely in the door when she cried out, “Fanny! Girls! Gather ’round! I have news.”

  With Aunt Phillips’ voice echoing throughout the house, all female
Bennets were soon gathered in the parlor to hear what “news” their aunt carried with her. In a breathy exhalation, Aunt Phillips declared that Netherfield Park was “almost let.”

  “Almost let?” a confused Mrs. Bennet asked. “Whatever do you me by ‘almost let’?”

  “Although I say almost, it is as good as done,” she answered with a smug look on her face and revealed the identity of the man who would take up residence at Netherfield Park as Mr. Bingley of Scarborough. “This very morning, Mrs. Morris assured me that the gentleman is very near to signing a year’s lease on Netherfield Park. It is just a matter of putting pen to paper.”

  According to Mrs. Morris, Mrs. Darlington had written a letter to Lady Lucas in which she indicated that a certain gentleman, a Mr. Bingley from the North, had shown a particular interest in Netherfield Park. Mrs. Darlington was convinced that if Mr. Bingley had an opportunity to engage with the community that he would sign the lease without hesitation. To help the gentleman’s decision-making along, it was Mrs. Darlington’s intention to host a card party for a select group, no more than twenty people so that Mr. Bingley would not be overwhelmed. She had written to Lady Lucas that as Mr. Bingley was a bachelor, the list of guests should place a particular emphasis on those unmarried ladies over the age of eighteen.

  After inhaling the news, Mrs. Bennet exhaled hosannas. A bachelor—and a rich one at that—might very likely settle in the neighborhood, and it would naturally follow that he would fall in love with one of her girls. But not everyone greeted the news with the same enthusiasm as their mother.

  “Over eighteen!” Lydia exclaimed and was soon seconded by seventeen-year-old Kitty. “That is not fair, Mama. I cannot help what year I was born.”

  “And I will be eighteen in the spring,” Kitty protested. “It would be unfair to exclude me for the want of a few months.”

  “I agree, my dears, but I am not the one hosting the party.”

  As much as she would have liked to have seen her beloved Lydia, and Kitty as well, invited to the party, Jane was by far the prettiest of the five Bennet girls and the most likely to make an advantageous marriage. If anyone was to save the family from the entail, it would be the eldest Bennet daughter. There was still time for Lydia and Kitty to snatch up any available bachelors, but Jane, at very nearly two and twenty, needed to marry soon.

  “Well, I shall not stay a minute longer and listen to plans being made for a party I shall not be permitted to attend. It has nothing to do with us,” Lydia said, gesturing for Kitty to follow her out of the room.

  Lizzy waited for her two pouting siblings to leave before commenting on the arrangements for the card party. “If I understand Aunt Phillips correctly, it is Mrs. Darlington’s plan to parade the local beauties in front of Mr. Bingley to entice him into taking up residence at Netherfield Park.”

  “And what is wrong with that, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet sniffed.

  “Nothing, except that it is a little obvious what Mrs. Darlington is doing and how desperate she is to get out of the lease.”

  “If it benefits my girls, it matters not a whit if it is obvious or not.”

  “And how will it benefit one of your daughters?”

  “I am determined that Mr. Bingley will marry one of you.”

  Lizzy was aghast. “But you know nothing of Mr. Bingley, and, yet, in your mind, he is already your son-in-law.”

  “I know the gentleman is rich and handsome and that Jane is kind and beautiful. That, my dear Lizzy, is what matters in a marriage—a pretty face to wake up to in the morning and a man who can pay the bills.”

  “How do you know that Mr. Bingley is handsome? Who has seen him other than Mr. Morris? And before you marry one of us off to Mr. Bingley,” Lizzy continued, “you first have to receive an invitation to the card party.”

  “I am sure Jane will be invited, and there is an excellent chance, for all your criticisms, that you will also be on the list as there are only three or four girls in the neighborhood who are prettier than you.”

  Mary pointed out to her mother that she was over eighteen and should be considered.

  “I would not count on it, Mary. The guest list is very limited.”

  “In other words, I am not pretty enough to be considered.”

  When Mrs. Bennet said nothing, Mary left the room, and Jane chastised her mother for not providing some reassurance to her middle daughter.

  “Criticize if you will, Jane, but it is I who must see that my girls marry and marry well, and who may I ask, would marry Mary? I am sorry to say it, but she is too plain to tempt a man. Besides, I rely on Mary to see me through my old age.”

  Lizzy shook her head in disbelief at her mother’s lack of empathy. “If it were my plan to have someone care for me in my dotage, I, for one, would be kinder to that person.”

  Lizzy rose as she had heard enough. Either she would be on the list or she would not, and it was up to Mrs. Darlington and Lady Lucas to determine who would attend. She excused herself and went in search of Mary and found her in her room staring out the window.

  “I know I am plain, Lizzy,” Mary said, “but I do not think I am so unattractive that it would not even occur to Lady Lucas to recommend that I be on the guest list.”

  Lizzy took her sister’s hand in hers. It was not that Mary was so very plain, it was that Jane was so very beautiful that everyone paled in comparison. It was Jane who had suggested that if Mary spent a little more time in front of the mirror, it would make all the difference, but the middle Bennet daughter eschewed “fripperies,” as she called anything that complemented her appearance, and declined to enhance her frocks in any way.

  “Lydia is Mama’s darling, and Kitty makes her laugh. Jane is the pretty, kind one, and you are the brilliant sister, as smart as Papa, only kinder. And me? I have neither wit nor beauty.”

  “Mary, I know Mama frequently says unkind things, but you are not alone in being the subject of her barbs. You heard what she said about me. There are at least three or four girls in the neighborhood who are prettier than I am.”

  “Apparently, every girl in the neighborhood is prettier than me.” Mary squeezed Lizzy’s hands and thanked her for her thoughtfulness. “I am fine, Lizzy, and I shall see you at supper. Right now, I just want to be left alone.”

  “Shall I ask Hill to send up a cup of tea?”

  “That would be nice.”

  After seeing to Mary’s tea, Lizzy found Jane in their shared bedroom, looking out the window. Turning to Lizzy, she wore a familiar face: resignation at their mother’s lack of awareness of how her words, and in this case, her silence wounded.

  “I wish Mama would be a little more sensitive to Mary’s needs,” Lizzy said.

  “I agree. Mama can be so…so childlike.”

  “But Mama is not a child,” Lizzy protested. “She is a wife and mother of five.” Lizzy plopped down on the bed. “I blame Papa for this. There was a time when he would counsel Mama to reflect on what she said before saying it. Now, he finds her nonsensical and hurtful statements amusing.”

  “It is how Papa deals with the sad state of their marriage.” Jane came and sat next to Lizzy. “Neither will change; it is too late for that. So—”

  Jane’s thought was interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips’ laughter wafting up the staircase. Mrs. Phillips, who was childless, had nearly as much interest in seeing the Bennet girls well married as her sister, and because she lived in town, gossip reached her first. As a result, there was a well-worn path between the Phillips’ house and Longbourn.

  “…so we must step in and console Mary. How is she?”

  Lizzy had left Mary with a cup of tea and an open book on her lap. Reading had always been Mary’s refuge, a safe place away from two intelligent and pretty older sisters and two young, pretty, and silly younger sisters.

  “What else did Aunt Phillips have to say about the card party?” Lizzy asked.

  Lizzy’s question brought a light into Jane’s eyes. Mrs. Da
rlington had written to Mr. Bingley, inviting him to stay at Netherfield Park so that she might give him a personal tour of the manor house, and Mr. Bingley had accepted.

  “Mr. Bingley is to come to Meryton? Oh my!” Lizzy exclaimed. “What an uproar that will cause. You will have every eligible lady in the county suddenly seized by the need to go for a walk on High Street. It will be quite the parade. When is this happy event to take place?”

  “It is reported that Mr. Bingley will arrive sometime Thursday evening from London.”

  “Good! I am in need of diversion as I find it disheartening to learn that I am only the third or fourth prettiest girl in the neighborhood. I know you are the prettiest, but who are my competitors?”

  Jane did not think her mother’s remark about Lizzy’s looks merited one minute of contemplation as she believed that Lizzy was in every way more handsome than she was.

  “Jane, do be serious. I do own a mirror, you know.”

  “I do not say this from any sense of false modesty. You are much prettier than I am.”

  In Jane’s opinion, Lizzy’s dark curls were infinitely preferable to her straight fair hair. Although her blue eyes were pretty enough, Lizzy’s dark brown eyes danced. And as pretty as Lizzy was, it was Lizzy’s wit and personality that shone through, serving to enhance her beauty with a hint that behind those sparkling dark eyes was an intelligent woman. It might take a little longer to recognize Lizzy’s superior attractions, but they were real.

  Lizzy dismissed Jane’s compliments with a wave of her hand. She was pretty enough, but she did not turn heads as Jane did whenever she entered a room.

  “It cannot be Mary King as she only visits in the summer, and I refuse to lose out to a temporary resident. I think I am better looking than Charlotte, although I wish I was as kind as she—”

  “Stop it this minute, Lizzy!” Jane protested. “I refuse to continue this discussion. The fact is that Mama was not referring to your lack of physical beauty when she made that comment but rather…”