Miss Bennet & Mr Bingley
Page 27
‘I am so sorry to be here again, Jane, I tried to dissuade Mama, but you know how it is, she will not budge once she has an idea in her head. I fear she considers this her second home.’
Jane squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘It is not your fault, my love, but I do think that the frequency of her visits a trifle excessive.’ It would not do to discuss the strain it was putting on her relationship, that was no one else’s concern.
It was for an hour and a half before she was alone again. Charles had made it quite clear he had no wish to speak to her so she could not go and search him out in the library. She wandered restlessly around the drawing-room, the house was so well run by Nicholls and Peterson, and the army of staff they employed, she had few duties to perform.
They had foregone the usual wedding trip, deciding they would prefer to spend their first festive season together. With hindsight it was plain that had been a grave error of judgement on her part. Charles had wished to stay away longer, it was she that had insisted on returning to Netherfield.
Perhaps it was time to consider further travelling in the spring. Jane had never been overseas, and had no wish to do so now. The original plan had been to travel to Scotland and admire the Highlands, then spend several weeks with Lizzy and Darcy at Pemberley before returning. It was too late to write to Lizzy and suggest this. The last time she had had a note from her sister she had been somewhere in Italy, no doubt they had moved on since then.
It had been a mistake to remain here, she and Charles should have followed Lizzy’s example and travelled together. It would have been so much easier adjusting to each other’s needs away from the constant demands of her family. She would not dwell on what might have been but make an effort to restore harmony between them.
* * * *
That evening she took special care with her appearance. Although they dined informally unless they had company, tonight she would make a special effort to show Charles she was unhappy about the constraint coming between them because of her mother’s too frequent visits. The more time she spent in his company the more she loved him, and she too hoped it would not be long before she was able to tell him she was adding to their family. She glowed at the thought of holding their child in her arms. They had not discussed the matter, but she knew he would be as happy as she to be a parent.
They did not dine in the grand dining room but in the smaller room that was used for breakfast. It seemed ridiculous to be positioned at either end of a vast table with a dozen servants in attendance when they could be sitting side by side with a single footmen to wait.
She left her chamber hoping to meet Charles in the spacious corridor. Either he was still dressing or was ahead of her and waiting in the drawing-room. She was wearing her newest gown, it was in leaf green silk with emerald green bugle beads around the hem and neckline. Her gloves and slippers were a perfect match. Her hair was piled up in an elaborate arrangement, and neck enclosed in the fabulous emerald necklace she had been given by her husband as a wedding gift.
She glided across the entrance hall, her eyes alight and a tender smile upon her lips. She froze at the open doors of the drawing-room. He had not bothered to change. He was wearing mud spattered boots and britches. Charles could not have made it more clear, she no longer mattered. If he still loved her he would have made the effort and not treated her with such disrespect.
Not waiting for him to comment she spun; gathering up her skirts she raced up the stairs, tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks. For the first time since they had been married she ran into our own bedchamber, slamming the door behind her and turning the key in the lock.
Her abigail, Martha, rushed from the dressing room and without comment helped her to disrobe. The room was icy, the fire not burning, the bed no doubt would be damp as well.
Jane had no wish to be comfortable; her heart was broke and she would not rest easy ever again. Oh, how she wished her Lizzy was here now to comfort her.
‘Madam, please come into the dressing room, there is a fine fire in there. I’ll get the fire lit in this chamber and a warming pan passed through the sheets on your bed.’
Jane allowed herself to be guided into the dressing room. She glanced nervously at the communicating door and was relieved to see the bolt pushed across. She had no wish to speak to Charles tonight, she was too angry, too humiliated to converse without distress.
* * * *
Charles decided he would feel better for a gallop around the estate. The weather was foul, it suited his mood. Good God! How many days of his life was he to be obliged to endure the company of Mrs Bennet? Darcy had warned him about living so close to Jane’s family but he had ignored him. His Jane wished to be close to Longbourn, and he wished to please her on every count.
He had never anticipated the wretched woman would arrive with monotonous regularity on the doorstep every single day of the week. It would be bearable if she came but twice and stayed only for a quarter of an hour. He had hinted to Jane that she get her mother to limit these visits but nothing had come of it. She had told him she had no wish to upset her parents, that her mother had a good heart and meant well and that the novelty of having free access to their home would soon wane.
This had not been proved erroneous, indeed she had taken to bringing cronies with her. They would wander in and out of every room regardless of his privacy as if they had every right to be there. He could not call his home his own.
Each day he spent with his beloved is love increased, he would do anything for her apart from allow Mrs Bennet to trample where she will in Netherfield. He was prepared to put a stop to these unwelcome visits unless Jane did something herself. He had no wish to be considered an autocratic husband, but enough was enough.
Charles returned from his excursion with his mind made up. He would discuss the matter at dinner tonight, make sure Jane understood how strongly he felt. He glanced at the tall clock in the entrance hall. Good grief, it was too late to change for dinner. He should never have dallied at Lucas Lodge so long. He smiled, Jane would forgive him his disarray when she saw what he had in his pocket. He had purchased a charming locket she had admired last time they had been to Meryton.
The discussion about Mrs Bennet could wait until they were private in his apartment. He waited impatiently in the drawing-room, Jane was normally ready before him. What could be keeping her tonight?
Her light footsteps were approaching he stopped pacing the carpet. She paused, framed in the doorway, a vision of loveliness in a gown he had not seen before. She looked like a princess, he raised his hand, his eyes filled with love. To his consternation her expression changed. She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time and found him wanting. Turning in a swirl of green silk she vanished from sight. What had he done? Why had she reacted in this extraordinary fashion?
Surely she could not have taken his lack of evening attire to be a deliberate insult? He was about to rush after her when Peterson opened the door to the dining room and announced that dinner was served. They could not both absent themselves, Cook went to so much trouble to prepare them food they both enjoyed. He would put matters right after he had eaten, with luck she would have recovered her composure and they could laugh together about their misunderstanding.
‘Peterson, Mrs Bingley is feeling unwell and would like a tray sent up to her. I shall dine as usual.’
The butler snapped his fingers and a waiting footman hastily removed the cutlery put out for Jane. Charles ate what was set in front of him but tasted none of it.
* * * *
‘Madam, your bedchamber is warm enough. Cook has sent up a tray, I placed it on the table by fire.’
‘I do not require anything to eat, thank you, Martha. Kindly have the food removed. I am going to go to bed I fear I have a megrim coming.’
This was not a fabrication. As she had been huddling in front of the fire in the dressing room the all-too-familiar throb over her right eye, the strange distortion of her vision, heralded the arrival of the
dreaded sick headache. Solicitously her maid assisted her to bed, checking there was a suitable receptacle for when she cast up her accounts, and a jug of lemonade on the bedside table. She much preferred to be left alone at these times, only complete quiet and darkness gave her a modicum of relief.
It was a full forty eight hours before she was sufficiently recovered to take notice of her surroundings. Jane belatedly recalled this was the first time she had been so afflicted since her marriage, indeed her husband had no inkling that she suffered in this way.
* * * *
When Charles was informed that his wife was unwell he thought it a ruse to keep him away from her. This was not like his Jane, was he seeing a side of her she had kept hidden until now? When, after a miserable day, his beloved wife still did not come to him but remained behind closed doors, heart was near to breaking. How could things have come to this pass? A man had to be ruler in his own house. He would not discuss the matter of the visits with her but deal with it himself. When she deigned to leave her chambers Jane would have to accept that Mrs Bennet was no longer welcome at Netherfield.
* * * *
Jane was well enough to dress the next day and the first thing she did was look for evidence that Charles had worried about her sickness. She was shocked to see there had been no note, no hothouse flowers, in fact no enquiries of any kind.
Surely he was not unwell himself? It was mid-morning, he must be in the library or the study but she couldn’t find him. Jane he did not wish to be estranged from him, she had been foolish in the extreme to run away as she had. It was unlike her to behave in such a missish way.
Dressed in a simple, buttercup yellow morning gown, the high neck and long sleeves exactly right for a chilly day. It’s only ornamentation a pretty pleated bodice. Her head was still too painful to allow for her usual hairstyle; for once it was simply done in a loose arrangement at the base of the neck. Gathering her cashmere shawl closely around her shoulders against the wind that whistled along the draughty corridors, she hastened downstairs. Peterson was on duty in the vestibule. ‘Tell me, where is Mr Bingley?’
‘The master is in the library, madam. He asked you to join him there. Shall I have your tea sent there this morning?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you, I shall eat and breakfast as usual after I have spoken to Mr Bingley.’
She knocked on the door and without waiting for an answer, stepped in. Charles was standing his back to her, staring out over the sodden fields.
‘Charles, have you been unwell?’
He saw his shoulders stiffen and his hands clench. He swung round to face her. What was wrong? Why was he looking at her in that strange fashion?
‘Please be seated, Jane, there are things we need to discuss.’ Why was he sounding so cross? It was hardly her fault she had had a headache, it was not like him not to be compassionate. She settled in the chair on the left of the fireplace. With her hands folded neatly on her lap, she waited expectantly. What she had to say could wait until he had spoken. It must be something portentous for him to look so serious.
‘I am sorry you chose not to come and see me until now. I would much rather have discussed the matter with you first, but you left me no option. I have been obliged to take matters into my own hands.’
Her eyes widened. She had no idea to what he was referring. ‘What matters, Charles? I am afraid I do not understand to what you refer.’
‘The matter of your mother appearing on our doorstep every single day since we returned from London last year. I have asked you several times to do something about this and you chose to ignore my wishes. I went to Longbourn and spoke to Mr Bennet. In future Mrs Bennet is not welcome here. Kitty and Mary can come twice a week, if you wish to see your mother you must go to Longbourn in order to do so.’
Jane could not believe what she was hearing. Charles had banned her mother from visiting? How could he be so cruel? She would be devastated, she had lost Lydia and Elizabeth, visiting Netherfield was her only solace and now that had been taken too.
She stared at him. She could not known his true character until now. The memory of her unfortunate experience with the hateful Mr Fox returned. Was Charles another such gentleman, had he been dissembling until this moment?
There was nothing she could do. She was his wife, his word was law, she could not go against his wishes. She raised her head, almost too distressed to speak. ‘Very well, sir, it shall be as you command. I would not dream of gainsaying your instructions. Is there any restriction to the amount of times I may visit Longbourn or is that also to be limited in future?’
He looked disconcerted. He cleared his throat and then his finger around his neckcloth as if it had become unaccountably tight. ‘You may visit as often as you please, but I would like to know when you are going to be absent, if that is not too much trouble.’
‘Of course. If I have your permission, I would like to take the chaise and go right now.’ He nodded. ‘Thank you, if you’ll excuse me, I have not eaten and am still feeling unwell.’
* * * *
Charles felt as if he was living in a nightmare. What could have possessed him to behave like such a complete ass? The shock on her face when he had told her pierced his heart. He wished the words unsaid, but it was too late. He had permanently alienated Mrs Bennet, caused his mother-in-law untold distress and now his darling wife was looking at him as if she did not know him. He did not know himself. He was a nincompoop. He stopped berating himself as he recalled something Jane had said. She hadn’t eaten for two days? Her face had been pale, her expression unhappy. He was a brute to have treated his beloved so callously.
He jerked the bell and waited for Peterson to answer the summons. ‘Peterson, was no food sent up to Mrs Bingley while she remained in her room?’
The man looked puzzled. ‘Madam was too unwell to partake, sir. Mrs Bingley has only just recovered from her megrim this morning.’
Charles collapsed into an armchair, burying his head in his hands. Jane had been unwell and he had not known. He was so taken up with his own concerns she had languished, believing herself ignored. She would never forgive them, no wonder she had gazed at him in that way. He had destroyed their marriage before it had hardly begun.
* * * *
Jane tried to compose herself on the journey to Longbourn, it would not do to arrive with her eyes blotchy and red. She had to be strong, accept that she might have made a grave error of judgement and married a man she did not understand.
Her carriage rolled to a halt; she waited for the coachman to climb down and lower the steps. She arrived at the front door where Kitty was waiting to greet her.
‘Oh, Jane, you cannot imagine the fuss and botheration that has been going on here. Our mama is beside herself. Come in, I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life.’
‘Kitty, I have been unwell these past two days or would have come before. Charles should not have said what he did, it was unkind of him.’
Her sister drew into the small anteroom to the right the front door. ‘It is not that that has upset Mama, she took your husband’s dictum with good grace. She would forgive Charles anything, he is by far her favourite son-in-law.’
Jane removed her cloak and bonnet and dropped them absentmindedly across the back of a convenient chair. ‘Then what is it that has upset her?’
‘It is Papa. When he discovered she had been going every day to visit you he was furious. She is to remain in the house, not venture forth without his permission even to go to Meryton.’
‘Oh dear! So she cannot even go to see Aunt Philips?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘She’s not to go anywhere, he issued this command and then locked himself in his study. The house is in uproar, Mama is suffering from her nerves and refusing to leave her dressing-room. I am at my wits end to know what to do. I had not thought to see such a commotion; she is as distraught as when Lydia ran off with Wickham.’
‘And Mary, how is she coping with all this stress?’
Jane found herself pouring out her heart to the younger sister in the same way she had once told Lizzy. When she finished the sorry tale Kitty patted her hands.
‘I am sure it is no more than a misunderstanding. You are famous for misunderstanding each other. Have you spoken to him? Have you asked why he has behaved this way?’
‘I cannot do that, he’s made it quite clear by his actions these past few days he has changed his mind about me. That he regrets having married; he hates my family and is in a fair way to feeling the same about me.’ Jane mopped her eyes, why was she such a watering pot today?
‘Stuff and nonsense! Now, dry your eyes, Jane, and go and see Papa. You must tell him to make his peace with our mother, tell him that you invited her to visit so often, put things right between them, I beg you.’
Jane felt ashamed. She was allowing her own distress to colour her judgement, this was at the expense of those she loved. ‘You are right to chide me, Kitty. I cannot believe the change in you these past few months. You are a good girl, and I love you dearly. I shall go at once to smooth things over between our parents.’
* * * *
Charles felt wretched. He had treated his darling Jane abominably and wouldn’t blame her if she decided to stay at Longbourn permanently. He did not deserve to have her at his side. How he longed for Darcy, if he were here he would give him sound advice.
Was that the carriage returning so soon? He hovered in the doorway, then retreated to lurk behind the drawing-room door, not wishing Jane to see him there in case she had no wish to speak to him.
A footman opened the door and instead of his wife, Kitty Bennet rushed in. The girl spotted him instantly.
‘Charles, Jane is at Longbourn breaking her heart believing that you have changed towards her. What is it about you two that you cannot put matters right for yourselves?’