Parrish’s countenance froze, suggesting he was equally enamored of the suggestion. First his home had been insulted by Mrs. Hurst, and now someone not even of the family presumed to know better than he what was best for his wife. “As newly married couples all, I’m sure we do not wish to intrude on each other’s privacy to such an extent. Mr. Darcy, I appreciate your apprehensions and your offer of hospitality, but I’m sure my wife will be quite all right at Mont Joyau. The plantation has been in my family for generations; the mansion boasts some of the most comfortable and luxurious rooms in Louisiana. It’s hardly the savage wasteland some of those present seem to think it is.”
“I assure you, Parrish, no one here intends you or your home disrespect,” Bingley said quickly. “I think only of my sister’s well-being. It would be no intrusion to have you and Caroline stay with us in Hertfordshire for as long as necessary. Indeed, Jane and I would be pleased to have you as our first guests. While I am only a tenant at Netherfield and cannot rival your long family history at Mont Joyau, you’ll find it a pleasant estate. Of course, Caroline is your wife and you can take her where you will. But truly, I shall be disappointed if you do not come.”
“And what of the opportunity for Randolph’s friend Dr. Lancaster to treat her?” Parrish asked. “Who can aid my wife”—he cast a look of appeal at Mrs. Hurst—“quietly—at Netherfield?”
“The need for discretion is not lost upon any of us,” Darcy said. “Perhaps, Professor Randolph, you can write to your colleague for advice while we search for a physician here in England whose secrecy can be trusted. Meanwhile, Mrs. Parrish could begin her recovery at Netherfield.”
“I can send a letter this very morning if need be. But Mrs. Parrish will benefit far more from Dr. Lancaster’s direct observation than his interpretation of my notes. And corresponding across the ocean will take months—if the missives even arrive, with the seas in a state of war.”
“All the more reason for Mrs. Parrish not to travel upon them.”
Parrish scanned the room as if seeking another ally. His gaze lighted upon Mr. Hurst, who had for the most part spent the discussion silently liberating Parrish’s sherry from the crystal decanter on the table beside him. “Mr. Hurst, we’ve not yet heard your opinion on the matter. Caroline has spent a lot of time in your home up till now. Where do you think she can best recover?”
Hurst shrugged. “One house is as good as another. Though perhaps she oughtn’t come back to Grosvenor Street with us.”
Had Hurst been listening at all? Who had suggested Grosvenor Street? The whole idea was to get Mrs. Parrish out of London. Elizabeth pitied Frederick Parrish. ’Twas difficult to know the right course of action with conflicting advice all around.
“Perhaps a compromise might be reached,” she offered. “Before subjecting Mrs. Parrish to a long journey, why not see if a short stay at Netherfield suffices? If not, then undertake the more involved trip to Louisiana.”
Jane’s countenance, which had been clouded by the dissent in the air, brightened. “Yes! Maybe Caroline’s condition is not as bad as it seems and she needs only a short respite.”
“Should that prove true, no one would be happier than I.” Parrish released a heavy sigh and shrugged in resignation. “As much as I wish to share Mont Joyau with Caroline, I have no desire to go against the wishes of all her family. Charles, Jane, I gratefully and humbly accept your hospitality.”
Bingley beamed at Parrish’s decision. “Splendid! Jane and I will depart this afternoon to prepare for your arrival. Bring Caroline as soon as she is ready to travel.”
“Mrs. Hurst and I will come, too,” Hurst said quickly. “For support, you know.”
For the wine cellar, more likely, Elizabeth longed to say.
Bingley, however, expressed pleasure at Hurst’s suggestion. His gaze swept the others. “Here’s an idea—why don’t we all remove to Netherfield? Caroline can spend Christmas surrounded by those who love her.”
Christmas with Caroline Bingley Parrish. Oh, joyous thought. Elizabeth met Darcy’s eyes, in which she alone detected the chagrin that matched her own as their plans to spend Yuletide at Pemberley slipped completely and finally from their grasp. Of course they must go. Every proper sentiment dictated that they defer their idyllic dream to the greater and very real needs of others close to them.
Jane’s expression was all sympathy. Elizabeth knew her sister would prove the bright spot in this whole scheme. She would think upon the visit as going to support Jane. Better yet, of celebrating the holidays with Jane.
“We would love to join you,” she said.
Ten
“I hope,” said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the next day, “you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue.”
Caroline Bingley to Mr. Darcy,
Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 10
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, drawing the crisp country air into her lungs to refresh both her body and her spirit. Though London offered diversions and an atmosphere unique in all England, her honeymoon there had confirmed that she was a country girl at heart. The slower pace gave one time to think, to notice one’s surroundings, to gain an intimate understanding of self and others, instead of getting lost in the perpetual whirl of the ton and its activities.
If she could not enjoy the tranquility of her own home, visiting Jane was the next best thing. Netherfield Park offered not merely the companionship of her most beloved sister, but also extensive walking paths. Elizabeth took great pleasure in walks; only the most disagreeable weather prevented at least one outing each day. Sometimes she preferred to go by herself and be alone with her thoughts. On other occasions she welcomed company, as today when Jane joined her.
The Bingley sisters walked when it suited them: namely, when a brief stroll offered the opportunity for a private tête-à-tête or, in their maiden days, a chance to show off their forms to best advantage before eligible gentlemen. Since they had thus limited their excursions at Netherfield to the immediate environs of the house, Caroline had allowed many of the park’s more distant paths to continue unmaintained—a condition left by the previous tenant—during the year she’d governed her brother’s housekeeping. The garden paths near the house remained tidy, but disuse had caused the more remote trails in the rest of the park to grow further untamed. Elizabeth and Jane had to watch their footing as they traversed the grounds lest they catch a toe on a rock or root.
Jane had modest plans for restoring the paths; indeed, three new gardeners had already begun. Their work, however, left something to be desired. Hired shortly after Bingley’s engagement, they eagerly sought to please their new mistress and proceeded immediately to address her general remark about tidying the paths. Figuring that if a dirt path was adequate, a brick one was better, they undertook to surprise Jane and their new master while the head gardener was away purchasing bulbs for autumn planting. Their inexperience, however, led the trio to lay the bricks rapidly, in unfavorable weather, and without proper foundation, edging, or slope to facilitate drainage. The resulting path was a gauntlet of hazards. Shifting had started as soon as cold temperatures arrived, and uneven bricks competed with icy pools to upset the unwary. The “improved” path was now the most treacherous one on the estate.
“The poor lads meant well,” Jane said. “Mr. Smyth wanted to dismiss them when he returned and saw what they’d done, but Bingley interceded. They’re all three of them orphans, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with nowhere else to go, and winter was coming.”
Elizabeth smiled at Jane’s charity. Leave it to her sister and Bingley to hire three new gardeners in the fall, and inexperienced boys at that. Fortunately, snow had put a temporary halt to their overzealous efforts to please their benefactors.
Jane described their plans for spring plantings. Bingley hoped to purchase an estate of his own soon, so he and Jane did not wish to invest much time or capital in the enhancement of in
terim surroundings. But while Netherfield was theirs, she wanted to make it a home, and she shared her ideas for the house and grounds as they walked. It was a more pleasant topic than the unspoken one that weighed on both their minds.
Though she tried to focus on Jane’s words, Elizabeth’s thoughts defiantly kept returning to Caroline Parrish. Yesterday’s family conference at the townhouse troubled her in a way she could not pinpoint, leaving her mind restless as she sought to define the vague sense that something more than frayed nerves propelled the recent events surrounding the former Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth so loved life that she found completely alien the notion of taking one’s own. To intentionally end the adventure of daily existence was to close a book before reaching its last page. Even for those in dire worldly straits, she considered suicide not taking arms against a sea of troubles, but a cowardly refusal to face them. Yet to all appearances, Caroline Parrish had made such a choice, a choice Elizabeth believed to be as contrary to Caroline’s nature as it was to her own. Whatever faults comprised Mrs. Parrish’s character—and they were numerous—weakness was not among them. With a backbone of brass and a core of pure selfishness, Caroline was not likely to give up easily what she believed life owed her. Especially not less than a week into a very advantageous marriage.
“You are pensive this afternoon.”
Jane’s gentle chide drew her from her reverie. She smiled apologetically, realizing she’d given up all pretense of listening to Jane’s discourse. “My thoughts keep straying to your sister-in-law.”
“As do mine. I pray this visit to Netherfield proves beneficial for Caroline.”
“And short?”
Now it was Jane’s turn to look guilty. “I am certain we all wish for a swift recovery.”
Elizabeth would have laughed at her sister’s equivocation had the subject not been so serious. “She’s friend to neither you nor I, but I do believe Darcy gave Bingley sound advice. She’s better off here than traveling to America. Such a trip seems imprudent for many reasons, not the least of which are Caroline’s own inclinations. I did not want to injure Mr. Parrish’s feelings by saying so, but his wife never appeared interested in Mont Joyau even before all this started.”
“Those were my impressions as well. And the mere trip here wore her out so—Mr. Parrish says she’s been sleeping since we arrived. Poor man! He looks exhausted himself.”
They reached a fork in the path and decided upon the branch leading back to the house. “Perhaps Mrs. Parrish will feel up to joining us for dinner, or at least having visitors to her room,” Elizabeth said. “I would like to hear her explanation of what happened, though I doubt she’d confide the details to us.”
“She won’t talk to Charles or Mrs. Hurst about it. Only Mr. Parrish. Who can blame her? How mortifying to have so many people know that one’s nerves have frayed to the point of—to . . . to that point. It feels indecent even for you and I to discuss it between ourselves.”
“Well, someone ought to discuss it, if we are to learn what really happened.” Since the family council at the Parrish townhouse, no one had said a word about the suicide attempt. The subject was like an elephant in the middle of the parlor; its presence dominated the room but nobody would acknowledge it.
Jane regarded her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“Has Caroline ever impressed you as a woman with fragile nerves?”
“No. Quite the opposite. But I suppose anyone’s inner fortitude can fail under stressful circumstances.”
“Yes—circumstances like the death of someone close, or the loss of a family fortune, or some other calamity. But marrying a kind, handsome, rich man at a wedding designed to be the social event of the season? Unless her nerves broke because all her dreams have been realized and she has nothing left to which to aspire, I fail to see a convincing cause for such an extreme action as attempting to take her own life.”
“But she was holding the knife when their cook found her in the kitchen.”
“All the more reason to question. Would she choose such a painful, violent method of death? Or one so untidy? She would be too conscious of the fact that her body would be found in a stained gown. And to perform the act in the kitchen? I doubt Caroline Bingley Parrish had ever entered a kitchen before in her life. Would she end her existence in one? In a place where she would be discovered not by her husband or even her lady’s maid, but one of the lower servants?”
Jane stopped and looked her full in the face. “What are you saying, Lizzy? That both the constable and the surgeon are wrong?”
She had no real answer for Jane. What was she saying, after all? Only that the explanations they’d been offered seemed too facile given Caroline’s character and her own half-realized perceptions. But of what value were indistinct apprehensions?
“I don’t know. Just that it’s all very puzzling.” The sound of horses drew her attention toward the house. A familiar carriage approached the front gate.
“Lizzy! Jane!” cried the well-known voice from within. “I came as soon as I heard you were here!”
Elizabeth sighed. There would be no enticing Caroline Parrish out of her chamber today. She and Jane fixed smiles on their faces and went to meet the latest arrival.
“Mama!”
“Now, Lizzy, explain this to me again. Why are you and Mr. Darcy not at Pemberley?”
Elizabeth shifted in her chair, unwilling to lie to her mother outright but unable to prevaricate much longer in the interest of saving Caroline Parrish from becoming the subject of what would surely develop into the most rapidly circulating local gossip since Lydia’s elopement. Why she cared about Caroline’s reputation in the neighborhood, she couldn’t say; the new Mrs. Parrish certainly didn’t deserve protection among people she’d openly disdained time and again. Perhaps Elizabeth shielded her for Jane and Bingley’s sake. Or Mr. Parrish’s. She met the gaze of the latter gentleman across the drawing room, where he sat between the Hursts and Professor Randolph. His eyes pleaded for discretion.
Darcy, apparently sensing her discomfort, intervened. “Coming here was my idea. Elizabeth and I will be off to Pemberley soon enough. My sister, in fact, waits for us there.”
“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Bennet nodded knowingly. “Of course.” Darcy’s statement had clarified nothing, but her mother held him in such awe that she either didn’t notice or didn’t dare voice the question a fourth time. “Well, I’m sure you will be quite comfortable here. Netherfield may not be as grand as your own estate, but it is a fine house. And Jane, you are now mistress of it! I’m so happy for you, darling—mistress of Netherfield! What a fine situation for my daughter!”
Jane smiled self-consciously, clearly embarrassed by her mother’s effusions before her new family. “Yes, Mama. But we won’t be here forever, remember.”
“I know, I know. But that will be still better—an estate of your own! Mr. Bingley, when are you going to stop sitting on your inheritance and purchase a home for my daughter to live in?”
“Quite soon, madam. As soon as we find one we like well enough.”
“The Gouldings just quit Haye Park. How perfect that would be, Jane—having you continue to live so close! And in such a large house! You would need a steward for certain. Pemberley has a steward, does it not, Mr. Darcy?”
“It does.”
“Mr. Bingley, you must promise to hire a steward for your new estate.”
“If it’s big enough to warrant one, I will.”
“Then you must buy one big enough. You can afford it on your income.”
Louisa Hurst muffled a snicker and scanned the room for someone to temporarily fill Caroline’s place in the catty coterie they formed whenever Mrs. Bennet was present. Finding no one to share her amusement, she had to settle for playing with her bracelets to demonstrate her superiority above the older woman’s conversation. Mr. Hurst, apparently bored, rose and headed for the sherry decanter.
Mr. Parrish, however, was all politeness, listening to Mrs
. Bennet with either real or well-feigned interest. “Why, Charles, I thought your talk of purchasing an estate was just a longcherished dream, not something you intended to act upon presently,” Parrish said. “Perhaps we should tour some prospects together . . . once other affairs are settled. Mrs. Bennet, do keep us informed of other houses that become available. Your knowledge on these matters can aid our search tremendously.”
Mrs. Bennet glowed at the compliment. “I will indeed, sir. One hears of so many country houses changing hands these days. It’s a sad business—all these reckless gentlemen losing their fortunes by gambling.”
The rattle of the sherry decanter drew Elizabeth’s notice away from her mother’s penetrating social insights. Mr. Hurst had dropped the stopper on the floor. As he stooped to pick it up, his hand shook. She observed him with disgust. Were he not a gentleman, he would be considered a drunkard.
Her mother continued her discourse unabated. “I’m so glad my three married daughters have sensible, respectable husbands. Well, Lydia’s husband, Wickham, was perhaps a bit wild before their marriage. But such an agreeable young man, and so handsome! He’s in the militia, you know, up in Newcastle, so I haven’t seen my Lydia for months now. Lizzy, you should invite them to visit you when you get to Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth didn’t know which topic of her mother’s conversation was more indecorous: the references to Bingley’s income or the praise of Lydia’s scapegrace spouse. To relieve her own humiliation, she changed the subject entirely. “I believe Papa aspires to come peruse Pemberley’s library. How is my father?”
“Oh, the same as ever. I tried to persuade him to come with me today but he would be obstinate and refuse. Said I should give you a few hours at least to get settled before calling. The very idea! That your own mother should have to stand on ceremony when it comes to waiting upon her daughters. He says such things just to vex me, I’m certain. What that man does to my poor nerves! So you and Jane will have to come to Longbourn tomorrow to see your father if you don’t want to wait for him to get round to calling here. Bring your husbands, and we’ll have a family dinner. Oh—I suppose we’re all family now, aren’t we? Why don’t you all come? Mrs. Parrish, too. Where is she, by the way? I want to wish her joy.”
Pride and Prescience: Or, a Truth Univesally Acknowledged Page 9
