Mrs Bennet, however, was inclined to gloat and would publicly declare that the Collins’ lack of male children was a form of divine punishment. Anyone in Meryton who would listen was regaled with the news that “poor Mrs Collins” had had another daughter, while all of her married daughters, except Kitty, who had, as yet, no children, had produced sons. The irony of her own state—of having five daughters and no sons, seemed to escape her completely. Moreover, Mrs Bennet, recently returned from Lydia’s third confinement in Newcastle, brought unhappy reports of friction and worry over Wickham’s wandering eye. She had little to do but entertain her friends and spread the gossip, with no thought for the sensibilities of her elder daughters or their husbands.
Jane, visiting Elizabeth for William’s christening, brought the unhappy news to Pemberley. She and Bingley had been godparents to Charlotte’s little daughter, who Jane declared to be “the loveliest little girl I have ever seen.” Visiting Longbourn on the return journey, she had received a full account from her mother of the news from Newcastle, and it had alarmed her. Waiting discreetly for a time when their husbands were out riding and the servants and nurses were out of earshot, Jane expressed her unease about their wayward sister and her unreliable husband.
“Lizzie, if even half of what Mama tells is true, it is not a good situation at all.” She said, proceeding to detail some of Mrs Bennet’s reports. “It would seem that neither Wickham nor Lydia take their marriage vows seriously,” she said and appeared more than a little shocked when Elizabeth declared, in what Jane took to be a rather cavalier fashion, “Well, that should come as no surprise. I cannot believe that anyone honestly credited either of them with serious intentions. Their marriage was brought about by the intervention of Mr Darcy and Mr Gardiner, who had to patch up the disastrous mess into which they had got themselves.” Jane protested; her kind heart would not let her dismiss them so easily.
“How can you say that, Lizzie? Surely all of us hoped for some improvement, some change in their behaviour?” Elizabeth was unmoved.
“My dearest Sister, your goodness, your unfailing charity, will not let you see what is so plain to all of us—Wickham and Lydia are unlikely to want to change. She is still silly and vain and continues to flirt outrageously; he, it must be said, is at least less blatant about his desires; if what you have heard is true, he seems to be rather more discreet, though no less culpable in his behaviour, than our sister.”
“Is there nothing we can do?” asked Jane. Elizabeth looked uncertain.
“I suppose, I could stop sending Lydia the small sums of money I have sent her for the children, as some form of censure, but I doubt if that will have any effect upon her behaviour. She will probably apply to you for help, instead.” Jane looked surprised and embarrassed.
“Lizzie, has she been appealing to you for money?” she asked. When Elizabeth nodded and said, “For years,” Jane shook her head in despair.
“Oh Lizzie, I fear you are quite right. We are never going to change Lydia; she has been receiving regular payments from me and Mama ever since Henry was born!”
The realisation of the irresponsibility and manipulative nature of their sister and her husband devastated Jane and angered Elizabeth. But both agreed that there was very little to be done, except hope and pray that they would not act so brazenly as to bring shame upon their families again. “I’m grateful that Darcy says little or nothing about them. He knows Wickham only too well, and, as for Lydia, there is nothing one can say that will improve our opinion of her. We are all aware that their relationship owes little to love and even less to logic. They were brought together forcibly—for my uncle is sure that Wickham had no intention of ever marrying her, because their desires had got the better of what little virtue and good sense they might have had. To put it plainly,Wickham was bribed into marrying Lydia.” Seeing her sister’s unhappy expression, Elizabeth took her hand, “I know you think I am being harsh, but, Jane dearest, when I stop to think how close they came to wrecking all our lives, to destroying not just our chances of happiness, but the lives of those we hold most dear, like Papa, I cannot find it in my heart to feel much sympathy for them in their present predicament. They were given the best possible chance that could have been salvaged from the wreckage of their relationship, after that stupid, wicked elopement. Now, if they wish to throw it all away, they can do so without any tears from me.” A reminder of how close they had all come to losing everything, including any chance of a good marriage, dragged Jane back to reality.
“You are right, Lizzie; I realise that they are responsible for their own actions. We are not to blame for their troubles,” she sighed, sadly.
The return of their husbands interrupted any further discussion of the painful subject. Other members of the family were expected to join them, and both sisters were looking forward to the arrival of the Gardiners and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been away in London for the past week.
The Gardiners, after some initial concern, had taken Fitzwilliam to their hearts. His devotion to their daughter had won him a special place in their affections, and both Mr and Mrs Gardiner would go to great lengths to help him with arrangements for his new home and forthcoming wedding. On this occasion, they had been shopping for items of Caroline’s trousseau, but Mr Gardiner, whose long familiarity with London’s commercial district was a great advantage, was able to advise his future son-in-law on a number of matters concerning his new establishment and obtaining the services he would require.
When they arrived at Pemberley, they were full of information about the scandalous goings on in London, more particularly at the Court, since the death of the mad King George III. Fitzwilliam was scathing in his criticism of the Court and the Parliament—for the charade that was in progress over the succession and the vilification of the Queen, by a King who openly and unashamedly paraded his mistresses. “And in the Parliament, those elected to govern us remain consumed by these ridiculous matters, while all over England good, decent people are sinking deeper into the mire of depression,” he declared and added, “There are those in London who swear that we will soon have another revolution to sweep all this corruption away.” Everyone else expressed the hope that it would not come to that.
“Several members of the Whig Party have declared themselves in favour of reform, and it is surely possible to hope that this could be brought about without violence,” said Mrs Gardiner. Mr Gardiner expressed the hope that trade would save the day as it had some years ago, when all seemed lost.
“If only the government would bring its mind to bear on trade—there is so much to be done. The Dutch, the French, and even the Belgians are working hard at developing trade with the colonies, while our government fiddles with the marriage problems of the King!”
Darcy agreed wholeheartedly. He could see no solution to the current troubles, he said, unless the prosperity of the entire nation was uplifted. “There is little to be gained by the rich and the powerful withdrawing into their fortresses, while the poor and dispossessed beg in the streets, watching their children starve,” he said, with the kind of firmness and certainty that made it difficult for anyone to disagree with him. Not that anyone seemed to want to do so, Elizabeth noted. “In times past,” he went on, “those who owned and enjoyed the rich harvests of this country contributed to the alleviation of suffering of the poor and the sick. My father would have been ashamed to have homeless men and their families begging on street corners for the charity of strangers, or being forced into the poor house because they had no land to farm and no paid work on his land.”
Fitzwilliam chimed in on a topic that was as dear to his heart as to Darcy’s—the destruction of the rural English community. “What has happened to us, to England? Why do we, who have always helped our people, suddenly turn them away?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Fitzwilliam, we have not,” said Darcy. “At Pemberley, we have turned out nobody who wishes to stay on the estate and work here. Those who have left have gone because they
wanted to, and there have been very few of them; some have found work in the towns, but others have returned, unhappy with their new masters.”
Elizabeth, who had listened quietly, ventured the information that her maid Jenny’s brother had gone to the mills at Manchester, on the promise of good wages and advancement. However, less than a year later, he was back—working as an undergardener happy to be back at Pemberley. Darcy supported her view, adding that there were several instances where the mill owners had provided jobs that demanded long hours of work in appalling conditions for very low wages.
He continued, “Indeed, I have plans, about which I intend to talk to Sir Edmond and others, to involve ourselves more deeply in the life of the community. I think we ought to make a greater contribution towards the welfare of the people who live on our estates, providing help with schools and medical care.” On hearing Darcy’s words, Kitty’s husband, Dr Jenkins, asked if Mr Darcy would help with a school for young children on the estate to be run by the parish church. Kitty was keen to get it started, and there were other parishioners willing to assist her, he said.Not only did Mr Darcy show an interest in the idea, he promised to meet Dr Jenkins to discuss it further. It was, he said, the sort of thing that could help people in these hard times.
“If we could provide a school for young children, it would help their parents cope with some of the problems they face,” he said.
“And at least, the children would be safe at school, while their parents worked,” added Elizabeth, who was delighted that Darcy had supported the plan. It was an idea that attracted her, and she decided to pursue it herself.
These discussions usually petered out when the meal was served, but on this occasion, Elizabeth noticed that it seemed to continue all through dinner and was picked up again when they withdrew for coffee. It was only very much later she came to understand that the seeds of an exciting plan had been sown on that day. Her husband’s vision of fostering a new community spirit, healing the fractured land, was yet to become clear to her.
Later that evening, Mrs Gardiner, Elizabeth, and Jane sat together in Elizabeth’s private sitting room, where hot chocolate in front of the fire was an inviting prospect at the end of the day. Jenny set the tray down on the table and bade them goodnight. The gentlemen were still downstairs talking business and politics, while the children had been taken to bed. Young Emily came in to say goodnight, before she went to bed too, and her sister Caroline followed minutes later, lingering to let her cousins admire her exquisite ruby and diamond ring. When she had left them, Elizabeth remarked on how very well she looked, adding that they certainly seemed a very happy couple.
What pleased Jane most was the decorum they showed in their general behaviour in company. “There is no doubt that they are in love, and they obviously enjoy being together, but they cause no embarrassment to others,” she said, and Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner both smiled, remembering Jane’s own extraordinary behaviour, when she and Bingley first met. Her extraordinarily high standards of decorum, coupled with her natural reserve and Bingley’s modesty, which had led Darcy to believe that Jane had no deep attachment to his friend, had almost destroyed their romance. Happily, Jane knew nothing of that unfortunate episode. Bingley had clearly never betrayed his friend’s part in it, and, for that, Elizabeth was very grateful. It would surely have hurt her sister very much.
Mrs Gardiner agreed with Jane, “I must say, Lizzie, Colonel Fitzwilliam is the perfect gentleman. I admit I had my concerns, not because of the difference in their ages, because after all I have been happily married to your uncle—a man fifteen years my senior and have appreciated his maturity and knowledge, greatly. Rather, it was because I feared that being so very young, Caroline may not have known her own mind. One rarely does at fourteen.”
“And you have no such reservations now, Aunt?” asked Jane with a smile, for she and Lizzie had noted how Fitzwilliam treated Mrs Gardiner with great affection and respect. “No, none,” her aunt replied. “Of course, Mr Darcy has always spoken well of him, and your uncle, who has done business with him for many years, will not hear a word against him. There is no question of his honour, and I have to confess that I have had not a moment’s concern on that score, since his engagement to Caroline.”
Jane interposed, “Of course, he is Mr Darcy’s cousin, that must surely be a recommendation,” but Elizabeth laughed merrily, reminding them that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was Mr Darcy’s aunt, adding mischievously, “And, what of Miss Bingley, whose relationship to our dear Bingley beggars belief? No, Jane, relationship offers no certainty of character likeness between the parties. Why, think only of our own sister Lydia and the whole idea is destroyed.”
At the mention of Lydia, Mrs Gardiner closed her eyes, as if she could not bear to contemplate the picture of her errant niece. “My dears, I had hoped not to speak of Lydia and her husband. Such foolish behaviour is rare indeed. It seems beyond anyone’s ability to convince those two of the need to maintain any standards at all. It grieves me to say it, my dear Lizzie and Jane, but hardly a month goes by without a hurriedly scribbled note arriving with a request for some form of help with bills, payment of arrears of salary to nurses or tradesmen, and with no promise of any repayment at all.”
Her nieces were shocked. They had not imagined that Lydia, who was already applying to her mother and sisters, was also appealing to their aunt for money. It was a most humiliating circumstance. Elizabeth had kept it from her husband all these years, sending small sums of money out of her own income, whenever a request was made. “You should not continue to help her, dear Aunt. She has used all of us, and while there may be some justifiable claim upon her family, there is none upon you and you must not let her use you so,” Elizabeth said firmly, her face flushed with embarrassment. Jane was silent; her feelings of shame would not let her speak.
Mrs Gardiner thought rather differently, “Your uncle knows it all, my dears, you must not be upset. He says someone has to help her, or she will run up huge bills and borrow money from strangers, at high rates of interest, and compound the problem. It is better this way, even if it does spoil her further.”
Jane and Elizabeth rose and embraced their aunt. To her wisdom and kindness as much as to their uncle’s generosity, they owed a great deal. Hearing the voices of their husbands who were coming upstairs, they moved out onto the landing to meet them. They had spent such a pleasant evening together, none had noticed the lateness of the hour.
Elizabeth wrote to her father, inviting him to Pemberley in the Summer of 1820. She had heard from Jane that their mother was going with her sister Mrs Philips to Ramsgate, both sisters having decided that they deserved a holiday from their respective families!
On mentioning this to Mr Darcy, I have been urged by him to write immediately to invite you, Papa, “to take the opportunity to escape the domestic scene and visit Pemberley, where the pleasures of fishing, shooting, and plenty of reading” await you. I should add to this the company of at least two of your daughters—for Kitty is but ten minutes’ walk across the park or fifteen by road, two sons-in-law, and your grandchildren, of course! Pemberley is at its prettiest from late Summer to early Autumn. Could you ask for more? We are engaged in planning for a new school that Kitty and Dr Jenkins want to set up for the younger children on the estate. Mr Darcy is providing the building and the furniture, converting and restoring a hall which stands in the grounds of the Rectory, and the teachers will at first be volunteers from the community. You will not be surprised to hear that I shall not be teaching drawing or painting—how wretched were my early efforts at home—but have agreed to assist with singing and reading. Mr Darcy believes that it will help in building a community spirit to counter the destructive effects of the enclosures that have created so much misery for the poor people in these parts. On the other side of the district, Colonel Fitzwilliam and the Gardiners are attempting something similar—at Kympton, with the assistance of the parish council. More when you arrive, dear Papa, we do so look for
ward to your visits. Mr Darcy asks that you send a message giving the time of arrival of your coach at Lambton, and the carriage will be there to meet you.
Cassandra sends her love. She looks forward to more of the stories you read to her when you were here last year. I think we can be confident that she will make some calls on your precious time.
Mr Bennet’s response was short and to the point:
My dear Lizzie,
Your letter has convinced me that it is quite useless to spend even another day at Longbourn. Mary has already gone to Jane. I shall be on the coach on Wednesday. Do tell your husband that his offer of a carriage to meet me at Lambton is, as usual, happily and gratefully accepted. I look forward with great satisfaction to reading with Cassy; indeed I have acquired a new book with just such a purpose in mind.
Throughout that Summer and into Autumn, the families remained in the country, unless there was an absolute necessity to travel to London. The pleasant Autumn weather and the relative peace of the countryside provided ample reason to stay at home, while recent reports from the city offered every argument to avoid it.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had gone to London to lobby members of his Reform Group, wrote to the Gardiners:
. . . You are right to avoid London, for it has become a veritable madhouse—with the populace and the Parliament involved in an unseemly battle, as to who was the more disreputable, the King—as yet uncrowned or his unwanted and unloved Queen.
Darcy, Elizabeth, and Mr Bennet were dining with the Gardiners that evening. Fitzwilliam was to join them later. Caroline read, with appropriate dramatic emphasis, parts of his letter, which had arrived a day or two ago:
The streets are filled daily with a rabble, who support one side or the other—marching, shouting, waving banners, molesting innocent passersby, and generally causing mayhem. Many feel we are close to revolution—but I cannot believe that we are to become involved in such an exercise on the back of such a dreary cause as this . . .
Pemberley Chronicles Page 24
