Netherfield Park Revisited

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  “I may be mistaken, Lizzie, but all I have observed is their shared enjoyment of Art and Music, in the completely innocent and acceptable context of a dinner party. One senses that there is a certain warmth, a special rapport perhaps, but no more,” he said.

  Elizabeth had to agree that their conduct had given her no cause for concern at all.

  “You are right, I have seen no coy behaviour or archness on her part, nor anything in his conduct that could give rise to gossip.”

  “Exactly. So, I would not be too concerned, Lizzie,” he said, and yet she was unable to rid herself of a nagging fear.

  She could not be as sanguine as he was and so persisted a little longer.

  “You do know that Jane has some grave concerns about Jonathan and Amelia-Jane, do you not?” she asked.

  She knew that if there was a serious problem that Bingley knew of, he would seek Darcy’s counsel on it.

  In spite of that, she was unprepared for his reply when he said, frankly, “Yes, I do. Bingley is exceedingly concerned, too. But that has nothing whatever to do with Miss Faulkner. Indeed, the situation existed well before her return to England. Amelia-Jane has not been herself for almost a year now, and the problem has been compounded by Jonathan’s desire to purchase Netherfield Park.”

  Elizabeth had had no idea.

  “How do you know this?” she asked.

  His reply left her incredulous. “Caroline Bingley has written to her brother, to warn him that if Jonathan goes ahead with the purchase, his wife will in all likelihood refuse to move to Hertfordshire. Bingley has not told Jane; he fears she will be very upset.”

  “And yet, Bingley has encouraged Jonathan to proceed with the purchase.”

  “Certainly he has. It would be stupid to indulge Amelia-Jane’s whims on such important matters as the purchase of an estate. He hopes her fears may be allayed and she may come round, in time.”

  “Do you think she will?” Elizabeth asked anxiously.

  “I cannot be sure. She is being childish and unreasonable. A great deal will depend on the influence that is brought to bear upon her. I believe she is very dependent upon Caroline Bingley and some new friend of hers, a Mrs Watson.”

  “Watkins—it’s Arabella Watkins, she’s a recent arrival in Bath and a friend of Miss Bingley, who appears to have taken a liking to Amelia-Jane,” said Elizabeth, deciding to find out more about Mrs Watkins, but it was late and time to change for dinner.

  Darcy put his book away and asked, “And Mr Watkins, what does he do?”

  Elizabeth laughed out loud, a merry laugh. “Very little, if anything at all,” she said and, seeing the look of bewilderment that crossed his countenance, she added, still laughing, “He has been dead for some years.”

  Her infectious laughter drew him in, too, and for the moment, at least, the tension was gone.

  Elizabeth sighed gently. “Poor Jane. First it was Emma, and now Jonathan is unhappy, too.”

  Darcy tried to comfort her.

  “Yes, it is hard for Jane; she and Bingley have been so happy, she cannot believe that her children have not been similarly blessed. Clearly there were hasty decisions and unfortunate choices made,” he said as they went upstairs.

  “Thankfully, Emma was given a second chance at happiness; I fear it may not be so for Jonathan,” said his wife, but Darcy was more hopeful.

  “I agree it will be difficult for him, especially if his wife continues to behave like a spoilt child; but have faith, my dear, Jonathan Bingley is one of the finest young men I know. I am confident that he will prevail.”

  ***

  When Jane and Bingley arrived a few days later, it was difficult for Elizabeth to believe that Bingley, knowing so much, had successfully concealed it from her sister, for surely he must have done, else she could not look as happy as she did. For Elizabeth, accustomed to the close intimacy of her relationship with Jane, in which they had few secrets from each other, this was a difficult time. Darcy had made her promise solemnly to bite her tongue if need be and not blurt out anything that would betray the confidence placed in him by Bingley. While Darcy abhorred deception of any kind and would have preferred frankness, he respected his brother-in-law’s determination to avoid aggravating Jane’s anxiety about their son’s marriage.

  This, however, seemed furthest from Jane’s thoughts when they returned to Woodlands. Once alone with Elizabeth, resting and enjoying a cup of tea, Jane gave a lively account of their journey from Longbourn to London.

  Elizabeth was quite surprised to find that Miss Anna Faulkner appeared to figure very prominently in her sister’s conversation. Her dress, her demeanour, conversation, and manners were all deemed to be charming and admirable.

  “Truly, Lizzie, I cannot recall when I have last met a young woman for whom I have developed such a liking. There is nothing about her that irritates or offends, even unwittingly, as most young women might do; she is a truly refined young lady. Do you not agree, Lizzie?”

  Elizabeth had been so astonished by this paean of praise that she had been taken unawares, but she hastened to concur.

  “Oh, yes, indeed,” she said quickly, but before she could ask Jane if she knew what Jonathan thought of the young lady, Mr Bingley entered the room and, pouring himself a drink, followed up with even more praise of Miss Faulkner.

  Elizabeth could hardly believe her ears; it seemed there was not a flaw to be found in her, as far as he was concerned.

  “I’ve just been telling Darcy what a fine young woman Miss Faulkner is,” he declared. “She is the pleasantest person and so talented, Lizzie, I shall be absolutely astounded if she is not engaged by Christmas.”

  “My dear brother, you astonish me; are you not rushing to judgment?” asked Elizabeth; even for her amiable brother-in-law, this was generous.

  “No indeed, Lizzie. Mark my words. What is more, the man who persuades her to marry him will be a very fortunate fellow, and Darcy agrees with me.”

  Mr Darcy nodded, smiled, and succeeded in avoiding his wife’s eyes, for he knew she was wanting to discover what he thought of this glowing account of the young woman they had all been speaking of in the last few days—a young woman whose very existence had hardly mattered to many of the family until her return from Europe a few months ago.

  Further conversation was suspended when the servants arrived to clear away the tea things, and the ladies, realising that it was already half past five, withdrew upstairs to change for dinner.

  ***

  Later that week, Jonathan Bingley was invited by his brother-in-law James Wilson to attend an informal meeting of the Reform Group at Westminster. He found them very appreciative of the hard work he had done during the drawn-out negotiations with the Peelites and Liberals.

  They urged him to consider returning to the Commons as an MP at the next election.

  James Wilson, in whom Jonathan had already confided his plans for Netherfield Park, suggested that he could be fortunate enough to be given a constituency in Hertfordshire, should he decide to reside permanently in the county.

  A diverse coalition of Whigs, Peelites, and Reformists had joined together and were seeking to establish a foundation for their new party. Much later it would be known as the Liberal Party and produce men of the calibre of Gladstone, but at the moment, they had to work hard at being united.

  Keen to develop some momentum on issues they had been pushing for years without success, they were looking for experienced, politically astute candidates to swell their ranks and promote their policies.

  Chief among them were freer trade and the extension of the franchise to give the vote to working men. Jonathan was invited to come on board.

  “With your family’s long and successful involvement in Commerce and Trade and your own unswerving commitment to the Reformist cause and the improvement of the lot of the working poor, you would be an ideal c
andidate,” James Wilson said, and several others agreed.

  Jonathan was flattered and interested, but wary. He asked for time to consider it, which, seeing the election was years away, seemed a reasonable request.

  But in his heart Jonathan knew that with his wife’s present attitude, there was very little chance that he would be able to accept. Indeed, he knew the idea of his ever returning to Parliament would be anathema to her and might well bring about the end of their troubled marriage.

  Returning to Grosvenor Street, following the meeting at Westminster, he found a letter waiting for him from Amelia-Jane.

  It was a reply to his urgent appeal, but had little to satisfy the urgency of his own plea. It was a cold and unfeeling letter; in it she predictably refused to even consider moving to Hertfordshire.

  The tone was one of an injured party, put upon and ignored.

  Surely, you cannot expect me to leave all my friends and most of my family and move to Hertfordshire, where I have never lived before.

  I know no one there. I know you will point out that Mama is at Longbourn, by your invitation, but having her a few miles away, while I live at Netherfield with only Cathy and Tess for company, will not make amends for all the advantages I shall lose by leaving Rosings.

  I do not object to your plan to purchase Netherfield Park. I do not doubt that it is a good investment, but it is not where I choose to live for the rest of my life.

  Please Jonathan, do not ask me to reconsider—I have already done so, and it is useless to ask Catherine to press me to agree, for I shall not buckle.

  It is all very fine for Catherine, who has a lovely home at the parsonage at Hunsford, with an entrée at all times to Rosings, to advise me to bury myself in Hertfordshire. But I am quite determined that I shall not move to please her or anyone.

  Please do not believe that any threats will make me change my mind either. It is quite made up.

  Jonathan could not believe his eyes as he read the words.

  The language and tone were certainly not his wife’s. He wondered whether Miss Bingley may have been responsible; or perhaps it was Mrs Watkins, who was fast becoming his bête noire. Determined to discover the truth, he decided to travel to Kent, arriving late in the afternoon at the parsonage in Hunsford.

  There, he found Catherine, who was not entirely surprised to see him. It was a rather blustery afternoon, with short intermittent showers, and he was glad to be indoors, in front of a good fire in the parlour.

  Waiting until the maid had left, Catherine poured out his tea and handed it to him, saying simply, “I suppose this is about Amelia-Jane, again.”

  Jonathan nodded and, putting down his cup, extracted the letter from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “I received this yesterday,” he said.

  Catherine read it and returned it, sceptical and angry at its contents.

  “That is not written by Amelia-Jane—oh, I know it is in her hand, but the language, all those pompous phrases … the entire tone of the letter, it is not her at all. She is not sufficiently well read to compose such a letter. It is clear to me that my sister has been put up to write this ridiculous piece.”

  Jonathan was relieved to have his suspicions confirmed even if it was unthinkable that an outsider, a person wholly unconnected with them, was influencing his wife in her communications with him, dictating the words and phrases she used.

  “Is it Miss Bingley?” he asked. “Has she been here recently?”

  Catherine shook her head. “No, she has not, but her good friend Mrs Watkins—an astonishingly vulgar woman, who has a man friend they call Alexander—has been here and is staying at the Dower House.”

  Jonathan was quite shocked.

  “Do you mean they are staying in our home?”

  “Indeed, my maid had it from their housekeeper that the visitors had occupied the main bedroom, while Mrs Bingley had moved in with Tess.”

  Jonathan was outraged. That rank outsiders should not only be influencing his wife to defy him but abusing his hospitality while they did it was beyond belief. It was the kind of situation he had never faced before.

  He turned to his sister-in-law for advice. “Catherine, what can I do? Should I drive over now and confront them?”

  She understood his helplessness; he was not a man accustomed to confrontation nor was he the type to seek it, if it could possibly be avoided.

  Catherine, who had already discussed Amelia-Jane’s recent conduct with her husband, knew well that in such open conflict, Jonathan Bingley would not win. His genteel manner and amiable nature did not fit him for dealing with the kind of contest he faced.

  “Mr Bingley, Jonathan, you may not like what I am about to suggest, but it is the best advice I can offer you. I truly do not believe that any action you may take to confront your wife’s newfound friends will help you solve the problem that faces you. Indeed, it is more likely to drive her away from you.

  “Is it asking too much to suggest that you appeal to my mother to come to Rosings, stay at the Dower House, and help both of you to find a way out of this unhappy situation?” Seeing his dubious expression, she insisted, “You cannot let it go on, Jonathan, it will ruin your marriage and ultimately destroy both of you as well. I would be prepared to write to Mama and ask her, if that was your wish.”

  Bereft of any other ideas and unable to find another way, Jonathan was immensely grateful to his sister-in-law and agreed to let her write to Mrs Collins immediately.

  Not long afterwards, he left and drove past the turn-off to the Dower House, disconsolate and with very little hope.

  Leaving Rosings, he was far too depressed to return to London, and with a storm blowing in, he decided to make for Standish Park, where he knew his sister Emma would make him welcome.

  It was Friday, and James would probably be back from Westminster, as well.

  He recalled a similar visit, several years ago, when he had been the unhappy bearer of bad news, informing first James Wilson and his mother and then Emma of the disgrace and suicide of her first husband, David Wilson.

  He, together with James Wilson, had attended to all the arrangements and coped with the consequences that flowed from that hideous event.

  Concerned for his sister and outraged by David Wilson’s behaviour, Jonathan had not suffered personal grief at the time. All he had felt was a deep sadness for his unhappy sister, who had concealed much of her suffering for years. At all times, he had been at pains to protect his sister and her two young daughters from the distressing consequences of his irresponsible brother-in-law’s actions.

  Now, when his own life was in turmoil, it was to Emma he turned for help. Emma, who, with her subsequent marriage to James, had finally found the happiness she deserved.

  Emma Wilson was not entirely surprised to see her brother arrive, unannounced, at Standish Park late that evening.

  She had heard from her husband of the proposal put to him by the Reform Group and had anticipated a visit, which she had expected would be occasioned by his desire to discuss the possibility of re-entering the House of Commons and the consequences that might flow from it.

  They had grown closer over the years and frequently consulted each other on business and family matters. Though he had no real taste for business, Jonathan had a head for figures and sound judgment, which she had often appreciated.

  Her parents had hoped that Jonathan would take over his father’s role in the family business, but when he had become seriously interested in politics, he had been unable to find the time. Emma knew they were disappointed and had hoped to persuade him to take some share of the responsibility for the business.

  It was therefore with a cheerful smile but a rather troubled heart that she greeted him as he alighted from his vehicle and came indoors.

  “You are very fortunate to have escaped that storm, Jonathan—as you can see t
here is some very nasty weather blowing in,” she said as he divested himself of his coat and followed her into the saloon, where the drapes had been closed against the gloomy weather and the candles had been lit for the evening.

  Keen to ascertain whether they were likely to be disturbed, Jonathan asked after James and the children.

  “James will be here tomorrow morning; he is staying overnight at Rochester; Victoria and Stephanie are gone to a ball for their cousin at Sevenoaks and will not return until Sunday, and both Charles and Colin have dined and gone to bed,” said his sister, “so we are quite safe from interruption.”

  He seemed relieved. But when she sat down and waited for him to join her, he remained standing, clearly ill at ease, walked about, put down and picked up his drink, until she said, “Jonathan, while I am truly happy you are here, indeed, I am delighted not to be dining alone this evening, with James and the girls away, I should be even happier were you to tell me why you are here, for I cannot believe that you would have arrived in such haste and without warning unless there was something serious afoot. Now, tell me, am I right?”

  Jonathan had stopped walking around the room while she spoke and then, quite suddenly, drew up a chair and sat down beside the sofa on which she was seated.

  “Yes, you are, Emma. I need to talk to you,” he said, with such a look of misery on his face that she relented and regretted her words, which she feared might have been too censorious.

  “My dear brother, I am sorry, I did not mean to lecture you at all; please forgive me. I can see that you are troubled and unhappy, and I do want to help. Is it to do with this business of standing for Parliament again?” she asked and, when he shook his head, she was confused … what could it be?

  “If only it were as simple a problem as deciding whether to return to the Parliament,” he said, in a low, unhappy voice. “No, my dear Emma, I fear I have all but lost Amelia-Jane. She has turned away from me and intends to leave me. She seems to have set her mind upon it and will not hear a word I say … What is worse, she appears to have fallen into the clutches of some people who are intent upon destroying our marriage. Emma, I am completely at a loss as to what I can do.”