Netherfield Park Revisited

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  She was sure Mary would not wish to go and thought she would have to write to Maria and ask her to send their curricle for her early in the evening.

  Pondering how this might be arranged, she went downstairs and was relieved to find that the two women from Meryton had left.

  Mary was happy to be rid of them, too. She had very little time for her silly younger sister, especially since age had brought no improvement at all in her understanding or conduct.

  When Charlotte told her of the Faulkners’ invitation, she was surprised to find that Mary was quite determined to attend.

  “I have heard very good reports of the Armandes from your sister Maria,” she said. “I must meet them. Please thank Maria, Charlotte, and accept for me, as well. I am looking forward to seeing Anna again, too; she is such a talented young woman and yet so modest, unlike most of the foolish creatures in society today,” she declared, and Charlotte agreed that her niece Anna was the very model of an accomplished young lady.

  So it was arranged they would go to dinner at Haye Park on Sunday and both ladies looked forward to the occasion with much anticipation.

  When Jonathan Bingley and his guests reached Netherfield Park, they were welcomed by his new housekeeper, Mrs Perrot, a very capable and pleasant woman, who had once served his parents as a parlour maid and came highly recommended from her last employer.

  Having had their luggage taken upstairs, she proceeded to serve them a splendid afternoon tea in the saloon, where a lively fire kept them warm.

  The room, which used to serve as an informal parlour, had been refurbished and was now a well-proportioned space, handsomely fitted up with elegant Regency furniture, of the type Anna particularly admired. Light and welcoming, with a pretty prospect from its windows, which opened to the floor, of the northern part of the park extending to the woods beyond, it was indeed a happy choice as a reception room for visitors.

  While Jonathan had no recollection of the original interiors, Mrs Perrot was a veritable mine of detailed information on this and other parts of the house for, as she explained to the ladies, she had spent almost eighteen months at Netherfield with the Bingleys, before the family moved away to Leicestershire.

  Anna and her friends were especially interested, and since she was to advise on changes to drapes and accessories where necessary, she had extracted from Mrs Perrot a promise to be available to accompany her through the rooms on the following day.

  “I think it will be best to see them in daylight,” said Anna, and Mrs Perrot agreed enthusiastically.

  “Oh indeed ma’am, the rooms upstairs are too dark to be seen at their best after four o’clock at this time of year.”

  After tea, Miss Faulkner was conveyed to her parents’ house, a few miles away, escorted by Mr Bingley, while the Armandes were shown up to their rooms, where they could rest a while before changing for dinner.

  “We must have you home before dark, Anna,” said Jonathan, “or your parents will begin to worry.”

  The Armandes noted his solicitude with some amusement, and so must the housekeeper. What Mrs Perrot thought of all this is not known, but one could be confident that, while she was not the type to gossip about her employer, she would certainly share her knowledge with her sister, who just happened to be the cook at Longbourn.

  It was not long, therefore, before Charlotte Collins and Mary Bennet heard of the unusual arrival at Netherfield of Mr Bingley and his small party of friends, including Miss Faulkner, and the even more remarkable fact that they appeared to be inordinately interested in the furnishings and accessories of his recently purchased home.

  The information, which by the time it reached Charlotte’s ears had become somewhat garbled in the retelling, caused some confusion among the ladies of Longbourn. They could not imagine why the Armandes would be advising Jonathan Bingley on the interiors at Netherfield, unless they intended to rent or lease the place.

  Not privy to Jonathan’s plans, they were beginning to speculate wildly, when at a most opportune moment—in the middle of their morning tea—the gentleman himself arrived on Sunday morning. He was, he said, on his way home from church and had come by to acquaint them with his plans and apologise for not writing to advise of his visit.

  “There was just so much to do, with all the legal matters to be settled, and I have been very busy; I do apologise for not writing. Indeed, at this very moment, I believe Monsieur and Madame Armande and Miss Faulkner are being shown around the house by Mrs Perrot, so they can advise me on the redecoration of some of the rooms,” he explained and added, “I am truly indebted to Monsieur Armande and his wife, who have offered to help Miss Faulkner, else I would not have the work finished by Christmas. The rooms must be made ready for Tess and Cathy, who together with Anne-Marie will be joining me for Christmas, and I hope both you ladies will spend Christmas Day with us at Netherfield.”

  This approach so charmed the ladies of Longbourn that they were no longer concerned at the invasion of Netherfield by “foreigners.”

  As for the involvement of Miss Faulkner, her mother had already been over to tell them how delighted she was that Anna’s artistic talents were being recognised.

  “She has been asked to advise Mr Bingley on the refurbishment of Netherfield, just as she did for us at Haye Park. Mr Bingley was extremely impressed with our interiors when he came to dinner, and I told him our Anna had done it all herself, choosing the colours and materials, designing the pelmets and everything. So you see, sister, when he needed some advice about Netherfield, he turned to Anna, of course. And why should he not? She is as good as any professional, Dr Faulkner says,” declared Maria Faulkner, with the confidence of a proud mother.

  If Charlotte had had any reservations about the Armandes, they were soon cleared away when she met the Belgian couple at the Faulkners’ that evening.

  During a particularly good dinner and the very pleasant evening of music and conversation which followed, both ladies were agreeably impressed with the charm and competence of the Armandes.

  By the end of the evening, Mrs Collins and Miss Bennet were agreed that they could feel quite confident that the refurbishment of Netherfield was in good hands. Being undertaken under the artistic supervision of Miss Faulkner, with the help of the Armandes, they had no doubt the work would make the old Georgian place more comfortable for Mr Bingley and his daughters. The prospect that they would all be there together at Christmas added enough excitement to make it all worthwhile.

  For Anna, the evening had been much more than a homecoming. At dinner, she had been seated next to Jonathan Bingley, and all their conversation had been on subjects that brought mutual pleasure and accord, for it seemed they were at one on many matters.

  It had been many years since she had felt so at ease and in harmony with a gentleman, especially one who was some seventeen years her senior. She was conscious of his age, yet there was in no sense any feeling that he was patronising her or indulging her whims because she was a young woman.

  At every point in their conversation, he paid attention to her opinions and frequently asked for information on matters where he freely admitted to being less well informed than herself.

  Speaking of her Art class, which he had visited the previous week, he had expressed an interest in the unique styles of the new breed of young French painters, about whom she had been so enthusiastic and of whom he knew very little.

  “I am probably not the best judge of artists, Anna, having spent most of my life viewing the work of classical painters in the collections at Pemberley and Rosings, but to me the pictures in your exhibition had a charming naturalness, a spontaneity which was quite new. It seemed a very fresh approach to painting,” he said, as they waited for the dishes to be removed and the fruit and cheese to be placed on the table.

  Anna, pleased that he had noticed the essential quality of the new art, congratulated him. “Indeed, you do yourself
an injustice, you have noticed the very essence of the new art. It is spontaneous and fresh—there is a greater desire to capture an atmosphere or a vivid impression before it has fled, rather than spend hours upon the perfection of detailed line drawing. I find myself drawn to their work because it seems to express so much feeling for their subjects, whether they be portraits, landscapes, or still life. There is a personal warmth in them which I love.”

  “And do you have a favourite among them?” he asked, pleased to have her approval.

  On this subject, she was less forthcoming. “It is not easy to pick out one amongst the many young men and indeed one or two women painters. Some have been refused entry to the Ecole des Beaux Arts because they were judged to be too modern and lacking the classical discipline; others do not even apply, wishing to be free of the strait-jacket of the school’s teaching. If you press me to select one, I suppose I must pick Manet—he is a pupil of the great Thomas Couture, a most enlightened teacher of Art. But, I confess that I find the brilliant colours of Pierre Renoir enchanting, too,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

  Jonathan, though fascinated, did not wish to burden her further with questions, but vowed to take the very next opportunity to visit Paris and acquaint himself with the work of these remarkable new artists.

  Monsieur Armande joined them as they left the dining parlour and, hearing Jonathan’s words, invited him to call on them whenever he visited Europe, promising to show him the brightest and best stars of the new age.

  “Miss Faulkner has been telling me of their struggles with the traditional schools,” Jonathan said, and that set Monsieur Armande off, raging about old men who refused to see the beauty of anything new.

  “Anna will tell you all about these young artists, she has studied them with great dedication; she has a wonderful sensitivity. Mr Bingley, I have taught many young Englishwomen in the last ten years, but never one with so much feeling for the art as Anna. When she speaks of a painting, be it a Corot landscape or a portrait by Rembrandt, she looks for the heart of the artist. Ah, if there were more students like her, there would be greater pleasure in being a teacher of Art,” he said, wistfully.

  Seeing the subject of their discourse approaching, Jonathan tried to change the conversation, to spare her any embarrassment, but Monsieur would not be diverted. Indeed, drawing her towards them by the hand, he told her she must “teach Mr Bingley to look at pictures as you do—not only with the eye, but with the heart. It is not always easy, but it is the right way,” he declared.

  Anna coloured as she met Jonathan’s eyes, but smiled and said softly that she thought it would not be difficult, because it was clear to her that Mr Bingley had both a keen eye and a good heart.

  So saying, she slipped away to attend to her Aunt Collins who needed help with getting her tea, leaving Jonathan feeling very happy indeed.

  It was generally agreed at the end of the evening that it had been a most satisfying occasion for everyone.

  Driving back to Netherfield with the Armandes, Jonathan was, for the most part, silent, while they were full of praise for Dr and Mrs Faulkner’s hospitality and their daughter’s charm and skill.

  Bidding them goodnight, he retired to his room, not the elaborately finished master bedroom, which he found somewhat overpowering, but a smaller room at the end of the long corridor. He kept turning over the events of the evening in his mind and found himself enjoying the recollections. He looked forward very much to the coming week and anticipated the pleasure of seeing Anna again, soon. Recalling their long and interesting exchange during the evening, he acknowledged to himself that he had rarely enjoyed a conversation more.

  Most of the women he met socially, outside of his family, were either wives or friends of colleagues. Their topics of conversation ranged from serious to silly, but rarely would they become involved in a discussion that could hold his interest for longer than a few minutes.

  With Anna, it was very different, and Jonathan was becoming conscious of his appreciation of that difference. That she was also remarkably handsome merely enhanced his interest in her.

  Maria Faulkner and her husband had retired to bed well pleased with the success of their modest dinner party. Being affectionate and proud parents, they were especially happy to have their daughter back at home.

  They heard her come upstairs and, as she walked down the corridor, they could hear her singing softly a little scrap of music, the charming song from Figaro, which she had sung for them after dinner.

  “It is nice to have our Anna home again, is it not, my dear?” Maria remarked, and her husband agreed.

  “Indeed, it is, my dear, and especially to see her so happy. She seems almost light-hearted. If I did not know her better, I would have said she was in love,” he said, regarding his wife over his glasses.

  Maria was about to retort, when Anna looked in to say goodnight.

  Both her parents, seeing her lovely smiling face in the doorway, said goodnight and waited only till she had closed the door, before turning to each other and saying almost at once, “Perhaps she is!” But neither of them would speculate any further.

  Monsieur and Madame Armande had no such qualms.

  They had observed both their friends, for they had come to regard Jonathan Bingley with a high degree of respect and affection throughout the Summer and were quite convinced that it was inevitable that they would fall in love. They had no doubt about it at all.

  Of course, there had been the terrible tragedy of Mrs Bingley’s death and, while they had no knowledge of the details, they had drawn their own conclusions about the nature of their marriage.

  Since then, however, they had watched, with barely concealed delight, the unmistakeable pleasure that Anna and Jonathan had in each other’s company. They shared many interests and seemed so much at ease with one another. For two elderly romantics like the Armandes, there was only one possible conclusion to be drawn. They did caution each other, though, it was bad luck to anticipate another’s happiness before the event, so they would say nothing.

  As for Anna, she completed her toilette and went to bed.

  She had admitted to herself, as she brushed her hair, that the evening had left her with a very special feeling of felicity, but being a young woman of discretion, she took care not to advertise her state of mind.

  She did not lie awake long, but just before she fell asleep, she made a little mental note to ask Jonathan Bingley if he preferred Wedgwood blue drapes or mossy green ones in the main bedroom.

  They had all agreed that the existing crimson brocade had to go. “Too much like Royalty,” she had joked, and he had agreed absolutely.

  ***

  Two days later, work began in earnest at Netherfield, and over the following fortnight, since time was of the essence, a feverish level of activity was reached.

  The Armandes, who had no urgent need to return to London, were happy to accept Jonathan’s hospitality at Netherfield, while advising on the redecoration. Jonathan had his steward organise a team of tradesmen and labourers, while Mrs Perrot gathered together a group of young women to do the sewing. The yard and back parlour began to resemble a manufacturing establishment, as they worked to carry out the changes required. Anna and Madame Armande measured, mixed, and matched, drawing innumerable sketches and trying out a range of ideas until they were satisfied they had the right one.

  As to designs and colours, they had been given a free hand and, though the new Master of Netherfield was often consulted, he rarely found himself in disagreement with the ladies.

  Some things, it was generally agreed, had to go.

  First to come down, with not a single dissenting voice, were the “Royal Brocade” curtains in the main bedroom. Jonathan had confessed that he could never sleep in there while they remained. Together with the plum velvet in the drawing room and the rather gloomy grey and maroon stripe in the study, they were consigned to
a basket in the attic.

  “They’ll do for charades and pantomimes,” said Jonathan, firmly.

  When the question arose of choosing colours for his own rooms, Anna insisted it was his choice since he had to live with them. He picked a very acceptable Wedgwood blue for the bedroom and a cream with deep green drapes for his study.

  The Armandes praised his choice as being “far more modern” than the drab colours they had replaced.

  The drawing room and library, which occupied the long spaces on either side of the main staircase and hallway, were both transformed by the use of ivory and cream, increasing the impression of light and air, since both rooms opened onto terraced gardens. Simplicity and good taste predominated throughout.

  In the girls’ rooms, which opened into each other, Anna had been reluctant to proceed without having them choose the colours, but they were in Leicestershire and the work had to be done before Christmas. When it was completed, however, her choice of soft French beige with rose printed drapes was applauded by all.

  But the pièce de résistance was the inspired creation of an informal upstairs sitting room, much like the one at Haye Park, out of a rather cluttered space at the top of the stairs, where a tall window let in plenty of light and admitted a most attractive view of the park.

  By banishing two formidable Chesterfields that had occupied most of the space, and replacing them with elegant Regency lounges taken from two of the unused bedrooms, adding some chairs, a table, and a writing desk, the area was changed dramatically into an inviting and useful sitting room.

  So pleased was Jonathan with the result that he declared he would further enhance its appeal by purchasing for the walls two pictures he had admired in Monsieur Armande’s display. Monsieur was delighted to oblige. The result would surely be a room that was a triumph of imagination and good taste—destined to become a favourite family retreat.

  The weeks spent in redecoration and rearrangement at Netherfield would be remembered by all of them as some of the happiest days they had spent together. While they worked very hard, and, for Jonathan and Anna, there was no privacy and little time alone to permit any further exploration of their feelings, it did afford them opportunities to discover the many ideas and aspirations they shared.