From Longbourn to Pemberley - Winter 1810-1811

by M-C Ranger

  ‘I beg your pardon? You have not yet stayed in Bath?! Let me reassure you, my dear Caroline, that every day, one can encounter young, rich, elegant men from good families,’ Augusta Hawkins had responded, not wishing to be outdone.

  ‘It is true, dear Augusta, that you will find Bath a pleasant change… and… not very far from Bristol, where, if I am not mistaken, you will be residing with your uncle the merchant,’ retorted Miss Bingley, in an artificially cordial tone.

  ‘Several of us shall be joining Augusta in the weeks to come. London, right now, is boring’, added Miss Grantley, coming to the aid of her friend Augusta, who had paled in response to the allusion to her recent past.

  This was approved with unmistakeable head nodding on the part of the other guests; it was of no importance whether or not they would be going to Bath; this would have been quickly understood.

  *****

  If it is assumed that this topic of conversation remained in the closed circle of a rich London residence, then this assumption is incorrect. Sussex also had its share, thanks to the collaboration of Mrs. Hurst, who confidentially provided her hostess with the most minute of details.

  ‘My dear, I find the news you shared with me about your sister very entertaining. You know how much I appreciated meeting the members of the Bennet family during the ball at Netherfield Park.’

  ‘Rest assured, Fanny, that this is the last time I shall be talking to you about them. We shall never return there, and Charles is now truly safe! I hope that he will seek out a residence in Kent or Somerset, where Mr. Hurst has family.’

  ‘May I advise against Devonshire,’ Fanny Dashwood said, laughing.

  ‘And why so?’

  ‘I must, dear Louisa, confess something to you, about something that happened here, at Norland Park.’

  Surprised, Louisa Hurst set down the teapot she had just picked up and looked at her friend, her curiosity piqued. The tea could wait, and so it did.

  ‘I must admit that we experienced almost the same thing as you did, some months ago.’

  ‘What is it that you wish to say? Tell me all, as a true friend!’

  ‘Well, imagine, when John came to take possession of the estate on the death of his father, his mother-in-law and his three half-sisters were living here. My husband, not wishing to rush them, allowed them, for a short time, to continue to live in what had been their home.

  ‘That is very generous on the part of Mr. Dashwood. But I do not see the connection to the romance between Charles and Miss Bennet…’

  ‘I’m getting there. My brother Edward, who, as you know, is heir to the family fortune, came to visit us, and what do you think happened to him? He believed himself to be smitten with the eldest of John’s sisters, Elinor Dashwood.’

  ‘But Fanny, this Miss Dashwood is a young woman of high society, not some minor gentry from the heart of Hertfordshire!’

  ‘Elinor Dashwood or Jane Bennet, it would be advantageous to both of them to seduce our brothers, as they are without a fortune and their respective mother clearly approved, or rather, encouraged this attraction.’

  ‘Mrs. Mary Dashwood, when she became a widow, must have had to considerably restrict her lifestyle, is that it?’

  ‘Indeed. I find it difficult to believe that she could have thought this alliance with the heir of the Ferrars possible! And Edward, much like your brother, allowed himself to be enchanted.’

  As the tea had become much too cold, they had a second tray brought in, to which some scones had been added; it was known that strong emotions increased the appetite.

  ‘If I understand well, Mr. Ferrars did not marry Miss Dashwood,’ Louisa Hurst continued, delighting in as many scones as there were twists in this tale.

  ‘You know me well; I was witness to all this. As soon as I realised how serious it was, I clearly warned Mary Dashwood that my brother had a great future and that my mother would quickly disapprove of such a mismatch.’

  Though he was a rather timid young man, Edward Ferrars was able, through his great sensitivity, to help Elinor Dashwood make it through the sorrow that had consumed her after the death of her father. They frequently went for walks along the paths of Norland Park and had come to know each other better, and, not surprisingly, appreciate one another. Then, suddenly, they had to leave for Devonshire, where a distant cousin to Mrs. Dashwood had offered them a small cottage. They could not refuse an offer as generous as this, and so the trunks were filled and they left for the coast, inviting Edward Ferrars, telling him he would always be most welcome. No more was said, and Miss Dashwood did her best to hide her heartache, whereas her sister-in-law did her best to not let her triumph be too discernible.

  An enthusiastic Mrs. Hurst rushed to send a letter to her sister in which she extensively detailed all the aspects of the story about this young Elinor Dashwood and the brother of her close friend. She concluded her missive by pointing out that fortunately, certain brothers, particularly those that were wealthy, had the enormous luck of having sisters duly informed of the world and its traps, and that, in a short time, they would be extremely recognisant of their diligence. Of course, all that remained now was to be patient and to await the gratitude of Charles Dingley and Edward Ferrars.

  *****

  While the former awaited acknowledgement on the part of the latter, Madeline Gardiner, who would have been incapable of schemes such as this, attempted to distract her niece from her sorrowful thoughts by informing her of the arrival of her sister Margaret and Colonel Campbell. Just before leaving the capital, they would be stopping at Gracechurch Street to visit the Gardiners and leave Miss Fairfax with them. The latter had, over the past years, been the faithful companion to their only daughter; however, Miss Campbell, now Mrs. Dixon, had gone to Ireland, where her new life was truly awaiting her.

  ‘Jane shall be residing here for a few days. You shall see that she is a highly accomplished young woman, though she is somewhat reserved. I believe that the two of you will get along famously. My sister and her husband shall be travelling in the direction of Portsmouth, where the colonel must return to the ***th regiment.

  ‘Why will Miss Fairfax not be accompanying them?’

  ‘Of course, Emily had invited her along, but Jane did not wish to interfere with the life of a young couple in Ballycraig. She also did not wish to be a burden to the Campbells, even though Margaret tried to convince her that this would not be the case.’

  ‘Poor Miss Fairfax, I hope that she has family expecting her somewhere,’ said Jane Bennet, her voice filled with compassion.

  ‘Jane is an orphan, but she still has an aunt living in Surry; if I understand well, she will be returning to her soon.’

  ‘It would be a pleasure for me to keep her company. When will your sister be arriving?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ replied Mrs. Gardiner, happy to see a glimmer of interest brighten the eyes of her niece.

  *****

  The horses slowed down and stopped in front of a beautiful residence on Brunswick Square. Both Janes descended from the Gardiners’ carriage and walked down the pathway, where a door had already been opened to welcome them. They had immediately taken a liking to each other. The same charming smile, the same poise, the same amiability towards everyone they met, men and women alike, and in particular, the same discretion with regards to their personal lives. And so, Miss Fairfax did not know that Jane Bennet was trying to forget a promise that had never been made to her, just as the latter had no idea that her new friend was attempting to hide a promise that had been made to her. Mrs. Knightley, who had no suspicion whatsoever of any of this, welcomed them warmly. Miss Fairfax presented Miss Bennet to their hostess. The encounter was very pleasant, as the two young women very much liked children, and Isabelle Knightly already had five, all of whom expressed their presence with exclamations and joyful chatter. A state of calm returned when the governess came to fetch the children for their snack and tea was offered to the guests. News was exchanged. Yes, Emma was doing well, an
d Miss Bates couldn’t wait to see her dear Jane again. No, Mr. Elton had not yet returned from his stay in Bath. No, Frank Churchill had not been able to get to Randalls, as his aunt was very ill. Yes, Mrs. Dixon had left for Dublin with her husband last week. Yes, Mr. Knightly would return to Donwell Abbey tomorrow afternoon and, of course, it would be a pleasure to drive Miss Fairfax to the neighbouring town. Once everything had been settled, it was time to hear the latest about Hertfordshire.

  ‘My family lives near Meryton, where my father has an estate, Longbourn,’ explained Jane Bennet, putting down her cup of tea. ‘Mrs. Knightly, please allow me to return to the subject of Randalls, which you mentioned a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Yes, you are familiar with this name, is that right?’

  ‘Indeed. At an evening party held by our neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, I met some very charming people who, if I am correct, live on this estate.’

  ‘Exactly!’ exclaimed Isabella Knightley. ‘Mr. Weston is a good friend of my family’s, and as for Mrs. Weston, she was our governess and our lady companion for several years. What a coincidence!’

  ‘It’s true, Jane. How surprising that you, in your corner of the country, happened to have met people whom we also know!’ interrupted Miss Fairfax, smiling. ‘We therefore have more connecting us than we thought.’

  ‘I also wondered why you associated the name of Mr. Churchill with the Randalls estate, is there a connection to the Westons?’ pursued Miss Bennet, encouraged by the interest her questions aroused.

  ‘Imagine, Frank Churchill is Mr. Weston’s son. His first wife died when Frank was still very young, and his aunt took care of him. Incidentally, he was given her name. But you already knew this, my dear Jane, am I right?’ asked Mrs. Knightly, addressing Miss Fairfax, who momentarily appeared discomfited.

  ‘Yes, of course, I heard my aunt mention this a few times; she knows the whole history of the inhabitants of Highbury and the surrounding area.’

  ‘Well, I have a surprise for you,’ Miss Bennet continued, ‘I met Mr. Churchill a short time ago!’

  Miss Fairfax hid her shock behind her teacup while their hostess marvelled at how small the world was, yes, truly small! Jane Bennet then recounted that she had spent an enjoyable evening in the company of the young man.

  ‘But how on earth could Mr. Churchill have ended up in Hertfordshire?’ asked Miss Fairfax, blushing, and finding herself extremely bold for asking a question such as this… but who most probably could not help herself from so doing.

  ‘It is because,’ began Miss Bennet, also blushing, ‘a… a common friend presented us. This friend knew him well, because they went to college together. It seems that Mr. Churchill, who was returning from Weymouth at the end of the summer, had been invited to stay in Hertfordshire.’

  ‘Oh, I see, and can you tell us who this friend might be? Perhaps, after all these coincidences, he is among our acquaintances?’ suggested Isabelle Knightly, who found all this rather entertaining.

  The answer came, albeit somewhat flustered; it was a certain Mr. Bingley, Charles Bingley… But, of course, nobody had heard of him, Jane Bennet concluded, suddenly happy that the visit was coming to an end, thereby bringing an end the questions, too.

  And so, Jane Fairfax left Gracechurch Street the following Wednesday. She had some very affectionate words for Mrs. Gardiner and her new friend, Miss Bennet. While the carriage took her to the Knightley’s, the young woman watched the world go by, lost in contemplation…. So he had gone to a friend’s after leaving Weymouth, and people had found him charming. Then she shook her head, attempting to rid herself of this thought. She was going to stay with her aunt and her grandmother, and she would reconnect with the little world of Highbury. It really was no more than a coincidence that Randalls was nearby.

  *****

  Anne Elliot had also been extremely preoccupied when she went to Lyme Regis with her sister, the Musgroves, and Captain Wentworth. She was unable to overlook the growing fondness Louisa Musgrove exhibited for the latter; it tore her apart and took her back a few years. How could she have lost her chance to love and be loved? She had succumbed to Lady Russell’s arguments: ranking, fortune, and so on. It was too late, she knew, so why had she accepted the invitation? She should have stayed at Uppercross to take care of her nephews, but Mary had insisted, and she had complied. Complying, was that not the story of her life? And then everything happened so quickly; this is what she had told Elizabeth Bennet in her last letter. Louisa’s fall on the large stone pier, and her loss of consciousness, which had lasted for several days.

  ‘Good Lord, what a terrible accident! And do we know how Louisa Musgrove is doing now?’ asked Mrs. Bennet, who could not help but think that this could have been one of her own daughters, her impetuous Lydia for example. She shivered at the thought.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mother,’ Elizabeth responded, when she’d finished reading a passage from the letter in her hand, ‘Louisa Musgrove is currently convalescing, but Anne Elliot added that it will be a matter of time, as it will be a long time before she regains all her faculties. Fortunately, she was well looked after in Lyme and it appears that she will be able to return home in a short while.’

  ‘What a story! And your friend seems very distraught… It’s true that she witnessed the fall. I don’t think my nerves could have dealt with it. The mere thought makes me dizzy. Hill! Someone fetch my smelling salts, I fear I am starting to feel unwell…’

  ‘Come, Mother,’ her second-eldest interrupted, ‘it ended well enough, did in not?’

  ‘Lizzy, it is apparent that you are not yet a mother, that you do not have daughters to marry!’

  ‘What does marriage have to do with Louisa Musgrove’s accident?’

  ‘What man would want to marry a young woman who has suffered an injury such as this, I ask you? I truly feel sorry for Mrs. Musgrove… Incidentally, Lizzy, I think I must formally forbid you from taking long walks; you may have an accident at any time, on a pathway covered in pebbles, and nobody will be there to come to your rescue.’

  ‘Mother,’ said Elizabeth, deciding to mock Mrs. Bennet’s fears, ‘you said yourself that nobody would want to marry me because I’m too frank and…’

  ‘And too independent and too stubborn!’

  ‘Well, forget your fears. Don’t worry about me. In any case, Mr. Collins had warned me that I was in no way assured to receive another marriage proposal.’

  ‘Marriage proposal, marriage proposal… I beg you, Lizzy, do not remind me of the sorry fact that everything here will belong to your friend Charlotte Lucas,’ complained Mrs. Bennet, taking the salts that a young servant had brought her.

  Elizabeth took advantage of this opportunity to discretely slip out of the room, leaving her mother in the good hands of Mrs. Hill, and, naturally, walked off towards Mount Oakham, alone, on the pebble-strewn pathways.

  *****

  ‘Marriage proposal?!’

  Caroline Bingley, seated in the music salon of her brother-in-law’s London residence, was ambivalently reading the letter her friend Augusta Hawkins had written to her sister, who had recently returned from her stay in Sussex.

  ‘We saw each other a mere five or six weeks ago, here, in London. Imagine, she is engaged! Yes, engaged in such a short time! In Bath, no less! Almost as though she had wanted to prove to me that she was more correct than I…’

  ‘In fact, she is one step ahead of you. That is something you can’t deny, Caroline!’ her older sister said, smiling.

  ‘Louisa, don’t tell me that you agree with this pretentious young woman. She couldn’t have done better if she’d wished to ridicule me!’

  ‘Come, Caroline, calm yourself. As far as I am aware, it’s not a marriage race. Tell me, instead, who is the lucky chosen one to whom the ten thousand pounds will go?’ asked her sister, getting up from the piano bench and moving to a more comfortable chair, the subject requiring that she move, or so it seemed.

  ‘She is mocking me! Imagine, she fi
nished her letter by writing that he is charming, seductive, that he proposed to her with grandeur, that the wedding will take place in the spring and that his name is Mr. E.’

  ‘Mr. E.?’

  ‘Yes, she did not reveal his name to me. Mr. E., how ridiculous! Oh, and she added that he is a pastor.’

  ‘Well, then you should be overjoyed! If he is a pastor, you having nothing to fear, you are absolutely not competing against her. A pastor? But what could Miss Hawkins have been thinking by accepting a union such as this?’ Louisa Hurst asked, laughing.

  In fact, who could imagine that the selection of a pastor as a husband would supersede the selection of a gentleman having an estate and a team of horses? Certainly not Miss Bingley. And what would Elizabeth Bennet have thought, having, from the heart of her native Hertfordshire, recently experienced this?

  *****

  And it was precisely in Hertfordshire, in Longbourn, that the youngest of the Bennets, who professed that there was nothing better than a man in a uniform, was loudly expressing her disappointment.

  ‘I swear, Kitty, the dress that you were wearing yesterday was much prettier than Miss King’s. How could anyone wear light blue with red hair, tell me?! How is it possible that dear Mr. Wickham didn’t notice?’

  And so Lydia continued to bemoan her plight before the mirror in her room, while trying on a hat to which she had added a pink ribbon, to great effect. But it was all to no avail; after all, Miss King, without a pink ribbon, had been more successful than she! Her sister, sitting on the bed, finished reading the letter she’d received at tea time.