The Golden Apples of the Sun

by Ivy May Stuart

  “Mr. Bingley! Goodness me! I thought he was back in London. No doubt he came to see your father about some problem to do with the land. It is very likely a boundary issue. These men always get so agitated about fences and hedging. I can’t see that it matters, but men must always be re-establishing their boundaries. Why can’t they just say, ‘My land begins here at the edge of the woods’ and have done with it?”

  “Perhaps it is because you cannot rely on woods or forests to stay in one place, Mama. They have a habit of growing and spreading in good years and shrinking back in leaner ones.”

  “You will always know better Lizzy. That is one certainty that I can carry to my grave,” said her mother resentfully.

  “Macbeth shall never vanquished be, until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill shall come against him," proclaimed Mr. Bennet, who had entered the room just then. His complexion was high and he was quite obviously in an expansive mood.

  “Your daughter has the benefit of an education that included the writings of the great Bard himself, Mrs. Bennet. Perhaps that is why she understands that nothing in this world is certain and that even forests will sometimes move. And, on the topic of nothing being certain…I have some news that will shock you, my dear,” he said settling himself in his chair and shaking out his napkin.

  “What news is this Mr. Bennet?” cried his wife in alarm.

  “Your eldest daughter is also to be married, and to a gentleman of some fortune. Mr. Bingley in fact.”

  “What! Mr. Bingley who was just here? He is to marry my beautiful Jane! Well of course this is wonderful news. But how has it happened? She hardly knows the man, Mr. Bennet and he is very wealthy. To think that he wants to marry our Jane! I don’t know that she met him above once in the short time that they were both here in Meryton.”

  “Well, be that as it may, he followed her to London and furthered the acquaintance there.”

  “Oh!” sighed Mrs. Bennet, romantically clasping her hands over her heart. Then her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Did you know about this courtship, Mr. Bennet?”

  “I had been told that Mr. Bingley had called on Jane at your brother’s home in London, yes.”

  “And you didn’t think to mention it to me?”

  “I was trying to spare your nerves, Mrs. Bennet. Imagine if it had all come to naught?”

  “I suppose you are right. It’s true that I haven’t been well of late. Did you tell Mr. Bingley that Mary is also to be married shortly?”

  “I did. And that brings me to my second point: the gentleman would like to marry as soon as possible. He wouldn’t stay to lunch as he intends to ride back to London to deliver the news to Jane and, if he has her approval, they can be married here by special license on the same day as Mary and Mr. Collins. That is provided that Mary has no objection to sharing her great day,” he said, looking enquiringly at his daughter.

  Mrs. Bennet’s face broke out in a broad smile. “Well, this puts a different complexion on things, Mr. Bennet. Mary, you can have no objection to a larger wedding now. And, camel or no camel, you will have a new dress. I insist upon it!”

  Chapter 19

  “But I am old and you are young,

  And I speak a barbarous tongue.”

  W.B. Yeats

  Of all the rooms in the house, it was her father’s study that housed Elizabeth’s fondest memories. Here, sheltering in his presence, she had been able to escape innumerable needlework and deportment lessons as well as her mother’s scolding tongue, in order to indulge her preference for long periods of quiet reading or reflection.

  The smell of leather and dust that she associated with this room took her back to the time in her childhood when reading had been everything to her. Books had always been her passion. They had satisfied her childish need for adventure and her adolescent craving for more stimulating company than could be found within the walls of her own home. In more recent times, whether entertaining or serious, she had begun to see all books as a sort of conversation: a means of accessing the thought processes of another human being. On its pages, the individual writer’s very best attempts at reasoning and thought were laid bare for her to share, weigh and judge. The experience offered insights and intimacy of a sort that could never be matched in a face to face encounter.

  This morning, motes swimming in the slanted light that streamed through the windows awoke fleeting memories of herself as an adolescent: a time when someone so unlike the person she was today, had inhabited her body and her consciousness. As a young girl she had been naïve and looking back - if one moment could be said to have jerked her out of the childish trance in which she had lived - it was that morning in late September when she had sat with her father in this very room and heard Mrs. Hill say that Lydia’s bed had not been slept in and that her sister was nowhere to be found. It was a moment that had set in train a whole series of life altering after-shocks for the Bennet family and it was that moment that she thought of now, as she looked at her father sitting behind his desk.

  “Lizzie, I am sorry to have called you away from your flowers and herbs. I need your opinion on something, he said, putting on his glasses. Can I read you the letter that I received from your uncle in London this morning?”

  She nodded and her father cleared his throat and began:

  Brother

  I hesitated to entrust this letter to Mr. Bingley, as it contains news that might have spoiled the happy atmosphere that I am sure prevailed when you heard of that gentleman’s plans to marry our Jane. May I say very briefly, how much I admire him? Although he is a man of means, he does not follow the current mindset of the fashionable world which takes pleasure in deriding everything sacred or worthy of aspiration. Instead he is honest, earnest and very much in love with your daughter. They seem temperamentally suited and I think that he will make her happy.

  Now to my news: When Mr. Bingley arrived here yesterday he was accompanied by his friend, Mr. Darcy. I had heard of that gentleman by reputation here in London. He has a home in Grosvenor Square, powerful connections and is judged to be intelligent and particularly shrewd in business dealings. More significantly, when I mentioned his name to my dear wife, she appeared to be well acquainted with the family’s reputation and holdings up in Derbyshire. Apparently, Mr. Darcy’s father was always regarded as somewhat remote and his son shares that reputation. Although his honesty amongst his tenants and suppliers is beyond question, the family as a whole is still seen to be more than usually proud by those in and around the town of Lambton which, as you know, was where Madeline once lived.

  I have outlined what I know of the current Mr. Darcy’s pride because I think that you will be as astounded as I was by what he had to tell me. He had asked for a private interview: ostensibly to discuss investing in a shipment that will be arriving in my warehouses shortly, but what he had really come to say was totally unrelated to business.

  He surprised me by revealing that he was acquainted with the story of Lydia’s death and Wickham’s involvement in it. Apparently Wickham had once had links to the Darcy family through his father, who had been the steward on their estate. This connection made Darcy feel responsible to see justice served on the scoundrel, without dragging your family name through the courts. As a result of his efforts, Wickham was taken into custody by the army and sentenced for desertion. He received a fairly light sentence for that offence – three hundred lashes and a dishonourable discharge, I was told. But then the army handed him over to the civil courts to be tried in a case of theft that had been brought against him. The goods concerned had apparently been stolen in Meryton on the eve of his desertion: amongst them an unusually engraved gold fob watch and chain which had been described in some detail by the owner at the time of their disappearance and found in Wickham’s possession at the time of his arrest. It was this, Mr. Darcy says, that ensured a speedy trial and conviction, although I am more inclined to see his influence behind that. Once again, Wickham has been fairly lucky in that his sentence was not de
ath but deportation. His ship, Mr. Darcy says, is due to leave London for the New South Wales Penal Colony on Thursday.

  Mr. Darcy’s sole objective in telling me this was so that you could be made aware that justice had been obtained for Lydia. His words to me were to the effect that nothing could bring her back, but that he thought it would be a relief for you to know that the responsible person has at last, been removed from society. He was not anxious to have his name linked to the business; but neither did he forbid me to mention the connection. Possibly he was aware that you would press me for the details anyway.

  He made no attempt to explain how he had come by the information he had about Lydia, only to say that he had been moved by the story and had decided to take action. I’m not sure what you make of his interest in your family affairs. Perhaps you will share any thoughts that you might have on the topic. I find that I am intrigued to know why your family has attracted the attention of such a proud, influential man.

  Madeline, the children and I send our love and best wishes to all at Longbourn and though the date hasn’t been completely settled as yet, we can assure you that we will be attending the wedding.

  George Gardiner

  Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and, removing his glasses, looked across the desk to where his daughter stood staring down at the pages that lay beneath his hand.

  “So, Lizzie, have you any idea how Mr. Darcy comes to know so much of our business?”

  “Yes. I told him, Papa.”

  Mr. Bennet’s look was one of surprised but polite interest. “And why did you do so?”

  “At the time, Mr. Bingley had just begun paying Jane the sort of attention that suggested that he was strongly interested in her. Jane and I had come to the conclusion that he should be discouraged before matters progressed any further, so I told Mr. Darcy Lydia’s story and asked him to warn his friend off. I told him about it one morning. I had met him on an early walk and he began asking some rather probing questions about our non-attendance at assemblies and other social events. He was so curious that I felt that he should hear the truth from a trustworthy source, rather than listening to random gossip. To a certain extent it was in the nature of killing two birds with one stone.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “I see that you girls manage to have a social life, no matter what restrictions are placed on you,” said Mr. Bennet, looking quizzically at his daughter.

  “Papa, that is not fair! We have not interacted with anyone else in the district. All this only happened once Mr. Bingley arrived. And even then, our encounters were nothing more than a series of accidental meetings. We certainly never sought the company of either gentleman.”

  “Mmm! Well, it appears that they sought yours – especially in Jane’s case. I think I will have to revisit my ruling on this matter, particularly now that both Mary and Jane are to marry. Perhaps, with time having passed, people will see Lydia as the victim she was: as a naïve young girl, rather than someone who came from a family lacking in morals. Yet, while I might be willing to concede that your isolation from the people of Meryton has outlived its usefulness, there is one thing bothering me. To my mind, Mr. Darcy’s explanation of his family’s link to Wickham as justification of his involvement in the matter is weak at best. I think that it is far more likely that - just as Bingley had an interest in Jane - this gentleman has an interest in you.”

  “You allow your fondness for me to influence you there, Papa. Mr. Darcy not only moves in the first circles but is far and away my greatest critic! It is more possible that he has knowledge of similar misdeeds committed by Wickham elsewhere and was motivated by those. That and perhaps pity for our family...”

  “Possible, but much less likely, Lizzy. I think I know men and they are - without exception - driven by self-interest. Suppose Darcy did know of previous misdeeds of Wickham’s as you suggest? Surely he would have acted against the man long ago if he was merely interested in justice? No, something drove him to act now.’

  Mr. Bennet shrugged. “Possibly we will get to the bottom of it at some point. Now run along. I must find your mother and have a chat to her about this news. I can’t say that I am looking forward to it. She has days when she feels her loss more keenly and this might bring it all back. She was never in the habit of isolating herself in a darkened room before Lydia’s death and although matters have been better lately, I fear a relapse. I rely on you girls to keep watch and do all you can to discourage her from retreating to her room. It is not healthy behaviour.”

  ____________________________

  The carriage had only just drawn up at the door and its passenger disembarked, when Mrs. Bennet left the shelter of the front door, her hands outstretched.

  “Jane, my beautiful girl,” she said, her face wreathed in smiles as she placed resounding kisses on each of her daughter’s rosy cheeks. “Come into the small sitting room. We will have tea and cakes and a comfortable chat around the fire and you will tell us how it was that Mr. Bingley came to propose. Every word and gesture now, I insist!”

  “Mama, may I put off my bonnet and gloves and tidy up? I will be down with you directly.”

  Her mother pouted with disappointment. “I will ring for tea in the meantime. Don’t be long,” she cautioned.

  Upstairs in their bedroom, Jane gave her sister a quick hug. “Oh! Lizzy, I have missed you. I so longed for your advice when Charles proposed.”

  “You weren’t sure if you loved him?”

  Jane took off her bonnet and smoothed her curls in the mirror. “I have nothing with which to compare the experience - none of us having ever been courted. That’s why I needed to talk to you. Aunt Gardiner thinks that it is natural to be confused. What I can say is that I admired Charles from the moment I met him here in Meryton. I am comfortable in his company. He is a very good man. And he loves me, even I can see that.”

  “Does he appeal to you? Do you think him handsome?”

  “There’s no doubt of that. It would be no hardship to be his wife. You’ve seen him, Lizzie. Don’t you consider him handsome?”

  “Yes, very attractive,” said Elizabeth, thinking that, while Mr. Bingley was good looking, Mr. Darcy was more strongly masculine. But then Mr. Bingley had the more pleasant personality. Darcy was haughty and gave one the idea that no woman could match his expectations. Yes, she could quite see that Jane, or any woman, might feel more comfortable, more loved and accepted by Mr. Bingley. He would be a good husband.

  “Has he kissed you yet, Jane?”

  “Not on the mouth. He has kissed my forehead and held me in his arms. He was so solid and strong that it felt lovely to just lean against him. I would like him to kiss me. Then I would know for sure: but I think that he is giving me time to adjust.”

  “Why don’t you kiss him then, Jane?”

  “Lizzy! I could never do such a thing!”

  “You ought to think about it. You know he loves you – where would be the harm? He would welcome it as an indication of the warmth of your feelings for him, I am sure. I would do it, if it was me. Imagine how happy it would make him.”

  “I suppose I am afraid. You have always been more impulsive than me. But come, let’s go downstairs or Mama will be up here looking for us.”

  “There’s something that I have wanted to share with you,” Lizzy said quietly, as they paused at the top of the stairs. “I was talking to Papa last week and he pointed out that Mama’s habit of sitting in a darkened room began directly after Lydia’s death. I’ve thought back and he is quite right. It has made me look at her differently, Jane. It’s possible she hides a lot of her vulnerability by being cross or pretending to be ill. Papa has asked us to keep her cheerful and she has been a little better recently. I think she believes that with Mr. Collins and Mr. Bingley’s proposals, we might have a financially secure future at last. And then she is so enjoying tormenting us with wedding details that she hasn’t much time to mope.”

  “Well, you know you can count on me.”


  ___________________________

  Elizabeth should have been perfectly content and happy for the rest of the week. After all, her beloved Jane was back and they could (and frequently did) have long conversations into the night. Then too, she had learnt to edit her more provocative remarks and, as a consequence, was finding common ground with her mother. However, on Tuesday a parcel of fabrics arrived from Uncle Gardiner in London which led to a discussion that destroyed her peace of mind.

  They were sorting through and exclaiming at the beauty of the lengths of coloured silk, when Mrs. Bennet remarked: “Lizzy, your papa has told me that Mr. Bingley will be accompanied by Mr. Darcy when he arrives on Friday. I have been thinking about the great kindness that Mr. Darcy showed us when he made it his business to track down that devil, Wickham and force him to face justice. I am determined that we must do all we can to make his stay here a pleasant one and it occurred to me that this was where you could make a contribution.”

  Elizabeth’s heart sank. “How so, Mama?”

  “I think that you should make yourself generally available as a companion to the gentleman. Having been apart, Mr. Bingley and Jane will want to be out strolling through the countryside together and you will have to act as chaperone. As Mr. Darcy will be at a loose end, he might enjoy your company. After all, you are both so intelligent that you shouldn’t be searching for topics to discuss,” said Mrs. Bennet, unable to suppress the smirk that habitually appeared when she referred to Elizabeth’s intellect.

  Lizzy could feel heat moving up from her chest to her face just at the thought of what Mr. Darcy might make of her frequent, unasked for presence at his side. After all, this was a man who knew himself to be a matrimonial prize. It was extremely likely that he would misconstrue her behaviour and believe her to be hanging out for a husband: perhaps hoping that he might repeat the offer of marriage he had made so reluctantly more than a month ago.