Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  “Good morning, Gwen. How are you today?” Oh, goodness, why does my voice sound so odd?

  She guided her to a chair. “I am certain I feel better than you look, Penelope. Would you like coffee? Tea? Perhaps some bone broth. Truly, you do not seem well.”

  “Perhaps tea and something plain to settle my stomach. Is there some soda bread remaining from last night’s dinner? That would be quite nice. I am simply weary from all those long days of travel.” Oh, lovely, I am starting my day with a lie!

  Lady Trelawney pressed the back of her hand to her sister-in-law’s forehead. “You do not have a fever; that’s a blessing. Just sit, and I will see to your tea and bread myself.”

  “Thank you.” Lady Penelope managed a feeble smile and tried to relax in the wooden chair.

  Mere moments after Lady Trelawney went to the kitchen, Quince, the butler, entered. “Good morning, my lady. I wanted to assure you personally that per your instructions to the footman, your letter has been dispatched by express courier.”

  “Express?” Lady Penelope repeated softly.

  “Yes, madam, the footman said you were most insistent when you gave him your letter last night, er, early this morning.”

  “Do forgive me, Quince, as I am not at my best today. To whom was my letter directed?”

  Quince squinted as he strove to picture the direction she had written. “Ah, yes, you were forwarding a letter from Master Penn to Colonel Fitzwilliam at an estate called Netherfield in Hertfordshire. It will take several days to arrive.” The butler, like the rest of the staff, was aware that Fitzwilliam and a distant Trelawney cousin by the name of Master Penn had helped Lady Penelope escape the wars in Spain. They also knew (as servants invariably did) her ladyship was a friend of the Countess of Kesteven. “If I may be so bold, madam,” the butler added in a whisper, “I hope all is well with the colonel and his family.”

  Able only to manage what she hoped was a reassuring sound, Lady Penelope dismissed him with a nod. After Quince exited, she folded her arms on the dining table and, with all the grace and delicacy one would expect of a well-bred lady, she gently laid her head on her arms and groaned softly. “Oh no, no, no, no, no … what did my letter say?”

  When Lady Trelawney returned a short time later, followed by a maid bearing a tray with tea and a plate of toasted soda bread, this was the position in which she found her sister-in-law. “Oh dear, should I summon a doctor?”

  Slowly, Lady Penelope raised her head and said in a strained voice, “Do not worry about me, Gwen. With tea, toast, and time, I will be well soon.” If only I could remember what I wrote!

  ≈≈≈

  Monday afternoon, Fitzwilliam returned to Netherfield, and he promptly reported his findings in a letter posted to Corporal Tinkler. Yes, the peddler had sold Dr. Nicoll’s tonic, but upon receiving bad reports of it, he dumped the contents and sold the empty bottles. Unfortunately, the peddler obtained his products from so many sources that he could not recall where he got the tonic. Slouching in his chair, Fitzwilliam muttered, “Mr. Collins! I’m sure he has the information I need.”

  Later that day, Georgiana found Fitzwilliam in the library. To pull his attention from his book, she cleared her throat. He grinned. “Kindly assure me you do not have the grippe.”

  “My health is excellent. However, I need your advice.”

  “You Darcys never ask my advice; I am intrigued! You have my full attention.” Fitzwilliam leaned back in his seat as his young cousin took the chair beside him.

  “I seek suggestions on how to negotiate for something I want.”

  “Is the objective of your negotiation personal, professional, or martial? No, please, allow me to reason this out.” Georgiana knew Fitzwilliam liked to tease his way into a topic, so she waited. “It cannot be professional, as you currently have no profession. It cannot be martial as you are not in the military. So, it must be personal. Does it involve family or non-family?”

  “I wish to negotiate with Brother, but the matter involves others outside our family.”

  “Very well. Proceed.”

  “Would you say that my maturity equals that of Miss Kitty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you say it equals that of her elder sister Miss Mary?”

  “Yes. In terms of social graces and general demeanor, you are superior to both, owing in part to Mrs. Annesley and, if I may say so, my mother.”

  “Aunt Amanda has indeed been most helpful,” Georgiana agreed. “Now, are you aware that both Miss Kitty and Miss Mary are out in Meryton society?”

  “Such as it is. You must allow, however, the society here is a world different, a world simpler than the society in London.”

  “I do, and I have no wish to be out in London society this year. As for Meryton, however, does it not seem unjust that I, whom you have declared superior to Kitty and Mary in social graces, am not accorded the same freedoms? Is it not unreasonable that although I am the acknowledged hostess at Netherfield, I cannot participate in a simple country assembly with the very neighbors whom I am expected to host?”

  “You have won me to your side. Shall I speak to Darcy?”

  “I believe he would be more receptive if I spoke for myself.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So, what negotiating techniques do you recommend?”

  Fitzwilliam gave her question careful consideration before laying out a course of action. “To begin with, find some matter unrelated to what you want and get him to say ‘yes’ to it. It can be as simple as doing you a minor favor or accepting something you offer. You are priming him to agree with you—just as you primed me when you asked me for a favor, now that I think of it.”

  Georgiana smiled delightedly. “I did not realize.”

  “When you compared your situation to that of the Bennets, you omitted Lydia. Don’t. Remind Darcy what she is like and give him a reason not to tar you with the same brush.”

  “I could mention the unfairness of my being treated as she is. After all, would she not feel her exclusion, her punishment, more deeply if I were permitted to attend the assembly?”

  “Excellent! Oh, and one more thing. Decide upon a privilege you would be willing to forego in exchange for what you want. I suggest you choose something that is of little consequence to you, but do not tell Darcy of its insignificance. When he gives you what you desire, he may expect some show of reciprocity. Granted, he may have a suggestion of his own; however, if you are prepared with an offer, you will have more control over the situation.”

  “Christopher, you are an education!” She kissed his cheek.

  “Good luck!”

  ≈≈≈

  When Georgiana entered the drawing room, she found Darcy standing at the window. “Are you watching for someone?”

  “Hello, dearest. No, not watching. In fact, I was shopping for furniture.” He took a step to one side, revealing that the object of his attention was, in fact, the square rosewood table with an inset chess board which, when turned over, provided a board for backgammon. “I will say nothing until I know Bingley’s intentions regarding this estate, but if he does not want this table, I shall speak to Mr. Phillips about buying it. I would like it for the London townhouse.”

  “You would not prefer something new?”

  “No. I have already formed fond memories with this.”

  Your chess games and backgammon games with Elizabeth, Georgiana guessed. Convinced that her brother’s location and his happy expression were signs from Providence, she began her negotiations. “Would you teach me the fundamentals of chess?”

  “Gladly; it is excellent training for the mind. Do you wish to begin now?”

  “Yes, but first let me call for tea. As I am a novice, you will have much to explain.”

  “Tea, yes. A fine idea.”

  After calling for tea, Georgiana sat at the chess table. “May I play the black pieces? A strong color will give me confidence.”

  “Of course.”

  Yes
to the chess. Yes to the tea. Yes to the color I will play. I can do this! Within an hour, Georgiana had learned about the chess pieces and the directions in which each could move. Darcy had also agreed that she could consider herself out in Hertfordshire society, while she had agreed that she would not be out in London society this year. In Georgiana’s estimation, it was a very good day.

  24

  “These Darcys are a presumptuous pair.”

  June 12, 1811

  “I am ill,” Lady Catherine announced in a raspy voice, as she lay in the ornate bed in her suite at Kesteven Place. Glaring at Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson, who stood in the doorway, she added, “Although I am never ill, today I am ill. Very ill.” Propped up by pillows and with her maid Webley standing by, she said, “I had thought we might leave for London on Friday, but I cannot go anywhere while I am so ill!” The strain of speaking gave her a coughing fit.

  Anne quickly turned the situation to her benefit. “Clearly, our presence is tiring. Come, Nora, let’s leave Mama to rest in peace.”

  The two ladies retreated rapidly from the sickroom before Lady Catherine could burden them with her directives, and by the time her ladyship regained her voice, they were gone. She made a dismissive wave in their direction and then barked to Webley. “Hot lemon, honey, and brandy. Go!”

  ≈≈≈

  June 13, 1811

  On Thursday afternoon, Darcy and Georgiana arrived at Longbourn, leading a small, well-fed riderless horse. Elizabeth, who was reading in the garden, set aside her book and came to the gate to greet them.

  “Did you find this animal while you were galloping about the countryside? We have not lost one, nor is this a horse I recognize.”

  “This is Molly, my first mare,” Georgiana said excitedly.

  “I am happy to meet you, Molly,” Elizabeth said with a curtsy.

  “My sister thought you might enjoy riding a decidedly slow, very calm horse,” Darcy said as he dismounted. Leading the mare to the gate, he said, “Her name is short for ‘mollycoddle.’”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I have always said we short females do not receive the respect we deserve. You may have noticed I am the least tall of the Bennet daughters.”

  Georgiana explained, “We thought perhaps the three of us might ride for a bit while you decide whether you like Molly.”

  “Did you?” Elizabeth said, one eyebrow raised. These Darcys are a presumptuous pair! But an inner voice reminded her of the kind effort behind their gesture.

  Recognizing her piqued look, Darcy said quickly, “For as long or as short a time as you wish.”

  “How did Molly come to be here in Hertfordshire?”

  “We had her delivered from Darcy House,” Georgiana said. Suddenly worried that her effort might be unwelcome, she asked, “You are pleased, at least a little, aren’t you, Elizabeth?”

  As Elizabeth stroked Molly’s cheek, the mare made an approving sound. With a sigh, she touched her forehead to that of the mare. “This is very thoughtful of you. Come inside and have some refreshment while I change into Jane’s riding costume.”

  ≈≈≈

  During the hour-long ride, both Darcys offered suggestions about Elizabeth’s posture and handling of the reins. Initially, their recommendations flew thick and fast, so she vigorously shushed them, insisting they take turns with their comments.

  When they returned to Longbourn, she saw that the siblings were anxiously awaiting her reckoning. “Yes, I enjoyed our outing. Clearly, it is preferable to have a mount with which one is comfortable.” Before Darcy could assist her, Elizabeth eased out of the saddle, relieved to be standing on her own two feet.

  “So, might we tour the neighborhood tomorrow?” Georgiana asked.

  “Kitty will want to join us, but she is even less experienced with horses than I am. I don’t suppose Molly has a twin.”

  Darcy said, “Bingley recently had a curricle delivered to Netherfield, and Fitz enjoys driving it almost as much as he enjoys riding Laird.”

  “Kitty would be delighted to ride in fashionable curricle. Well then, tomorrow we shall tour.” Elizabeth glanced in the direction of Netherfield. “I suppose you two will race home now.”

  “We would if Molly were not with us,” Georgiana said.

  “Would you be so kind as to stable her at Longbourn for the night?” Darcy asked.

  “Longbourn would be happy to accommodate this gentle lady.”

  “Until tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, tipping his hat. Georgiana gave a little wave, and the two dashed away. As Elizabeth watched, she thought that she, too, would like to sit a horse with such expertise.

  ≈≈≈

  On the portico at Netherfield late in the afternoon, Fitzwilliam relaxed on one of the ornate marble benches flanking the front door; his legs were extended before him, and his arms were crossed loosely on his chest. Enjoying the tranquility, he murmured, “Qué dulce no hacer nada … how sweet to do nothing.”

  It was a phrase his Spanish tutor had often said when endeavoring to remind him that he did not need to be constantly active. What are you doing now, Penn?

  As if in answer to his unspoken question, an express courier arrived soon after. Fitzwilliam noted the white cross on a black background embroidered on the cape worn by the courier and was aware it was St. Piran’s flag, a symbol of Cornwall. At once, he was seized with the terrible fear that some disaster had befallen the Trelawney family or—God forbid—Lady Penelope herself. Upon noting the express letter was from Master Penn, however, he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. He instructed the courier to go to the kitchen for food and ale after baiting his horse; then he added, “Be sure to speak with me when you are ready to leave.”

  Some half an hour later, the courier was brought to the library where Fitzwilliam was writing a letter. The courier—upon being offered a bed, a hearty breakfast, and generous recompense —eagerly agreed to delay his return to Cornwall until the next day.

  Fitzwilliam wanted time to craft his response to Master Penn’s letter, which began:

  My cousin Lady Penelope understands the impropriety of writing a gentleman. However, because I embrace you as an equal, I may address you as such. My cousin also says you are a busy fellow, so she tells me to assure you that I have no expectation you will respond to my rambling missive.”

  Indeed, the five-page letter did ramble, and with such charm and intimacy that Fitzwilliam was captivated by the confidences it contained, including her ladyship’s reference to the state she was

  in when she wrote. On the page, Master Penn admitted:

  Lady Penelope has scolded me for my consumption of port tonight; I have never before had four glasses in one evening, in addition to wine with dinner! It is simply that I — that she — that we feel a restless dissatisfaction. She is a widow, a mother, and a lady; persons such as herself do not feel restlessness, or so I tell her. She is thirty this year. (She does not think she ever mentioned it to you, but at the moment, there are many things she claims she does not clearly recall.) Still, she believes she is too young to be consigned to a life of matronly inactivity.

  Although most of the letter was written in the persona of Master Penn, there were passages in which Lady Penelope wrote as herself, speaking of her love for her daughter and describing with a tender sadness her recollections of meeting and being wooed by her late husband—a topic Fitzwilliam had once raised. She even wrote eloquently on how the wars of succession ravaging Spain could have been avoided had the government been a republic instead of a monarchy. On the last page, she described in terms both philosophical and humorous her plans to become a privateer under the guise of Master Penn so she could ferry to safety those who were trapped in the web of war. At the end of the letter, she closed with an invitation:

  I will be most particular about the sailors I engage for my rescue missions (a lesson I learned from travels with Sir Oscar); however, there will always be a place for you, sir, should you wish to join me as a privateer.

 
; She misses me—perhaps as much as I miss her! In his reply, Fitzwilliam described Hertfordshire, berry-picking, the successful courtship of Jane and Bingley, the awkward courtship of Elizabeth and Darcy, and the frustrating search for Dr. Nicoll. In closing, he assured her he would gladly join her as a philanthropic privateer.

  When the express courier set off on Friday morning after a hearty meal (and with generous portions of bread, cheese, and ale for his journey), he carried a letter for Lady Penelope from Lady Amanda Fitzwilliam (or so the sender’s direction declared) and a box containing a bottle of port.

  ≈≈≈

  For the past year, Lydia had been out in her local society, and she had become accustomed to the freedoms of a young lady who was considered an adult. Thus, suffering the restrictions of a child was a shock. Over the weekend, she had been confined to her room, foregoing dinner on Saturday night and church on Sunday morning. From Sunday onward, she was permitted to eat breakfast and nuncheon with her family in the dining room, but she received her evening meals on a tray in her room.

  In addition to these constraints, Mr. Bennet insisted Lydia read a portion of a book of his choosing and then write at least one page regarding what she had read. He would then discuss Lydia’s writings with her every afternoon. Her first assignment was a chapter on ladylike behavior from a book of etiquette written decades earlier. Through Lydia’s inattentive review of the chapter, she managed to write slightly more than half a page.

  Next, Mr. Bennet provided her with a book on the care of chickens and told her for their Tuesday discussion, he expected a full written page, which Lydia managed to produce by writing larger than was her custom. When her father gave her a chapter to read about the Tudor dynasty for Wednesday’s assignment, Lydia produced nearly two pages; however, her focus was on the tragic lives of Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. On Thursday, the topic of her paper was three poems by William Wordsworth.