Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  “Thank you, sir.” Gesturing at a chair in the corridor, she said, “I will remain here while you examine my father, should you have more questions or require some … thing. Over the past several hours, my father has awakened briefly, but he has not spoken.”

  Upon entering Mr. Bennet’s bedroom, Goldsmith left the door ajar so he could converse with Elizabeth as needed. The doctor was known as a forward-thinking man with a passion for science and a dislike of empty conversation. He had no bedside manner to speak of, but his competence was such that his patients usually forgave him his rudeness once they were well and he was gone.

  Leaving Mr. Bennet’s room some quarter of an hour later, Goldsmith said, “Your father was able to respond with nods and even said a few words. I am encouraged.”

  Elizabeth resisted the urge to embrace the middle-aged stranger with the serious mien. “Shall I show you to your room?”

  “Yes, thank you. I shall instruct you as to what is to be done—”

  “Please, sir, wait until after you have had time to collect your thoughts and refresh yourself. I put a decanter of brandy in your room. But if you would prefer tea …?”

  “Brandy is fine. I will join you in the parlor shortly to have the meal you offered.”

  Elizabeth led him to the guest room. “Take as much time as you need.” The doctor nodded his reply and then watched as Elizabeth returned to her father’s room. Speaking from the doorway, she said, “I will send one of my sisters to sit with you, Papa.”

  Mr. Bennet’s response was inaudible to Goldsmith, but his daughter replied, “It is your own fault I cannot sit with you now. You have told the world I am your least silly daughter, so I must be the one who confers with your doctor. Besides, you should be resting, not debating me.”

  Goldsmith stepped into his room and closed the door. Is there a Mrs. Bennet, or is this a widowed man with daughters but no sons?

  28

  “Will you regret not having a grand wedding?"

  June 21, 1811

  The following morning, Bingley arrived early at Longbourn, as Jane knew he would. When she met him at the front door, he clasped her hands and asked, “What news?”

  “Shall we go into the garden? It is peaceful there.”

  “Of course.”

  Jane tucked her hand into the crook of Bingley’s arm, and they walked to the bench where she had received Darcy’s apology. “Mr. Darcy’s doctor arrived shortly after you left. He is encouraged by my father’s condition, bless him! As for Mama, she has taken to her bed.”

  “If you are crowded, the doctor is welcome at Netherfield.”

  “Dr. Goldsmith seems comfortable in our guest room, but I will keep your offer in mind.” Jane sat on the bench, but when Bingley remained standing, she gave him a puzzled look. “Will you not sit with me?”

  “In a minute. I have a task—a happy task, no, a joyous task—to do first.” Dropping to one knee, Bingley took her left hand in his and asked, “Dearest Miss Bennet, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  I love him, but is this the sort of proposal I want—forced by a family tragedy? Jane squeezed his fingers gently and asked, “Do you ask me this now out of pity?”

  Bingley was disappointed. “I was hoping for a ‘yes.’”

  With her free hand, Jane touched his cheek. “Yes, I want to marry you, but only if you are certain you want to marry me. Do not feel obligated because of my father’s poor health.”

  “I feel no such obligation; I love you!” Bingley exclaimed. “I feel concern for your situation, yet you know I returned here for you. I am merely proposing approximately three-and-one-half weeks ahead of my schedule. Your father has said he would give us his blessing.”

  “Papa told me that, as well.”

  “Yesterday, Darcy went to town to obtain a special licence for us. We can get married whenever we please in case—”

  Jane looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “In case?”

  Bingley took a deep breath. “In case we wish to wed very soon because the happy news of the marriage of Mr. Bennet’s loveliest daughter will help him recover faster.”

  “Nicely done, Mr. Bingley!”

  He grinned and leaned forward but stopped. “May I kiss you, Miss Bennet?”

  Jane’s smile had a mischievous quality. “I hope you do, sir, and sooner rather than later.” And so, they kissed their first kiss … and their second and their third.

  ≈≈≈

  When Goldsmith visited his patient, he found Mary sitting at Mr. Bennet’s bedside reading the Bible in a soft voice. She introduced herself and said she would wait in the corridor should the doctor need her to fetch something.

  “How many daughters does your father have?”

  “Five, sir, I am the middle one.”

  “Where is your mother?”

  “Mama suffers from nerves. She has taken to her bed.”

  “I see. Has your father awakened this morning?”

  “I have only been with him since half-six, sir,” Mary said, consulting her necklace watch. “He woke once, and I gave him some water. He knew me and nodded his thanks. Lizzy says we will give him bone broth and willow bark tea later if you approve.”

  “Thank you for your report. I will call if I need you.”

  ≈≈≈

  Elizabeth was in the dining room when she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Upon stepping out into the corridor, she saw the doctor descending. “Please have breakfast with us, sir. I will send the maid to sit with Papa so Mary can join us.”

  When Goldsmith entered the dining room, he nodded at the others already present. Kitty stepped forward to introduce herself and direct him to the sideboard. After he filled a plate, he turned to face the room and found that all eyes were upon him. Jane, who was sitting at one end of the rectangular table, rose and gestured Goldsmith to the chair at her right. “Good morning, Doctor. We do not wish to overwhelm you with questions. Please enjoy your meal, and we promise not to stare.”

  After settling into his chair, the doctor took a second look at the young man sitting across from him. “Do I know you, sir?”

  “We met once at Darcy House when you treated an injured stableman. I am Charles Bingley, sir. Miss Jane Bennet is my fiancée.” Taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips.

  Kitty clapped excitedly. “You proposed, Mr. Bingley? When?”

  “Only this morning,” Jane said.

  “Make no mistake—I am the happiest of men,” Bingley said, “but I contain my joy because of Mr. Bennet.”

  “Felicitations,” Goldsmith said.

  A sullen-faced Lydia, who sat at the opposite end of the table from Jane, gave a loud snort. “Have you told Mama, Jane? I suppose not; else we would have heard her exclamations.”

  “Told Mama what?” Elizabeth asked as she entered with Mary.

  “Jane and—” Lydia began, but Jane interrupted.

  “It is my news, Lydia. Sisters, this morning Mr. Bingley proposed, and I accepted him.” A pleased Mary gave Jane a brief hug before taking the empty seat between Goldsmith and Kitty.

  Elizabeth, smiling broadly, paused to pat Bingley’s shoulder as she crossed to the sideboard. “How wonderful to have something to celebrate.” After putting muffins and strawberries on two plates, she set one in front of Mary, saying, “You have scarcely had a bite of food this morning.” Taking the chair beside Bingley, she asked, “Did my sisters introduce themselves, Doctor?”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “You are managing us all so well, Lizzy.” To Goldsmith, she said in a bored tone, “I am Lydia, the youngest. How do you do, sir?”

  Her attitude grated on Goldsmith’s nerves. “I do better than your father, young lady.” At the gasps from the others, he realized the impression he had made, so he added quickly, “However, although Mr. Bennet is quite ill, he seems to be recovering well.”

  “That is excellent news!” Bingley exclaimed.

  “It is the best news,” Jane agreed happily. Mary and Kitt
y smiled, and Elizabeth looked relieved; Lydia’s sullen expression was unchanged.

  Goldsmith asked, “Should we wait for Mrs. Bennet before I impart the details?”

  “We will tell Mama what you tell us; she suffers from nerves,” Elizabeth stammered.

  Lydia jumped to her feet. “I’m sure I will not understand a word you say, sir, so I will go tell Mama that Papa ‘seems to be recovering well.’ My sisters can give her details.”

  Before she could quit the room, Elizabeth reminded, “Don’t forget to take Mary’s place at eleven o’clock, Lydia. At four, Kitty will take your place.” Lydia responded with an exaggerated curtsy and ran from the room.

  Jane said, “We will manage our schedules, Lizzy. Promise me that after we hear what Dr. Goldsmith has to say, you will rest.”

  “I promise,” Elizabeth said.

  “I am encouraged by Mr. Bennet’s condition, as he was able to sit up briefly and speak a little.” The doctor glanced around. “Do I have the pleasure of seeing all the Bennets this morning?”

  “Yes,” Jane said.

  “No brothers or husbands?”

  “Not yet,” Mary said, blushing as an image of Ainsworth popped into her head.

  “When Jane marries Mr. Bingley, we will add a husband to our number but, alas, we do not anticipate adding any brothers,” Elizabeth said with a mock sigh of regret.

  Goldsmith gave her a wry smile. “Very well, I shall report to you. I believe your father’s collapse was caused by a weakness in his heart; he needs rest to recover his strength. Miss Mary said you proposed a diet of bone broth and willow bark tea. I agree but recommend that you alternate bone broth with chicken broth and give him a bit of fruit each afternoon. In a few days, as he continues to improve, you may serve him small portions of simple fare, and he may have some watered-down wine, but no more than two glasses per day. Of course, he should avoid excitement.”

  Before anyone could comment, Mrs. Bennet’s shriek filled the air. “He is not dying? Mr. Bennet is not dying? Oh, praise God for His mercy!”

  There was the sound of feet hurrying down the stairs and then Mrs. Bennet was standing in the doorway of the dining room, wearing the loose-fitting day dress she preferred when stricken with nerves. “Dear Lydia has just given me wonderful news!”

  “We know, Mama. We were here when the doctor spoke,” Kitty said, giving a stern look to Lydia who stood behind her mother.

  “What doctor?” Mrs. Bennet looked around the dining room. “Good morning, Mr. Bingley. You are here very early, but you are always welcome.” When Bingley, Elizabeth, and Jane stood, the doctor slowly followed suit, reluctant to give this noisy woman too much consequence.

  Jane said, “Dr. Goldsmith, this is our mother, Mrs. Bennet.”

  Elizabeth explained, “Dr. Goldsmith is Mr. Darcy’s physician in London. Mr. Darcy kindly sent for him to examine Papa.”

  “That is indeed kind—how unexpected. Is he with us today?”

  “Darcy is in London but will return soon,” Bingley said.

  “Doctor, you are most welcome,” Mrs. Bennet said. “If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, just ask one of my girls. As for me, I am nearly overcome with relief at the wonderful news that I am not a widow and my husband still lives.”

  “He seems to be recovering well,” Lydia said in a loud whisper.

  Mrs. Bennet nodded, “Yes, recovering well. Thank you, Dr. Goldsmith. Thank you, thank you! Now I shall return to my room.” She stepped back into the corridor but paused. “I don’t suppose you have any tonics for fragile nerves, sir?”

  “Alas, no, madam, I left London so hurriedly, I brought only a few items with me.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I have some good news for your nerves, Mama. Jane and Mr. Bingley are engaged as of this morning,” Lydia said quickly and stuck out her tongue at her eldest sister.

  “Jane, you have saved us!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked.

  Jane, wishing to avoid an exuberant embrace, sat quickly. Elizabeth sat, too, murmuring, “Or perhaps Jane was motivated by love.” Bingley, who was still standing, gave her a grateful look.

  “So, three weeks to post the banns,” Mrs. Bennet calculated.

  When Bingley opened his mouth to mention the special licence, Jane seemed to read his mind; she squeezed his knee in a gesture concealed from view by the dining table. He glanced at her, and she gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. Right, we’ll keep that to ourselves, he thought. His next thought was how distracting the feel of her hand was, but he was sorry when she removed it.

  “Say, mid-July,” Mrs. Bennet continued. “We will have to go to town soon, dear Jane, to see your Uncle Gardiner for fabric for your trousseau.”

  “I will go nowhere, Mama, until I am certain Papa is out of danger,” Jane said firmly.

  “Of course, my dear. Still, you know Lizzy is perfectly capable of caring for your father and Longbourn. Indeed, if she had had the good sense to accept Mr. Collins’s proposal, it would be her duty. Still, with your sisters to help Lizzy, you and I should be able to sneak off to town for a few days,” she said with a giggle as if planning an adventure. Goldsmith saw Elizabeth wince at the inappropriateness of her mother’s remarks.

  “Let us speak about this later, madam,” Jane said.

  Mrs. Bennet said to Bingley in a teasing tone, “Oh, do you hear her, sir? Already she speaks as if she were the lady of the manor.”

  “Come, Mama. I will see you back to your room,” Lydia said.

  Mrs. Bennet took her youngest daughter’s arm and as they walked away, those in the dining room heard her say, “There were times when I was sure you would be first to marry, Lydia. But no, it is Jane, which is only right, as she is the eldest and soonest to be on the shelf.”

  Elizabeth groaned. Resting her arms on the dining table, she dropped her head upon them. “I beg you, Jane, Mr. Bingley, take me with you when you marry.”

  Goldsmith, suspecting she had forgotten his presence, suppressed a smile.

  Mary, who had finished her meal, excused herself to return to her father’s bedside, and Jane said, “Lizzy, I insist you excuse yourself, as well. Off to bed with you; I know you have not slept.”

  Yawning, Elizabeth raised her head, and when she noticed Goldsmith, she blushed; she had forgotten he was there. “Doctor, I … we … is there anything you—”

  “You are babbling, Miss Elizabeth. You need sleep. Go.” With a self-conscious smile, Elizabeth exited.

  Kitty was determined to succeed in her role as manager of the family’s communications. She cleared her throat, but when that failed to get the doctor’s attention, she spoke. “Dr. Goldsmith, if should you need any supplies or tinctures, please tell me and I will arrange for them.”

  Kitty assumed he would respond with a simple thanks. Instead, he asked, “How?”

  “I will send a message to our apothecary in Meryton. Also, our still room here has various herbs and some tinctures we make ourselves. Mary is particularly skilled in that regard.”

  “Very well.” Pushing aside his now-empty plate, Goldsmith rose. “Miss Kitty, kindly show me to your still room.”

  Although Kitty was surprised at his brusqueness, she was not offended. Perhaps he is related to Mr. Darcy. “Excuse us, please, Jane, Mr. Bingley.” She led the doctor out.

  Now alone with her fiancé, Jane sighed. “Dear Mr. Bingley, please assure me that you do not wish to withdraw your proposal.”

  “Withdraw my proposal? Of course not!”

  “Have you taken the full measure of the family into which you are marrying?”

  “I could ask the same of you, dearest. Shall we speak to Ainsworth about officiating at our wedding —perhaps in the garden here? Of course, we do not have a date yet, but I expect Darcy will return with the licence by Monday, or Tuesday at the latest.”

  “I think speaking with Mr. Ainsworth is an excellent idea.”

  ≈≈≈

  After breakfast,
Jane and Bingley visited the Bennet tenants, stopping first at the Morgan’s farm to inform them of Mr. Bennet’s condition before going on to the Laidlaws. There, they found Cassandra humming to herself as she weeded the garden. Mere moments after the happy child called a greeting to them, Mrs. Laidlaw stepped out the of the house.

  “We heard Mr. Bennet was ill, Miss Jane. How is he today?”

  “A doctor has come from London; he says Papa is improving.”

  “Mr. Darcy arranged for the doctor,” Bingley said, eager to give credit where it was due.

  Satisfied that the most important news had been shared, Mrs. Laidlaw addressed Bingley. “And good morning to you, sir.”

  “Good morning, madam. Is Mr. Ainsworth about? We wish to have a word with him.”

  “Allen is in the barn.”

  “Then excuse us, please,” Jane said and led the way.

  When Bingley followed Jane into the barn, he immediately wished he had preceded her so that he could have shielded her from the sight of a shirtless Ainsworth. The parson’s well-muscled arms glistened with sweat as he spread fresh hay in a stall.

  Blushing, Jane turned her back to him, and Bingley wondered, Does she imagine that is how I look without my shirt? Would she wish me to? Like most men of his class, he fenced, boxed, and rode horseback, but he did not have the sturdy form of a laborer. After making an attention-getting cough, Bingley said, “Good morning.”

  Upon noticing his visitors, Ainsworth moved quickly to the back of the stall and pulled on the shirt that hung from a nail there. “Forgive me. I have covered myself now.”

  Turning to face him, Jane said, “It is you who must forgive us for interrupting. Please do not be uneasy. Recall that I am a country miss, surrounded by farms and farmers.”

  “How may I be of assistance?”

  “My father took ill quite suddenly yesterday.”

  “Yes, I heard. I am sorry for your troubles. How is he today?”

  “He is being attended by a doctor from London, who assures us Papa is improving.” Then Jane looked at Bingley, and he knew she wanted him to make the request.