Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  Anne pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. “I feel warm. I feel little tremblings! I—” Abruptly aware of her friend’s silence, she asked, “Was I wrong to kiss you, Nora? When you were in my arms, the impulse overwhelmed me.”

  “No, dear one, no! But I am nearly seven years your senior. And I have been married.”

  “What are you saying? Do you regret—”

  Mrs. Jenkinson laughed lightly. “Never! This was simply so unexpected.”

  “My kiss?”

  “No, well, yes, a little. What I did not expect was what I felt … what I am feeling. I enjoyed Benjamin’s attentions, but with your kiss, there was more. I am delighted and … and uncertain.”

  Speaking with a resoluteness Mrs. Jenkinson had never before seen in her friend, Anne declared, “I love you, Nora. And you love me, for I have felt it in your friendship, your kindness, and the depth of your devotion!”

  “I do love you, and I know in my soul I will always love you!”

  “With you, dearest friend, I am able to believe in a future I did not imagine until we kissed. You have strengthened my resolve to end this unbearable situation with Mama as quickly as may be so that you and I can be together. In London, I will ask my Aunt and Uncle Fitzwilliam for assistance.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson smoothed a lock of hair from Anne’s brow and murmured, “You have awakened my own imagination as well.”

  Forgotten by the rest of the household, the ladies lingered in the garden until well past dark. When they returned to the house, Spicer informed them Lady Catherine had retired and would not be breakfasting with them in the morning.

  ≈≈≈

  June 23, 1811

  By Saturday night, Lady Stafford had learned of her son’s plans to leave Bath; by Sunday morning, she was sufficiently annoyed to make a special call upon Lady Catherine. Over tea, Lady Stafford complained with thinly veiled politeness that Miss De Bourgh’s foolish companion had placed her loyalty to Anne over marriage. Lady Catherine was astounded to discover Mrs. Jenkinson had received and rejected Stafford’s proposal, and she wondered if the companion’s attachment was interfering with Anne’s ability to find a husband. This notion was very much in her ladyship’s thoughts after Lady Stafford departed. Perhaps Mrs. Jenkinson did not care for Mr. Stafford or has no interest in marrying. But what if she were offered, say, another position?

  ≈≈≈

  Within an hour of farewelling Lady Stafford, Lady Catherine called on Mrs. Rogers, a lady some fifteen years her junior who had twin teenaged daughters. At a recent gathering, Mrs. Rogers had lamented the difficulty of finding a companion for her twins, for she needed to concentrate her attentions on her eldest girl who would have her come-out in November.

  In her conversation with Mrs. Rogers on this day, Lady Catherine praised Mrs. Jenkinson’s good influence and confided that, as Anne was anticipating an offer of marriage soon, both of the De Bourgh ladies wanted to help the companion—who was truly a treasure—find a suitable position.

  ≈≈≈

  Early Sunday evening, Mr. Bennet, well supported by pillows, was sitting up in bed. He did not remember his collapse, but he recognized his family members and appreciated the care he had received from Darcy’s doctor. While Goldsmith and the other Bennets gathered in the corridor, Jane and Bingley, who stood together at Mr. Bennet’s bedside, revealed their betrothal.

  In a weak but happy voice, Mr. Bennet said, “Marry as soon as you please, and I will be there, wearing the fine new waistcoat given me by Jane and Lizzy.”

  Placing an arm around Jane’s shoulders, Bingley said, “Darcy is bringing a special licence. We plan to wed on Thursday.”

  At this news, Mrs. Bennet pushed into the doorway. “Mr. Bennet, as you are improving so quickly under Dr. Goldsmith’s skillful care,” she paused to give the doctor an approving smile, “shall we not postpone the wedding until Jane can have a proper trousseau made? A month or perhaps two?”

  Jane did not need to look at her fiancé to know his smile had been replaced by an expression of disappointment. “There is no need, Mama. Mr. Bingley and I will marry on Thursday.” Feeling

  Bingley’s fingers squeeze hers, Jane glanced at him, and he gave her the briefest of nods.

  “You cannot!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Recall—Monday for health, Tuesday for wealth, Wednesday best of all, Thursday for losses, Friday for crosses, and Saturday for no luck at all.”

  “Do you suggest we marry on Wednesday?” Bingley asked.

  “Indeed not!”

  “So Thursday it is,” Jane said firmly.

  “But I—”

  Goldsmith interrupted. “I insist we leave Mr. Bennet now. Too much excitement might set off another collapse. As his doctor, I also forbid him from partaking in any plans for the wedding, and I concur that the ceremony be held on Thursday so as to keep disruptions at a minimum.”

  “Clearly, you do not have daughters,” Mrs. Bennet growled.

  Eager to make their escape, all the daughters and Bingley hurried downstairs. Bingley and Jane sat side by side on the sofa, and Elizabeth, Mary, and Kitty occupied chairs, while Lydia scowled in the doorway. In silence, they strained to hear the confrontation between the doctor and Mrs. Bennet; however, no such words reached the parlor. A few minutes later, Mrs. Bennet called, “Lydia, have Hill prepare me a tea tray.”

  Goldsmith descended the stairs, narrowly missing a collision with a pouting Lydia as she stomped off to the kitchen. “I am going for walk,” he announced through the open parlor door.

  “It is a fine evening for it, sir,” Elizabeth said, and all were silent until they heard the front door close.

  “He is a very patient man,” Mary murmured.

  “Now about your wedding,” Kitty prompted.

  “I do wish Aunt and Uncle Gardiner could be here,” Jane said. “But to add house guests with four children to our situation would not be conducive to Papa’s recovery.”

  “Netherfield is at your disposal, dearest,” Bingley said. “Write your relatives today, and I will send it by express tomorrow. There is plenty of room for all, and the Gardiners are most welcome.”

  “Oh, Charles, that is the best wedding gift you could give me!”

  ≈≈≈

  June 24, 1811

  When Mrs. Rogers and her twin daughters called at Kesteven Place on Monday morning, Lady Catherine insisted Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson be present, as this would allow Mrs. Rogers to interview the companion and to see an example of her excellent influence. Of course, neither Anne nor Mrs. Jenkinson was aware of this. Thus, they found the conversation rather odd, but the ladies answered Mrs. Rogers’s questions politely. (“It was like a cheerful Spanish inquisition, but in English,” Anne told her friend later in the garden.)

  ≈≈≈

  Elizabeth was sitting with Goldsmith in the parlor when Darcy arrived at Longbourn on Monday noon. Upon hearing Darcy at the door, she hurried to the foyer. “Welcome, sir. Come in!”

  Simply being in Elizabeth’s presence made Darcy feel happy. “How is your father?”

  “Better, thanks to Dr. Goldsmith’s excellent care. Did you come directly from London?”

  “Yes, forgive my appearance. From here, I go to Netherfield.”

  “You must first take a moment to rest. Hill, please bring tea.” Still holding Darcy’s hand, Elizabeth led him to the parlor.

  When Darcy entered, Goldsmith stood. “Good day, sir. I am pleased to see that you do not appear to be in need of my care.”

  As the men shook hands, Darcy said, “I thank you most sincerely for responding so quickly to my message, doctor.”

  “Mr. Bennet is recovering well for a man his age, so I shall return to town today.”

  “Gentlemen, please sit. I have a small errand to do,” Elizabeth said and hurried away.

  After Elizabeth left, the men sat, and Goldsmith said, “I like her; she’s sensible. In fact, all the daughters but the youngest have made themselves very useful.”

&
nbsp; “Ah, yes, Miss Lydia,” Darcy said, shaking his head. “Now as to Mr. Bennet, what do you recommend regarding his care?”

  “Rest, simple food, and time will heal him if he can avoid excessive excitement. By the bye, your friend Bingley and Miss Jane are planning to marry on Thursday.”

  “Do you think the wedding should be postponed?”

  “On the contrary. I believe Mr. Bennet will find comfort in having his daughter settled. I have decreed he is not be involved in wedding matters lest he suffer a relapse.” The doctor added quietly, “Miss Jane Bennet has more steel in her spine than I expected when I first saw her angelic face.”

  “So I have found. Do you recommend a nurse for Mr. Bennet?”

  “I do not think it necessary. His daughters and Mrs. Hill have managed very well.”

  Bingley rushed in. “Very glad to see you, my friend!”

  Darcy stood, pulled an envelope from his jacket, and pressed it into Bingley’s hands. “Rumor has it you are getting married on Thursday. This will make it official.”

  Jane and Elizabeth had followed Bingley. Now Jane crossed to Darcy and clasped his hand warmly. “You truly do take good care of your friends, sir, and I am grateful.”

  “Come see this licence, my angel.” Bingley tugged at her elbow.

  When Jane and her fiancé moved away from the others, a smiling Elizabeth gestured at the sofa. “Please, Mr. Darcy, sit. Your mission is done; it is time to catch your breath.”

  Hill entered with a tea tray and, upon seeing Jane and Bingley, said, “I will fetch more cups.”

  “Please do not bother, Hill,” Bingley said. “Miss Bennet and I have an errand at the Laidlaw farm.” Grinning, Hill exited.

  “We won’t be long,” Jane called as Bingley drew her away.

  When Darcy looked a question at Elizabeth, she explained, “Mr. Ainsworth will officiate, but until you returned with the licence, Jane and Mr. Bingley hesitated to set a date for the ceremony.” She prepared cups of tea and handed them to the men before joining Darcy on the sofa.

  “Is there no cup for you?” Darcy asked.

  “Lately, I am drinking less tea. I have not been sleeping as well as I’d like.”

  Darcy looked at Goldsmith as if to say, Well, what can you do for her? Amused, the doctor said, “Yes, Miss Elizabeth and I have discussed this. I recommended fewer cups of tea and more walks.” Addressing her, he said, “Your father is out of danger; it is time to let go of your worry.”

  “Easier said than done, sir.”

  “Well, as I have said, I am sufficiently encouraged that I shall return to London today.”

  “I will send a message to Netherfield to bring round the coach you arrived in.”

  “Why don’t I leave Pegasus in the stable here while we walk to Netherfield?” Darcy suggested. “Your doctor has prescribed exercise, and I know the way across the fields.”

  “Go, Miss Elizabeth. I am here for your father,” Goldsmith said.

  For Darcy and Elizabeth, the walk to Netherfield had never seemed shorter.

  ≈≈≈

  Unfortunately, that same afternoon at Hunsford Parsonage, Collins learned of Lady Lucas’s letter. Had he been watching his step instead of re-reading the sermon he had delivered the day before, he would not have tripped over a footstool. Had he not tripped, he would not have fallen onto the small table bearing his wife’s sewing box. And had he not sent the sewing box tumbling to the floor where it spewed its contents, Charlotte could have concealed her mother’s letter from him for several more days … or perhaps forever. Picking up the paper, Collins asked, “What is this? A letter?”

  Charlotte jumped up and hugged her husband. “You found it! It arrived earlier, but I have been so distracted of late I forgot where I laid it. Thank you, my dear.” She brushed a kiss on his cheek as she plucked the paper from his hand.

  “Who is it from?”

  “This is my family’s seal; however, I have yet not read it. I will do so now.” She moved to the window as if in need of light. With her back to her husband, she said, “It is from my mother.”

  “She is well, I trust.”

  “Yes.”

  “What news from Meryton?” he asked out of politeness rather than genuine interest.

  After a pause, Charlotte said, “Apparently, Mr. Bennet is not feeling well.”

  Several seconds passed before Collins grasped the implication of this news. Then he crossed quickly to his wife, held out his hand, and demanded, “Give me the letter.” With a tense smile, she gave it to him and waited. After reading it, he frowned. “You said Mr. Bennet is not feeling well.”

  “That is my understanding, Husband.”

  “Yet your mother writes that he is unconscious and likely is on his deathbed.”

  “Mama tends to exaggerate. By now, Mr. Bennet might be awake or recovered.”

  “I must go at once to comfort my cousins!”

  “Of course. I shall see to your packing.”

  Collins regarded her with a puzzled look. “And your own packing, my dear. You are coming with me. When I say ‘I,’ I typically mean both of us, as our union under God has made us one.”

  “Of course.” As she exited, Charlotte paused in the doorway to look at her husband; he seemed unsure of what to do next. “Perhaps you should write Lady Catherine,” she suggested.

  “Indeed! I shall write her at once!” Collins hurried to his study.

  Charlotte slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom. I do wish to be the mistress of Longbourn someday, but I am not eager for my friends to lose their father and their home.

  30

  “You must not mention this little change to Anne.”

  June 24, 1811

  Shortly before dinner at Kesteven Place on Monday evening, a message arrived from Mrs. Rogers in which she offered Mrs. Jen-kinson the position of companion to her twins. Mrs. Rogers noted, “Because you will be in charge of two young ladies rather than one, I have increased the proposed salary accordingly.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson immediately saw Lady Catherine’s hand in this matter. Anne had felt unworthy upon learning she had declined Stafford’s proposal; how would Anne feel knowing her friend had rejected a position paying far more than her current one?

  Mrs. Jenkinson quickly penned an appreciative response in which she politely refused Mrs. Rogers’s offer, explaining that she was very happy with her current situation. Careful to avoid Spicer, Mrs. Jenkinson asked a footman to arrange for a messenger, believing that the footman would not tamper with a sealed letter.

  She was wrong.

  That night, as Mrs. Jenkinson was preparing lavender sachets, Spicer knocked on her door and said Lady Catherine wished to speak with her. “I shall come right away,” she said. Out of habit, she glanced around her room to check whether there were items in view that might tempt an unscrupulous butler with a reputation for petty theft. Then, following Spicer through the dimly lit corri-dors of Kesteven Place, Mrs. Jenkinson searched her mind for any event that might have upset Lady Catherine. Later, she would wonder why she had not suspected that her ladyship knew of her rejections of Mr. Stafford and Mrs. Rogers.

  After escorting Mrs. Jenkinson into her Lady Catherine’s sitting room, the butler remained near the door, awaiting further instructions. “Shall I call for tea, your ladyship?”

  “At this late hour? That will not be necessary,” her ladyship replied, not bothering to ask about her guest’s preference. The butler bowed low and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Sitting in a throne-like chair brought from Rosings, her Lady Catherine gestured at a small chair nearby. “Sit. I have a matter to discuss.” After several silent moments, she asked in commanding toned, “Can you be ready to leave for London tomorrow?”

  There was only one acceptable reply. “Certainly, madam.”

  “Good. So it will be. My daughter and I will travel later in the week, as planned.” She studied the companion’s face, but Mrs. Jenkinson’s bland expression,
honed over years of practice, gave nothing away. “I suppose you would like to know why.”

  “I am interested in anything your ladyship wishes to tell me.”

  “I am sending you ahead to make sure the townhouse is ready for us. You will carry a letter from me to the housekeeper.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson gave a slight nod. “Yes, madam.” Lady Dragon could as easily have posted her letter. She wants to separate me from Anne. Why? What is this horrible woman planning?

  “You must not mention this little change in plans to Anne. She’s such a fragile girl and very attached to you. Some have suggested she is too attached to you. I do not want her to brood about even the temporary loss of your company.”

  “As you wish, madam. Although I would not say Miss Anne is so attached—”

  “You contradict me?” Lady Catherine demanded angrily.

  “I merely offer an opinion based solely on the time I have spent with your daughter. Certainly, I meant no disrespect.”

  Lady Catherine shifted the topic abruptly. “Mrs. Jenkinson, have you never wanted to marry again?”

  “As I am Miss De Bourgh’s companion, a position in which I feel most fortunate, it would not have been appropriate for me to spend my time seeking a husband.” Her amiable tone did not reflect her feelings of danger. What is her scheme?

  “If one had an unhappy marriage, one might be cautious about taking another husband. Were you happy in your marriage?”

  I could as easily ask that of you, as your husband has been gone far longer than mine! Mrs. Jenkinson thought, but her pleasant expression remained fixed. “My late husband was a kind man who treated me well. It was a happy marriage for both of us.”

  “You are still a young-ish woman. You must regret not having a child to connect you to Mr. Jenkinson’s memory.”

  “I trust in the Lord in all things. I hold no bitterness that Mr. Jenkinson and I were not blessed with children.”