Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  With an abrupt change in tone, Lady Catherine tried a new approach. “The kindness you have shown Anne over the years has made her happier, and perhaps a bit healthier.”

  “Thank you, madam. Your words are most appreciated.”

  Lady Catherine sighed theatrically. “However—and it pains me to say so—Anne is a lazy creature who is not inclined to change her circumstances. Unless she is driven to find a husband, I fear she will not trouble herself to look. What do you think?”

  Never before had Lady Catherine asked her opinion. “Anne should have a London season. She deserves every chance for a good marriage.” I cannot work against my friend’s happiness, but I will not be permitted stay if I cross Lady Dragon.

  “It pleases me to hear you will assist in furthering my efforts for Anne to make a match that enhances the noble family of the De Bourghs. I have in mind a gentleman with a title and a fine estate—no lesser sons, of course—whose fortune provides him with sufficient consequence.”

  But you make no mention of seeking a man who is kind and has true regard, let alone love, for the wife you would offer him. Aloud she said, “Do you have a gentleman in mind, my lady?” The words were scarcely said before she realized they were a mistake.

  “If I did, I would not share such a confidence with you!” Lady Catherine snapped. “Certainly not before telling Anne.”

  “Of course not. I beg your pardon. I found myself caught up in your description. Even widows such as myself sometimes indulge in romantic thoughts.”

  “How unfortunate,” Lady Catherine said coldly. “Well, that is all. Go and make yourself ready to travel tomorrow.”

  “Yes, madam.” Mrs. Jenkinson stood but remained in place.

  “You are dismissed!”

  “Has it been arranged yet for a maid to travel with me?”

  Her ladyship looked puzzled for a moment and then barked a laugh. “Oh, I see. You are thinking of your reputation.”

  “As a gentleman’s daughter, naturally, I value my reputation, as is appropriate for the companion of Miss Anne De Bourgh.”

  Lady Catherine responded with a dismissive wave. “Take one of the housemaids. Pick whom you please so long as her absence will not inconvenience anyone.”

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Jenkinson gave a shallow curtsy and left, closing the door behind her. She was certain of two things: that she must speak with Anne as soon as possible and that the butler or some other staff member would be watching her closely. She looked down the hallway to Anne’s door, just a dozen steps away. When she made a slight turn in that direction, she heard someone clearing his throat. Looking toward the sound, she saw Spicer.

  “Ah, there you are,” Mrs. Jenkinson said. “For my journey tomorrow, Lady Catherine has insisted I take one of the house-maids. Whom do you recommend?”

  Gesturing her away from Anne’s room, Spicer walked toward the stairs, forcing her to join him to continue the conversation. “Little Bridget an agreeable girl.”

  Of course, the young orphan whom you have made your personal drudge. Nodding, she said, “An excellent suggestion.”

  “I will tell her to prepare herself for the trip.” They reached the broad staircase and descended together in step.

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Jenkinson struggled to conceal her anger as the butler escorted her to her room; once inside, she closed the door as politely as possible in his face. For several minutes she paced, trying to organize her thoughts. At last, she wrote a brief note on a scrap of paper and tucked it into the gold locket Anne had given her. She tucked the locket into one of the sachets, where the dried buds of lavender hid it from view. Next, she put the sachet with a dozen others into a small basket and added a card that read, “Deliver to Miss De Bourgh for her trip to town.”

  ≈≈≈

  June 25, 1811

  Early Tuesday morning, Mrs. Jenkinson and the young maid Bridget climbed into the second-best De Bourgh carriage, which would take them to London. Looking at Anne’s dark window, she comforted herself with the thought, My dear friend will discover the note in the locket and know I did not desert her. We will find a way through this nightmare.

  ≈≈≈

  June 25, 1811

  Early Tuesday morning, Mrs. Jenkinson and the young maid Bridget climbed into the second-best De Bourgh carriage, which would take them to London. Looking at Anne’s dark window, she comforted herself with the thought, My dear friend will discover the note in the sachet and know I did not desert her. We will find a way through this nightmare.

  ≈≈≈

  June 26, 1811

  On the lawn adjacent to Longbourn’s garden, Kitty, Mary, and Georgiana used ribbons and fabric flowers to decorate the wooden arch erected by Ainsworth and Johnny. Meanwhile, Elizabeth refreshed Jane’s best bonnet with a fine lace, expertly edging the brim that would frame her sister’s face. Lydia occupied herself by sitting at Mr. Bennet’s bedside or following Mrs. Bennet around as she arranged for the wedding breakfast.

  The youngest Bennet was waiting for her sisters to invite her to assist with the wedding preparations. She did not realize they were fearful of her moods and preferred to wait for her overture, which she did not make. Lydia wondered, Were I to marry Wickham, would they help me prepare just as they are helping Jane? There would be little joy at my wedding if only myself approved of the groom. She scowled, finding the notion bothersome.

  When Jane told Mrs. Bennet she had invited their other tenant family in addition to the Phillipses and the Gardiners, her mother lamented these were not the guests whom she had planned to host when the first of her daughters married. “I understand inviting the Laidlaws, as their nephew will be officiating, but the Morgans? Oh, my dear, why?”

  “With only two tenant farms, it would be rude to invite one but not the other. Did you not see the fresh berries Mrs. Morgan sent for Papa yesterday?”

  “I scarcely have time to make a proper wedding breakfast for our family.”

  “Mama, you are the best hostess in Meryton. Setting a fine table—even on short notice—is what you are renowned for. Mr. Bingley and I do not want a feast; we prefer a simple breakfast for our small celebration. You could arrange that in a trice!”

  “I suppose I could, but you break my heart with your preference for simplicity,” Mrs. Bennet grumbled before going to the kitchen to consult with Hill and ensure the wedding breakfast would be as elaborate as could be managed on short notice.

  ≈≈≈

  It was Wednesday afternoon when Mrs. Jenkinson and Bridget climbed out of the carriage at De Bourgh House in London. The housekeeper, Mrs. Peake, had an amiable yet reserved demeanor, and she showed no surprise when Mrs. Jenkinson handed her the thick envelope from Lady Catherine. Mrs. Peake kindly brought a tea tray to the pleasant garden behind the townhouse, where Mrs. Jenkinson sat as she drafted a letter to her brother in which she explained Anne’s situation.

  The fare at De Bourgh House was not elegant, but the food was tasty and of good quality, and the portions were generous. Mrs. Peake was not extravagant, but there was no skimping on comforts for the staff who kept the place in readiness for Lady Catherine’s infrequent visits.

  ≈≈≈

  It was also afternoon when the Gardiners arrived at Longbourn. After Jane introduced them to Bingley, who had become a fixture in the Bennet home, the Gardiners saw for themselves that Mr. Bennet was improving. Before traveling on to Netherfield, they spent half an hour visiting with their relatives. Then, when Bingley left to collect his horse so he could escort his guests, Mrs. Gardiner took Jane aside and presented her with a silk shawl in pale summer colors. “Did I guess correctly that you will wear the blue dress you got when you visited us?”

  “Yes—oh, the colors are perfect! Thank you!” Jane said.

  Lowering her voice so only Jane could hear, Mrs. Gardiner asked, “Is this what you want, dear? Mr. Bingley seems affable, yet if you are uncertain of his character, do not commit yourself solely because of unfortunate family circumst
ances.”

  “Making a life with Char—with Mr. Bingley is my fondest wish, and I am very happy. He has asked my forgiveness and shown himself to be steadfast and trustworthy.” Jane kissed the older woman’s cheek. “But I am grateful that you asked.”

  When Bingley and the Gardiners arrived at Netherfield, Darcy, Georgiana, and Fitzwilliam came onto the portico to greet them. After introductions were made, Georgiana escorted the family into the house, but Bingley lingered, staring wistfully in the direction of Longbourn. Darcy took him firmly by the elbow and led him inside. “You cannot desert the Gardiners as you deserted Georgiana, Fitz, and me when we first arrived.”

  Darcy and Georgiana were not certain what to expect from Jane’s relatives. They knew Mr. Gardiner was in trade, that the family lived in Cheapside, and that the Bennet daughters adored them. To the Darcys’ relief, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were well-spoken, elegant interesting people. For her part, Georgiana was delighted to play “auntie” to the Gardiner’s cheerful children, whose behavior was kept in check with a firm look from one or the other of their parents.

  The Darcys soon learned that the Gardiners were as skilled as Mrs. Annesley in coaxing conversation from shy strangers. During dinner, when Mrs. Gardiner mentioned she had grown up in Lambton, scarcely five miles from Pemberley, a happy discussion ensued. Darcy thought, And these are the people whom I would not allow my sister to meet. Oh, my foolish arrogance! I am thankful we have this second chance.

  ≈≈≈

  At about the same hour as those at Netherfield were enjoying a postprandial beverage, Mr. and Mrs. Collins arrived at Lucas Lodge in a rented carriage. Throughout dinner, Charlotte said little, for the meal was dominated by her husband’s discussion with Lady Lucas regarding Mr. Bennet and the prognostication for his continued well-being.

  ≈≈≈

  June 27, 1811

  On Thursday morning, Mrs. Jenkinson ate alone in the breakfast room. After she finished, Mrs. Peake joined her and advised in an apologetic tone, “What I am about to tell you is only what Lady Catherine has instructed me to say.” She pushed an envelope toward the companion. “This contains a character and your final salary. Her ladyship says you are no longer needed. Further, she requires you to quit the premises as soon as may be.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson gasped. “But I have only just arrived! And this is all the notice I can expect? I might perhaps wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected! But I suppose that is of small importance.”

  Mrs. Peake’s expression was sympathetic. “It could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “I am instructed to have you forcibly removed if you are not gone before noon tomorrow.”

  “I shall be gone,” Mrs. Jenkinson said grimly. “Would you send someone to book passage for me on a coach to Brighton?”

  “I will send my son Toby and have him pay for your ticket with household funds. Also, if there is any food you wish to have on your journey, I am happy to make it for you.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Peake. I am so surprised, I cannot think.”

  “Chicken or ham or beef, madam? Which is your favorite?”

  “Chicken, I suppose,” Mrs. Jenkinson shrugged distractedly.

  “I promise you a fine lunch.”

  As the housekeeper stood, Mrs. Jenkinson asked, “How long have you worked for Lady Dragon?” There, I said it aloud!

  Mrs. Peake wore a rueful smile. “Nearly twenty-two years, since before Sir Lewis passed. As her ladyship only visits once or twice a year, it makes for easy work, which is a blessing for an older woman such as myself. The young ones get bored and leave, but her ladyship’s absence allows me time for my husband—who is not a well man—and my children and grandchildren.”

  “If I give you a message for Miss Anne, might you deliver it without alerting Mr. Spicer or Lady Catherine.”

  At Spicer’s name, Mrs. Peake pulled a face. “Is that weasel of a butler coming?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can repeat to Miss Anne a verbal message but give me nothing in writing. Too risky, if you know what I mean.”

  “Tell Anne I have gone to my brother’s home and that I will always be her friend.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  ≈≈≈

  In the garden at Longbourn promptly at nine o’clock on Thursday morning, Mr. Allen Ainsworth commenced the marriage ceremony of Miss Jane Adele Bennet and Mr. Charles Sebastian Bingley. The happy couple stood under the decorated archway, observed by family and friends who sat on the chairs and benches pressed into service from various rooms in the house. Mr. Bennet, who wore his new waistcoat, sat on the chaise lounge from Mrs. Bennet’s private sitting room. (It was her preferred piece of furniture when her nerves beset her, and she was not pleased to have it on the lawn.)

  By ten o’clock, the vows, the blessings, and Psalm 67 were concluded, and everyone had moved to the dining room for the wedding breakfast. At a quarter past ten, Mr. and Mrs. Collins knocked at the front door, and a surprised Hill admitted them. Reluctantly, they were invited to join the celebration, for Mr. Collins was family, and Mrs. Collins was a longtime friend of the Bennet daughters.

  For Mr. Bennet, the presence of Mr. Darcy gave him an opportunity to express his thanks for the services of Dr. Goldsmith. For Kitty, the presence of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana allowed her to practice sharing opinions with people who weren’t her relatives. However, for Mrs. Bennet, the presence of the Collinses was an opportunity to reflect on the injustice of the entail.

  Quite soon, Mrs. Bennet’s happy mood dissolved into bitterness. When she thought of Collins, she felt renewed anger at her second daughter. Had Elizabeth accepted her cousin’s proposal, she would have become the mistress of Longbourn one day; however, such a marriage would not have guaranteed that Mrs. Bennet could remain there, but this did not occur to the lady.

  The Bennets had agreed among themselves that after the breakfast, Ainsworth would travel with the newlyweds to Meryton’s parish in the Bingley coach while the Bennet sisters and Mr. Darcy followed in the Darcy coach. At the parish, the newlyweds, the parson, and the sisters would sign the register to validate the marriage. Then, Jane and Bingley would proceed to London and stay at Darcy House for a few days. Alas, when it came time for the sisters to follow the Bingleys to the parish, Mrs. Bennet gave in to the spite which had festered within her since the arrival of the Collinses. She declared Elizabeth must remain with Mr. Bennet while she went with her other daughters to sign the registry.

  Although the decision as to who rode in his carriage was Darcy’s, he felt that barring Mrs. Bennet would not be a wise move from a future son-in-law. Prepared to support Elizabeth in whatever choice she made, Darcy met her eyes, but she gave a slight shake of her head, indicating this was not a battle worth fighting.

  Speaking quietly, Bingley told his new sister-in-law, “If you wish to ride in the carriage with Jane and Ainsworth and me, Miss Elizabeth, we would be happy to have you.”

  Pleased by his offer, Elizabeth nonetheless declined. “I watched my dear sister marry the man she loves. My signature as a witness is of no consequence. I am happy to remain here. In fact, I shall shower you with flowers as you drive away!”

  Mr. Bennet watched Elizabeth exit and, a moment later, he saw her through the window, plucking rose petals. Glancing at the other Bennet ladies, who were putting on their bonnets, he felt annoyed. “A word, please, Mrs. Bennet.”

  “Can it not wait until after the signing of the registry?”

  “It cannot, madam.”

  Rolling her eyes, Mrs. Bennet crossed to her husband. “Yes?”

  “You are determined Elizabeth shall not sign as a witness to the marriage of her favorite sister?” he asked in a stern voice.

  “Lizzy’s signature is not necessary.”

  “Neither is Lydia’s.”

  “What?”

  “Lydia may not go with you. With her incessant sulking, it is a privilege she has not earned.
By all accounts, she did nothing to help with the wedding preparations. She stays.”

  “The child only leaves Longbourn to go to church!” Mrs. Bennet whispered angrily. “She is very bored; this little ride would cheer her. You are most unkind to Lydia!”

  “Will you tell her she must remain at home, or shall I?”

  “I leave it to you to disappoint her,” Mrs. Bennet snapped.

  “Fine. Send her to me, but warn her that if she makes a scene, I may suffer a relapse.”

  After a tense moment, Mrs. Bennet said, “Very well! I shall tell Lydia of your injustice; there will be no scene.”

  “As you wish.” While Mrs. Bennet spoke with her youngest, Mr. Bennet signaled Johnny to help him upstairs to his bed.

  When the carriages bearing the wedding party began a slow roll down Longbourn’s drive, a laughing Elizabeth flung handfuls of rose petals over Jane and Bingley, who leaned out the window and waved. After they had reached the road, Mrs. Gardiner asked Elizabeth, “What is the matter with Lydia?”

  Elizabeth looped her arm through her aunt’s. “It makes no sense to me, so I can scarcely explain it, but she is furious that we have embraced the Darcys at the expense of Mr. Wickham, a scoundrel who has not been seen since deserting his regiment.”

  “Was he her sweetheart?”

  “Not that anyone was aware. But Lydia insists the Darcys persecuted Wickham, so he felt compelled to desert. Mr. Darcy repaid the rogue’s debts with the local merchants, by the bye. However, Lydia refuses to acknowledge Wickham’s bad actions and has been quite dreadful to everyone at Netherfield. Indeed, she is barely civil to her own family.”

  “I think I shall have a word with that girl,” Mrs. Gardiner said.

  When Mrs. Gardiner first approached her, Lydia expected sympathy for not being allowed to join the wedding party’s journey to Meryton. However, upon realizing her aunt was critical of her support of Wickham, Lydia became obdurate to the point of rudeness. “You know nothing of the matter!”