Longbourn to London (8 page)

As the proud father of two of the least silly girls in England, please understand I know them well enough to admit that the curious and inquisitive nature of my second eldest has been known to embroil my eldest in matters about which she would, if left to herself, not take an improper interest. However, given this specific instance, I hope you will further understand that there is no proper way for a father to address such matters directly. In any other case, I would interview Elizabeth to clarify and settle any confusion.

However, I shall send word to Mrs. Gardiner, who is prodigiously sensible and has taken particular interest in my eldest daughters, having a high regard for each of them. She arrives here in a week’s time, and I am certain she will know exactly what to say.

In the meantime, please, I beseech you, do not think ill of my two eldest daughters. You are fine men. You honour me by selecting my Lizzy and my Jane to be your wives, and it would break this old man’s heart to know my actions, or lack thereof, have cost them the love of either of you. It has been my fondest wish for both of them to spend their lives with partners whom they could love and respect. If I have cost them this, I do not know how I shall bear it.

Most sincerely yours,
T. Bennet

Mr. Bennet called for the footman to deliver the letter to Netherfield immediately. He wanted the gentlemen to receive it before their arrival to spend the afternoon and evening with the family.

***

As Darcy and Bingley awaited the return of Mansfield, Darcy decided sending an express to Mrs. Gardiner would not come amiss. Bingley left him alone in the library to compose the following:

15 October 1812
Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire

My dear madam,

This express is sent to alert you of a letter perhaps already on its way to you from your niece Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Although I do not, of course, have any direct knowledge of its wording, Miss Elizabeth has made me aware of the general topic, and I believe some history of her motivation in writing it will help form your response.

Please understand, I write this with my longstanding deep affection and regard for your niece, of which I suspect you are already quite well aware, and my profound regard for you and your husband foremost in my mind. Miss Elizabeth has two aunts and I have two aunts, and between the two of us, you are the only relation to whom we can turn for sage advice and sensible direction. And thus I write.

Since the announcement of our engagement, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet have been assaulted—no, I do not think it too strong a word—with bad or worse advice about what they may expect of marital relations. The alarming nature of the various reports and predictions they have received has disquieted your nieces, and you, better than I, may imagine with some accuracy what is being said.

Both are experiencing affected sleep, and Miss Elizabeth only this morning alluded to a disturbing dream about me which has temporarily— I hope—adversely interrupted her usual happy manners. You know her, as I do, to have an inquisitive nature, and she will insist on research, as she calls it, stating it is what she does not know that frightens her. She has accused me of wanting her to know only that which I want her to know—her words—and she is perfectly correct. I make no apology.

She and I have agreed that she should write you as the likeliest source of comfort and truth. It disturbs me more than I can say to think she might approach our wedding night with fear and distrust. I would never consider doing anything to scare her, hurt her, or cause her ever to think I would put my own selfish desires before her continued happiness.

You may safely assume I am embarrassed to write of such things. Anything you can say to calm her will calm me, too. I am certain she will wish to have an interview with you when you arrive at Longbourn, and I hope you will grant her this request.

You have my blessing for whatever you choose to say, as I feel certain you will be our ally in this.

Gratefully,
F. Darcy

Chapter 6

The Taming of the Flibbertigibbet

“‘I can see he’s not in your good books,’ said the messenger.
‘No, and if he were, I would burn my library.’”
William Shakespeare
Much Ado about Nothing

Thomas Bennet opened the door to his library and called for his wife. After waiting a few moments, he called for Mrs. Hill, who came to him immediately.

“Mr. Bennet, sir?”

“Ah, Hill. Where is Mrs. Bennet?”

“In her sitting room above stairs, taking some tea and making lists of things, sir.”

“So she should have heard me when I called just now?”

“I should think so, sir. I heard you from the kitchen.”

“Has she been taken deaf, do you think?”

Mrs. Hill smirked and shook her head. “Would you like me to fetch her, sir?”

“No, Hill. It is time the insubordination in this house was dealt with as it should have been long ago.” Mr. Bennet took the stairs as briskly as Mrs. Hill had ever seen him, and he entered the open door of his wife’s sitting room.

“Mrs. Bennet! Did you not hear my call?”

She looked up with surprise. Her husband usually sent a servant for her, or forgot what he wanted if she ignored him. It was much more exhilarating to make lists of wedding details than to attend to whatever petty issues Mr. Bennet might raise.

“Mr. Bennet! Is there some emergency? Are Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley ill?” This was her chief concern as the wedding neared, that an errant infectious disease might carry off either groom.

Mr. Bennet closed the door to his wife’s sitting room, and took a seat facing her. “Mrs. Bennet, let me first say that, when your husband calls you, he expects a response. I do not think, after nearly twenty-five years of marriage, that expecting courtesy is too much to ask. Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet, if you have come in here to argue with me, I pray you leave at once.”

“I am here, Mrs. Bennet, because you would not come to me, and we have a matter of immense and immediate importance, which we must discuss.”

Grumbling under her breath, Mrs. Bennet made a great show of setting aside her lap desk and turning her attention to her husband.

“It has come to my attention, madam, that you have been relating stories of married life to Lizzy and Jane, which our daughters find most unsettling, and these, by extension, reflect upon me in a poor light.”

“Nonsense. Of what can you be speaking?”

“How do you know it is nonsense if you claim not to know the topic? Oh, never mind… My point is, Mrs. Bennet, you have told the girls disturbing stories about marital relations and what they may expect, and it has frightened them. I want you to correct what you have said and cease discussing the topic with them if you cannot or will not be truthful.”

“And may I ask how you came by this knowledge? A father should not know of this. My daughters would
never
discuss such a thing with their father. It is a mother’s place to prepare daughters for what may happen in the marriage bed.”

“Both of our daughters have complained to their intended spouses.” Mr. Bennet was not above stretching the truth to carry his point. “They have been vague as to details, but so completely forthright about their attendant fears as to make what was told to them completely apparent.”

“Mr. Bennet! I shall not be criticised on this subject. The girls have no idea what to expect on their wedding night, and I believe it prudent that they be made to expect the worst. I consider their behaviour to their intendeds to be highly improper, implying
any
of what should be talked of
only
amongst women, and I shall scold them, sir. Make no mistake.”

“Fanny, you will do no such thing.”

Voices were raised. From their bedroom, Elizabeth and Jane could hear the tone but not the content. They looked at each other with open astonishment.

“Mr. Bennet, on this point I shall stand my ground. It is a mother’s duty to protect daughters from false hopes of the marriage bed.”

“Have you no consideration for their future husbands, and therefore madam, no respect for what they may infer
our
relationship has been? Have I been a brute to you? Have I
ever
made unacceptable demands upon your person? If you speak of horrors you yourself have not experienced, the girls will infer you
have
experienced them, and at my hands!”

“Mr. Bennet, that is ridiculous! The girls do not think of you and me in such a way.”

“No indeed, I believe they did not until you felt you needed to see that they enter the married state expecting the worst, as you say.”

“And so they should!”

“Mrs. Bennet! You will speak of this subject to Lizzy and Jane no more, except to say you have no reason to believe either Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley are brutish, unkind, or perverted in any way. They are gentlemen and will be kind at the very least. You do no one any good service by painting all men with the same brush. You
will
stop this.”

“No, sir, I certainly shall not. This is not your concern, Mr. Bennet—not your concern at all!”

“Fanny, I shall lock you in this room until the wedding if you leave me no other choice. No details, no lace, no shopping, no hectoring Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst—none of it.”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet! You cannot mean it!”

“Do not try my patience further, madam. You will apologise to Lizzy and Jane and amend the untruths you have foisted upon them, or I shall have you kept separate from them until they are wed. I have never been unkind to you in our marriage bed, and I shall not have you implying to anyone that I have. You have no idea the harm you have done, and I shall see it does not continue. The choice is yours, Mrs. Bennet.” He stood and began pacing in what little space was available in front of his wife.

“This is most improper, Mr. Bennet—most indelicate. Fathers of daughters must not concern themselves with such things. This was Lizzy, was it not? She’s gone telling tales, has she? Only Lizzy would ever think to seek counsel in such a shameful way.”

“Lizzy and Jane should not approach their wedding in a spirit of fear and misapprehension; you and your gossiping sister have overstepped yourselves. You give Lizzy and Jane the advice better used on Lydia, who is now married to one of the vilest seducers we are ever likely to meet, no thanks to ourselves…”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet! Lower your voice…”

“No, Fanny. I shall not be moved. You have a decision to make. Remain in your room until the wedding, or amend your advice to Lizzy and Jane. And no more social engagements with Mrs. Phillips. She is no longer fit for civil society—drunk or sober!”

Husband and wife stared at each other with fury. For several long moments, neither of them moved nor blinked. It was finally the weaker-natured Mrs. Bennet who relented. “I am appalled, sir, that you would interfere with a mother’s care of her daughters in this manner, but since you are determined upon it, I shall speak to the girls and amend what I have said. And you must allow that, although I can certainly cease inviting my own sister to meals and gatherings here, I cannot control what others may do and who may wish to invite her in our larger society.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet. I wish to be informed of all invitations coming to this house between now and the wedding. Lizzy and Jane will not be accepting invitations to small parties where their aunt is in attendance. In large parties, I am confident they can and will avoid her themselves, and will have Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy to defend them.

“That is all for now, Mrs. Bennet.” He dismissed her, even though he was in her room. Mr. Bennet paused, bowed briefly, turned and slammed her door behind him. The start of a new tirade, delivered in soliloquy, was heard over his shoulder.

“Well I never…” Mrs. Bennet began, ranting to no one. She rose from her favourite rocking chair and sat at her desk. She was angry over the scene just endured and blamed Elizabeth. The only thing to be done was to—as far as propriety would allow—disavow herself of her second eldest daughter and her wedding plans, even if she was marrying a man with ten thousand a year. She would write to her brother’s wife, who seemed to understand Elizabeth as she herself could not, and beg assistance. Mrs. Bennet did not like writing letters other than extending social invitations and responding to them, but in this case she wrote with alacrity. As silly and blathering as Mrs. Bennet was in her manner of speech, in her habits of writing, she tended to be concise even when prevaricating.

15 October 1812
Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Dear Sister,

The plans for Lizzy and Jane’s wedding are quite over-taking me, and I find I must write to request a favour, which, if each daughter were having a separate ceremony, I would not need to ask. May I prevail upon you to assist with Lizzy’s wardrobe for the event? Mr. Bennet has set a budget of £75 for the trousseau. While I wish it were much more, I trust you to help Lizzy with her decisions as she may not understand what she needs or purchase enough. Perhaps you may find fabric for her gown in town, such as may be used by the local dressmakers, and when you arrive later in the week, other items may be ordered.