Netherfield Park Revisited (10 page)

“That bridge,” said Jonathan immediately, “that is at Matlock, in Derbyshire, is it not?”

Anna laughed. “Of course it is; the drawing just happened to be amongst the others in my folio. I sketched that on the afternoon following our meeting with you at Pemberley after Julian Darcy's wedding. We visited the Gardiners, and Mrs Gardiner simply had to show us her favourite prospect in the Peak District. So off we went to Matlock and there was this lovely old bridge.”

Jonathan was delighted. “That is the bridge over whose walls I used to hang as a boy, watching the fish in the water and the dragon flies in the reeds, while my sister Emma, terrified that I would fall in and drown, would hang on to my boots!” he reminisced with a smile, adding, “Miss Faulkner, that is a beautiful drawing and seeing it has brought back all those happy memories, I thank you.” He was truly pleased he had accepted the invitation to dinner that night.

“Would you like to have it?” she asked, and when he protested that he could not possibly take it, it was her picture, she added unaffectedly, “It would give me far greater pleasure to know that you had it on your wall and enjoyed looking at it, than if it stayed locked up out of sight in my folio.”

Faced with this disarming proposition, Jonathan could say no more than a heartfelt “thank you,” promising to have it mounted and framed for his study.

“I shall show it to Emma when I see her. She will remember the bridge, I am sure, and the days we spent in Derbyshire as children with the Gardiners at Lambton and my aunt Lizzie and Mr Darcy at Pemberley. They were such happy times,” he said again with a smile, and Anna could not help wondering why he spoke in such nostalgic terms of his happy childhood. She had no knowledge at all of Jonathan's present troubles, but could not help thinking he was not entirely content.

After a very pleasant evening, they returned to Longbourn, with both Mary Bennet and Charlotte Collins singing the praises of Miss Faulkner.

Her artistic talent, excellent taste, charming manners were itemised again and again as were her good looks and elegant European gown.

Jonathan remained mostly silent, except when applied to for an opinion and then he found it easy to agree with them.

On their return, there was a telegram awaiting him from James Wilson. It requested his immediate return to Westminster for urgent consultation.

Taking it to mean that something had gone wrong with the political negotiations he had been involved in, Jonathan made plans to leave very early the following morning.

He explained the situation to Charlotte and begged her to apologise for him to the Faulkners.

On learning that Jonathan had never been inside the old palace at Hatfield, John Faulkner had offered to take him there and personally point out the features of the historic building. When Jonathan had protested that he could not put him to all that trouble, Dr Faulkner had insisted that he had to take Anna so she could do more sketches, and having Jonathan for company would be an added pleasure. When seen in that convenient light, the proposition had seemed a very acceptable one indeed and they had agreed to set a mutually convenient date for their excursion.

Unhappily, James' telegram had arrived to change his plans altogether.

Even as he left, with very genuine regret, Jonathan urged Mrs Collins, “Please be so kind as to make my apologies to Dr and Mrs Faulkner and Miss Faulkner, for I had promised to collect the drawing of the Matlock bridge today and take it for framing. Please explain that urgent business has recalled me to Westminster immediately. I shall write as soon as I am able. Thank you very much, Mrs Collins, this has been a most enjoyable visit.”

And he was gone, in the very early dawn, leaving Charlotte thinking how unhappy he looked.

Charlotte Collins, though a careful and attentive mother when her daughters were little, was far less involved in their lives, since they were all married, than either of her friends Jane or Elizabeth were with their children. She was therefore quite unaware of the extent of her youngest daughter's problems.

Although the distance that separated them was not great, she had so enjoyed her liberation, since the death of Mr Collins, from the stuffiness of Rosings that she was not easily persuaded to travel there.

She did, however, see Jonathan frequently, whenever he visited Longbourn and on this occasion, she had noticed that he had not seemed very happy.

So concerned was she that, shortly afterwards, she sat down at her desk and wrote to her friend Elizabeth Darcy.

My dear Eliza,

If I remember correctly, I do not owe you a letter, having answered yours some days ago.

This comes, therefore, because I am rather uneasy about a certain matter and being a selfish creature, wish to unburden myself upon you, my dear friend.

We have just had our regular visit from Jonathan Bingley; a visit he has pronounced to be “most enjoyable.” And it undoubtedly was, for we had the Faulkners to tea and then dined with them last night at Haye Park and on both occasions dear Jonathan seemed to enjoy himself a good deal.

Notwithstanding this, I have an uneasy feeling that something is wrong.

I cannot put my finger on it Eliza, but he does not appear to be happy in himself. I feel there is something troubling him and while I had neither the time nor the inclination to ask him outright, I wonder if you or Mr Darcy could try to discover the source of his discontent.

I have no way of discovering whether it has to do with his work or with his marriage.

Eliza, my dear, please write and advise me if there is anything I should know and have overlooked. I know that my Amelia-Jane has been unhappy since she lost her two little boys—who would not be? But I cannot help feeling that there is a deeper problem here than grief and it is hurting both of them. However, neither Amelia-Jane nor Jonathan has in any way confided in me.

Your help will be greatly appreciated, Eliza, and I trust you are all very well and enjoying your Summer at Woodlands.

Yours affectionately,

Charlotte

Elizabeth was sitting out in the garden at Woodlands with Jane when Charlotte's letter was delivered. Their husbands had decided to go into Guildford that morning, leaving the sisters together.

Since it was a fine, sunny morning, it had seemed like a good idea to take their writing materials outside. Jane claimed she had letters to answer, while Elizabeth was completing some notes for her diary.

When Charlotte's letter arrived, Elizabeth was delighted, if a little surprised.

“Two letters from Charlotte in one week! I cannot believe it; it must bring some news that could not wait until she had my reply,” she declared, opening it up, never expecting to find the news it contained.

Jane had moved closer in order to read the letter together with her sister.

When she saw what Charlotte had written, she was very upset.

“Lizzie, what on earth does she mean? Why does she believe Jonathan is so unhappy? Do you think he is? He has said nothing to us. I know he has been very busy with his work and I do know he wants to do well at Westminster, but Emma tells me he is very well regarded by his colleagues. What ever could have happened to make him miserable?” she asked.

Elizabeth thought it unlikely that Jonathan's state of mind, if he were unhappy, would have anything to do with his work at Westminster.

“Dear Jane, if what Charlotte suspects is true, it is hardly likely that it is in any way connected with his work. When Darcy last spoke with him, he appeared delighted with the way matters were progressing and, as you say, he is well regarded in the party.”

“What then?” Jane was bewildered. “I know he is very pleased with Longbourn, he has said so repeatedly, and Bingley says the place is better run than ever before. Lizzie, is it possible he has money troubles?”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “No, Jane, I could never see your Jonathan having ‘money troubles,' as you call them. He is far too sensible and careful a man. No, I am inclined to think that it has more to do with matrimony than money, Jane.”

Jane looked exceedingly anxious. “Do you mean there is a problem with his marriage?” she asked. It was a subject that had caused her some concern, and her sister knew it.

Elizabeth nodded, and Jane continued, “Do you suppose it is to do with Amelia-Jane? I know she has been miserable since losing her little boys, and she was against him returning to Westminster, of course, so it is possible that she could be unhappy, and that would upset Jonathan,” she mused.

“Indeed, it would, Jane, but we must remember also that Jonathan has been very busy and his wife may be feeling rather lonely and neglected,” said Elizabeth. “I did notice, at Lady Catherine's funeral, that she was very much with the Bingley women, Louisa and Caroline and that other rather extravagantly dressed woman, who seemed very attentive to her. Do you remember her name?”

Jane could not; but she did remember her hat!

“It was the largest hat in the church, and I did not get a good look at her face. What do you suppose she has to do with it?” she asked in some confusion.

“I do not know, Jane, but if there is any matter that has added to Jonathan's woes, by making Amelia-Jane less amenable, I would wager London to a brick Miss Bingley is involved. Jane, she has never forgiven you for marrying her beloved brother and thereby foiling her own plans in relation to his best friend,” said Elizabeth so decidedly that her sister was shocked.

“You cannot mean that she is still smarting over that disappointment? Not after all this time?” Jane was unsure, but Elizabeth was quite certain.

“Caroline Bingley will never get over it. She wastes no love on either of us and if she were able to discomfit us in any way, she would gladly do so. Mark my words, Jane, she is involved. Ask Jonathan when you see him.”

***

On arriving in London, Jonathan Bingley went directly to James Wilson's place at Grosvenor Street and, there, discovered that the urgency of Wilson's message owed little to the political situation and rather more to his own domestic problems.

His sister Emma was there, too, and together they gave him details, dates, and places of all the circumstances related to them by Anne-Marie and Eliza Harwood, both of whom had since returned to Harwood House.

“Jonathan, your daughter, who is not generally given to flights of fancy, was certain that Caroline Bingley and this new friend of hers, Mrs Watkins, intended to take Amelia-Jane back to Bath with them,” said Emma. “I was not entirely convinced that this was the case, but seeing how upset Anne-Marie was, I travelled up to London with her and saw James.”

“Which was why I sent you that telegram,” said his brother-in-law.

Jonathan thanked them both profusely for their concern and, more particularly, for the care they had taken of his daughter, but he was equally sure that his wife would not be easily persuaded to leave her home at Rosings Park and travel to Bath.

Nevertheless, he was determined to see her as soon as possible and, despite their efforts to persuade him to stay and take some refreshment, he left almost at once and went directly to the Bingleys' town house, where he found Amelia-Jane at home, alone, and feeling very sorry for herself.

On seeing him, her expression changed from a somewhat petulant one to a rather injured, unhappy look. When he approached her with his usual affectionate greeting, she flung herself into his arms and made a great scene. Jonathan, though not always understanding his wife's recent tantrums, had tried to comfort her and he did so again, reassuring her and trying to allay her fears. Clearly, she was insecure and unhappy and even his most loving and sincere expressions of affection did not entirely calm her anxieties. However, he did discover that she had arrived in London with Miss Bingley and her friend Arabella Watkins, who had tried to persuade her to go with them to Bath.

But, she told him, she had not had the heart to go because, as she put it rather quaintly, “I could not bear to leave my dear ones behind.”

The fact that her “dear ones”—if by that she meant Teresa and Cathy—spent most of their time with either their aunt Catherine Harrison or their grandmother, Jane Bingley, seemed to have quite escaped her notice.

Wisely, Jonathan did not point this out, judging correctly that this was not the time for recriminations. Instead, he continued to soothe her hurt feelings and suggest it was probably all his fault.

“I know I have been away, dearest, far more than I should, and you have been on your own, which is not fair. Well, I have a plan that will help us solve all those problems. Tomorrow, after you've rested, I shall tell you all about it. I am sure you will love it.”

She was impatient to be told, cajoling and pleading for more information, but he was firm and insisted that she should get a good night's sleep first.

“Tomorrow, I shall tell you all you want to know, I promise. We are both too tired to talk about it tonight.”

Amelia-Jane had been feeling lonely and depressed and appreciated the genuine warmth of his concern for her. As she had done many times before, she abandoned her tantrums and, taking the path of least resistance, gave in and did exactly as he asked.

It was a tactic she had perfected over several years of marriage to a kind and amiable man who, she knew, could not resist her in a compliant mood.

The following morning's mail brought the letter he had written her from Longbourn. Jonathan waited until after breakfast had been cleared away then placed it before her.

At first, she was surprised and confused.

“Jonathan, this letter is from you. Why are you writing to me? Why can you not tell me what it is about?” she asked.

When he insisted that she read it first and then ask questions, she adopted a rather arch manner and tried to play games with him.

“Were you so displeased with me that you would not speak with me?” she joked, and, when finally persuaded to read it, she did not understand the point of it.