Netherfield Park Revisited (34 page)

She looked and sounded so sincere, Jonathan had to believe her and though he was somewhat disconcerted at being left in limbo, with no definite decision, he agreed, albeit reluctantly, to wait.

As she smiled, relieved at his reasonableness, he asked, only half in jest, “And in the meantime, should some fine knight ride into your life, upon a white charger, and sweep you up in a wave of passion, will I lose you forever?”

She laughed then, a merry laugh that echoed around the clearing.

“Jonathan, there has been no knight on a white charger to sweep me off my feet in the last seven years, so I think one would have to admit that the chances of him appearing now are remote. But, if he were to appear, I promise to refer him to you, and you may deal with him as you think fit.”

She was clearly going to be light-hearted about it and expected him to follow suit.

Having assured her once more that his own feelings for her were beyond question, he was keen to acquaint her with another matter, lest her ignorance should influence her decision. Quietly, he told her of his determination not to seek re-election to the Parliament.

She was genuinely shocked, almost sad, as she asked, “Why Jonathan, I had thought it was something you wanted very much to do. I know how important these reforms are to you. I had thought your heart was set on achieving them. Why have you changed your mind?”

She sounded disappointed, but as he explained in the same calm manner in which he had described his reasons to James and Emma, she understood and accepted his reasoning.

“I need to make a life for myself, with my children and, if you will accept me, dearest Anna, with you,” he said, taking her hand in his.

The warmth and genuine affection in his voice broke down her reserve and she let him draw her into a close embrace, her smile making her complicit in the fond exchange that followed.

“How long must I wait?” he asked.

“Not long, Jonathan. Please do not believe that I am doing this to inflict the pain of uncertainty upon you. I am not, for I care too much for you to do such a thing. Nor is it a sign that I am being wayward or contrary.”

She was keen to reassure him. “Ever since Christmas, I have known in my heart that this was likely to happen. Now it is out in the open, and I know how you feel, I want only to discover the truth of my own feelings. I ask no more than that.

“I wish you to know that I esteem and admire you more than any other man. Your daughters are precious to me, your sister Emma is a dear friend. All I need to know is my own heart. Once that is certain, there will be no further waiting, I promise. Please tell me, am I making an unreasonable request?”

He thought he saw tears in her eyes and said, at once, that it was no such thing. Though his heart was heavy with disappointment, he said firmly that she was not being unreasonable at all.

She continued, “Jonathan, we must remember that your young daughters may not as yet have fully absorbed the shock and pain of Amelia-Jane's death; Teresa and Cathy, especially, need time to let the memory of their mother become part of their past, if they are to accept me as part of their future. It will not do to hasten matters and find that they have turned resentful. I have their trust and affection now and could not bear to lose that.”

At this, Jonathan had to agree, thinking how wisely and selflessly she had considered the risk. In the end, they were agreed, he however reluctantly, that they would wait a few more weeks.

As they rose to leave, he kissed her hand and embraced her with great tenderness, and she permitted him, knowing that in doing so, she was letting him see how deeply she cared.

As they retraced their steps, they were agreed on one more thing. So as not to appear to impose upon her parents, Jonathan would write to Dr Faulkner in confidence, while she would explain to both her parents that it was her wish to wait a while before making a final decision.

Meanwhile, only to Emma and James Wilson would he reveal the understanding they had reached.

***

Returning to Netherfield, Jonathan felt strangely ambivalent about the day just gone. When he set out that morning, he had expected to return elated or totally dejected. He was neither and, as he sat to write to his sister, he pondered his strange emotional state.

My dear Emma, he wrote:

I would have dearly liked to commence this letter with the good news I know both you and James expect to receive from me.

Unhappily, that news must be delayed. I have today returned from Haye Park, having dined with Anna Faulkner and her mother (Dr Faulkner is from home visiting a colleague in Watford). Prior to this very pleasant meal, I was given a rare opportunity of spending some time alone with Miss Faulkner, which I used to tell her of my feelings and ask her to marry me.

Emma, she has assured me of her regard and affection, but she will have us wait some weeks, while she delves into her own heart and decides if we may or may not marry!

Her reasons, my dear sister, which I will not weary you by quoting here, were all reasonable and impossible to fault. I had no option but to agree and must now consume my soul in patience, though I am deeply disappointed at not knowing my fate, as it were.

I doubt if either you or James would have disagreed with the logic and wisdom of her arguments. One in particular, relating to the children and the loss of their mother, shows a genuine goodness of heart, I think. I could not help but agree and admire her selflessness.

And yet, my dear sister, I feel so alone tonight, not knowing if the woman I love, who assures me that I am the man she most admires and esteems of all her acquaintances, will actually agree to be my wife.

Or will she, if some remarkable stranger crosses her path and declares undying love, depart and leave me bereft? (I do jest, of course, but I think you will understand how I feel.)

The next few weeks will move exceedingly slow for me, dear Emma, but I shall try to endure it with cheerful fortitude.

Your loving brother etc.

***

Jonathan's mother Jane was not privy to any of these developments when, driven only by maternal affection, she decided to approach her son about the same subject.

They met, fortuitously, after the recital given by William Courtney and his fellow students at St John's Chapel, Oxford, whither several members of the family had travelled.

The recital over, many of the guests were invited to the Grantleys' house, where Dr Grantley and Georgiana were hosting a supper party. Light rain was falling, and Jonathan, who had intended to walk to the Grantleys' place, was taking shelter outside the chapel when the carriage bearing his parents approached and his father invited him to jump in.

He did, glad to be out of the rain, and when they reached the house, found that several guests had arrived already and there was quite a buzz of conversation in the parlour.

Young William and his parents were being congratulated, and there were requests for more music, which gave Jane an opportunity to take Jonathan aside into Dr Grantley's study, where they were sure to be undisturbed.

Jonathan assumed his mother had had some information from his sister. He was annoyed with himself for not insisting upon secrecy. But, as it turned out, it was not Emma but Charlotte Collins who had been Jane's informant.

Charlotte, whose letter was produced for his perusal, had written with the best of intentions. A couple of paragraphs on page three were drawn to his attention …

I hope, dear Jane, that I do not upset you by recalling unhappy memories of things past, when I say how pleased I have been to see the growing friendship between Jonathan and my niece Anna Faulkner. I know they met several times in London, before and after the dreadful days following Amelia-Jane's death, but in more recent times they seem to have been often together. I am aware that they are frequently in each other's company and, though my sister Maria says very little, I do believe she has hopes in this regard.

The other day, she was at Longbourn, the day after Jonathan had dined with them, and she seemed a little disappointed that nothing was said by either Anna or Jonathan that would give her any indication of their intentions.

“I can get nothing from Anna, sister,” she said and added that she hoped “Anna would not be hurt again as she was some years ago.”

I assured her then and there, dear Jane, that Jonathan Bingley, who was my own son-in-law, and a man of utmost integrity, would never deliberately hurt anyone, least of all a fine young woman like her Anna.

“He is an honourable and sincere gentleman,” I said, “and I am sure if he has any intentions, he will acquaint you and Dr Faulkner with them very soon.”

I hope, dear Jane, you will agree that I have been fair to your son, for whom I have great respect and affection. I know he has suffered a great deal of aggravation and misery, some of it on account of my poor foolish Amelia-Jane, who was so cruelly misled by her false friends, and I am sorry for all of that. But, Jane, neither you nor I could have foreseen what happened and I sincerely hope that this time, he will be truly happy, for Anna is a remarkable young woman, with quite the most charming disposition of anyone I know.

Jonathan read and returned the letter to his mother. He looked thoughtful and concerned. Sitting beside her, he took her hand in his.

“Mama, has this letter upset you? Have you been unhappy about the prospect of Anna and I …” She put a hand up to his lips to hush him.

“No, Jonathan my dear, it is not a matter of being upset or unhappy about you and Anna. Why would I be? She is accomplished and handsome and of impeccable character. Her parents are respectable and have been our friends for many years.”

He was bewildered. “What then? What objection could you possibly have?”

“None,” she replied, but then, she looked at him and sighed. “But, I will admit I have been concerned that in your sorrow and loneliness, you will rush into a marriage without giving it much thought. Jonathan, I could not bear the thought of you being miserable again. All I ask is that you give yourself sufficient time to consider your future. There is really no need to make a hurried decision, is there?”

She even had a practical proposition for him. “If you are anxious about the girls, perhaps I could stay with you a while at Netherfield until they settle in.”

Jonathan was both relieved and touched. Relieved, because he knew his mother was not implacably opposed to Anna, and touched by her genuine concern for his happiness. He hastened to reassure her.

“Dear Mama, you need have no fears at all. There is not going to be another precipitate proposal this time, nor a hasty marriage. I confess I was both precipitate and hasty the last time, but in my defence, I was young and we were all suffering the effects of a terrible tragedy. I do not say this to excuse my failure of judgment, merely to explain it. But, Mama, it is almost twenty-five years later; I am no callow youth and Anna is a mature and intelligent young woman. You have no cause for anxiety.”

“But Jonathan, tell me, is it true? Is Charlotte right? Have you been courting her?” she asked, searching his face for the truth.

He smiled. “Well, it is and it isn't,” he said, and to allay her fears, explained some of what had passed between Anna and himself.

She listened, her face reflecting her changing response from surprise to relief.

“So you see, there is no reason to worry. I do believe I love her, very much. When you know her better, I know you will, too. I have asked her to marry me and I have written to ask her father's permission, but the lady herself wishes to have a little more time to be quite sure of her feelings and mine.”

At that point, his mother bridled, outraged that any young woman could doubt her son, but was appeased when he assured her that Anna had a very high opinion of him. All the same, she smiled and remarked, “Of course she has. Why should she not?”

“Trust me, Mama,” he said, putting his arms around her, knowing that her affection would always win out in the end, “When you come to us at Easter, you will meet Anna again and I hope we shall have settled all this business by then. I know you will agree that she is a most engaging and intelligent young woman,” he said as they went to rejoin the rest of the party, taking comfort from the fact that his mother was smiling and content again, much more like her usual self.

***

Returning home from Oxford, the Darcys and Bingleys travelled through Warwickshire, breaking journey at Leamington Spa, where the gentlemen had an appointment with a business acquaintance, who had recently shown an interest in the trade in Tea and Spices. Since Mr Gardiner's recent illness, which prevented him from travelling far from home, Bingley had taken on some of the work of dealing with clients and, with Darcy's prestige to substantiate his own claims, was making a very good fist of it.

Travelling at a leisurely pace, stopping to enjoy the singular beauty of tiny Warwickshire villages, of stone and thatch cottages, and neat lanes edged with a profusion of wild flowers, they reached the inn where they were to stay by late afternoon. The gentlemen were keen to be gone to their meeting at the Pump Room of the Spa, while their wives, disinclined to squander an evening, decided instead to take advantage of a well-appointed room with a blazing fire that the landlady put at their disposal.

Despatching the servants, who had never visited the town before and were eager to see the sights, the two sisters settled down to enjoy the evening. It had been a while since they had had time to themselves.

Elizabeth knew that Jane had intended to speak with Jonathan. Since receiving Charlotte Collins' letter, she had been impatient to discover how things stood with her son and Miss Faulkner. With all three daughters now happily settled, she worried only about the happiness of Jonathan and the well-being of his children.

“Well, Jane,” said Elizabeth, “I know you have had your little talk with Jonathan, because I saw you come out of Dr Grantley's study together; indeed, I remarked to Darcy that it must have gone well, since you were both smiling. Are you going to tell me about it?”