Netherfield Park Revisited (35 page)

Jane, who had never been able to keep anything from her dearest sister and best friend, blushed as she recalled how she had decided that Jonathan's private life was to be protected from idle gossip. Indeed, she had resolved not to discuss it with anyone, not even Bingley, until Jonathan had declared his intentions. But with Lizzie, it was different.

“Lizzie, of course I am going to tell you about it. But you must promise to keep Jonathan's secret, though I suppose you may tell Mr Darcy. I do not believe Jonathan would mind at all if Darcy were to know.”

Elizabeth knew her sister well. She knew she would not have to press her for the details, but only if Jonathan had not asked that it be kept secret, for so delicate was Jane's sense of honour, she would not dream of breaking a confidence, even to discuss it with her sister.

Fortunately, this was not necessary, and soon, Elizabeth had heard all the circumstances that Jonathan had recounted to his mother regarding his friendship with Anna Faulkner.

“Lizzie, he says he loves her and has proposed to her; he has written to Dr Faulkner as well, so he does seem to have made up his mind quite some time ago,” said Jane.

Elizabeth was eager for news; having had her own discussion with Darcy on the prospect of such a match, she was impatient to discover how the matter had progressed.

“And Anna, how did she respond? Has she accepted him?” she asked, expecting an affirmative answer, for it did not seem possible that her favourite nephew, her godson, Jonathan Bingley, once regarded as the most eligible bachelor in two or three counties, could be turned down.

When Jane revealed that Anna had insisted they wait a few more weeks, Elizabeth was totally perplexed.

“What has possessed the girl?” she asked, expressing her frustration and impatience, ahead of discovering the reason for Anna's request.

However, when Jane revealed her reasons, as Jonathan had explained them to her, including Miss Faulkner's commendable concern for the feelings of Jonathan's daughters, Elizabeth was immediately contrite and praised her sensitivity.

Jane's own opinion, quietly but firmly expressed, underlined her own satisfaction with the manner in which Jonathan and Miss Faulkner had arranged their affairs.

“I think, Lizzie, it reveals a most unselfish and thoughtful nature, to have persuaded a man as ardent as Jonathan to wait while she examines the strength of her own feelings and allows time for the children to overcome the shock of losing their mother. Of his own attachment, he has left her in no doubt, and Lizzie, I am sure that once she discovers her true feelings, they will soon be engaged,” she declared.

Elizabeth had to agree, and she congratulated her sister on the imminent prospect of acquiring a most amiable and accomplished daughter-in-law.

Jane was more cautious. She had known disappointment before.

“Oh I do hope you are right, Lizzie, for I have no doubt at all that Jonathan is very much in love with her, and it would break my heart to see his hopes dashed. He has a tender heart, and I know how much mortification he suffered when Amelia-Jane turned against him. He has, for the sake of his children, shown such courage and forbearance, it is surely time he found some happiness. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Elizabeth put an arm around her sister, whose gentle nature and kind heart often caused her to suffer on behalf of others.

“Dear Jane, pray do not upset yourself, both Jonathan and Anna are mature adults and are surely not unaware of what marriage to each other can mean for both of them. I realise Jonathan has suffered greatly, and that is all the more reason why he will be especially circumspect.

“Anna has clearly wished to consult her own feelings more deeply before committing herself to a completely new life, with a husband and children, two of whom are close enough to her own age to be her siblings,” she explained, adding, “You need not worry about them, Jane. Do you recall how concerned I was when Julian became engaged to Josie Tate?”

Jane recalled very well her sister's anxiety on that score.

“I do; you thought she was too young, not mature enough to appreciate his work at Cambridge or his future role at Pemberley,” she said.

“Indeed, and Darcy convinced me that an intelligent young woman like Josie would learn, as she grew into her marriage, what her responsibilities were. I am sure he will be proved right. Julian seems very happy and they are both looking forward to their first child,” said Elizabeth.

Jane smiled, a sad little smile, remembering her own reservations about Amelia-Jane, who had not been more than sixteen when she became engaged to Jonathan. Jane's initial anxiety had been soon pushed aside on seeing how much in love they were. Yet, as things had turned out, she had been justified to fear for her son's happiness.

“I suppose, Lizzie, the difference between Julian's situation and Jonathan's was that Josie Tate is an educated and intelligent young person, whereas poor Amelia-Jane remained as immature as she had been when he married her, with very little to recommend her except her beauty. I do hope you are right, Lizzie, for he surely deserves to be happy again.”

The return of the gentlemen in time for supper brought their discussions to a close, for they wisely assumed that after an hour or more of business dealings, neither of their husbands would be in a mood to contemplate the complexities of Jonathan's love life.

Instead, they anticipated the delights of a day to be spent at Stratford upon Avon before returning to Ashford Park and Pemberley. The problems of today would be set aside while they enjoyed the drama and romance of the past. It was an experience they looked forward to with pleasure.

***

When Emma Wilson received her brother's letter and read the first two lines, she was saddened and shocked, thinking he had been turned down by Anna Faulkner.

But, reading on, she was delighted with the news and left the breakfast table to find her husband, who was in his study composing a speech.

James, seeing her expression, assumed she'd had good news from Jonathan.

“Are congratulations in order?” he asked and, even when she read out the parts of his letter explaining what had transpired, James remained optimistic.

“My dear Emma, Jonathan is a persistent young man, I am confident he will have her agreement by Easter,” he said and, noticing that she seemed rather doubtful, added, “Now Emma, you are not going to fret about your brother, are you? Believe me, he is well placed in this matter. Miss Faulkner already admits to admiration and esteem, he is easily the most eligible man in the county; if she will not marry him, she must be more foolish than I had thought her to be.”

His wife protested that Anna Faulkner was not at all foolish.

“Aunt Lizzie believes her to be very intelligent and sensible and my own knowledge of her confirms it,” she said.

James smiled rather smugly, as if she had proved his case.

“Well then, your worries will soon be over, for I cannot believe an intelligent and sensible young woman would turn down a proposal from Jonathan Bingley,” he said confidently.

Returning to Netherfield from Oxford, Jonathan found, among the letters waiting for him, one from his sister. Emma, having received his letter, which had conveyed an impression of dejection, had hastened to reply, urging him to regard the waiting time as a period in which he could perhaps prepare himself and his children for what Emma felt was his inevitable engagement to Miss Faulkner.

My dear brother, she wrote:

We were delighted to hear that you had found an appropriate opportunity to approach Miss Faulkner.

As for the rather delicate situation in which you find yourself, it is at least not one of hopelessness. I cannot believe that the conclusion to this story is going to be other than happy, for everything I know of you and Anna, as well as my understanding of the circumstances you have described, leads me to believe that she is being careful, cautious, perhaps, but nothing else.

Generally speaking, this suggests a prudent sensibility and a greatness of mind that does her credit. There is no hint of evasiveness or pretence, which requires to be persuaded with gifts and flattery etc.

It bodes well for your future life together that she has such excellent judgment, and I know how much you value such qualities.

All this is good news, dear brother, and you must not let the small aggravations wear you down to the point where you permit your sense of hurt to impinge upon your friendship with her. For it is in this manner that you will convince her that you are best suited to each other.

Believe me Jonathan, Anna loves you, and if you are not engaged at Easter, I shall be very surprised. And since we are to spend Easter with you, together with Mama and Papa, an engagement would be singularly pleasing!

She concluded with her usual affectionate felicitations, but in a brief postscript added almost as an afterthought what she called “a very good idea, which has just occurred to me.”

She intended to write to Anna and invite her to Standish Park.

“Spring has arrived in the Weald of Kent and the park is an artist's paradise at this time. I am sure Anna will find many things to draw and paint. If she can make the time to spend a week or two with us before Easter, she will be very welcome.

“Perhaps, you may like to join us for a few days yourself, Jonathan,” she wrote.

Her brother smiled as he read her letter.

“Dear Emma,” he said, to himself, “you clearly intend to do your best for me. I hope and pray you may succeed.”

Later in the week, he visited Longbourn and was happy to learn that Anna had already begun to take over the instruction of some of Mary's pupils, while Mrs Collins had directed that the old sitting room be made ready for her Art classes.

Riding over to Haye Park, Jonathan hoped to find Anna at home. Sadly, he was disappointed to be told by the maid that she had left for Hatfield House with her father and a couple of foreign visitors, who were staying in Meryton. She knew very little about them, except that they were foreign, she supposed from their accents; Jonathan was puzzled since Anna had not mentioned any foreign visitors.

It was on the Sunday, when they met at church and Jonathan accepted an invitation to dine with the Faulkners, that he learned that the “foreign visitors” had been none other than Monsieur Du Pont and Madame Roussard.

“Madame Roussard has a special interest in Architecture and Papa had offered to show them Hatfield House. Of course, I had to go along, too, because while Monsieur Du Pont speaks passable English, Madame Roussard has very little English and she asks so many questions, it would have driven poor Papa quite mad,” Anna explained.

Apart from his disappointment at not seeing her on the day, Jonathan thought no more of it, attaching no particular significance to their visit. That was until Dr Faulkner re-opened the subject, when they were in the sitting room, taking tea.

“Monsieur Du Pont has invited Anna to participate in an exhibition—this one is to be held in Paris,” he announced.

Mrs Faulkner, obviously proud of her daughter, added, “It is a great honour, Mr Bingley.”

Jonathan, surprised, looked immediately at Anna, who was getting him a cup of tea. She put it down carefully on the table in front of him, before she spoke, quietly.

“And I have said no; I have no paintings good enough to exhibit in Paris, and in any event, I do not wish to go.”

Her father sounded disappointed, pointing out that she ought not be too hasty, she may well regret not going.

“The gentleman was very keen and Madame was most enthusiastic after seeing Anna's drawings of Hatfield House and St Alban's Abbey. I think, my dear, they were both very impressed,” said her father, but unaccountably, Anna remained less than enthusiastic about the entire scheme and somewhat embarrassed by her parents' promotion of it.

When he was preparing to leave, Jonathan was tempted to tease her about being invited to Paris, but she pre-empted him.

Speaking low, so her mother, who was dozing by the fire, would not hear, she said, “I have no interest in going to Paris, or anywhere else, Jonathan. I am very content with my life in Hertfordshire at this moment.”

Jonathan was not entirely reassured by her remark, he wondered whether it was meant to indicate that she was too content to contemplate a change at all, but he made the only possible response.

“I'm very glad to hear it, Anna, very glad indeed. I should have missed you very much, had you gone away to Paris,” he said softly, and having arranged to call again, later in the week, he left.

A spell of bad weather prevented him returning to Haye Park for some days. The streams were overflowing from the heavy rains, the fields were sodden, and the roads were getting to be rutted and dangerous. One was well advised not to ride out, if possible. Finally the sun struggled through and, in spite of threatening clouds on the horizon, Jonathan decided to travel to Haye Park.

He found Anna alone, practising at her pianoforte. When he was shown into the parlour, she rose and came to greet him.

“You find me alone this morning, my parents are gone to Lucas Lodge to visit my uncle, who is unwell,” she said.

“I'm sorry to hear it, I hope it is not a serious condition. I am, however, very happy to find you in,” he said as he kissed her hand. She smiled; clearly she was pleased to see him too. Having assured him her uncle's ailment was no more serious than a common cold made worse by his stubborn refusal to stay in bed, she proceeded to order tea.

He urged her to continue playing, which she did, to his great delight, for while he was not a practitioner himself, Jonathan had a fine appreciation of Music. Clearly, Anna had mastered the composition he had brought her; he was delighted with her performance.

Presently, she closed the instrument and came over to where he was seated. The tea had been brought in and she busied herself with dispensing it. They were a good deal less formal with each other now. Jonathan even plucked up the courage to tease her, asking if he should be jealous of the elegant Frenchman, Monsieur Du Pont.