Netherfield Park Revisited (40 page)

“I confess, I do not know how Emma manages to deal so well with all the busybodies and troublesome constituents that James must cope with,” she said to her father as they sat together listening to Emma tell some of her many amusing anecdotes. “It must be her kind heart and great charm.”

Jonathan laughed. “I think, my dear, you will find that in most cases, she finds a sense of humour even more useful than her kind heart,” he said.

When James was called upon to declare which of his wife's qualities were the most useful in coping with his constituents, he replied without a moment's hesitation.

“I have no difficulty there; it has to be her courage. Indeed, if you had seen her calm the nerves of an irate farmer who would have had me hanged when he discovered I had supported the Repeal of the Corn Laws, you would agree with me. I cannot believe that I would have survived in the Parliament without her considerable courage and honesty.”

As he spoke, he looked across at Emma, and none of those present who saw the warmth of their affection, could have doubted his word.

Anna, who loved her prospective sister dearly, wondered if she and Jonathan ever would discover the kind of love that sustained Emma and James.

The sad news about Mr Gardiner's illness had taken some of the gaiety out of their party and cast a pall upon their Easter festivities. His daughters Emily and Caroline were helping their mother care for their father, while Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy were both on hand in case of an emergency.

Anna, sensing some of the family's sadness, decided it was time for her to return to her own parents at Haye Park. Despite her inner feelings of happiness and her tender feelings towards Jonathan, which she knew to be returned in full measure, she felt no sense of elation.

Now that her parents were acquainted with her decision to accept Jonathan Bingley's proposal, she knew her mother would press her for a wedding date, and she asked that they keep news of the engagement secret for a while longer.

At first, her mother, who had been delighted with the news, was disappointed that she could not tell her friends.

“May I not tell my sister Charlotte?” she pleaded, but when Anna explained to her mother that it would seem a little insensitive to be celebrating engagements and fixing wedding dates while poor Mr Gardiner's health was still uncertain, Maria Faulkner agreed.

She did, however, caution her daughter that secret engagements could be troublesome, what with “pesky neighbours and relations always asking when was the happy day?”

But any reservations she may have had were overwhelmed by contemplation of her daughter's future as the wife of Jonathan Bingley and Mistress of Netherfield Park. It was a prospect she could not have dreamed of a few years ago.

“Indeed,” she remarked to her husband, as they went to bed, “he is a man whose character and fortune are of such quality as to make her the envy of women all over the county. Do you not agree, my dear?”

Dr Faulkner did agree, though he may have expressed it rather differently.

He had received from Mr Bingley a very gracious letter, in which he had informed Dr Faulkner of his gratitude and joy at having been accepted by Miss Faulkner and pledged himself to make her happy. Jonathan had also mentioned Anna's wish that their engagement remain a matter of confidence for a while longer.

Anna herself had not stopped to think about it, but when her mother spoke of pesky neighbours asking questions, she laughed.

“It is very unlikely that they will be sufficiently curious about me to ask such questions, Mama. Many of them have probably consigned me to spinsterhood, by now. I am almost twenty-seven and certain to be an old maid, in their eyes. I think you will not be bothered by too many questions from curious neighbours,” she had said.

It was an indication of her lack of vanity and also of a certain naïveté, which she was only later to realise and perhaps to regret.

Discouraged by her father and her own sound common sense from indulging in pointless gossip herself, Anna did not believe that she could ever be the subject of such activity. She was genuinely convinced that at her age, when most women were either already married or else confirmed spinsters, being in no way a threat to any of the eligible young ladies of the district, she was an unlikely target.

Moreover, she reasoned, the long-standing connections between their two families would surely protect Jonathan and herself from such mischief.

She was to discover, too late, that in this she was, unhappily, mistaken.

Jane Bingley, who by now had decided that her granddaughter Anne-Marie was sufficiently recovered to enjoy a picnic in the park, felt also that it allowed her to indulge her feelings of satisfaction at the happiness of her son. She could not wait to write to her sister and tell her all about it and in fact began her letter while the preparations for the picnic were afoot.

My dearest Lizzie,
she wrote:

Imagine my joy, when we arrived to find that not only was Anne-Marie very much recovered from her distressing illness, but here was my dear Jonathan walking around as if an angel had just brought him a gift!

One did not have to look far for the cause of this amazing condition, for it was soon clear that Anna Faulkner had a similar if less obvious version of the same.

They are quite clearly in love and secretly engaged, I said to Bingley, who would not go so far, but later that evening, they came to my room and told me themselves. Oh Lizzie, I cannot tell you how happy I was; they seem so right for one another.

Now, as if there was not enough joy for one woman's heart to hold, young Charles had arrived from Edinburgh on hearing his sister was ill and stayed with them for three weeks! During which time, it seems, his feud with Jonathan has ended. I feel Anna has had some part to play in this as well. Lizzie, she is a wonderful young woman; Anne-Marie swears she saved her life, but even if that may be regarded as an exaggeration, no one denies that Anna's devoted care helped make her well again.

Jonathan is very fortunate, as indeed are we, for as I said to Bingley, being so accomplished, she could quite easily have married some eligible young man about town in London or even in Paris (there are so many Americans in Europe now) and she would have been lost to us.

As it turns out, she will make Jonathan, who loves her dearly, an excellent wife and be an exemplary companion to his daughters. They are already good friends. I can see they will all be very happy at Netherfield, dear Netherfield, which holds so many happy memories for us …

Completing her letter later that day, Jane sent her love to her sister and brother-in-law, her dear aunt and uncle, and all her cousins. Clearly, she was content and happy at Netherfield.

Before closing her letter, she stopped to write a final line.

Oh Lizzie, if only we could all be as happy as I am at this moment, would life not be perfect?

Reading her sister's letter, a few days later, Elizabeth sighed.

“Oh Jane, will you never realise that life just isn't like that?” she smiled as she passed the closely written pages across to her husband, who was just finishing his breakfast.

Darcy read it through quickly while Elizabeth poured out more tea; then, with a somewhat indulgent smile, he said, “Jane would not be Jane if she did not believe in perfect happiness and the innate goodness of human beings. She is an idealist and refuses to think ill of anyone, until their guilt is conclusively proven.”

Elizabeth laughed.

“Indeed, you are right, she will give the most malevolent villain the benefit of the doubt,” she said, recalling how reluctant Jane had been to condemn Wickham totally, even after his iniquity was exposed. Similarly, with Lydia, she had always hoped for some amendment in her behaviour.

“She would be the one to ask, hopefully, ‘Could it be that he really loves her? Can there have been some dreadful mistake?' My dear sister has never been the one to point the finger at anyone. Yet of us all, Jane, with her goodness and kindness, has the best credentials to judge any conduct.”

Mr Darcy was more philosophical.

“Lizzie, we need people like Jane in the world. They provide the antidote to all the cynical and suspicious minds that tell us that society is full of malice and corruption. Your sister believes in people, and that is important; she is not naïve or foolish, she simply hopes to find goodness where most of us expect to find evil. She aspires to be happy and share her felicity with others. It is a genuinely blessed intention.”

He was warm in his praise of her sister, and Elizabeth was happy to hear it. He continued, “Bingley has confessed to me that, on occasions when he returns home after a difficult business deal or one in which he has found it hard to trust the men he was dealing with, it is Jane who restores his faith in human nature.”

Elizabeth had no wish to argue with him.

“Jane is a darling and I would not have her any different. She is very fortunate that her husband and all her children are so amenable she has had little or no strife to contend with. Our children were never so willing to accept my ideas and opinions,” Elizabeth said, and Darcy relented.

Understanding the source of his wife's sadness, he sought to comfort her, but would not indulge her.

“Come now, Lizzie, I will not have you feeling sorry for yourself. I know Cassy and Julian are strong willed and have their own opinions about everything, but I have always supported you, have I not?' he asked, and she smiled.

“Yes indeed, you have, and I am truly grateful, Darcy. I would like to be more like Jane and think well of all my fellow men, at least until I am proved wrong or their pretence is clear. As you well know, I did just that on at least one infamous occasion, only to be badly deceived and have my entire family imposed upon most shamefully; quite apart from the pain and mortification to yourself and the continuing aggravation we all suffer, as a consequence,” she said. “So, there is now a cautious streak in me, which will not let me believe everything people say or claim to be, unless I know them well enough to be confident of their character.”

Seeing his grave countenance, she apologised.

“I am sorry, dearest, you do not deserve to be subjected to this complaint. I have never needed so much as a second thought before accepting your word, and for that alone I am more grateful than I can say.”

He was pleased and honoured by her words, understanding in every particular what they implied. That there had never been any mistrust or suspicion between them was, for both of them, the crowning achievement of their marriage.

He knew her earlier remarks referred to the iniquity of Wickham, whose elopement with her sister Lydia had caused them so much distress. Yet, gratified though he was by her confidence in him, Darcy was quite determined that this fine Spring day deserved to be remembered for something more.

“Well, my dear, Jane's letter has confirmed the best news we have had in many months—Jonathan's engagement to Anna Faulkner will, I confidently predict, be the start of a truly felicitous marriage. I have rarely met two people, apart from our own Cassy and Richard, who seemed so well suited in every way. We must celebrate it.”

Happy to lift herself out of a mood of gloomy introspection, Elizabeth readily agreed.

“Indeed, we must. I shall write to Jonathan and suggest we have a dinner party for them at Pemberley, as soon as their engagement is announced. How would you like that?”

Darcy said he would like it very well, and preparations were set in train for one of those great occasions at which Pemberley and its staff excelled.

Within a day or two, Jane received, as well as a happy reply from her sister, a note from her cousin Caroline, which brought good news.

Caroline wrote that her father Mr Gardiner had survived his illness in much better condition than had been expected.

Though weakened, he had been declared out of danger, she wrote:

Indeed, dear Jane, my brother Richard's friend from Harley Street has seen Papa and has declared that he may well live for years if he is very careful and does not overwork or become agitated. He must vary his activities and be mindful of his condition in everything he does.

Dear Jane, I cannot tell you what a difference it has made to us all, especially to Mama, who had almost accepted that we were going to lose him, this time.

Changing the subject and simultaneously her mood to one of light-hearted banter, Caroline concluded her letter with a message of congratulation.

I know it's a secret, but I am sure Jonathan will not mind my saying how very happy we are about his engagement to Anna Faulkner. Do tell him, dearest Jane, that Fitzy and I wish them every happiness and look forward to seeing them soon.

Your loving cousin,

Caroline Fitzwilliam.

A few days after Easter Sunday, the party at Netherfield, taking advantage of some fine Spring weather, were considering if they should drive to St Albans or simply enjoy the pleasure of a picnic in the woods, where a profusion of blossoms made a carpet under the trees. As they talked of the relative merits of each prospect, a letter arrived for Anne-Marie. It came from Harwood House, and Mr Harwood wrote to inform her that Eliza had been safely delivered of a son, to whom they hoped she would consent to be a godparent.

Anne-Marie was delighted; her only sorrow stemmed from her inability to be at her friend's side. Dr Faulkner had ruled it out already.

“Quite out of the question, my dear Miss Bingley,” he had said. “You will need to become a good deal stronger, and the weather will need to get much warmer, before I would even consider letting you travel to London.”

She was deeply disappointed, but Anna added her voice to persuade her.

“You can see how happy it has made your papa to have you here. Stay a few more weeks, especially since the baptism is not for some time yet; it will do you good,” she had said.

Young Anne-Marie, however, turned the tables on her, saying archly, “It is very kind of you to say so, Anna, but Papa's happiness is more dependent on your presence than mine, I think! Now, I understand that you could make him a good deal happier, ecstatic in fact, if you would only name the day!”