Longbourn to London (7 page)

Darcy cleared his throat. “Excuse me. This is clearly a family dispute, and I have no wish to intrude. Bingley, would you have time for me in, say, half an hour, in your study? I would be greatly obliged.”

Bingley was agitated and florid. “Of course, Darcy. I think we are finished here. Would you like to confer now?”

“No, Bingley, I thank you. I have a letter to write, which you may wish to sign with me. I shall prepare it and meet you.” Darcy withdrew, bowing to the Bingleys and Hursts. He heard Caroline gulp.

“Oh, Darcy,” she started, as usual assuming an intimacy to which she was not entitled, “I am so sorry, of course. Let me apologise for my family.”

“Miss Bingley.” Darcy met her fawning gaze with narrowed eyes and a fixed jaw. “You need rather apologise to me for yourself alone, and you have needed to do so since insulting Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth this morning. I have never believed you to speak for your family.”

He turned and walked to the Netherfield library where he knew there was an escritoire more private than the one in the drawing room. Sitting, he stared at the blank paper, sighed disgustedly at having to write, and then did so.

15 October 1812
Netherfield Park

Dear sir,

It has come to the attention of Mr. Bingley and me that your two eldest daughters have discovered books of a most disturbing nature in your library desk. Miss Elizabeth admits knowing of their existence for some years, but quite recently, the two ladies have begun consulting these same, thinking the books may aid them in preparation for married life. Although we understand Miss Bennet has stated to her sister that she will not continue to make a study of them, Miss Elizabeth will make no such promise. Please be aware that Miss Elizabeth told me of these circumstances in confidence. Miss Bennet is not aware that Mr. Bingley or I know she has consulted the books.

We beseech you, sir, to remove these books from the desk where they currently reside and take them from Longbourn or secrete them where they cannot possibly be found.

It is to be feared these books have already unsettled the delicate sensibilities of your daughters, but at least we may prevent any further harm.

Your daughters have endured a veritable assault on their peace of mind by local married women revealing, or so they think, the mysteries of conjugal relations, and although perhaps in some cases well intentioned, this advice was not well received. Please ask Mrs. Bennet to desist on this topic, and help Mr. Bingley and me to ensure that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are in company with Mrs. Phillips as little as possible.

Any assistance you are able to render will be greatly appreciated.

Gratefully,
F. Darcy
C. Bingley

“Great God, Darcy!” cried Bingley after reading the letter in his study and signing it while Darcy paced. Darcy poured them generous portions of brandy, and they sat together in front of the fire.

“Too early?” he asked as he handed a tumbler to Bingley.

Bingley shook his head. “Not on an occasion such as this. Did Miss Elizabeth give you any description of what they saw?”

“She is such an innocent, Bingley!” Darcy ruefully shook his head. “She mentioned only one book was French, and she described the drawings as cartoons. The other is in a language foreign to her—Sanskrit, I would wager—with drawings much more explicit, intended to instruct rather than amuse.”

“Oh, God…” Bingley sat forward, his head in his hands. “My poor Jane…” He was too overwrought to drink.

“We should have foreseen this and brought our families to London to avoid the local tabbies.
They
have done more damage than anything read in the library at Longbourn.”

“Certainly you know the same thing could happen in town.” Bingley sighed.

“Yes, of course, but their circle would be much smaller, and there would be the Gardiners, who are, by far, the most sensible people in Jane and Elizabeth’s family. I shall be glad when they arrive.” Darcy turned his attention from what-ifs to the matter at hand. “I shall not put a return address on this, nor seal it with my signet. Other than Elizabeth, no one there has seen my writing. Do you have anyone unknown by the Bennet household who could deliver it directly to Mr. Bennet? I do not think I exaggerate when I say Elizabeth would kill me if she knew of this letter. If she does try to find those books again and they are missing, let her think what she may, but at present, she must not know our actions.”

Bingley considered. “I shall ask my man, Mansfield, to take it. I do not believe he has any association with Longbourn.”

Darcy sealed the letter with the tip of a knife in the wax and Bingley left the room to seek his valet.

***

Mrs. Bennet was waving a fretful hanky at Elizabeth from under the Longbourn portico as she was handed down from the Bingley carriage. “Oh, Lizzy, how you do vex me! You have scared us to death! It would be just
like
you to take cold and
die
before securing the most eligible bachelor in the whole of England!”

Elizabeth lifted her chin and brushed past her mother, out of the rain. “Mama, I thought you were of the opinion that people do not die of ‘trifling little colds.’”

“Whenever did I say such a thing? What nonsense. You do try my nerves. You must take care of yourself. So… you have come home in the Bingley carriage?”

“Yes, Mama, I was near Netherfield when the rain started. I am hardly wet at all.”

“You must have a hot bath and some warm broth, and I shall write to Netherfield and tell Mr. Darcy not to come today.”

“We need not trouble the servants on my account. I have a letter to write. Then I shall rest until the gentlemen arrive. Where is Jane?”

“She had a headache after breakfast and is in her room. Pray, write your letter in the small sitting room so you do not disturb her.”

“I must change out of my boots, Mama. I shall not bother Jane.”

Elizabeth dashed up the stairs before her mother could argue further. Jane was reading in a window seat, much as Elizabeth left her, except now she was dressed. “Lizzy! I was watching for you! You are not drenched?”

Jane stood; Elizabeth clasped her in a tenacious embrace and, without warning, burst into uncharacteristic tears. “Jane, oh Jane!” They rocked where they stood.

“Lizzy!”

When Elizabeth could speak, she led Jane to the closest bed, and they sat. “Oh, Jane…why do I do this to myself? Fitzwilliam is so kind. He is all that is gentle and patient. It is not right of me to get so anxious and mulish. What could I say? I was not sensible at all. I insisted he reveal secrets about himself. I should not have asked. He is a marvel indeed if his affection survives this.”

Jane began removing her sister’s short boots. “In him, I think you have found the deep love you have always sought. We both were uncommonly foolish last night. We must not let the married ladies disturb us.”

There was a tap at the door. “Yes?” responded Jane.

A maid stuck her head in the door. “Mrs. Hill wants to know if anything is needed.”

“Thank you, Annie,” said Elizabeth. “Is there any juice?”

“There is fresh cider, Miss.”

“Please bring us some?”

“Yes, Miss.” Annie bounced a curtsy and closed the door.

“Lizzy, have you given up your quest for knowledge?” Jane asked. “I have reflected on it, and I feel you should.”

“I intend to write our Aunt Gardiner. Fitzwilliam agrees she is calm and sensible. She and Uncle may know his heart better than any of my relations, even you. After meeting him at Pemberley, they exchanged visits and formed a happy acquaintance, especially after Lydia’s…business.” That the Gardiners formed a warm attachment to Darcy was widely known throughout the family. “Does that seem imprudent?”

“I hope it will soothe your mind, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth found a pair of slippers and padded to her desk. She was just drawing parchment from a drawer when there was a tap at the door, which Jane answered. Annie entered with a tray holding two glasses of cider.

“Thank you, Annie,” said Elizabeth without looking up.

As Annie placed the cider on a side table, a knock at the front door was heard echoing up the stairs. Jane crept to the landing, looked down, and was filled with wonder to see Bingley’s valet—who had been introduced to her during a tour of Netherfield—enter the front hall. He spoke in a low tone to Mrs. Hill, and he was admitted to their father’s library. Thinking the circumstance odd and not wanting to excite Elizabeth’s curiosity, she decided to say nothing of it.

***

15 October 1812
Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Dear Aunt,

It is with a troubled mind that I write you. Since the announcement of our engagements, Jane and I have been so inundated with unsolicited advice on what we are to expect of conjugal relations that we are driven quite frantic. Although you will be here in a week’s time, I long to have some words of reason and sense from my dear aunt, the one woman in my family who knows my future husband and his heart better than anyone currently around me.

There is so much I do not know and little means to learn of it. Mama is useless and seems somehow less than truthful, and the very approach of my Aunt Phillips now fills me with dread, even though both Jane and I want to believe her tales are ridiculous.

Do please respond soon, and if what you need to say ought not be put to paper, merely promise you are willing to confer with me privately as soon as may be upon your arrival. Jane reports I am foolish, and I expect, as usual, she is right. Things I have no knowledge of make me apprehensive. If I have no need to worry, I shall trust your word.

Your loving niece,
E. Bennet

Elizabeth handed the letter to Jane. She read it, and sighing, said nothing. Elizabeth went downstairs to seek Mrs. Hill and have the letter posted immediately.

“A strange gentleman is with your father,” Mrs. Hill whispered, eyeing the closed library door.

Just then, the door opened and Elizabeth scampered up the stairs, turning at the landing to see the stranger’s back as he exited.

“Papa has had a visitor,” Elizabeth reported to Jane.

“Has he?” Jane tried to sound disinterested and did not look up from her book.

Elizabeth drank her cider, kicked off her slippers, and lay down upon her bed. She fell into a fitful slumber lasting over an hour.

***

Mr. Bennet read the letter from his two future sons-in-law with mounting alarm. He sat before Bingley’s valet in as profound a state of mortification as he had ever endured. Was he always to be found in some state of parental defect by Darcy? The valet awaited a verbal response as the Netherfield gentlemen had bid him. Mr. Bennet cleared his throat.

“Please tell your master and Mr. Darcy that I shall undertake everything they have asked me to do. Tell them further, I am abjectly sorry they have found the need to write me thus. And thank you.”

Mansfield bowed and left the room. Mr. Bennet heard him quit the house and sat in stunned silence.
Once again, I have revealed myself to be the most lazy and dilatory of fathers ever to exist
. The idea that he, through negligence, had perhaps reduced his Lizzy’s standing with the man she appeared to love so ardently overwhelmed him with remorse. That his earlier unconcern had cost Lydia her reputation meant little to him now, as Lydia had made her own bed, and others had expended a great deal more effort and expense than he had to set the family reputation upright. This present matter, however, was much more private, much less likely to be broadcast, and yet carried just as much potential to do lasting damage to his two favourite daughters.

Mr. Bennet drew open a desk drawer and looked at the offending books. Until this letter from the men of Netherfield, he had forgotten their existence. The two volumes were gifts from Sir William Lucas for services rendered nearly ten years ago. Because Mr. Bennet was known to be developing a library and enjoyed art, and Sir William, who could not imagine wasting time or money on any book not amusing or arousing, decided these volumes constituted a gift of “art.” Thomas Bennet slung them into the drawer upon receipt, and three weeks later wrote a note of thanks. Then he thought of them no more.

Now the two volumes were leering at him, and even though they might have some useful monetary value, Mr. Bennet tossed them into the fireplace and watched them suspiciously for the hour it took them to burn. He drew a sheet of stationary from his top desk drawer and wrote:

15 October 1812
Longbourn

My dear Gentlemen,

With the most profound mortification, I find myself yet again revealed to be the poorest quality of father. I feel keenly that the gravity of the current situation requires more, much more, than the verbal response you requested, which I trust I made to your satisfaction. Please be now advised that the two offending and offensive volumes have been burnt to the last cinder and have been replaced by a volume outlining proper deportment for young ladies upon their debut in society, dated 1795, and a fashion magazine of Kitty’s that found its way into this library. As to the conduct of Mrs. Bennet and her sister, I shall endeavour to remedy all I am able, by interview and instruction in the first case, and by avoidance in the second.