Chapter 3
The Bennet family was all gathered at breakfast the following morning when the housekeeper brought the morning post on a tray to Mr. Bennet.
He shuffled through the envelopes, occasionally muttering to himself or quirking an eyebrow. At last, he set one on the table next to his plate and handed the remaining ones back to the servant. “Will you place these on my desk, please, Hill?”
The woman nodded and bustled out of the room. Mr. Bennet then once again picked up the remaining letter and passed it down the table. “From your Aunt Gardiner, Lizzy.”
“I wish someone would write me a letter!” cried Lydia petulantly.
“My aunt has written to you several times, Lydia,” Elizabeth reminded her youngest sister. “You never respond. If you wish to continue the correspondence, you need to write them back.”
“Maybe I’ll get a letter from one of the officers,” Lydia sighed dreamily, which was immediately echoed by Kitty.
“Officers?” Mary stared blankly at her sisters.
“Lord, Mary, do you ever listen?” Lydia said impatiently. “I told Mama all about it yesterday, and you were there in the room! The militia is coming to stay at Meryton for the winter!”
“Red coats as far as the eye can see,” Kitty added with a giggle.
“Does this mean you’ve given up your pursuit of Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, smirking.
“Just because I have my mind set on one man doesn’t mean I can’t have my heart set on another,” Lydia retorted primly, sticking her nose in the air.
“How practical,” Elizabeth replied dryly.
Mary began to lecture her younger sister on the third deadly sin, and Elizabeth quietly slipped away before she could be drawn into their argument. Once upstairs in the privacy of her room, she opened her letter from her aunt and read.
My dear niece,
I know it has been quite some time since I last wrote to you, and I beg you would forgive me the delay. Your cousin Mary just completed her tenth birthday, and I was quite consumed with making everything perfect for her. And little Philip is going through a phase where he cannot let me put him down from my arms.
Fortunately, I have still been able to attend to my duties for the Ladies’ Aid Society. The last month, we have redoubled our efforts on the Bethlem Hospital. The proprietors of the asylum has been extremely difficult to work with, but I will not fail in persevering. Oh, Lizzy, it breaks my heart to see people like Jane in such dreadful conditions. Some days, I do not think I can bear it another minute.
I was heartened, however, by reports coming from The Retreat in York. Mr. William Tuke has done some incredible things there. I know not many people think well of his efforts; indeed, most here in London speak of him with derision. But he has truly been able to create a remarkable place for those whose mental faculties aren’t all they should be.
Next time you are in London, I would like you to come with me again to Bethlem. I know it was quite the ordeal for you when you first visited, but I think it important for us to remember just what it is we are fighting against. There is much to do, and we need the fire and energy a young person like yourself can bring.
Besides, your presence was a great consolation to many of the idiots. Some of them may not be able to speak or understand, but they recognized your kind smile, and it gave them comfort when compared to the taunts and jeers they usually experience. There is also the orphanage as well—little Robert asks for you quite frequently whenever I visit.
Of course, we will also enjoy many London delights as well. I am eager to take you to my new modiste. She is a miracle worker with some of the fabrics from your uncle’s warehouses. I daresay I’ve never looked finer even though I have given birth to four children!
Catherine begs me to remind you that she is now eight years old, and as such, she should be allowed to participate in your practice tea parties along with Mary. Edward also wishes to know if he can be included, being only seven. Don’t worry—I will not make you have a young man to tea before the elder two can behave properly!
Please do make certain your father reads his letter from your uncle as soon as it arrives. There are items of business that need to be addressed, and your uncle cannot move forward without your father’s permission.
But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half hour.
Yours with love,
Madeline Gardiner
Elizabeth looked up from her letter and sighed. The idea of returning to Bethlem made her shudder. She had visited only once, and she still had nightmares of what she had witnessed. In her sleep, however, it was Jane in chains and a straitjacket instead of strangers.
The building itself was as miserable as its inhabitants. A nationwide campaign to solicit donations from the public to build a new hospital had just begun, as the floors were uneven, the walls were buckling, and the roof was leaking.
Within the dilapidated building were more than one hundred patients, nearly all of whom were in chains and shackled to the walls in varying states of undress. Although they were locked in cells with bars and peepholes, they were not left unattended. To generate income to care for said patients, anyone could pay as little as a penny to enter and taunt the inmates.
Shuddering, Elizabeth shook her head to rid herself of the memories. It had been three years, after all; she was much more mature now at twenty than she had been at seventeen, and she knew what to expect. Besides, her aunt’s dedication to a cause that centered around a family member who was not even related by blood made her feel ashamed.
Nodding firmly to herself, Elizabeth resolved to also do better here at Hertfordshire. There were a few tenants of both Longbourn and Netherfield who had children born with certain difficulties. Mr. Bennet made an extra effort to keep rents low and gift baskets filled so the families could keep their children at home rather than abandoning them to a workhouse or asylum.
While Bethlem Hospital was reserved for the most extreme cases of insanity and was typically for adults, its mere existence and its terrible conditions bore witness to the fact that those who were different—whether mentally or physically—were not easily accepted by society.
Most of Elizabeth’s efforts—and those of Mrs. Gardiner—were focused on helping people more like Jane. There were orphanages and workhouses who took in all kinds of people, and Mrs. Gardiner worked with an organization that tried to keep track of anyone in those places who were more simpleminded, like Jane, but could still function tolerably well in society if they only had a little help.
Without that help, however, many of these people were unable to keep up with the heavy demands placed upon them in workhouses, and even in the orphanages. There simply wasn’t enough food to go around, especially with the economic troubles being worsened by the war with Napoleon.
After pulling out her pen, Elizabeth mended the tip and began to write.
Dear Aunt Gardiner,
I received your letter, and I cannot believe Mary is already ten years of age! Tell her from me that I will take her to Gunter’s for ices as a special treat in celebration, or perhaps a young ladies’ tea—whichever she chooses.
Tell Catherine that Mary had to wait until she was nine, and young ladies must also practice the virtue of patience. As for Edward, he may join me on an adventure of another kind—perhaps something that is less rigid.
And tell Philip he needs to give his poor mama some time to rest!
I know I did not handle things very well when we went to Bethlem, but I am three years older now, and I will know what to expect when we go there again. I do not think I will ever enjoy seeing people in such conditions. It brings me such happiness to know that people like Mr. Tuke exist. If only all men could be as generous of spirit as he, especially if they are young men of large fortune.
Please give everyone at the orphanage my best, and tell Robert that I have some wonderful new stories to tell him when I next visit. I hope that will be soon, but there are curious happenings here in Hertfordshire that require my presence, I believe. Our new neighbor, Mr. Bingley, seems to have taken an interest in Jane… and I seem to be the only one who feels any concern over the matter.
The fact that his friend is a gentleman by the name of Mr. Darcy is not in his favor, as he spoke quite rudely of Jane. You will never believe what he said about her, and in my hearing! He may be the master of a large estate in Derbyshire, but that does not excuse—
Elizabeth put the unfinished letter to the side, planning to finish it later after she spoke to her father. Her thoughts still on its contents, she absentmindedly made her way down the stairs to her father’s bookroom. He bid her enter in response to her knock, and she poked her head in through the door.
“My aunt Gardiner wishes me to insist you read her husband’s letter immediately.”
Mr. Bennet looked up from his book and waved a hand at the desk. “You do it for me, Lizzy. Goodness knows you’re better at this than I am.”
She smiled at this rare bit of praise and sat down across from his desk. After opening the letter, she read to herself.
Bennet,
I will not waste your time with pleasantries, as I know it will cause you to put this letter down before actually reading it in its entirety. I shall leave that kind of communication to my wife and yours.
It is almost time for a renewal of the investment contracts. There is a new investment opportunity that has arisen, but I do not recommend it at this stage. With Jane having just reached her majority, and your age being what it is, I recommend you leave the money liquid and put it into the four percents.
Elizabeth looked sharply up from the paper. “Are you ill, Papa?”
“No, my dear, though as I am but a few years away from sixty, and the latest information says the average lifespan of our time is but sixty-four, it is probably best to be prepared.”
The money you have been sending me each year now totals in excess of thirty thousand pounds. As agreed, Jane will have ten thousand as her dowry or to support her living, whichever may occur. The remaining will be divided amongst your girls as dowries or for their maintenance as well.
If you agree, I will begin immediately to sell your shares of investments and place the money in the bank in your name. I strongly suggest that you update your will to include these numbers, otherwise the heir that is coming to visit soon may try to claim them as part of the estate.
Respond to me immediately.
Please give Fanny and the girls my love.
Yours, etc.
Gardiner
Hands shaking, Elizabeth let the letter she held flutter to the floor.
“Papa, how on earth did you…? Why didn’t you tell…?”
He gave a wry smile. “Ever since Jane was born and the midwife urged me to get rid of her, I have set aside a small amount of money to bribe worthless young men to marry her. With each daughter, my hopes of a son to give her a home lessened. I have since done my best to send any extra money to your uncle to invest so all of you will be cared for.”
“But then why have you not told Mama? You hear her complaints about the hedgerows!”
“And risk her hounding me to spend it until I give in? No, my Lizzy, I am aware enough of my faults to know that I wouldn’t be able to stand against her haranguing.”
Rather than disagree with her father—especially as she knew he was most likely correct in his self-assessment—Elizabeth changed the subject to another part of the letter that concerned her. “Your heir is coming to visit?”
“Ah, yes. I received a letter a month ago and finally responded when I wrote to your uncle to send the latest installment to invest. Mr. Collins, who may throw you all out of this home as soon as I am dead, has extended an olive branch towards us.” He laughed at Elizabeth’s questioning expression. “Those are his words, my dear. Here, take a look.”
Mr. Bennet extended his hand, offering her the folded paper he had been using as a bookmark.
She reached for it, then stopped, her fingers only inches away from taking it. “I will only take it on the condition that you respond to my uncle’s letter while I read.”
Chuckling softly, Mr. Bennet laid the untouched letter on his desk, pulled a fresh sheet of paper from a drawer, dipped his pen in the ink, and began to write. Only then did Elizabeth pick up the discarded missive to read.
Dear Sir,
The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honored father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach: but, for some time, I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.
My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavor to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.
As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence, and on these grounds, I flatter myself that my present overtures of good will are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch.
I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologize for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends, but of this hereafter.
If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday sennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.
I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins
Elizabeth felt as if she had swallowed a heavy stone. Refolding the letter and placing it back on her father’s desk, she said with false cheer, “Well, I do not think we can hope him to be a man of sense and intelligence.”
“No, indeed. I greatly anticipate many hours of amusement at the man’s expense. Now, don’t tell your mother. I wish to surprise her, and I do not want to hear her moan about his visit until it is absolutely necessary she be made aware.” Her lips tightened in displeasure, but he raised a hand to forestall her protestations. “No, Lizzy, I will not be swayed on this matter.”
Left with no choice but to obey her father, Elizabeth agreed. “Very well, Papa. Have you finished the letter to my uncle?”
Without so much as a word, Mr. Bennet passed it over to his second daughter. She took it and made her way from the room, worry settling into her soul at the rapid changes coming all at once.