Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
EARLY JANUARY 1812
LONGBOURN
S ince Elizabeth had left, Longbourn had been an entirely different home. Without Elizabeth to keep her company, Jane had taken it upon herself to mentor the younger girls. Mary required only occasional guidance and gentle reminders about what topics were appropriate to discuss in company, particularly regarding spiritual matters. However, her exposure to Mr. Collins had already prompted her to reconsider her behaviour. His incessant sermonising had grated on even Mary’s nerves, inadvertently inspiring her to adopt a more moderate approach to her own conduct.
Kitty, for her part, had easily embraced the expectations placed upon her, eager for Jane’s attention and striving to emulate her eldest sister for a change. Always impressionable, Kitty had previously sought approval by mimicking Lydia. However, with her mother’s newfound restraint and Jane’s guidance, Kitty quickly recognised that aligning herself with Jane’s example would serve her far better than continuing to follow Lydia’s lead.
Although reluctant to correct her mother, Jane was pleased when the Gardiners arrived not long after the Darcys departed, and Mrs. Gardiner intended to follow up on what Elizabeth and Anne had spoken to that lady about regarding her comportment and that of her daughters.
During their visit, Mr. Bennet had done all he could to avoid the Gardiners given his behaviour and his recent set down by his wife and two of his daughters and her demand that they attend school. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had agreed to pay for the clothing required for this as a Christmas present to the girls, and Mrs. Gardiner would accompany them to her dressmaker to obtain the needed items.
A few days after Christmas, the Gardiners, along with Kitty and Lydia, left Hertfordshire to go to London until the arrangements could be made for the two girls to attend school.
Kitty could hardly contain her excitement at the prospect of attending her school. She had been assured that masters in the arts would be brought in to help her hone her skills, a prospect that filled her with anticipation. Painting and drawing had always interested her, and the opportunity to develop her talent under proper guidance felt like a dream come true. It was an interest she had always had to hide, for Lydia teased her about it, so the idea of pursuing it without Lydia was delightful.
Lydia, on the other hand, was far less enthused. She sulked all morning after hearing the arrangements, sighing and glaring exaggeratedly to show her displeasure. Matters came to a head during Mrs. Gardiner’s visit, when she sat Lydia down for a stern discussion of what was expected of her. Mrs. Gardiner’s calm yet firm tone left no room for misinterpretation. She informed Lydia exactly what would happen should she fail to comply with the schoolmistress’s expectations or if she was sent away.
At first, Lydia protested loudly, declaring the entire notion of school ridiculous and beneath her. Her tantrum continued until Mrs. Bennet, uncharacteristically resolute, interjected. “If you cannot behave properly at school,” she said with a raised brow, “then you will not visit London again under any circumstances—not with your aunt, not with me, and certainly not with your sister. Your behaviour will determine your privileges.”
This threat struck a nerve, for the prospect of attending balls and the theatre had been exciting, and though Lydia huffed and grumbled, she eventually capitulated. She would attend her lessons, albeit reluctantly. Her enthusiasm was non-existent, but the prospect of foregoing these pleasures outweighed her disdain for structured education. Even as she packed, Lydia made her displeasure known at every turn; however, the warning from her mother and aunt remained fresh enough in her mind to keep her from an outright rebellion.
Only a few days later, a somewhat humbled Mr. Collins arrived at Longbourn. In the days after Lady Catherine’s funeral, he had met with Mrs. and Mrs. Hargrove along with his bishop and received the unwelcome news that he was to be defrocked because of his unrestrained adulation for his former patroness—a woman whose actions had harmed many. While only a few knew the true story of Lady Catherine’s death and her actions in the months leading up to it, the bishop was one of them. He could not condone a man in the pulpit who was not only stupid, but also had idolised his patroness to the extreme that Mr. Collins had.
With nowhere else to go, Mr. Collins arrived at Longbourn unannounced, requesting a place to stay and, to Mr. Bennet’s dismay, asking him to fulfil his promise to teach him how to manage the estate. To Mrs. Bennet’s surprise—and irritation—he had forgotten her earlier warning forbidding him from pursuing any of her daughters, deeming him unworthy. She was further angered when he suggested courting Jane to forge a closer alliance with the family.
Recognising an opportunity, Mrs. Bennet quickly persuaded her husband to take in their cousin, the heir to Longbourn, and begin his preparations for the estate. She arranged for him to stay in the guest room and ensured his comfort.
During dinner, she listened as Mr. Collins outlined his plans for the estate. She encouraged him, flattered his ambitions, and concealed her doubts. However, when he once again voiced his intentions to court Jane that evening after dinner, Mrs. Bennet could no longer remain silent.
"Mr. Collins," she said, her voice overly bright, "you are correct—it would be such a fine match for Longbourn. Jane is indeed sweet and accomplished, and deserving of an excellent man."
Mr. Collins, ever eager to please, agreed, adding that Jane was everything a wife should be. Mrs. Bennet smiled, masking her dismay.
"Yes, Mr. Collins, of course," she replied, her tone softening as though considering his words. "But Jane has had quite a few suitors already. With her temperament, she might take longer to decide." She feigned concern, adding, "You know how these things are."
Mr. Collins nodded, puzzled but understanding. "I will give her time,” he said. "But a man must act with resolve."
Mrs. Bennet nodded, her expression calm, but her mind raced. She had no intention of letting Jane marry Mr. Collins. For now, she would let him believe he had her approval, but she had already begun considering other options. With a tight smile, she said, “Indeed, Mr. Collins. Proceed as you see fit. I am certain all will work out for the best.”
Mr. Collins beamed, pleased with her response, and Mrs. Bennet felt a quiet satisfaction at the mask she had worn so skillfully. Though her words were not the truth, they had achieved their purpose.
A few mornings later, when the carriage arrived to take Mrs. Bennet and the girls to Pemberley, Mr. Bennet raised a commotion. His protests echoed through the house, but Mrs. Bennet paid them no mind. She had made up her mind to visit her daughter in the north, and no amount of protests from her husband was going to change that fact. He had not stirred himself to stop her from anything she had wanted to do in years, and nothing would change about that now.
With a triumphant smile, Mrs. Bennet climbed into the carriage, pausing at the door to deliver a smug parting shot. “Mr. Bennet,” she said sweetly, “you were the one who thought it so wise to begin training your successor when you thought he might marry our Lizzy, so he might take over Longbourn without issue. Now, you have the perfect opportunity to teach him all you and Lizzy have done over the years. It should be no more challenging than instructing our daughter when she was but a girl. Mr. Collins is, after all, a university man and ought to grasp these matters just as well—if not better—than any young woman. Have you not always claimed that men are far superior in such matters?”
With that, she gave a satisfied grin and settled back into her seat, her eyes glinting with triumph. The carriage rolled forward, leaving Mr. Bennet to endure Mr. Collins’s company alone. Mrs. Bennet was content with the knowledge that her time away from Longbourn would be spent with Elizabeth and Darcy, and her husband, well, he would have no one to blame but himself for the situation he now found himself in.
Only hours after her departure, Mr. Bennet was already deeply exasperated by Mr. Collins’s pompous declarations and foolish schemes. Mr. Collins showed an alarming lack of understanding about estate management despite his education, and his suggestions ranged from ill-informed to downright ridiculous. By evening, Mr. Bennet was already ruing his wife’s decision to punish him by leaving him to manage this situation alone.
“Cousin Bennet,” Collins began, puffing out his chest, “I propose we convert the eastern field into an orchard—apples, pears, perhaps even plums! A forward-thinking endeavour, would you not agree?”
Mr. Bennet arched a brow. “An orchard, you say? Have you considered how long it takes for such trees to mature?”
“Well, no, but I am sure the profit would outweigh the delay,” Collins stammered, thinking of how well he had enjoyed those fruits at Rosings when Lady Catherine would permit him to eat the fruit that was not appropriate for her own table.
“Where exactly will I obtain the funds to purchase these trees?” Mr. Bennet asked mildly.
Collins blinked. “The estate’s income should be sufficient.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Bennet said dryly. “Perhaps if we stopped feeding the tenants, we could redirect the funds from that to this grand venture.”
Collins missed the sarcasm entirely. “Yes, yes, a temporary measure, of course! I knew you would understand the brilliance of my plan.”
Suppressing a groan, Mr. Bennet pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Collins, managing an estate requires more than grand ideas. It requires a thorough understanding of the land, the tenants, and, dare I say it, reality. It is not so easy to do as you suggest.”
“But Lady Catherine praised my aptitude in this area!” Collins protested. “She said every great estate should have an orchard to sustain it.”
“So we do, Mr. Collins, but we do not need to add to it since it is enough for our needs. Nor is Lady Catherine here to marvel at your talents. Given what I heard of that lady from my daughter and new son, she was not one to be admired.”
Since his bishop had taken him to task for this very thing, Collins did not know how to respond.
That evening, the two gentlemen sat in heavy silence after the meal. Mr. Collins appeared deep in thought, grappling with the revelations about Lady Catherine’s flawed ideas and understanding. Meanwhile, Mr. Bennet silently lamented the choices that had left him alone in the company of such a tiresome guest.
When Mrs. Bennet, Jane, and Mary boarded the carriage Darcy had sent to convey them to Pemberley, they were accompanied by a maid, two footmen, and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, who had been granted six weeks of leave from the military after assisting with the militia in Hertfordshire.
The colonel had requested this leave, to which he was entitled but rarely used, for he had discovered some interesting information that he wished to share with his cousin. He also appreciated that it allowed him to remain close to Miss Jane Bennet longer than he might have done otherwise. Since meeting the lady, he had often wished that things could be different, for he rather liked her, but could not pursue her because he could not afford to marry her and support her in the manner he felt she deserved.
Although it was January, the weather was pleasant enough for the first part of the journey that Fitzwilliam chose to ride alongside the carriage. As he rode, he turned over in his mind the unsettling news he needed to share with Darcy. He had discovered that his father was not only behind Lady Catherine’s escape from the gaol in Gravesend but also, somehow, behind her death. While Fitzwilliam was still unsure of exactly how his father had managed it, the motive was clear. Something in Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s will specified that the remainder of Lady Catherine’s jointure would revert to the Matlock family upon her death. Lord Matlock, it seemed, was determined to secure whatever funds remained, ensuring they found their way into his coffers.
Fitzwilliam had uncovered more troubling details in his investigation: his elder brother, Andrew Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ashburn, had fallen deeply into debt with a gambling den in Dartford, located alarmingly close to where Lady Catherine had met her death. This den’s proximity to the site of her murder—a coach standing where she was shot while attempting to commandeer a carriage—felt more than coincidental, particularly since the carriage owner and coachman had vanished without a trace. Curiously, the London newspapers reported her death as the result of an attack by highwaymen, a convenient distortion that, to Fitzwilliam, only underscored his suspicion that Lord Matlock was somehow involved.
Another source of concern was the state of Lady Catherine’s jointure, which was far smaller than Matlock had hoped. His brother’s debts were said to exceed twenty thousand pounds, yet the funds remaining to Lady Catherine amounted to less than five thousand—nowhere near enough to settle the debts. As a result, the creditors were threatening both the viscount and the earl with retribution. Though his brother was unmarried, the potential impact of his reckless debt on the rest of the Matlock family was troubling.
Gratefully, Lady Julia had taken refuge with her father. Despite receiving reports of threats against the countess, Fitzwilliam was confident that his brother’s adversaries would not pursue her beyond the city. Meanwhile, the viscount had disappeared; despite all Fitzwilliam’s efforts, he could not determine his brother’s whereabouts. This left Lord Matlock, for he still attended Parliament and could be found in London. There was an element of risk in taking action against a member of the peerage, but debts of honour must always be repaid.
With six weeks of leave ahead, Fitzwilliam was relieved to be able to address the matter directly. He was not close to his brother , having been raised almost completely apart from each other, and his father had given little thought to his younger son’s future.
That thought troubled him nearly as much as the difficulties surrounding his father. Over the course of the four-day journey with the Bennet ladies, Fitzwilliam found his thoughts drifting often to the eldest Miss Bennet. She was unlike any woman of his acquaintance, distinct not only from her sisters but especially from her mother. Her warmth, quiet strength, and unassuming grace set her apart, leaving him unexpectedly drawn to her steady presence. Though he did not yet know Elizabeth well, it was clear that she and Jane shared a depth and sincerity their younger sisters did not possess. Jane’s gentle composure and thoughtful nature mirrored Elizabeth’s, yet Jane had a softness where Elizabeth’s spirit shone in her lively wit and perceptiveness.
Fitzwilliam had gravitated towards Miss Bennet during his stay in Hertfordshire, and he found he enjoyed speaking to her in a way he rarely did with other women. She was sympathetic and kind, and while he knew Bingley had admired her, she had seemed to prefer his company. It struck Fitzwilliam as odd, for Bingley certainly had more to offer her financially.
Miss Bennet—Jane—deserved more than a soldier like him could offer, and for the first time in his life, Fitzwilliam regretted that he had been born a second son and that his father had done nothing to ensure his future security. He had invested as much of his income as he was able, having listened to Darcy’s suggestions and even Mr. Gardiner’s on the rare occasions they had been in company with each other in London over the years, but it was nowhere near enough for the life he believed Miss Bennet would need.
After he delivered the ladies to Pemberley, he was determined to put Miss Bennet from his mind. Perhaps if circumstances had been different, he would have tried to pursue something more with the lady, but given that they were not, it would be best to put some distance between them.