Chapter 14
Music Room
Pemberley
Georgiana Darcy was playing the pianoforte, while Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy, and Mrs. Gregson sat on chairs by the fire.
Without a doubt, Miss Darcy was a truly exceptional musician.
Her fingering was excellent, but beyond that, she played with perfect timing and precision and with an obvious feel for the music.
It was also obvious that she genuinely enjoyed playing. Her expression was a grave one, but Elizabeth knew Georgiana well enough now to see the happiness in her eyes as she played her favorite music in the house of her ancestors.
Elizabeth’s eyes shifted to Mr. Darcy, whose gaze was fixed on his sister’s face.
It was truly incredible how much had changed in the last few weeks.
She had thought him the very worst of men, and she now knew him to be one of the very best. He was a genuinely excellent brother, a wonderful landlord and master to his tenants, and … and a good friend to her.
As if he felt her eyes on him, he suddenly turned and their eyes met. She could not help the blush that started at her neck and rose to wash her face with pink. She wondered if he could see it. She hoped he could not in the dim light of candles and firelight.
He smiled at her tenderly, and she smiled back, even as her heart twinged uncomfortably. No matter how she fought it, she knew she was falling in love, and to a man who was out of her reach.
***
Cheapside
26th December 1811
Bennet,
Thank you for the information regarding Elizabeth, that she was seen with a Mrs. Gregson at Hookham’s library. It definitely gives more precise knowledge about my niece’s whereabouts.
Of course, it is possible that the woman in question was using a false name.
Sincerely,
Edward Gardiner
***
Hunsford Parsonage
Kent
27th December 1811
Dear Mr. Bennet,
I hope that this letter finds you and your entire family well, especially my Cousin Elizabeth.
I assume that she has by now recovered entirely from her illness and is eagerly looking forward to our nuptials.
I will plan to journey to Longbourn on 8th January with the intention of being wed on the 9th.
I understand that Mrs. Bennet, most graciously, wishes to host a wedding breakfast, and Lady Catherine advises that we spend the night at Longbourn before journeying on the 10th to Hunsford, given that the nights are still long.
Lady Catherine has done me the honor of advising me concerning the mistress’s room here at the parsonage.
I have, at her behest, had the bed moved several inches closer to the window and added a chair and a small writing desk, as my patroness assures me that every lady ought to spend a substantial amount of time writing letters.
She has also informed that my wife will be permitted to practice the pianoforte in the housekeeper’s room at Rosings, as she will be in no one’s way in that part of the mansion.
It is important that Elizabeth continue practicing on the instrument regularly, as she will be expected to entertain Lady Catherine and her charming daughter, Miss de Bourgh, on a regular basis.
I will plan to see you on 8th January.
Sincerely,
William Collins
***
28th December
Dear Jane,
I saw in the paper that you and Mr. Bingley are married. I am so happy for you.
I remain safe. Pray do not look for me.
Love,
Elizabeth
***
Netherfield Hall
28th December 1811
Darcy,
I am so very happy. I hope that one day you will find a lady whom you love as I love Jane. She is a magnificent woman, my wife. In spite of very little time, she managed to help Mrs. Nicholls in providing Boxing Day gifts for our servants and tenants.
I am extremely grateful for your assistance with Netherfield this autumn, my friend. I have much more understanding of how to be a good master of an estate.
Jane, however, is providing guidance where you probably cannot. She grew up on an estate and understands the duty of the mistress of Netherfield Hall. The servants love her already, certainly far more than they loved my sisters.
Well, they did not love Caroline at all, as she treated them poorly.
I trust that you and Miss Darcy are well and that Pemberley is beautiful, though of course it is. I hope you know that the doors of Netherfield are always open to you, my friend.
Sincerely,
Charles Bingley
P.S. You have doubtless noticed one beneficial aspect of my marriage already.
You can read this letter! Jane, very kindly, very gently, very graciously, suggested that after I wrote a letter full of blots and crossed-out words, I write it again cleanly.
I did so. I am confident that it is quite legible.
***
Cheapside
2nd January 1812
Bennet,
I visited Hookham’s library and tried to discover the location of Mrs. Gregson. After some judicious payment, a clerk agreed to look up her name in the books, and it does exist, but there was no address associated with it.
I could, I suppose, put an announcement in the papers promising a reward for anyone with information about a Mrs. Gregson. If you wish me to do that, let me know.
Sincerely,
Edward Gardiner
***
Longbourn
4th January 1812
Mr. Collins,
I fear I must write you with sad news. Elizabeth had not recovered well from scarlet fever, but instead she was experiencing very serious complications.
The doctor attending her says that she has brain fever, and unfortunately, the cousin you met some weeks ago is no longer capable of much of anything.
I therefore, as my daughter’s father, am formally ending the engagement between you and Elizabeth. I regret this exceedingly, but it would not be fair for you to be saddled with a wife who is incapable of serving as the wife you deserve. Lady Catherine, I know, would not approve.
Sincerely,
Thomas Bennet
***
Longbourn
5th January 1812
Gardiner,
No, do not bother about putting a notice in the papers. I was forced by circumstance to end the engagement between Collins and Elizabeth. I am washing my hands of her for now. When she crawls back, well…
I appreciate your help, Gardiner, very much.
Sincerely,
Thomas Bennet
***
Dining Room
5th January 1812
Longbourn
Mr. Bennet's mood was as sour as an unripe berry.
He did not care for being foiled, and he hotly resented being flouted in such important matters as the future security of his wife and daughters.
Yet that was exactly what had happened; he had been compelled to dispatch a letter that morning to his heir, informing Collins that the engagement was at an end.
It was infuriating to have his hand forced by an intractable chit of a girl, but there it was; he had run out of time to stall.
As enraging as it was to be obliged to cancel the engagement, he was now left in the even worse position of informing Mrs. Bennet that the marriage to which she was looking forward so eagerly would not come to pass.
She would be loudly and vociferously dismayed by this, and he would have no peace at all for days while she wailed and sulked about it.
He would have to remind her, over and over, of Jane's marriage to a wealthy man, to try to divert her mind into less tiresome channels.
It would all be very annoying, and it was quite unfair that he would have to deal with Mrs. Bennet's lacerated nerves when the entire circumstance was Elizabeth's fault!
He hoped viciously that she was realizing the error of her ways.
Her pin money would not carry her far in London, and probably she was now cowering in a fireless hovel in the slums of the great city, shivering and with hunger gnawing her belly.
It would serve her right for exerting her own will against her father's when he so obviously knew what was best for her!
She had left him in an embarrassing position, and she deserved to be miserable for it, far from the warmth and safety and bounty of his table.
Mr. Bennet glanced around said table with a jaundiced eye.
The food was admittedly excellent, but the company was severely lacking these days.
Mrs. Bennet had once been handsome, which had been enough in her youth to make up for the fact that she was a fool with nothing of interest to say.
Now, with her beauty ravaged by time, she was merely tiresome.
Jane could always be counted upon to contribute sensibly to any conversation, but now Charles Bingley was the beneficiary of her gentle words rather than the Bennets.
Elizabeth had proven by forsaking her home that she was not nearly so smart as she thought she was, but at least she had been reasonably interesting over dinner.
Mary let her pedantry with details and preachy moralizing get in the way of any truly scintillating discussion, while as for Lydia and Kitty, a more vapid, vacuous pair Mr. Bennet had never met and never wished to.
Were his evening, without exception, to be like this now?
Buffeted by the frivolity of lightminded females?
Was he to anticipate every meal being an excruciating ordeal to be endured?
So it would seem. It was really too bad that the only other two members of the household who could converse sensibly were lost to him, one to another man and another dining room, and the other to … to … running away like an idiot!
“Harriet Whitman is apparently an heiress with fifteen thousand pounds,” Lydia said as she lavishly buttered a piece of bread. “That is why Colonel Forster is going to marry her.”
“She is more fortunate than you girls, then,” Mrs. Bennet said as she cut her ham up into tidy bites, “though now that Jane is well married, and Elizabeth soon will be, all will be well when your father dies.”
Mr. Bennet realized, regretfully, that this was the perfect segue for his announcement.
“As for that, Mrs. Bennet,” he said, “today I sent a letter to Mr. Collins ending his engagement to Elizabeth.”
Kitty froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, Mary’s eyes flared wide open, and Lydia gasped. Bennet’s gaze shifted from one daughter to another, to another and finally to his wife’s face, which was frozen with shock.
Thirty seconds passed in glorious silence, and then…
“What?!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked. “What?!”
Bennet was strongly tempted to leave the room, but it was vital that he provide his version of the situation to his wife and daughters, who would doubtless run out and gossip about it as soon as was possible.
“Lizzy has been ill, you know,” he said, managing with difficulty to produce a mournful expression.
“There have regrettably been some complications with her recovery, and Mr. Collins is not willing to wait to see if she will recover sufficiently to be a good wife. Thus, the engagement is at an end.”
Again, there was silence, and then Kitty, rather to his surprise, asked in a trembling tone, “What kind of complications?”
He blinked at her and after a moment’s cogitation said, “She is exceptionally dizzy and is struggling to breathe well. The doctor looking after her is hopeful that she will fully recover in time, but there is no absolute certainty that she will do so, either.”
“But I am certain,” Mrs. Bennet said in a strangled voice, “that she will be better soon. She has always been very strong, my Lizzy. Surely Mr. Collins will wait…”
“He will not, Mrs. Bennet,” her husband said coolly and took a welcome sip of wine. “And I can hardly blame him. He agreed to wed a healthy young lady, and Elizabeth is no longer healthy. It would not be fair to him to allow the engagement to continue.”
“But Mr. Bennet, oh, Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet cried out. “Our security! Longbourn!”
“It is a great pity,” Bennet said, “but at least Jane is very well married and Mr. Bingley is a kind and honorable man.”
“I think I ought to journey to London,” Mary said.
He looked at her, bewildered. “Travel to London? Why on earth would you do that?”
His plainest daughter straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I believe it to be my duty, Father. The Gardiners have their own children to care for, and I am certain that they would welcome my assistance in looking after Lizzy.”
He blinked at her, his mind racing.
“Mary, my dear,” he said, forcing himself to use a gentle tone, “that is very kind of you, but it is not necessary. Elizabeth is being cared for by a friend of the Gardiners, a Mrs. Gregson, who is ensuring that she is very well.”
“Mrs. Gregson?” Mrs. Bennet demanded. “I have never heard of her!”
“Of course you have not,” Bennet said, allowing himself to sound irritable. “The Gardiners have a great many friends whom none of us know. But this Mrs. Gregson is an honorable woman and will take good care of Elizabeth.”
To his relief, Mary nodded and said, “Very well, then, sir. I am glad she is being cared for well.”
“Of course she is,” he replied firmly.
For the first time, he was pleased when Lydia turned the conversation back to red-coated officers, although based on Mrs. Bennet’s frowning countenance, she was stewing over the end of the engagement.
Bennet returned to his dinner, though with considerable disquiet.