Chapter 5
On Thursday the nineteenth of March, Elizabeth Bennet, Sir William, and Maria Lucas arrived at Hunsford parsonage in Kent, the new home of her friend Charlotte Collins.
The first few days were as expected. Charlotte showed them all around her little home: the gardens, the small orchard, her chicken coop (of which Charlotte was exceedingly proud), the kitchen garden, and, of course, the house.
The friends drank tea and caught up, sharing all their news and laughing together.
On Monday, they were invited to take tea at Rosings Park, home of Lady Catherine De Bourgh, personal advisor to Mr. Collins and benefactress of his small living.
After bowing deeply and reciting a small monologue on how charming Miss De Bourgh looked and how fine her mother’s dress was, Mr. Collins introduced his new family, Sir William and Maria Lucas, and his distant cousin, who would sadly be without a home when he inherited her father’s estate in Hertfordshire, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Lady Catherine looked them all over and nodded, and directed them each to seats around hers, placed in such a way that she could see everyone with only a tiny turn of her head. After questioning Sir William for a few moments and finding herself bored, she moved on to Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet, you come from Hertfordshire?” she called in strident tones.
“Yes, ma’am. Near a town called Meryton,” answered Elizabeth.
“You live on your father’s estate?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It is entailed on Mr. Collins. It is fortunate for my rector but quite disconcerting for you,” continued Lady Catherine. “You have no brothers?”
“No, ma’am.”
She tsked. “A pity. Whenever there is an entailment, sons should always be born. Rosings has no such encroachment. Anne will inherit everything.” She smiled at her pale daughter sitting to her left. Anne smiled weakly back and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
Elizabeth only nodded and sipped her tea.
Several minutes went by with nothing heard but the tinkling of china as cups were placed on saucers. The lone bird chirping outside the window seemed uncommonly loud.
“You are the eldest, Miss Bennet?” asked Lady Catherine.
“No, I am the second.”
“And how many of you are there?” she asked with a suspicious look, as if she expected additional Bennet sisters to leap out from behind the tapestry.
“We are five sisters, ma’am,” replied Elizabeth.
“Five!” Lady Catherine clutched her chest as if she couldn’t breathe. “And you only the second?”
“Yes.”
“And you are out.”
“Yes.”
“Is your elder sister married?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Are your younger sisters out?”
“One, ma’am.”
“Well, three daughters out, and none married! Your mother should take you to town for a season. Surely at least one of you could find a husband,” Lady Catherine advised.
“My eldest sister is currently having a season in London,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh! Oh, well that is good. Very good, as she should do.” Lady Catherine smiled as if her advice had just been taken and continued her inquisition.
“Do you play, Miss Bennet?” Lady Catherine continued her questioning.
“Yes, ma’am, but not very well,” answered Elizabeth.
“She has a lovely singing voice,” Charlotte added, but was ignored completely.
“You should practice! That is the only way to become truly proficient. You must play for us while you are here. Mrs. Collins always hits the keys too hard. I have told her she must practice to achieve true proficiency.” She glared at Charlotte. “Do your sisters play?”
“Yes, ma’am, all,” Elizabeth replied. Jane had only mastered simple tunes, Kitty was little better, and Lydia could hardly make it through her scales, but they were playing. Besides, she and Mary had improved markedly; that had to count for something.
Lady Catherine nodded approvingly. “And do you all sing?”
“All but one, ma’am.”
“Do you draw?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I am not very talented. My sisters fare much better than I.”
“Do they all draw?”
“Yes, all.”
“Which languages do you speak?”
“Only French and English, ma’am.”
“Well, that is something at least.” She glared at Charlotte again. “I don’t know why anyone wants to learn that dreadful German. All that spitting and hacking. It makes one sound positively ill!”
Elizabeth smiled. “I agree, Lady Catherine.”
The great lady nodded again. “And that Italian! Entirely too much enthusiasm. It isn’t good for one’s health.”
Elizabeth hid her smile behind her teacup.
“Miss Lucas,” called Lady Catherine. At this, Maria’s head shot up and her eyes went wide as saucers, “do you play and sing? Perhaps you and Miss Bennet could perform a duet for us.”
“Oh! I, well, I…” she stammered, looking helplessly from Elizabeth to her sister and back to Lady Catherine.
Finally, Elizabeth rose and spoke. “What a wonderful idea, Lady Catherine. Come, Miss Lucas. I will play and we shall sing together.”
Maria smiled gratefully and quickly followed Elizabeth through a set of open doors to the pianoforte. It was in a small room connected to the drawing room, able to be closed off but appearing as if it were open most of the time.
Elizabeth looked through the music and chose a simple country song, not too vigorous, and gave Maria the alto part while she took the soprano.
Maria had a full, soft voice, but not having had any formal training, she didn’t really know how to use it to her advantage.
Elizabeth had previously been a moderately good singer and middling player, but nearly four months of daily lessons can improve one rather quickly, and she could now play significantly more difficult pieces than she could prior to her lessons, with fewer mistakes and better timing.
Her voice had also become more confident and with the frequent exercise, she had expanded her range, allowing her to sing a wider variety of songs.
When they were through, the gentlemen clapped and complimented the ladies.
“That was nicely done, Miss Bennet. Play us another. Miss Lucas, you may turn her pages,” Lady Catherine declared.
Elizabeth stifled her laugh and winked at Maria, who gladly turned the pages while she sang. After half an hour, Elizabeth rose from the bench and rejoined the group in the drawing room.
“Miss Bennet, if you want to maintain your voice and your skills, you must practice. Mrs. Collins has no instrument, but I have told her that she may play in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room.
She would be in nobody’s way, in that part of the house.
I now extend the same invitation to you.
” She smiled beneficently, as if she were bestowing a great treat.
“Thank you, ma’am. I would love to be able to practice, but I do not want to disturb Mrs. Jenkinson’s private quarters,” said Elizabeth.
“Nonsense! She wouldn’t be disturbed at all. I insist,” declared Lady Catherine.
Knowing her father would want her to take every opportunity to practice, and remembering her promise to him, Elizabeth nodded and agreed.
Midday Tuesday, after taking a walk in a very pretty grove and helping Charlotte with some cooking, Elizabeth gathered her sheet music and went to Rosings.
She asked the butler to direct her to Mrs. Jenkinson’s room where she was to practice her music.
He made no expression, but Elizabeth thought he must feel how irregular this was.
After all, she was the daughter of a gentleman and this was the companion’s private room.
She could not help but feel she was both invading another’s privacy and disturbing the delicate balance that existed between servant and served, or in this case, almost servant.
But she had made a promise to practice and practice she would.
He led her downstairs to an apartment not far from the servant’s hall.
She could hear the noise of the kitchen in the distance.
The room was neat and tidy and furnished comfortably but sparsely.
Elizabeth thanked the butler and closed the door behind her, quickly setting out her music and glancing at the clock.
One hour; she would practice for one hour and then she would go.
Reading through the new sheet music her father had bought for her, Elizabeth set herself to working on the first movement.
She picked her way through the opening chords and carefully began to play.
She sincerely hoped few of the staff were around, for she knew her playing did her no credit.
After fifty long, tedious minutes of working on Mozart, she stretched her cramped back and flexed her fingers.
Just for fun, she began a lively jig she had often played at home for dances and that she knew from memory.
The piece brought a smile to her face, especially since it was so much easier for her to play it now than it had been before, and she laughed freely and moved on to another, a lively Scottish air that she sang along with, attempting the brogue passably and cheering herself considerably in the process.
After playing and singing two more songs, she realized she had gone over her self-imposed time limit and quickly jumped up, gathering her music together and dashing out of the room.
She nearly ran into two maids in the hall who seemed to have been listening near the door. Elizabeth excused herself and hurried upstairs.
Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, she had created quite a stir below stairs.
The housekeeper had been angry to have the room used for such a purpose.
Angry at the mistress for suggesting it and angry at the young lady for accepting.
It would disrupt her staff and upset Mrs. Jenkinson, whom she would have to soothe later.
But she eventually decided not to be upset about something she could not change and made herself scarce for the duration of the young lady’s visit.
Once Elizabeth had begun, the kitchen staff, busy preparing dinner, smiled to each other to hear the instrument being played.
Of course, the practice was not very enjoyable to listen to.
It wasn’t bad exactly, but neither was it pleasant, so they tried to ignore it and went on about their business.
But once she got going and began playing jigs, two scullery maids grabbed each other by the arms and danced through the kitchen, Cook hollering at them to stay out of the way.
One of the footmen came out of the silver room and danced a quick jig with the undercook, and for a good fifteen minutes, the kitchen of Rosings Park was a very happy place.
And so a new routine was set. Elizabeth began every morning with a walk through the park, then helped Charlotte in the kitchen, improving her own cooking skills in the process.
She answered her letters and had tea with her friends, then went to Rosings for an hour of practice.
She went over her time on several occasions, but not terribly, and she always ended every practice session with a few songs she knew, unknowingly creating regular afternoon dances for the servants.
She did her singing practice on her daily walk.
She would wander through manicured gardens and wild groves, singing scales and simple tunes to warm up her voice, then practicing the newer pieces that tested her range.
On more than one occasion she was joined in song by the local birds, an experience that never failed to make her laugh.
When she returned from her morning walk Thursday, Charlotte informed Elizabeth of the impending arrival of Lady Catherine’s nephews.
“Her nephews? As in more than one?” Elizabeth asked.
Charlotte nodded.
“Did she say which ones?”
“I’m afraid not, but I think Mr. Darcy is one of them. She spoke of him quite a bit before you arrived and mentioned an impending visit,” replied Charlotte.
“Oh! I wish it were any nephew but him! Why is he tormenting me? Does he not know how I loath to see him?”
“I’ll be sure to tell him to consult your feelings on all future familial visits when I next see him, Miss Bennet,” Charlotte teased.
“Thank you, Charlotte. You are a dear.”
Charlotte laughed and left the room, leaving Elizabeth alone.
“Of all the estates in England, his aunt must live in the one my cousin is vicar to. Of course!”
She blew out her candle and went to sleep, making plans to avoid Mr. Darcy as much as possible. Hopefully the second nephew wouldn’t be so bad, but judging by the rest of the family, she wouldn’t hold out too much hope.