Chapter Five
ELIZABETH WOULD HAVE liked to have talked to her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, instead of writing the whole thing in a letter and sending it with a servant to her aunt’s house in London.
She supposed this might have been because she hoped that her aunt would say that the entire scheme would not do and that they must do something else.
But then, her aunt did not truly know how much it was that Caroline Bingley hated Elizabeth, for it was not something Elizabeth had shared with anyone.
After all, back when the dislike had been evident, Elizabeth had not thought much of it.
She had thought Caroline a bit petty and a bit snobbish, but largely ridiculous.
She had not been inclined to pay Caroline any mind.
Even so, Elizabeth hoped that her aunt would write back with some objection—that the cottage in Lambton would not be available for their use or that Mrs. Gardiner felt she must accompany them after all.
However, her aunt seemed relieved at the turn of events, and Elizabeth could not fault her, for she was increasing as well.
Her aunt had the burden of her entire household on her, all her children and her husband.
Elizabeth could not expect her aunt to have the energy to put Elizabeth’s cares first.
So, time passed, and preparations were made.
Mr. Bingley must have known about Elizabeth’s condition at some point, but, to his credit, his behavior to her changed not a jot in the time from then until the wedding. He seemed his regular, jovial self.
Lydia returned from Brighton, the regiment having gone on north to Newcastle, and she seemed to have had a marvelous time without Elizabeth, glad that she had come home when she did.
She teased Elizabeth mercilessly about the birds and how badly they had affected her, correctly guessing that Elizabeth had put it on to go home, and everyone in the house seemed to find this funny, but most of all her father, who still thought it was quite hilarious that he’d insisted she go to Brighton in the first place.
Eventually, Elizabeth began to feel that an escape from this household might be welcome.
They seeded their story early.
They said that Mrs. Hurst was with child, and she wished to go away during the time until she would deliver the babe.
She had asked Elizabeth if she might come and attend her along with her sister, and Elizabeth had said she would do so, of course, and there were no objections from her mother or her father.
So, it was all set to happen, after the wedding.
Elizabeth began to prepare herself for it all.
She packed a trunk. The good thing about the style of dresses that were popular now was that they all had high waists.
She might not need a new wardrobe whilst she was increasing, perhaps.
It would depend on how much she increased everywhere, she supposed, and that could happen.
Sometimes women’s bellies just swelled. Sometimes they swelled all over.
She did not like to think about that, because it made it all too real.
But it was actually happening, after all, and she must make her peace with it.
Jane was distracted but pleasant throughout.
She was never cruel to Elizabeth and she did not scold her and she did not make much of any of it.
She was rarely sympathetic, either, Elizabeth supposed, but she did not renew her accusation that Elizabeth had made it all up, and she did not indicate that she thought Elizabeth deserved to suffer, so Elizabeth did not have it in her to complain.
The wedding came upon them soon.
The day was a bright and warm autumn day, and the ceremony at the church was quick and cheery. Afterwards, the wedding breakfast was boisterous and full of ever so many people come to wish happiness to the new couple.
And then Jane was gone, and Elizabeth was alone in their bedroom again, and she felt relieved by it, she had to say, and she wondered at what had come between her sister and herself, and if it could ever be repaired.
After all, she would be unmarriageable after this.
When she came back to Longbourn, after surrendering her babe to Louisa, she would be all alone, and she had hoped to spend some of her time residing with Jane.
But given the way everything had turned out, she did not know if that would come to pass.
Elizabeth did not like to look into the future, for there was little she could see there, she found.
She had nothing to look forward to, only bleakness.
She could only hope that the babe she bore would not have a miserable life.
Louisa was not a terrible person, Elizabeth thought.
She was not as vindictive as Caroline, really more of a follower than a leader.
Mr. Hurst was also similarly not horrible, though there was nothing much to recommend him, either.
He seemed to have a singular love of card games, that was what she knew of him.
Or, no, he had only commented that her preferring reading to cards was singular?
Whatever the case, she had nothing to say in objection to the man, and she supposed that he and Louisa must be grateful that she would be providing them with a child.
Of course, neither of them had said so, not Louisa, and certainly not her husband, who had not spoken to her once during the wedding.
(He had arrived shortly beforehand and left only days afterward.)
Before long, Elizabeth was leaving for Derbyshire.
Caroline and Louisa came to collect her.
Her trunk was loaded onto the carriage. Both sisters commented extensively on how convenient it was that Elizabeth did not have a maid, because that meant that their maids fit easily on the back of the carriage, sitting outside in the September air, and that if Elizabeth’d had a maid, it would have been quite difficult to manage.
Elizabeth thought privately that there was room inside the carriage for another maid, but she kept that to herself.
They set off, then, for a journey that would take them two days. They would stop over halfway at an inn, something predetermined. Elizabeth had brought a book that she thought she would read exclusively and that should take her two days to finish. She opened it the moment they were on the road.
“Close that book this instant,” said Louisa.
Elizabeth looked up at her. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t think it can be good for the baby, all of that looking down at the book,” said Louisa. “I think it would be better if you had some sun on your face.”
Elizabeth blinked at her. Was this woman serious?
Caroline smiled at her, an awful smile. “You will indulge my sister, won’t you? You have no idea how difficult it’s been for her, all these years with her husband and no babe. She has been quite beside herself. She wishes everything to be perfect now.”
“Well,” said Louisa, “I would wish that the father of this babe not be the son of a steward, but it is what we must make do with. You will never mention to my husband that Mr. Wickham made our child, do you understand me?”
Elizabeth swallowed. “Jane told you.” She had not said a word to anyone.
“Once we heard, we agreed it was best to keep it all secret,” said Caroline. “Anyway, if you do not mind, Eliza, put that book away.”
Elizabeth wished to tell them both that she would not listen to anything that they had to say, that she would jolly well read if she liked, and that they must be kind to her or that it would upset the babe she was growing.
Instead, she closed the book and put it away. She gazed out the window.
It would not do to cause conflict so soon, she thought. It would be better to wait, to bide her time, and to save her energy for the things she really must put her foot down about. There were likely to be many things, after all.
She looked into the sun for some time, thinking nothing at all, her mind entirely blank. When she turned back, she saw that both of the sisters had books of their own, and they were reading.
That was likely intentional, Elizabeth thought, and done to make her angry. They wanted her to react. They wanted to get her off balance and to have as much fun with her as possible.
Well, she would not give them the satisfaction.
She looked out the window instead, and she pretended that she was not with child, not on a journey to shamefully hide it and to give her babe away.
Instead, she pretended that she was going to the Lakes as she should have done that summer, that she was off for a diverting holiday that would be full of joy and laughter.
She pretended she was unencumbered, her whole life ahead of her, nothing but possibilities.