Sisterly Bonds in Pride and Prejudice
Chapter 1
On the morning of the eighth of March, Elizabeth found herself seated in a post-chaise bound for London, with the further intention of proceeding, in due course, to Hunsford in Kent.
Her companions were Sir William Lucas and his younger daughter Maria, both of whom appeared equally determined to extract every possible pleasure from the expedition and neither of whom seemed inclined to allow a single mile to pass in silence.
Sir William, whose satisfaction in the connection of his eldest daughter to Mr Collins remained undiminished by time or distance, spoke almost without interruption of that gentleman’s excellent situation in life.
“A living of some consequence, my dear Miss Eliza. Quite a respectable income — and the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself! One cannot sufficiently admire the prudence of such an establishment. Charlotte is a fortunate woman, and I have no doubt we shall find her very comfortably settled. Mr Collins writes that the garden is already in excellent order, and that the chickens—”
Here Maria, who had been leaning forwards with bright eyes, interrupted to enquire whether there would be any balls in the neighbourhood of Rosings and whether Lady Catherine’s guests were known to dance.
Sir William, undaunted, merely shifted his discourse to the probable elegance of the drawing-room at the parsonage and the honour of being invited to Rosings Park itself.
“My dear Maria, let us not even mention such silliness to Mr Collins and especially not to her ladyship,” Sir William scolded his daughter.
“If you paid more careful attention, you would remember Mr Collins spoke of Lady Catherine’s daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, who has fragile health and needs peace and quiet.
Surely they cannot think of balls, dances, or parties.
I hope we shall not discuss this matter again. ”
“We shall not, Papa. I am sorry.”
“Good. I need to be certain you will behave flawlessly, as I shall only stay in Kent a few days but you will remain there under your sister’s care. We must be extremely careful not to offend Lady Catherine, so it would best if you speak as little as possible!”
“Yes, Papa,” Maria replied promptly.
Elizabeth listened with the composure of one long accustomed to Sir William’s conversational style and with a private amusement she took care not to display.
She was, in truth, in excellent spirits.
The prospect of seeing Jane after a three-month separation filled her with the warmest anticipation; the Gardiners’ house in Gracechurch Street had always been a place of cheerful refuge; and the thought of Charlotte—dear, sensible Charlotte—settled at last in her own home, however odd the circumstances of that settlement might once have seemed, brought her genuine pleasure.
Yet as the carriage rolled on and the conversation of her companions continued its steady course, Elizabeth’s thoughts, as was their frequent habit, wandered into less comfortable territory.
Mr Wickham. The name still carried a certain bitterness.
He was now, by all accounts, paying marked attention to Miss Mary King, who had recently inherited the sum of ten thousand pounds and whose sudden good fortune had rendered her, in the eyes of Meryton, considerably more interesting than she had formerly been.
Elizabeth could not pretend that the knowledge left her entirely indifferent, but it affected her too little to assume she carried any deep feelings for that gentleman.
She still found him exceedingly handsome and amiable; she had listened with sympathy to his history of misfortunes caused by the arrogant and resentful Mr Darcy.
Mr Darcy. That gentleman’s character remained, in her private estimation, a study in contradictions.
He had, she was still convinced, treated Mr Wickham with unjust severity; he had, with equal certainty, separated Mr Bingley from Jane with a coldness that bordered on cruel.
Jane’s quiet endurance of disappointment had only deepened Elizabeth’s resentment.
That Mr Darcy should have judged her sister’s worthiness or her family’s situation as beneath notice was an offence she could neither forget nor easily forgive.
She was still turning these reflections over when a sudden change in the atmosphere of the carriage claimed her attention.
Sir William, who had been in the midst of describing the probable dimensions of Mr Collins’s dining parlour, paused and began to cough, then pressed a hand to his forehead and declared that he felt most uncommonly unwell.
Maria, after a moment’s hesitation, confessed that she, too, was experiencing a decided shivering and that her throat was beginning to feel remarkably dry.
“It must have been the rain two days ago,” Sir William pronounced with gravity. “One cannot be too careful of spring’s whimsical weather. A fever, I fear, is not impossible at this time.”
“I feel warm, too, Papa. And a little dizzy,” Maria agreed in a small voice.
“Oh dear, if we are falling ill, we cannot possibly present ourselves to Mr Collins, and even less so to Lady Catherine,” Sir William uttered in a whining tone.
Both father and daughter regarded Elizabeth with the hopeful air of invalids who expected sympathy and, if possible, a more comfortable arrangement of the rugs.
Elizabeth, though privately suspecting that the anticipation of the journey and a certain excess of conversation had contributed as much as the rain, expressed all the proper concern.
“I am sure my aunt has some medicine that will help you recover. If needed, she will fetch her doctor. Until then, allow me to arrange the blankets around you to keep you warm. And we should stop at the next inn to purchase you some tea.”
“And a brandy, if you do not mind, Miss Eliza.”
“And a brandy, Sir William,” Elizabeth replied.
The remainder of the journey was conducted at a more subdued pace, Sir William’s remarks growing shorter and Maria’s replies more languid, until they fell asleep. Finally, with a little delay, the carriage turned into Gracechurch Street and drew up before the familiar door of the Gardiners’ house.
They were received with the warmest welcome.
Mrs Gardiner came forward at once with open arms; Mr Gardiner’s cheerful voice was heard from the parlour; and Jane — dear Jane, looking rather pale yet with the same gentle sweetness that had always distinguished her — embraced her sister with a quiet joy.
The travellers were drawn inside, divested of their cloaks, and established before a comfortable fire.
“My dear Mrs Gardiner, I fear we shall bother you for longer than we intended,” Sir William declared. “My daughter and I find ourselves overcome by something that might be a cold, so I shall keep a distance from you and your lovely children.”
“I am sorry to hear that, sir! Allow me to show you to your rooms, and I shall bring you up some herbal tea. Do you think I should fetch the doctor?”
“If it is not too much trouble. We must be sure how affected our health is before we dare travel into Kent. We cannot bring any illness to Mr Collins or, God forbid, Lady Catherine and her daughter.”
“I see,” Mrs Gardiner replied, exchanging some glances with her husband and nieces. “Then I shall send a servant for Dr Green. In the meantime, you should rest. I trust you will find the guest rooms comfortable enough.”
While Mrs Gardiner directed the two Lucases out of the room, Elizabeth remained with Jane and her uncle.
The sisters were seated next to each other, holding hands after a separation of over two months.
“We are very happy to have you here, Lizzy,” Mr Gardiner declared.
“As I am happy to be here, Uncle. Always!”
“I missed you so much, Lizzy,” Jane said softly. “I am just sorry that you have to leave again so soon.”
“Well, she might not leave as soon as she planned,” Mrs Gardiner interjected, entering the room. “I thought Sir William was exaggerating, as he often does, but in fact he is quite feverish. I have sent for Dr Green, and Jenny is preparing a medicinal tea.”
“What a misfortune for him,” Elizabeth said with amusement. “People do not die from trifling colds, as Mama says, but the change of plans will surely hurt him and Mr Collins deeply.”
“Yes, he mentioned that several times.” Mrs Gardiner smiled. “We shall wait for the doctor to examine him and see what happens next. In the meantime, let us enjoy a cup of tea while Lizzy shares the news from Longbourn.”
Half an hour later, the doctor arrived. He diligently examined both patients and concluded they indeed had a cold. Furthermore, he recommended that both of them remain in their rooms for several days.
“I have had many patients, from the highest to the lowest social circles, with this type of cold this time of the year,” Dr Green said.
“It mostly passes easily, with the aid of medicine for the fever and coughing, hot tea, and hot soup. Still, a servant should look in on them from time to time during the night, as the fever might increase and become dangerous.”
“Oh dear, it sounds quite serious,” Mrs Gardiner said.
“It is not life-threatening, but it is not to be neglected. I suggest keeping the children away from the patients until I say otherwise as it might be contagious to them.”
“Of course. We shall follow all your advice, Doctor,” Mrs Gardiner assured him.
“So…may I ask,” Elizabeth interjected, “when do you estimate they will be recovered so we can continue our journey to Kent?”
“Well, considering it is just a cold, you may travel if you absolutely must, though I would strongly advise against it. If all goes well, they should be fully recovered in about a week.”
“Yes, I remember it took me about a week last autumn, when I had a cold,” Jane whispered.
With that, Mr Gardiner accompanied Dr Green out, while the ladies debated his conclusions.
It was decided they must write to Mr Collins; Sir William, as ill as he felt, insisted on doing so himself.
Elizabeth also wrote a few words to Charlotte directly, explaining there was no real cause for concern.
Another letter was sent to Longbourn, with the request that Mr Bennet inform Lady Lucas.
With those matters settled, the two patients were given food and medicine and finally fell asleep, while the family gathered for dinner.
Afterwards, Elizabeth and Jane withdrew to their shared chamber, finally having the chance to talk privately, something they both had dearly missed.
“What news do you have from Meryton, Lizzy? I, for one, have nothing new to share. Aunt Gardiner is very caring and attentive. She has taken me shopping and to the theatre and even to some parties…but I did not meet anyone of particular interest.”
“I am sorry to hear that, dearest. I have no special news from Meryton either. I saw Mr Wickham a few days ago, but I expect I shall not encounter him often in the future… He seems more interested in pursuing Mary King.”
“Oh…how unfortunate. I imagine this makes you sad…”
‘Not really,” Elizabeth answered. “In fact, it affected me less than I expected. I do consider him a friend, and I wish him all the best, but nothing more.”
“I am relieved to see you so reasonable, Lizzy. One must be prudent, sometimes against the whispers of one’s heart… Prudence might protect one from too much suffering.”
“Dearest, I understand your meaning,” Elizabeth replied, embracing her sister.
“As for me, my heart did not whisper in particular favour of Mr Wickham. I mean, yes, he is handsome and amiable, but even if I had a significant fortune that would allow me to choose freely, I doubt I would have wished to marry him. I do like him, and I do pity him for all he has suffered at the hands of Mr Darcy. I wish him well but nothing more.”
“I truly admire your fortitude, dear Lizzy. You master your feelings so well.”
Elizabeth kissed her sister’s cheek with a short laugh.
“It is not fortitude, Jane, just carelessness. It is easy to master sentiments that do not exist. As for your feelings, dearest, please do not waste them on those unworthy of them. And I mean a certain gentleman as well as his dishonest sisters.”
“Do not fret, Lizzy. I have resigned myself to never seeing any of them again,” said Jane. Her sister’s quiet voice, burdened by sadness, sharpened Elizabeth’s anger even further towards Mr Darcy and the entire Bingley family.
If she were to meet any of them again, she would certainly give them a piece of her mind.
Mr Darcy was arrogant and thoughtless of the feelings of others.
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were deceitful and two-faced, while Mr Bingley was certainly a fool.
He would never meet another woman as beautiful, kind-hearted, sweet, and generous as Jane.
He simply did not deserve her, and Elizabeth could not refrain from praying he would be miserable and regretful for abandoning her.
***
In the morning, the two patients were attended to according to Doctor Green’s orders. Sir William appeared to be worse than Maria, but he was mostly preoccupied with the reply expected from Mr Collins.
After breakfast, Mr Gardiner attended to his business, while the children played in their room under their nursemaid’s supervision.
“What would you say to taking a carriage ride and doing some shopping?” Mrs Gardiner asked her nieces.
“That would be lovely,” Elizabeth immediately answered. “I was about to suggest it myself — not so much for shopping, but I imagine Hyde Park must be lovely in spring.”
“To you, any park is lovely at any time, Lizzy.” Mrs Gardiner laughed. “Very well. Let me settle things with the children, and then we shall go.”