Chapter Twenty-Three
When the word “elope” is spoken, the natural associations are disapproval, scandal, and disgrace.
Juliet could not but be shocked by it, even when spoken by so proper and beloved a man as Jonathan Darcy was to her.
“We cannot,” she said. “The breach between you and your family will be fixed from that time on. We will never be forgiven!”
“If my parents do not forgive you, only for having had a trick played upon you, then their forgiveness can matter but little to me.” Jonathan spoke haltingly at first, yet his words became surer as he continued.
“As for your family—your grandfather has already disowned you, and in this way, your parents would not be forced to give up their home and living for your sake.”
Juliet did not think peace within the Tilneys would be so easily achieved, but would not her parents indeed be preserved from want in this way?
“Yet the two of us have no money. The pittance my grandfather gave me for this journey is almost exhausted; I can pay for the post coach home, perhaps a meal at an inn, no more.”
Still Jonathan would not be discouraged.
“I have some money set aside. My parents gave me a very liberal allowance at school and at Oxford, I believe so that I might be free to dine and drink merrily and have various adventures with friends. As I dined at a minimum, drank even less often, and made not one solitary friend, I always had a great deal left over in the bank, and over the years, it has compounded. To be sure, it is not a fortune. This sum will sustain us for a year, maybe two, if we live very modestly in an inn or boardinghouse. Surely it cannot compare to the estate I will be surrendering. Yet we will be together, and this is more important than anything else.”
The thoughts that rushed in dizzied Juliet, whirling her about to see possibilities she had never glimpsed before. “But the scandal of it. We are already scandalous!”
“If scandal is already so attached to our names, then let it remain so.” Jonathan paused. “I should mention that I do not suggest any impropriety. We shall board separately and respectably until such time as we can be married.”
“Of course, sir.” Juliet had not even got so far as that. “Yet what will become of us after that year has passed? When we have money no longer?”
Jonathan did not feel so confident on this point, she could tell, but he said, “I am not without education or resource. I suppose I shall…work. Probably I could read law.”
The law was a profession acceptable among gentlemen, though often as but a stepping stone into politics. Juliet had never even attempted to imagine Jonathan—or any other gentleman she knew—in any place so peculiar as an office. Could this be done? “Will not our scandal hold you back in that way?”
“Probably so,” Jonathan admitted, “but it is my belief that while ninety-nine men of a hundred would object, there would also be one sympathetic to a young couple who wed for love despite disapproval. We need but one to give me that opportunity.”
Was this perhaps correct? She put one hand to her forehead. “I must think—I must think.”
Her disownment ought to have simplified her deliberations.
Were Juliet to go home to Gloucestershire, the consequences for her parents would be grave.
They would be cast from their home, her father from his work, made to live on such scraps as her aunt Eleanor could offer.
Only by not returning could she spare them this fate.
Yet she could not ask Jonathan Darcy to surrender his legacy, to commit to a life of greater hardship, solely to protect her parents. Even so sacred a duty as Juliet owed to them could not justify a hasty or ill-thought marriage.
This is not hasty, Juliet thought. We have known we wished to marry for years. Our affinity and understanding is far beyond that achieved by many husbands and wives well into the married state. Or, to judge by the Brookses, ever.
She believed that the love they shared was equal to the sacrifice. If the future that lay ahead of Juliet would be more difficult than that she had always imagined, it would also be far more interesting.
Tremulous, joyful, Juliet said, “When shall we go?”
Jonathan kissed her hand. “My father wishes to take me back to Derbyshire the day after tomorrow. So—tomorrow night, we fly.”
The following morning at Netherfield was much subdued.
Though the inhabitants were, in fact, finally safe from the murderer who had been in their midst, all were sobered by the terrible truths they had learned.
Mr. Lucas called early to be with Frederica and her family, which gave Mrs. Allerdyce her first opportunity to fully welcome the young man who would shortly become her son-in-law.
It was decided among them that the banns should be read beginning the very next Sunday; Caroline even went so far as to say that, as they were all to be in mourning for some months yet, they need purchase only Frederica’s wedding dress at present—the rest of her trousseau could be ordered months from now, on a future visit, when all colors would again be hers to claim.
As for the more prosaic details, Mr. Allerdyce suggested he would take on the duty of suggesting to Mr. Brooks that a curate be brought in from a nearby village to perform the ceremony itself, as reminders of the fatal unpleasantness at Netherfield could only mar the happy day to come.
When Mrs. Hurst heard that the wedding should be held in Meryton, rather than some grander locale, she thought it very shabby indeed.
However, she was not displeased at the thought of remaining longer at Netherfield, for she still aspired to win her money back from Mr. Brooks.
(It had not yet occurred to her that Mr. Brooks would by necessity no longer be calling regularly.) Nor did she wish to display herself in her widow’s black before her society friends very soon, for she looked so dreadful in it.
Instead she began cheerfully to write those friends she had corresponded with regarding Mr. Hurst’s death, so that they would know not to expect her at their card tables for at least some months to come, if not a year.
By then, perhaps, she would have won the entirety of Mr. Brooks’s fortune!
As for the master and mistress of the house, the Bingleys chose to ride out together in the morning. Jane spoke softly to Bellflower as they took one of their first rides together, while Mr. Bingley took comfort in the familiarity of his usual mount, Merlin.
Together husband and wife reached the edge of their property to gaze across the rolling meadows below. In the past few weeks, this vista had begun to dull, presaging the winter to come.
“I do not ever think I shall be free of the horror that befell Rachel,” Charles said. “Never in all my days.”
He expected Jane to comfort him, and she did—but not in the manner he was anticipating. “Netherfield will never be the same to us again, I believe. Why do we not return to Staffordshire, to Whitebeam Dower? Our society is more congenial there, and the house holds only happy memories for us both.”
Charles had not realized how dearly he missed Whitebeam Dower until this moment. “My sisters are less likely to visit us in Derbyshire.”
Jane said nothing, which allowed the Bingleys to acknowledge silently that this consideration was but a further inducement.
Still he hesitated. “Your parents—will they not need you?”
“Kitty will be living with them for a long while, and perhaps forevermore,” Jane said.
She did not mention the fact that Kitty had shirked her duty toward the Bennets even after her children had gone away to school, for Jane could not see it so harshly.
To her, this was surely an opportunity for Kitty to finally earn the appreciation owed to her by her parents, who would no doubt be kinder toward her once they no longer felt the need to make so many invidious comparisons.
Jane’s faith in her family, however unrealistic, never flagged.
“Mamma and Papa will be very well looked after. When we return to this part of the country, we shall simply visit Longbourn before going to stay with Sarah or Abigail.”
The smile that Jane then wore made Charles cock his head. “What is it you have not told me?”
“It is not certain yet,” Jane said, “and perhaps not for another few weeks, but—very, very soon—oh, my darling, our Abigail anticipates the quickening of her first child.”
Charles Bingley would have sworn, but moments before, that a very long time would pass before he felt joy again, and how wonderful it was to be proved wrong. “Then we are to be grandparents.”
Jane held out her hand to him; their horses stood just close enough for him to clasp it. “When Abigail brings our grandchild to visit us, I know where I hope to welcome them.”
“I agree entirely.” Therefore was it agreed that Netherfield was to be let once again.
That day proved to be a very busy one for Jonathan.
He had preparations to make, and very little time to make them.
He put several items in a trunk that he hoped could be retrieved even at night, but in case it could not, the clothing he liked best was packed in two valises he could carry.
Yet other items had to be brought as well.
Grateful was he that he had traveled with his bank book and other papers.
Regardless of anything else, he and Juliet would have to first go to London for him to withdraw the rest of his savings.
The weight of them would be rather heavy—and he would have to transport them in safety to a new bank, in whatever town or city they would next be.
What of hats? Jonathan wondered. What of shoes? He would have to pack the trunk even fuller, though this would make its removal from the house more difficult and thus more likely to be noticed.