Chapter Twenty-Three #2
So many risks and complications he had not previously considered!
So many ways in which all could go wrong!
He who so liked order and routine was putting an end to all such in his life, at least for many weeks and quite possibly much longer.
The unknown was no friend to him, and yet it yawed before him.
Yet Jonathan did not falter. The wrong that had been done to Juliet could not stand.
That would be even more unendurable to him than all the uncertainties of the world combined.
Believing what he believed, he could make no other choice.
By midday he was obliged to accompany his father to Meryton vicarage, where Mr. Brooks waited in no good humor.
The clergyman had bid the house’s few servants to have all Aunt Kitty’s things packed and waiting; Jonathan was appalled to see that her entire possessions came to scarcely more than he had brought on this journey alone.
Mr. Brooks said, “Am I to understand that your family intends to shelter and defend this adulteress?”
“There has been no adultery, sir,” said Mr. Darcy with more surety than he could possibly possess; Jonathan admired this. “Yet your marriage has suffered a breach from which there may be no repair.”
“I do not wish for repair,” Mr. Brooks said. “I wish her gone.”
“To your house she will not return,” Mr. Darcy replied. “In the matter of the children—she will desire to see them, and there will be less trouble, less gossip, if you allow her to do so.”
Mr. Brooks merely sniffed. “They are old enough, now, that her moral taint need not stain them.” Jonathan suspected he simply did not wish to be bothered with his sons, any more than he had been with his wife, or even with the tasks involved in maintaining a pleasant home.
Mr. Brooks remained alone with his one true love—money—and a pulpit he could not deserve.
As Jonathan supervised the loading of the trunks into the carriage they had hired, he said to his father, “Why did such a man ever marry? He can have no feeling for Aunt Kitty, nor for anyone, I believe.”
“For the sake of respectability, I imagine,” Darcy replied.
“Though of the shabbiest sort. I do not condone your aunt’s actions, and yet I cannot say that I do not understand her plight.
At least the doings in Meryton are not of interest to the papers.
Your mother will be happier knowing that Mrs. Brooks is with her parents, and that her stay is to be of some duration. ”
Forever, Jonathan thought. The divide, however welcome to both parties, could not but sadden him.
Aunt Kitty had not asked for much, had been given even less, and then had been made to feel the crush of poverty although her husband’s circumstances did not demand it.
Then she had been manipulated by a wicked man, and it had brought her to this pass.
He hoped against hope that her future would be less burdensome than her past.
They arrived back in Longbourn to find Aunt Kitty sitting by the fire with her parents, eyes red.
Mrs. Bennet, rather than being outraged with her daughter beyond reason, had decided instead to defend her beyond reason.
“It is wicked that a man should keep such a fortune away from his wife entirely. It ought not to be the law!”
“On that point we happen to agree, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet. “How seldom this occurs! Let that be taken as evidence that the opinion is truth.”
Mrs. Bennet continued patting her daughter’s hair, as though Kitty were a little girl again.
“There, there, my dear. You are safe at Longbourn once more, and never more shall that wretched man trouble you. Why, everyone is safe from harm now, as Jonathan has finally caught that fiend. Did not I tell you, it would be a man who had done it all?”
“You were correct, madam.” Jonathan could not help but smile, for his grandmother had finally paid him a compliment.
Yet he could not bask in satisfaction for long, because he took the coins out to the driver—and then quietly, out of earshot of his father, hired the coach for another journey, far longer, and late at night.
Mr. Darcy, greatly wearied by the events of the past few days, briefly contemplated staying longer in Hertfordshire.
To travel back to Pemberley so soon after this much upset would be uncomfortable to be sure—but he wanted very badly to see his wife again, to discuss with her all that had been learned.
By this time she would again be at home, and he yearned for nothing so much as to be with her.
As fate would have it, a letter from Elizabeth arrived that very afternoon, just before Darcy and Jonathan were to return to Netherfield to dine and bid adieu to all those present.
Glad of the missive as he was, Darcy determined to read it upon returning to Longbourn, when he would have more time to relish her insight and wit.
The evening at Netherfield was more pleasant than might have been anticipated.
This was partly due to the evident joy of Miss Allerdyce and Mr. Lucas, the latter of whom was now being openly welcomed by his future mother-in-law.
Bingley and Jane were in better spirits as well as they announced their intention to quit Netherfield within a month’s time—a fact which was greatly satisfying to Darcy, for his good friend would now be only a very easy day’s journey away.
And how happy Elizabeth would be made by Jane’s return!
Mrs. Hurst, however, did not seem so well pleased. “I do not like to visit Whitebeam Dower,” she said. “It is so very much farther for me to travel, of no interest whatsoever. And if you are not here, how shall I ever return to this part of the country?”
Jonathan, apparently in all seriousness, said, “Were you to call upon my grandparents at Longbourn, they might be inclined to invite you in future.” Mrs. Hurst received this in silence.
This was one of the few occasions upon which Jonathan spoke during the evening, beyond the exchange of pleasantries.
Darcy noted that his son and Miss Tilney, though evidently still taken with each other, did not openly seek out each other’s company; no doubt Jonathan wished to be an obedient son once more.
Darcy did not expect that obedience to require Miss Tilney’s absence for much longer.
Already he had decided that, after conferring with Elizabeth, he would be willing to bless the union.
He wished to talk with his wife purely because it was a matter too great not to consult her; Darcy understood that she would almost certainly agree.
No doubt they would only be back at Pemberley for a few days before Jonathan would take himself away again, to Miss Tilney’s home, where the proposal would occur.
Still, Darcy had reservations about the way rumors would hang about his son and Miss Tilney for years to come.
About the propriety of these investigations, particularly for a young lady.
About the recklessness Jonathan had displayed on Miss Tilney’s behalf.
Beyond all this, however, he had become convinced that the affection between them was deep and true.
A happily married man could not but recognize this as the proper foundation for the life he wished his son to have.
That evening, after returning to Longbourn, Darcy sat up to have a small dram of whisky with Mr. Bennet before retiring to his room, late enough that he imagined Jonathan already asleep. Only then was he able to read his wife’s letter.
Dearest—
Before all else, I must tell you, for you will be happy to know that harmony once again reigns at Maidencourt. For now, at least, the troubles are past, and we may breathe more easily on that score.
Now I shall turn to the letter you sent me, informing me of all that is occurring in Hertfordshire, which arrived only shortly after Jane’s own missive with this same news.
It is very shocking indeed that this should be happening, and at such a peaceful place as Netherfield has always been!
As soon as I finish this letter to you, I shall reply to comfort my poor sister, for Jane must be greatly distressed.
How relieved Elizabeth would be to receive word that Mr. Lofton had been arrested for his crimes, and how overjoyed to know her sister would soon be almost a neighbor once more.
Darcy smiled at the thought of her reaction, resolving to tell her in person rather than writing to her, particularly as a letter would arrive only a day or two at most before he and Jonathan would.
As for the matter of Jonathan and Miss Tilney, I must confess that I do not share your alarm.
I should have thought rather less of him if he had behaved any other way.
He did his duty to his aunt and uncle, and he defended Miss Tilney against calumny she did not deserve.
For our part in turning her away—oh, how I have regretted it!
Upon learning of the duel, I became so afraid and angry as to lose all reason.
Only days later, however, I had realized how unfair my decision had been.
I did not speak, both because I sensed your resistance and also because I thought it remained to be seen whether our son’s affection for Miss Tilney held true.
So it has. And there, I think, is our answer.
Were this not reason enough, I have been urged toward this acceptance—chastised, I should say—by none other than Jane.
Her letter was all kindness and clarity, and from anyone else would have been unremarkable, but rarely has my sister spoken her mind as forcefully as she has done in defense of a match between Jonathan and Miss Tilney.
You know, my love, how very rare it is for my elder sister to put herself forward in such a manner.
Thus I feel inclined to agree with her opinion, doubly so as it is an opinion I have come to share.