Page 19 of It Taught Me to Hope

W hen the post arrived the following morning, it contained a letter that would alter the future for the Bennet family. Even the postmark showing it had arrived express did not alert her to the possibility of what the letter contained. Elizabeth had no notion how upsetting it would be when she opened it, seeing nothing out of the ordinary in a missive from her beloved sister, one whose company she had not enjoyed for far too long. The first paragraph shattered the peace of Elizabeth’s morning and the rest, what little of it there was, did not make anything better; she sent for Mary to attend her at once without reading another syllable.

“What is it, Lizzy?” asked Mary when she stepped into the sitting-room about fifteen minutes later.

Elizabeth was pacing the room, her mind awhirl with the consequences of the news the letter carried, though she had the presence of mind to note that Mary had not brought her child, leaving him instead in the care of her maid who often acted as a nurse. Unable to speak for fear anything she said would be incomprehensible, Elizabeth motioned to the letter that lay on the table in front of the sofa.

“That letter is from Jane. Read the first paragraph—then we shall speak.”

With no hesitation, Mary retrieved the letter and began to read. Elizabeth saw the exact moment when Mary came to the relevant lines.

Beach Grove, near Appleton, Oxfordshire, May 22

Dearest Lizzy,

I apologize for writing to you in all this state, Lizzy, but I have no one else to turn to. I received the devastating news this morning that my husband, Jacob Edwards, perished from a sudden spell that stopped his heart. As there is an entail on the estate and the heir is not a friendly man, I believe he will require me to leave Beach Grove posthaste, and as such, I ask for shelter at Longbourn as soon as I can gather my effects and leave the estate of my late husband. If this is acceptable to you, please return my letter express. I anticipate no more than five days before I must leave this place forever.

“This is most shocking!” exclaimed Mary, sitting heavily on the sofa as she continued to stare at the missive in her hand. “I have so many questions that my thoughts are no less than a muddle.”

“Your state is no worse than mine,” said Elizabeth. “For Jane to write that letter to me must mean she was in such a state as to defy all description.”

Mary nodded, though she continued to read the few short words Jane wrote after the first paragraph. “Jane cannot have supposed you would deny her the right to live at Longbourn with you.”

“Deny her?” cried Elizabeth. “If I could have taken her away from the man she married, I would have done so in an instant! There is no question Jane must come here, for I will not have her go anywhere else.”

For the next several moments, Mary continued to read through to the letter’s end, though there was not much left to discover, while Elizabeth continued to pace the room. When she finished reading, Mary set the letter aside and turned to Elizabeth.

“We all regret Jane’s situation, but none of us would have wished for Mr. Edwards’s untimely demise to free her from her marriage to him.”

“Of course not,” said Elizabeth, though her thoughts still distracted her. “I do not mourn the man, but I never wished ill to befall him, and I cannot imagine Jane’s feelings differ from my own.”

“Did you know of the entail on the estate?”

“No. Jane told me nothing of it; I suspect she did not know herself.”

Elizabeth considered her next words before speaking. “To own the truth, I wonder that the new master insisted Jane leave the estate at once. The usual mode is for the widow to remain in her home to mourn for six months, which will ensure that she is not with child.”

Mary considered this and nodded. “It is curious. Perhaps it is Jane’s wish; it is no surprise she cannot bear to stay in a house alone when it possesses no fond memories for her.”

“That is possible, though a little imprudent. If Jane later discovers she is with child, the heir might claim she cavorted with another man to keep the estate.”

“If any man thinks that of Jane, he is a fool.”

There was no argument Elizabeth could make to counter Mary’s sentiment, for Elizabeth’s opinion of Jane was the highest. There was something else at work, she suspected, something that rendered Jane’s immediate withdrawal the best course for all concerned. Elizabeth could not fathom what it might be, but she trusted her sister to know what she must do. The notion of Jane now free of the odious man did not concern Elizabeth at all, for it allowed Jane another chance to find love when her mourning period elapsed. The loss of a man was regrettable, but Elizabeth had possessed no positive feelings for him, and in a certain light, she could not deny her relief that her sister was now free to regain her life.

Jane’s return at this moment was, perhaps, a matter of poor timing, though to consider it as such was not palatable. Elizabeth’s recent reacquaintance with her suitor and her constant company with brother and sister would be affected by Jane’s return to Longbourn, her mourning, and perhaps the history with Mr. Darcy. While they had never spoken on the subject, except for when she had offered her opinion to Jane after the Bingley party left Netherfield, Elizabeth knew Jane suspected Mr. Darcy’s hand in Mr. Bingley’s failure to return that autumn after the ball at Netherfield. The notion that Jane would hold a grudge was ridiculous, but Elizabeth would not wish to make her sister uncomfortable by reopening old wounds.

“What are you thinking, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth sighed and offered Mary a wan smile. “Perhaps it is silliness, but I worry about Jane’s return to this house, especially with the Darcys in residence nearby. I would not make Jane uncomfortable for the world in so delicate a time.”

Mary’s grin contained a hint of chiding. “Do you suppose Jane will feel even an iota of concern for Mr. Darcy’s presence? I thought you knew our sister better than this.”

“Jane will claim to be unaffected. What I cannot say is whether it will be the truth.”

“Regardless of Jane’s comfort or lack thereof, she will do what is necessary to ensure you may continue as you have. Should Jane wish to avoid Mr. Darcy—and I do not suppose she will—her mourning will provide a convenient excuse to absent herself when the Darcys come.”

“Yes, I suppose you must be correct.”

Elizabeth considered the matter for a moment more, then decided it did not bear further thought. There was nothing to be done, for Elizabeth would never deny Jane the right to return to Longbourn, even had she not longed for Jane’s presence after she left the house. Whether Jane would find comfort in Mr. Darcy’s company she did not know, but she knew Jane well enough to understand she would meet it with her usual quiet fortitude, offering no complaint. Jane was the most mild-mannered and patient woman Elizabeth had ever known—she would make the best of any situation.

“I suppose you have not responded to Jane’s letter yet?”

Brought back to the subject at hand, Elizabeth shook her head. “No, but I suppose I must do so at once. Jane will not expect me to refuse her request, but she will also expect a response.”

“Then let us write it together.”

The ladies sat down, and Elizabeth penned the letter. There was little enough to say but condolences and approval for Jane to remove to Longbourn at once. Mary sat next to her, offering her opinions and her suggestions when Elizabeth struggled for what to say, and Elizabeth at Mary’s direction added her sister’s eagerness to see Jane again. Not long after Elizabeth had written the letter and entrusted it to Mrs. Hill’s hands, her excellent housekeeper dispatched a stable hand to Meryton at once to see to an express rider.

“What of Kitty?” asked Mary when they were again alone. “She will wish to know of Jane’s misfortune.”

“Yes, I suppose we should write to Kitty too,” agreed Elizabeth. “It is almost summer, and we have not gathered for some years. I shall invite Kitty to visit after Jane’s return.”

Mary agreed and Elizabeth wrote another letter, though this one she dispatched by the usual post. When this was complete, the sisters sat together for some time discussing the surprising events, the imminent return of their eldest sibling, and what they might do to help Jane recover from her losses. As they spoke, a thought came to Elizabeth that her potential marriage to Mr. Darcy might put Jane in a position to attract another man and find the happiness that had eluded her.

Jane’s position was altered from what it had been as a young woman. While she still possessed little dowry, her future connection to a man of society—should Elizabeth marry Mr. Darcy—could do nothing but help make her more acceptable to men in a position to take a wife. While a woman of eight and twenty years was on the shelf as a maiden, Jane was now a widow, which carried a different connotation. A beautiful young widow would attract much more attention than a beautiful maiden who had never married.

This all presupposed that Elizabeth would marry Mr. Darcy, which was no certainty. Yet the thought would not leave Elizabeth. The more she considered it, the more sponsoring Jane in society and even indulging in a little matchmaking should the situation allow it appealed to her. Jane had suffered in her marriage to Mr. Edwards, not the least of which was the disappointed hopes she had always possessed to make a love match. If Elizabeth could help her along to find that end, she would do it without hesitation. Now, as when they were young, Jane was the most deserving among them to receive every good thing that came her way.

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D ARCY WAS AS SHOCKED as Miss Bennet to hear of the demise of Mr. Edwards. The communication was made as soon as they entered the house that morning for their visit, Darcy’s mind whirled at the implications of the event, including Mrs. Edwards’s imminent return to Hertfordshire.

“That is... a heavy misfortune,” said Darcy when Miss related the gist of her sister’s recent trials. “I knew Edwards as a young man in university and encountered him infrequently, though I never like him enough to associate with him.”

“Yes, I recall when you mentioned it.”

Darcy regarded Miss Bennet for several moments before he spoke again. “This business of the heir removing her from her home at once is most shocking. There may be some repercussions in the neighborhood from such an act.”

A slow nod met his declaration. “That is possible, though I cannot say never having visited Beach Grove.”

That was a matter of curiosity, given how close Miss Bennet and her elder sister were. By Darcy’s calculation, Miss Bennet had yet been a young woman when her sister married, her father at least still among the living, such that it would not have been unusual for her to visit her sister for a time or perhaps join the newlyweds on their wedding tour. Miss Bennet appeared to sense his thoughts, for she answered his unspoken question.

“It did not take long for Jane to learn that Mr. Edwards was not the man she thought she married. By the time they returned from their wedding tour, I had already detected disillusionment in Jane’s letters.” She paused and offered a helpless shrug. “They were even worse than her letters after Mr. Bingley’s withdrawal from Netherfield.”

Miss Bennet did not speak to condemn Darcy’s actions on that front, but Darcy could not help but wonder what might have happened had he not involved himself. Bingley had never listened to his sisters when he thought he was right, and there was little doubt in Darcy’s mind the ladies could not have carried their point without his support.

“Did you not suggest that Mr. Edwards’s motive in marrying your sister was to acquire Longbourn?”

Miss Bennet smiled at Georgiana who had spoken. “It was not long after that when my father died, but yes, he did. Mr. Edwards came with Jane after Papa’s passing and was distressed and angered to learn that Papa had willed the estate to me. For some time after we thought he would challenge the will on Jane’s behalf, but thereafter he dropped his objections, though we have not seen him at Longbourn since.”

“He was open in his criticism when I saw them in London,” said Darcy.

“Then he has become less cautious.” Miss Bennet sighed and sat on a chair, motioning for the Darcys to join her. “It is no less than tragic, for he was never the man Jane thought him to be.”

“How did he even make her acquaintance?” asked Darcy.

“Through some function in London,” replied Miss Bennet. “I was not there, but Jane stayed with my aunt and uncle for a time in the months after my mother’s passing. My uncle, though a tradesman, has many contacts among the gentry and mingles among them to a certain extent. I do not know how it all came about, but I suspect he heard something of Jane’s position as the eldest daughter of a man without sons.

“Mr. Edwards was, by the account I pulled from Jane’s lips, charming when he courted her. It was not until after their marriage when they lived together that she learned of his true character.”

Georgiana nodded. “It is often said that one cannot know another until they have lived with them.”

“My acquaintance with Miss Bingley was the same.” Darcy offered a grin. “I had always known that she was an ambitious woman, but it was not until I stayed with Bingley at Netherfield that I learned the extent of her aspirations.”

Then Darcy turned to Georgiana, who appeared quite pensive. “For what it is worth, I believe Talbot is what he portrays himself to be. You will not receive a nasty surprise when you marry.”

“I love Andrew to distraction, Brother,” said Georgiana. “There is no doubt in my heart that he is a good man. I am not concerned.”

“Then Mrs. Edwards will return to Longbourn. When do you expect her?”

“In five days, if she holds to her current plans; I have no reason to suppose they will change.”

“It is for the best,” said Georgiana warmly. “Nowhere can she recover from her disappointment and loss so well as in the bosom of beloved sisters and the comfort of her ancestral home.”

“You are correct, Georgiana. I cannot wait to welcome my sister. If I have my way, Jane will not leave for some time.”

As Georgiana and Miss Bennet continued to speak, Darcy distracted himself with thoughts of what this would mean for his courtship with Miss Bennet. Mrs. Edwards would not object to it—this much he knew about the woman, though he had misjudged her in the past. The greater concern was how much of Miss Bennet’s attention Mrs. Edwards would now take, and how much longer it would be before Darcy had her consent to a marriage between them. This was, perhaps, a little optimistic on his part, but Darcy’s hope had grown these past days and weeks, such that he was gaining confidence in his ultimate success.

As a widow, even one who had not respected her husband, Mrs. Edwards would be in mourning, though here at her ancestral home, away from the neighborhood in which her husband had lived, she would suffer little ill effects if she should relax the customs. Some discounted them altogether, and while many looked on such disrespect for the dead with censure, the conventions of mourning were not defined or enforced such that the mourner could not stretch propriety or disregard them if she wished. If Darcy knew Mrs. Edwards at all, she would not attend events, would not take part in visits, and would only attend visits to Longbourn with reluctance.

There was, of course, another possibility, one that struck Darcy within moments of hearing of her husband’s death. Some might call Darcy foolish for even considering such a thing, but once the notion occurred to him, he could not shake it. Senseless though it may seem, it also carried with it a measure of poetic justice, a means of releasing him from the guilt that had been his constant companion all these years. The question was whether it had any chance of success or if it would reopen old wounds and make the situation even worse.

In time, the visit ended, and Darcy and Georgiana departed from Longbourn, leaving a distracted Miss Bennet to prepare for her sister’s arrival. While Darcy knew he would only have half of her attention in the coming days as the anticipation for her reunion with her sister built, they promised to visit the following day, and she accepted with gratitude. A distraction, even a brief one, must be agreeable lest she work herself into a state over her sister’s looming return.

The moment they returned to Breckonridge, Georgiana entered the parlor and turned to face him, something of speculation alive in her regard. “It seems something has distracted you, Brother, and I would know what it is.”

“Is this business of Miss Bennet’s sister not enough?” asked Darcy, taken by surprise and not knowing if he should speak of the thought that would not leave him alone.

“If that is all I suspected it was, it might be enough. I know you well enough to apprehend this business has affected you far more than you are saying. Please tell me what you are thinking.”

Darcy sighed and gestured to the chairs, seeing his sister seated before he situated himself nearby, wondering what he should say. Georgiana might think him mad for what he was contemplating, but she would not allow him to put her off.

“This business with Mrs. Edwards has led me to thoughts I might consider wild if the notion did not appeal to me so much.”

Contrary to Darcy’s expectation, Georgiana frowned at this statement. “What do you mean? Shall you storm Longbourn’s walls in the night, beg for her hand at once, fearing to again lose her regard?”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Darcy, confused by what she said.

“Has this incident not fanned the flames of your doubt to life?” asked Georgiana. “Mrs. Edwards returning must resurrect thoughts of your mistaken advice to Mr. Bingley. Do you suppose that Miss Bennet is so fickle as to return to that argument now that you have settled it?”

It was clear they were talking about separate matters, for Georgiana had not anticipated Darcy’s thoughts. “No, Georgiana, I was not concerned that Mrs. Edwards’s return would turn Miss Bennet away from me. The matter remains unresolved, and I cannot yet say if she will accept me, but I have grown more hopeful of late. I was considering another matter.”

“That is well then.” Georgiana regarded him with some interest. “Then what were you thinking?”

“I am not certain I should speak of it,” said Darcy. “There is some danger you will think your brother fit for Bedlam.”

“This sounds serious, indeed!” Now Georgiana’s tone was playful. “Do not keep me in suspense, Brother, for I am now afire with curiosity.”

There was nothing to be done, so Darcy capitulated.

“Consider the situation, Georgiana. Mrs. Edwards has lost her husband, which is unfortunate, but she was long disillusioned with him, and in some respects, it provides her with a second chance to begin anew. Of the utmost importance, it allows her to marry again.”

Georgiana nodded, though it was clear she had not yet seen his point. “That much is true to be certain. I must assume this is not all.”

“It is not,” said Darcy. “As I do not know Mrs. Edwards so well as I know her sister, I cannot guess as to her state of mind or her wishes for the future.”

“Even if she has considered it.”

“Yes, that is correct. So soon after a traumatic event, she must not know what she wishes yet—it may take her some time to consider the future. Yet it has also struck me that not only is she at liberty to find another husband, but Bingley has never married.”

This got Georgiana’s attention as Darcy had known it would, such that she stared at him through wide eyes, perhaps unable to believe he was suggesting Mrs. Edwards and Bingley as a possibility again after so many years.

“Are you suggesting that you might recommend Mrs. Edwards to Mr. Bingley?”

“Not at all,” said Darcy, sitting back and regarding her with no little amusement. “I am no matchmaker, and as my one foray into trying to advise a friend on matters of the heart proves, I am not qualified to offer such advice.”

“Then what are you suggesting?”

“Only that we allow nature to take its course. I will continue to court Miss Bennet, and should I be so fortunate as to convince her, she will return to Pemberley with me. Bingley is still a close friend I see several times a year, and Mrs. Edwards is Miss Bennet’s closest sister. Though I will need to take some thought about how to inform Bingley of my marriage, once he knows, he will either do the rest himself or signal his disinterest. Either way, it will be his choice alone.”

Georgiana regarded him, the light of comprehension and speculation in her eyes. “I doubt Miss Bennet has considered matters to this extent.”

“No, I do not suppose she has. The shock of her sister’s new situation and return has driven any such consideration of the future from her mind. As such, I do not think it prudent to speak of it to her now; it would be best if you also remained silent on the subject.”

“Of course,” murmured Georgiana. “Do you suppose that Mr. Bingley has remained single all these years because of his memory of Mrs. Edwards?”

“That I cannot say,” demurred Darcy. “Bingley has never spoken of it to me, has not so much as uttered her name in my hearing since our departure from Netherfield. Yet, considering my friend and his ways, I cannot imagine his interest not springing to life again when he learns of my connection to Mrs. Edwards and that she is a widow. I cannot say how it will proceed, but I suspect he will have a much greater chance of happiness with her. After all, he will not have meddling sisters or friends to dissuade him.”

“Then responsibility for the outcome will rely on others.”

“As it should,” said Darcy with a decisive nod. “I will have no more involvement than to inform Bingley of my marriage, answer whatever questions he has—which will no doubt include Mrs. Edwards’s current status—and allow them to come to an agreement if that is what they decide.”

Georgiana nodded and they did not speak of the matter again. Darcy suspected she considered the potential benefits of atonement on Darcy’s part, but he decided he would not think that way. If Mrs. Edwards and Bingley were meant to be, they would find a way to each other. If not, they would remain apart. There was nothing else to be done, no other action Darcy would take. In this, he had learned his lesson and learned it well.