Page 20 of It Taught Me to Hope
J ane Edwards nee Bennet was not a woman meant for mourning attire. While Elizabeth and Mary could both wear darker colors, Jane’s complexion made her fair skin appear sallow, and her beautiful blond hair stand out in stark contrast to the black she wore. Elizabeth had known this for many years, even before she saw Jane in black for first their mother’s passing, and then their father’s. While Jane was still beautiful at eight and twenty and ever more so as maturity fleshed out the pretty features she had possessed as a young woman, it was clear the moment Elizabeth laid eyes on her that Jane had suffered in the years of her marriage. The ominous question to Elizabeth’s mind was whether that suffering resulted from indifference or from other, more insidious reasons.
As the carriage carrying their sister approached Longbourn’s entrance, the sisters watched it, trying to will it along, to spare their sister even a moment’s more pain and return her to the loving bosom of her family. It was not a large conveyance, not like Mr. Darcy’s or even Mr. Mason’s, for all that it was finer than the one Elizabeth had inherited from her father. Elizabeth recognized it as Mr. Edwards’s carriage, the conveyance drafted to return her to her ancestral home in the most expedient manner possible. It would no doubt depart as soon as they divested it of Jane’s luggage, a concession to ensuring the previous mistress departed from the estate as soon as circumstance allowed.
Tempted though she was to take offense on Jane’s behalf, Elizabeth was both too relieved to welcome her sister’s return and convinced there was little reason for it. The sooner Jane left her married life behind and recovered from it, the better. Elizabeth, long acquainted with Jane’s character, was determined that she would be the one to pull her sister from whatever hurt she had suffered at the odious man’s hand. With her help, Jane would return to happiness, regardless of whatever the future held.
The moment the carriage stopped, Jane opened the door herself, and soon she fell into her sisters’ arms, first greeting Elizabeth then Mary with fierce embraces, the tears of all three sisters mingling together on their cheeks. At Elizabeth’s signal, Longbourn’s manservant stepped forward and unloaded the carriage with an efficiency born of practice. By the time the sisters completed their reunion, Longbourn’s footman transferred Jane’s effects to the ground and the carriage was free to depart. True to her character, Jane thanked the driver, who responded with nothing more than a grunt and then clucked the horses into motion.
Already forgetting about the driver and carriage, Elizabeth gazed into her sister’s face, noting the lines of care around her eyes marring the otherwise smooth glow she still boasted. “Oh, Jane, it is good to welcome you home, no matter how it has come about.”
“I am happy to return,” replied Jane, her voice soft as if she feared to speak louder.
“Come,” said Mary, “let us take you into the house. After your journey, we expected you would want a bath; Mrs. Hill has prepared the bathwater for your use.”
“That would be lovely,” said Jane. Elizabeth could already see Jane relaxing.
For the next half an hour, the two sisters fussed around their elder, taking the task of bathing Jane on themselves while they exchanged some banal words of welcome, relief, and encouragement. Jane was, as her wont, quiet, accepting their expressions of pleasure while replying with her own, allowing them to fuss over her as they might have a beloved child. When Jane completed her bath, they took her from the bathing room to the bedchamber she had occupied as a girl, drying her hair and making her presentable. Elizabeth looked through her trunks, unpacked by the maid, seeing a few of her dresses dyed black along with the majority that remained in her usual blues, greens, and other pastel colors Jane preferred.
“Jane,” said Elizabeth, uncertain how to bring up the subject, “I see you have few black clothes. To what extent do you mean to mourn your husband?”
With a sigh, Jane shook her head. “I am a widow, Lizzy. To my regret, I learned my husband was not the man I thought he was when we married, but I will not act against my integrity. I shall mourn him as is proper.”
Elizabeth echoed Jane’s reaction and offered a slight smile. “I suspected you would, Jane. It appears the black gowns you possess will be insufficient for the next six months.”
“More may be dyed now that I have come to Longbourn. My departure from Beach Grove was so hasty that there was little time for such concerns as mourning attire.”
Which spoke to the callous eviction at the hand of the new master of the estate. Elizabeth wondered for a moment if Mr. Collins would have pressed his claim on Longbourn with such haste had he outlived Mr. Bennet. Such thoughts were not palatable and useless besides and now was not the time to question Jane further, so Elizabeth let the subject be for the moment.
While Mary assisted Jane into a new gown, Elizabeth stepped into the hall to have a word with Mrs. Hill. In short order, Jane identified the gowns she could sacrifice to the black dye and Mrs. Hill called in the chambermaid to take them below where the housekeeper would supervise the alteration. Sarah, who acted as Elizabeth’s ladies’ maid, stepped into the room to see to Jane’s hair. Though her hair was still a little damp, soon Jane was dressed, and the three sisters descended again to the sitting-room, where a light repast awaited them. Jane, it appeared, was hungry, and the sisters set to the meal, which provided a distraction from the weighty subjects they would discuss when they finished. That eventuality came before Jane appeared to wish it.
“I must suppose your ladies’ maid stayed in Oxford,” said Elizabeth as they were finishing their luncheon.
“Mr. Edwards paid her wages,” agreed Jane. “When my husband passed, I knew at once that I would need to quit the estate. I released her from my service with a letter of recommendation.”
The speed at which it had all come about suggested to Elizabeth that Jane had suspected what might happen if Mr. Edwards left her a widow. Elizabeth filed the knowledge away to ask her sister when the opportunity arose.
“Let me say again, Jane,” said Elizabeth, “how pleased I am to welcome your return, regardless of the tragedy that provoked it.”
Jane for the first time allowed a soft smile. “You said as much four or five times already, Lizzy. As have you, Mary.”
“Then you must understand how fervently we mean it,” said Mary. “It is good to have you among us again.”
“I cannot be happier to be back at Longbourn,” said Jane.
“What happened, Jane?” asked Elizabeth. “Your letter suggested that Mr. Edwards’s passing was both sudden and unexpected.”
“Sudden, yes, but not wholly unexpected. Or it was not unexpected to Mr. Thomas Edwards, my husband’s younger brother and heir.”
That surprised Elizabeth. “What do you mean? Did you know about the entail?”
“The answer to your second question is that I did, though I learned of it only a month ago.”
“Why did your husband choose to tell you then?” demanded Mary.
“That was a question I asked him,” replied Jane. “He did not answer me, though I have pieced together something of what happened.
“You see, my husband was born with a weak heart, one exacerbated by a fever he suffered as a child.”
Elizabeth and Mary exchanged a look and then turned back to Jane. “Please tell us, Jane, for this is most shocking.”
“Then you understand what I felt. Sometimes in my marriage—and once not long after we married—Mr. Edwards appeared short of breath, though he assured me it was only during strenuous activity. I did not know what to think, for he was never the most active man, even when considering the estate he managed. As he did not wish to speak of it, I did not press the matter, and for a time his episodes seemed to stop. I suspect now that he hid them from me.
“After Papa passed away and Lizzy inherited Longbourn, the problems in our marriage grew worse, and he accused me of conspiring with you to induce Papa to cheat him of the right to possess the estate. Nothing I told him of your relationship with Papa and my prior knowledge that he would leave the estate to you convinced him. The Bennets cheated him, and he resented it.”
“He never asked you before you married?” asked Mary.
“No. I would have told him if he had.”
“Of course, you would have told him,” said Elizabeth; now that the man was gone, any offense on Jane’s behalf was impotent so Elizabeth pushed any such thoughts away. “Even a simpleton must understand your honesty.”
Jane allowed a weak smile and continued. “Over time, I witnessed my husband’s growing condition, but as he did all he could to hide it from me, I did not believe it was as poor as it proved to be. We returned from London long before the season ended, though Mr. Edwards usually wished to stay as long as possible to ingratiate himself with whoever he could. He claimed a desire to return home because he was tired of town, but I now suspect he was having difficulty maintaining appearances. For the last two weeks of his life, I rarely saw him.”
Elizabeth sensed something horrid, but Jane needed to unburden herself. “Why is that, Jane?”
With a sigh, Jane spoke. “He realized he was not long for the world and spent much of that time speaking with his brother about how he should handle me when he passed. The rest of the time he spent in the arms of his mistress.”
Both sisters stared at Jane astonished. “Mr. Edwards had a mistress?”
“It is not uncommon in the circles Mr. Edwards frequented,” replied Jane simply, “though it is perhaps more common among the wealthy. I learned after his passing that he was with his mistress when he suffered his episode and died.”
“That is nothing less than a judgment,” averred Mary, sounding like the Mary of old. Elizabeth did not disagree.
“It may have been,” replied Jane. “That is not for me to decide, and I prefer not to think of it.”
Mary’s glare of anger softened. “I apologize, Jane, for I understand how traumatic this experience has been for you.”
“Not at all,” replied Jane, reaching out to grasp Mary’s hand with affection. “There is nothing to forgive. If I allowed myself, my offense at my husband’s actions might overwhelm me.
“Other than that, there is little enough to tell,” said Jane. “Mr. Edwards’s brother came to Beach Grove and related the news to me and informed me of his intention to press for his rights at once. I dispatched a letter to you and promised that I would leave without delay, and to ensure my speedy departure, or so I suppose, he offered me the use of the carriage. Though he volunteered nothing more, I suspect that my husband’s passing caught even him by surprise with its swiftness.”
Elizabeth sighed. “It is a tangled web, Jane. The man knew he would die, but he did not even tell you, his wife, and spent his last strength with a woman no better than a harlot.”
“Jane,” said Mary, speaking carefully, “I apologize for asking this question, but it cannot be helped. Is there no chance of an heir of Mr. Edwards’s body?”
“There is not,” replied Jane, “for the simple reason that Mr. Edwards did not visit my bedchamber in the last year of his life.”
That was no less than a shock. Everyone in the family had understood Jane’s marriage was not the best and had been so for some time. Did he not wish for an heir? When Elizabeth voiced this question, Jane became ever more guarded, though she did not hesitate to respond.
“It is a question I asked myself many times.” Jane’s speech was slow and deliberate, her word choice careful. “During my interview with his brother, I received all the answers I am ever likely to have. He was not explicit, but the younger Mr. Edwards intimated his brother determined to pass the estate to him rather than to a woman who was most likely barren.”
To muster her composure in the face of this effrontery, Elizabeth took a calming breath, and she noted Mary did the same. Whatever she had known over the years of Jane’s marriage, it appeared her sister had kept back much from her. That Jane had not yet given birth to a child had been a source of confusion for Elizabeth, given their mother’s success in bearing five children. It appeared there was much more at work here than an inability to conceive.
“I shall not regale you both of tales about my husband’s lack of attention to his duties.” Jane offered a smile to Elizabeth, a pale echo of her sister’s previous happiness. “It would not do to injure virgin ears with such matters.”
“Nor would I wish you to speak at length about such subjects,” replied Elizabeth.
“Just so. The answer to your question, Mary, is that there is no chance at all.”
“In some ways, that may be for the best.” Mary reached out and put her hand on Jane’s. “It is hard to hear such a judgment at present, but your return to us is the best of all circumstances, given the situation.”
“I cannot deny that,” replied Jane. “While I would welcome a child to love and nurture, it would have been hard dealing with my husband’s brother, and even harder if I had birthed a girl.”
Elizabeth thought of Charlotte and her situation and could only agree that Jane was correct. The difference was that Elizabeth would welcome Jane at Longbourn forever if needed, whereas Charlotte worried about becoming a burden on her elder brother.
There was something else at work here, something Jane was not saying but Elizabeth thought was connected to the situation. It appeared Jane did not wish to speak of it at present, and as she knew her sister would be more comfortable sharing it with Elizabeth alone, she did not insist.
“Kitty is to visit soon,” said Elizabeth, changing the subject. “She will bring her children and her husband, so we shall all be together for a time.”
“Or those of us remaining,” murmured Jane.
“Indeed,” replied Elizabeth. “Allow me to say again, Jane, how pleased I am to have you returned to us. It is far better for you to be here among us rather than to be alone in that house in Oxford, even if the heir would allow you to stay.”
“I cannot be more pleased with my return.”
For the rest of the day, the sisters stayed together and spoke, leaving the weightier subjects for the moment in favor of news of the neighborhood and other such subjects. Of the Darcys Elizabeth spoke a little and Jane did not press her, though she knew her sister would want to know more when they were alone. Later in the day, toward the dinner hour, Mary’s husband came to Longbourn, bringing their son who Mary had left in the maid’s care. It was the first time Jane had met the young child, and she held him for a while, gazing at him with amazement at his lively nature, showing not a hint of jealousy for Mary’s good fortune. Not that Elizabeth had expected it, acquainted with Jane’s character as she was. There was no one of Elizabeth’s acquaintance more likely to congratulate another rather than envy them.
After Mary departed for the parsonage with her husband, Elizabeth and Jane went to Jane’s room where they talked late into the night as they had once done when they were girls. The topics were again wide-ranging and substantive, and Elizabeth learned more of the years of Jane’s marriage.
“Jane,” said Elizabeth, soon after they settled onto the bed, deciding the direct approach would yield the most fruit, “please tell me; was your husband abusive to you?”
“If you are asking if he ever raised his hand to me, the answer is no. But fists raised in anger are not the only weapons that bruise.”
“Tell me, Jane, for I would understand.”
For some time after, Elizabeth thought Jane would not respond, for she remained silent. Silence in her sister was not a revelation, for Jane had always been most reticent, even with those she loved best. Yet Elizabeth had sensed a difference in her quietude. Jane was intelligent, though Elizabeth had never considered her a deep thinker; even so, there was a new profundity of wisdom in her sister’s contemplations, as if life had taught her many harsh lessons that now ruled her responses.
“You know of my husband’s assumption of Longbourn being my inheritance rather than yours.”
“As he made clear on more than one occasion,” replied Elizabeth.
Jane nodded. “I have told you some of this, but not all. When paying court to me, he played the charming gentleman, and I will own that I was taken in.”
Coloring, Jane looked away, murmuring in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible: “Looking back on it now, I am convinced that I saw what I wished and ignored the warning signs, eager as I was to fancy myself in love.”
It was a thought Elizabeth had considered herself—to hear Jane confess it was no less than heartbreaking.
“I believe that is the flaw in our long determination, Lizzy. We both resolved for so long to marry a man for love that, at least in my case, I wanted to be in love so much that it clouded my judgment.”
“The business with Mr. Bingley did you no favors.”
“It did not,” said Jane, not reacting at all to the mention of the gentleman, even with Jane’s knowledge of Mr. Darcy’s recent return to Hertfordshire. “I shall not lay the blame on him for I should have seen it for myself. Yet I shall also not deny that I blinded myself to certain of Mr. Edwards’s faults.”
“I know that he held my inheritance of Longbourn against you,” said Elizabeth, trying to steer the conversation back to the original subject.
“Oh, he made that abundantly clear.” Jane shook her head, her gaze darkening a little in as much anger as Jane ever showed. “When we returned to Oxford after Papa’s death and learning of your inheritance, the mask dropped away, and we had a blazing argument. He accused me of misleading him and made it clear the only reason he married me was to gain Longbourn.” Jane shrugged. “By that time, I already knew that he was nothing like the man I had convinced myself he was; this was the final sweeping away of any lingering doubt.
“Thereafter, I was the burden, the unwanted wife who had used improper means to lure him into marriage. He was indifferent to me thereafter, our marriage a union in name only. In society, he was careful to pay me every appearance of civility and affection, but in private, it was as if we were two unconnected people living in the same house. He took his pleasure with his kept woman and visited me but rarely, and not at all in the last year. By that time, wary of disease, I preferred to bar him from my bed.”
“This is a fine to do!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I refused a man of late who wished to marry me for nothing more than the same motives—to control Longbourn. It appears we both suffered this curse, though Mr. Mason was not clever enough to hide his character.”
Jane regarded her with interest. “I recall you referencing it in your letter. Will you not share the full account?”
Elizabeth did so, not stinting in her explanation, laying everything before Jane. Some of it, as Jane suggested, she had included in her letters, but when she had the full account, even Jane was shaking her head in disbelief.
“Rogues beset us on all sides, Lizzy. At least Mr. Darcy is far too wealthy to care for the benefit of obtaining Longbourn.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, I suppose you are correct.”
Her thoughts returning to the previous subject, Elizabeth asked: “Do you suppose Mr. Edwards decided to pass the estate to his brother even so early as when Papa died?”
“It appears likely,” confirmed Jane. “It is possible he married me intending all along that his brother should inherit both estates, though I cannot be certain. The duty to improve the family’s wealth was his, but he did not respect me or my family enough to wish my children to inherit, even if they were his too.”
Elizabeth could not help the anger that burned in her breast at the actions of the contemptible man. Jane was the dearest, sweetest, most angelic creature in the world; she deserved everything good yet had endured marriage to a man who was incapable of seeing her for the jewel that she was.
“Please do not suppose that I blame you for inheriting Longbourn, Lizzy,” said Jane, drawing Elizabeth’s attention away from her offense. “It is my firm opinion that Mr. Edwards meant to sell Longbourn the moment he had control over it, for he could use the funds obtained from the sale to improve Beach Grove. I even believe there was a smaller estate nearby, owned by a man of failing years with an heir living far away that he hoped to purchase to increase the size of the estate.
“Had he gained Longbourn, he would have left you to the mercy of your married sisters, and while we both know Kitty and Mary would have risen to the occasion, neither is wealthy. Mr. Edwards would not tolerate you at Beach Grove except for brief visits.”
“Do not concern yourself, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “I am grateful for Papa’s foresight in leaving me the estate, for it provides us both with support, even should we live alone together until we are old.”
Jane’s smile reminded Elizabeth of happier times when they were young and carefree girls. “That does not sound likely, given what I heard of Mr. Darcy’s coming. It is strange to think that he harbored love for you in his heart for all these years since you last saw him.”
Elizabeth looked down at her hands on the counterpane of Jane’s bed and fidgeted with a loose thread. “It is strange to be certain. Yet I do not doubt the gentleman’s sincerity.”
“As I recall, after the event you believed he would forget you with alacrity.”
“Yes, well it appears my powers of discernment are not so profound as I once thought.”
The sisters giggled together, relishing the warmth of their affection. It was as if Jane had never left, never endured those years of trial with a man who had proven far more unpleasant than they had hoped. For a moment in time, they were those girls again, possessing not a care for anything in the future, content to live their lives in the present, no matter how imperfect that present was.
In some ways, Elizabeth mused, they were now even more those girls than they had been then. Neither had possessed any illusions about the likelihood of finding men to love, and Jane’s experience had proven their resolve was to a great extent nothing more than hubris. Now, however, with the support of Longbourn ensured—a source of great dismay when they had been girls—there was no need to think to excess about their futures. Though Elizabeth now had an ardent suitor and Jane a deceased husband, if they so chose, they could live the rest of their lives in peace at Longbourn, eschewing husbands, children, and everything other than their current circumstances. Their futures were secure, and Elizabeth could make Jane her heir against anything happening to her and then leave the estate to Mary’s son thereafter.
Even as the thought occurred to her, Elizabeth knew it would not do, for though she had suppressed the desire to come to a meeting of hearts with a man, now that Mr. Darcy had presented himself again, the old longing to love and be loved, to birth and rear children was awake in her breast. Now that Jane was free to pursue such things again, Elizabeth meant to ensure her sister found equal fulfillment if it was in her power to assist. To do so she would need to discover the contents of her heart and decipher her affections for Mr. Darcy, but something in her told Elizabeth that their current association would only end in one way. While she had never considered such a heretical concept, she now suspected that Mr. Darcy would make an excellent husband. Elizabeth would be the last of the sisters to find her path in life.
No, not the last, for there was still Jane’s condition to consider. Jane had lapsed into deep thought, paying no attention to Elizabeth who was in the same position, allowing Elizabeth to consider her sister. Now that Jane had returned home, Elizabeth fancied the lines of care and worry about her eyes and mouth were fading, leaving her sister’s skin as silky as it had ever been. Jane was older and wiser now, but still beautiful enough to attract a man, her character as angelic as ever. There was no question that Jane could find a man who would love her, or Elizabeth must lose all faith in the intelligence of men forever. The trick would be to convince Jane to take that chance again, to put her trust in a man when she had already been so cruelly used.
Now, however, was not the time to consider such subjects—no time could be worse in Elizabeth’s estimation. From her recent trials, Jane would need time to recover, to regain her spirits and her confidence, and Elizabeth meant to ensure that she would have that time.
“I hope, Lizzy,” said Jane, turning back to her just when Elizabeth thought she was too immersed in her thoughts, “that I will have the opportunity to greet Mr. Darcy again soon.”
“The gentleman has visited much of late,” replied Elizabeth, feeling bashful. “I think you could not avoid him if you tried.”
“That is well then, for I am eager to see how my sister behaves with a suitor.”
“You shall. Mr. Darcy and his sister are to visit tomorrow.”
The sisters talked long into the night, Elizabeth recounting Mr. Darcy, his sister, and their activities since they had come to the neighborhood. At length, the sisters fell asleep in Jane’s bed, as they had not done since Jane had left Longbourn. A sense of contentment warmed Elizabeth as sleep overtook her, for it was a reminiscence of her life as a girl. Her dearest sister, confidante, and friend had returned to her.