Page 3 of It Taught Me to Hope

T he church at Longbourn was small, but an excellent place of worship for those who lived in the parish. Built in the time of Elizabeth’s grandfather, the church was still in excellent repair, the whitewashed walls gleaming in the morning sunlight, the windows allowing the glorious light into the interior, while the pews were polished and ready to accept the worshippers who made the parish their home.

It was a quirk of the neighborhood that Longbourn controlled the living and the church attached to it, for usually the largest estate in the vicinity had the living under their control. Indeed, the glebe that supported the parsonage comprised both a part of Longbourn’s traditional lands and Netherfield’s domain, though the parish was under Longbourn’s patronage. One of Elizabeth’s first official acts as the proprietor of her father’s estate had been to appoint Mr. Hardwick to the position, for her father had passed away not long before, not living to see his middle daughter united to the new parson in marriage. The previous rector, Mr. Smith, still lived on the estate with his elderly wife in a pensioner’s cottage.

As the patron family, the Bennets had always occupied the family pew in a position of honor near the front of the church to the right of the pulpit. That Sunday after her conversation with Mary, Elizabeth made her way to the church as she had most other Sabbath days that were not marred by illness or travel to other locales, sitting with Mary while her husband performed his sacred weekly duty and preached the gospel of Christ.

It was a sad state of affairs, Elizabeth reflected as she took her seat beside Mary, her young child in her arms. In years past, though the Longbourn family had never been extensive, that pew had hosted Longbourn’s master, his wife, and five daughters, though they had varied in their levels of adherence to the Word according to their characters. Mr. Bennet, a man who had never been pious to a great degree, had still attended every week, ensuring the members of his family did not shirk their obligations. Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth knew from certain comments he had made over the years, had been a staunch believer, though his life when away from the church had not demonstrated many outward symbols of that belief.

“Did you offer your approval for Mr. Hardwick’s sermon today, Mary?” asked Elizabeth in a teasing tone.

Mary colored a little but sent Elizabeth a wry smile in response. “You know that my husband often asks my opinion, though he is capable enough without my contribution.”

“Without a doubt, Mary. Sometimes I think of our youth; you must own that you possessed some rather... firm opinions about matters gospel related.”

The reminder of Mary’s former opinions brought an even rosier hue to her cheeks. “Perhaps I did, Lizzy. It occurs to me to wonder how you all withstood my behavior.”

“Not at all, Mary,” replied Elizabeth with a warm smile for her younger sister. “Tolerating your foibles was no more difficult than tolerating me for my propensity to speak intending to amaze the room, Jane for her sickening goodness, or Kitty for her coughing. If nothing else, your peculiarities were much quieter than Lydia’s.”

Elizabeth’s comment proved Mary’s mirth. “Yes, I suppose that is the truth. We were a rather disparate bunch, were we not?”

“We still are, or those of us that remain are. Variety, as they say, is the spice of life. I do not think I ever appreciated it as much as I do now, looking back on those times.”

While Mary nodded her agreement, the service began, and they turned their attention to it. The songs were all familiar to Elizabeth such that she did not need more than a cursory glance at the hymnal in her hands, and the words Mr. Hardwick spoke echoed in her mind bringing to mind the memory of her studies. Mr. Hardwick was an excellent parson, speaking in tones interesting enough to command the attention of those in his church, and while his delivery was firm in stating the holy scripture, he was not judgmental or demanding. Elizabeth enjoyed his sermons even more than she did those of the previous parson, a man who now occupied the bench near Elizabeth and Mary with his wife at Elizabeth’s invitation.

At length, Mr. Hardwick drew his comments to a close and, after the congregation sang another hymn followed by his benediction, the company rose after their weekly obligations. As was customary after a church service, many of the parishioners stayed speaking with each other as the room emptied, the worshippers seeking their homes for the remainder of the Sabbath. Elizabeth engaged in several conversations with her neighbors who were part of the parish, also speaking with several of her tenant families who attended.

Far too soon for her taste, however, the neighbor who had also taken to attending of late, accosted her and began speaking to her.

“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Mason, bowing in greeting, though it appeared a most perfunctory motion, “how wonderful it is to see you here this morning.”

Elizabeth’s only recourse was to stifle a long-suffering sigh, curtsey and murmur her own words of greeting, and endure the man’s attention until she could escape him.

As Mr. Mason spoke of something uninteresting in his nasal voice, Elizabeth listened to less than half of his comments, focusing instead on the man who stood before her. As Elizabeth had not found Mr. Collins attractive, Mr. Mason was akin to a brother in this respect. He was not tall, his stature only perhaps two inches more than Jane’s which, while still larger than Elizabeth’s diminutive form, could not compare to certain other men she had known such as Mr. Darcy or even Mr. Bingley. His eyes were a dull gray, his hair a messy sandy blond, still full and not thinning that Elizabeth could see, and his features unremarkable bordering on homely. The man was the scion of an old and prestigious family—he had owned this much himself far too many times in Elizabeth’s experience—a younger son who had taken the money set aside for him by his father and used it to purchase Netherfield.

Of even greater distress to Elizabeth’s sensibilities, Mr. Mason appeared to find Elizabeth’s company agreeable, and his assertive manners were such that it was all she could do to escape him when he set his sights on her, let alone give her attention to anyone else. While his conversation was uninteresting and pedantic, his attentions had grown to the extent that Elizabeth now suspected he wished to join Netherfield and Longbourn into a single estate, though that was a crime of opportunity and not the reason he had purchased the property.

Elizabeth had always thought a man’s courting would begin in common discussions of interest complete with walking together and attending society, gradually progressing to more ardent interest coupled with understated shows of affection, until the man finally felt enough and had confirmation of the woman’s interest such as to make the success of a proposal likely. Mr. Mason showed nothing of this, for he made no overtures to suggest any hint of affection and continued to speak in that same tedious monotone he used, coupled with the sense that he thought she should receive his attentions gratified by his condescension.

This was not far different from her previous suitors, Elizabeth reflected ruefully, for his predecessors in the role had not distinguished themselves any more than he did. Mr. Collins, simpering statements of imaginary love mixed with sycophantic proclamations of his patroness’s virtues had been the first, and if they had been more nauseating than Mr. Mason’s dreary conversation, at least he had come to the point much more quickly. Then there had been Mr. Darcy, whose haughty disdain had not even given her an inkling of his affection. Time and reflection had taught Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy, at least, had felt something for her, given his condescension in offering for a woman of a sphere so much lower than his who could not even bring a substantial dowry to the union. That had not made his insulting offer any more attractive than Mr. Collins’s assurance that she could not reject such an eligible offer as his.

It was Elizabeth’s lot in life to wish for the love of a good man who would esteem her for the woman she was rather than imaginary regard or considerations of what she could do to improve his consequence. Though the mere thought brought a bubble of laughter to her lips, she almost wished time would speed up, bring her to that detestable state of being on the shelf more quickly if only to free her from the objectionable attentions of men of Mr. Mason’s ilk.

“Excuse me, Mr. Mason,” said Elizabeth at length, interjecting in a moment the man paused to take a breath, “I believe it is time that I returned to Longbourn.”

The gentleman glanced around the church, noting that most of those in attendance had departed, leaving only a few stragglers. It was about fifteen minutes after church had ended, more than half of which Elizabeth had endured this man’s dry conversation, and she longed to retreat from him. It was not beyond his ability to insist he complete whatever subject he had been droning on about, but on this occasion, he allowed a curt nod.

“Yes, I suppose it is. Very well, Miss Bennet, I shall return to my home and allow you to return to yours. I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again soon.”

Of pleasure in his company, there was little enough to be had, but Elizabeth could not voice such opinions. “Perhaps we shall, sir. Until that time, I shall bid you farewell.”

In a belated act of gallantry, Mr. Mason insisted on escorting her from the church. Elizabeth divested herself of his arm and his company as soon as may be, and turned her steps toward Longbourn, reaching the estate within only a moment or two. There, the maid waited to take her bonnet, gloves, and spenser, and Elizabeth retreated to the sitting-room clad in only her spring dress, appreciating the warmth of the cheery blaze in the hearth; it was, after all, still only the third week of March, and the weather would not reach the warmth of summer for another two or three months.

Mr. John Mason had purchased Netherfield Park not long before her father’s passing, though it was a relief he had come after the Bennets’ shunning had ended; or perhaps it was not so much of a relief considering her disinclination for his company. That ostracism had not lasted long, for the Bennets had always been a respective family in the district, and their neighbors had not long held the actions of the youngest and wildest daughter against them. Had he arrived before the Bennet name had recovered from its tarnishing at Lydia’s hands, perhaps Mr. Mason would not have paid attention to so unsuitable a woman as Elizabeth. That would have matched Elizabeth’s feelings very well, indeed.

At first, the man had paid her little enough attention. By that time Kitty had already married, coming to the attention of a gentleman of modest means living a little north of Luton in Bedfordshire, leaving only the three eldest daughters at Longbourn. Not long thereafter, Jane met the man who would become her husband, then Mr. Bennet passed away, and last of all, Mary united in marriage with Longbourn’s new parson. It was not until well after Elizabeth’s sisters had all married, leaving her in possession of the estate that Mr. Mason had seemed to conceive of the notion of uniting Netherfield and Longbourn.

Of late, the man had become more persistent, much to her dismay. As a young woman who wished for love in a marriage if she was to enter one at all, Elizabeth had no intention of accepting Mr. Mason’s proposal, assuming he came to the point and asked. She did not wish to descend to rudeness, though she had attempted to inform him early in his campaign that she had no interest in his suit. As that had failed, Elizabeth had since taken the simple expedient of enduring him and praying he would come to the point sooner rather than later so she could disabuse him of any notion he could woo her. Until that time came, there was little other choice if she wished to hold to polite behavior.

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A HIGHLIGHT OF ELIZABETH’S week was Sunday afternoons, for it was the one meal of the week she could be assured of not dining alone. Soon after Mary united with Mr. Hardwick, Elizabeth had invited them to Sunday dinner at the estate, and it was now a weekly engagement that she anticipated and valued.

That Sunday, the Hardwicks came to Longbourn a little later than usual, Mr. Hardwick apologizing for the delay, citing an important discussion with a parishioner that had delayed their arrival. Elizabeth cheerfully deflected his apologies and invited them to sit, eager to converse with her relations.

“How is the parish, Brother?”

Mr. Hardwick had insisted on a more informal mode of address since he had married Mary, and Elizabeth was only pleased to agree.

“Well enough,” replied the pastor. “There is little of want in the parish at present, though there are always problems. It seems we mortals cannot escape them, even if we subsist in great wealth or privileged circumstances.”

“Yes, it is our lot to endure hardship. I suspect we are meant to experience joy in this life, but not all is joyful.”

“If we did not know sorrow, we could never appreciate joy.”

Elizabeth smiled at his paraphrase of holy scripture. “I hope you will excuse me, Brother, but I hope our joys will outweigh our sorrows, for we Bennets have had enough of those for a lifetime.”

Mr. Hardwick knew something of the Bennet family’s recent history, enough to nod and change the subject. For a time, they spoke of the parish and the issues provoking his concern. As those were few, they devolved into more general conversation, much to their mutual enjoyment. As the parson was intelligent and learned, and Mary’s education had grown under his guidance, they took pleasure in each other’s company.

One of Mary’s favorite pastimes had long been the pianoforte, though Elizabeth suspected her sister now enjoyed the instrument rather than considering it a means to gain accomplishment and distinguish herself from her sisters. Unfortunate though it was, Longbourn’s parsonage had no pianoforte, though Mary could use the instrument in the church. Though Mary was welcome to visit the estate and play the pianoforte as much as she wished, the duties of the parsonage and the demands of her young son often kept her away. She still visited during the week to play, but the one day Mary knew she would have the opportunity, much like Elizabeth’s anticipation for weekly company, was during those Sunday visits.

“The instrument is old,” said Mary after she had played one of her favorite pieces for her family’s pleasure. She ran her fingers along the keys she knew as well as an old friend, adding: “It has been in this room for as long as I can remember.”

Elizabeth smiled at her sister; Mr. Hardwick was still on the sofa with a slumbering child in his arms. “As I recall, Papa informed me that grandfather purchased it for grandmother when he was a boy.”

“Yes, I remember. Have you considered replacing it?”

With a smile, Elizabeth shook her head. “As you know, I am not the enthusiast that you are. The instrument is sufficient for my needs, though I suppose it is becoming more difficult to keep it in tune. With the more modest expenses of the estate, I could afford to purchase a replacement if it would please you.”

“Oh, do not suppose I am begging you for a new instrument, Lizzy.” Mary’s bright smile belied any notion that Elizabeth had any concern for her motivations. “A new instrument would be welcome, but I am content with this one.”

“To own the truth,” replied Elizabeth, “replacing it is an excellent notion. If I replaced it, then we could move this instrument to the parsonage, and you could play whenever you liked.”

“If you mean to do that, perhaps you should put the new instrument in the parsonage instead. After all, I am far more of an enthusiast than you are, as you acknowledged yourself.”

The sisters laughed together, a scene that had been almost unheard of when they were girls living in their father’s home.

“Perhaps that would be for the best after all!” cried Elizabeth. “You would put a new pianoforte to use much more thoroughly than would I.”

“Had I the means to do so,” said Mr. Hardwick, “I would indulge my wife myself. Unfortunately, I must rely on the largesse of my patroness, for a parson is not a wealthy man.”

“I know you would, Michael,” said Elizabeth, referring to his given name. “As there is no pianoforte merchant in Meryton, perhaps we should travel to London to shop. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner would be pleased to welcome us to their home.”

“Aye, that they would.”

Mary smiled with pleasure at Elizabeth. “If you wish it, I shall be happy to throw my support into such an activity. Do not purchase a pianoforte with only my comfort in mind, Lizzy. Should you purchase one, I expect you to improve your playing too.”

“My wife has spoken, Elizabeth. You would do well to obey.”

Again, their mirth rang out through the room. “To please you both, I shall be diligent should the day come when I have a new instrument to anticipate. Until then, I believe I am content.”

“I could never imagine living without access to a pianoforte,” said Mary, again running her finger along the keys. “It is one of my greatest joys in life.”

“It is fortunate then that you learned. Would that we had interested our younger sisters in such prosaic activities.”

“That is what I mean!” exclaimed Mary. “Kitty does not even have the means of entertaining her husband and her pianoforte gathers dust from disuse.”

“I doubt Westbrook would appreciate it even if your sister could play,” interjected Mr. Hardwick again. “I have heard him sing—a more tone-deaf man I have never met. Westbrook cannot even tell one note from the next!”

“Aye, that is the truth,” said Elizabeth.

On one visit the Westbrooks had made to Longbourn, they had sat in the family pew during the service, and Elizabeth had been unfortunate enough to be sitting beside him. How a man could be so incapable of the simple matter of altering the pitch in one’s throat to produce notes in song she could not say, but the man’s singing had been akin to the drone of a buzzing bee. Kitty had laughed when she noted it, exclaiming that she had little more talent than he, so they were well suited.

“I do not think I could marry a man with so little talent,” averred Elizabeth. “While I do not need a man who can sing opera, I would at least enjoy sitting with a husband on Sundays singing our favorite hymns.”

A little later, they gathered in Longbourn’s dining-room to partake of the Sunday meal, sitting at one end of the table to more easily converse and enjoy one another’s company. Mr. Hardwick, acting as the master of the estate on those occasions, carved the roast while Elizabeth and Mary passed around the potatoes and other vegetables, their meal simple in keeping with the small company. Mary had never been fussy at the dinner table and Mr. Hardwick had an excellent appetite, and the fare was fine, if not the more elaborate dinners she had often seen in other houses. Mr. Hurst’s preference for a ragout when she had stayed at Netherfield Park came to mind.

“Elizabeth,” said Mr. Hardwick after he said the blessing on the meal, “I noted Mr. Mason captured your attention again before you could escape after church.”

“As he does every week I do not retreat at the first available opportunity.” Elizabeth offered a shake of her head and a wry grin. “I suppose there is no choice but to acknowledge his persistence, though I might almost wish for Mr. Collins’s unseemly haste so I may be done with the business more quickly.”

“By Mr. Collins, I assume you mean Mrs. Collins’s late husband?”

Elizabeth and Mary exchanged a look and a laugh. “You should feel all the gratitude of never having known the most ridiculous man any of us ever met,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins had only stayed with us for a little more than a week when he singled me out as the companion of his future life, and he could not understand my unwillingness to fall at his feet and proclaim my undying gratitude for his condescension.”

“Yet, Mrs. Collins is a rational woman,” observed Mr. Hardwick with no little amusement.

“Yes, well I cannot think that marrying him was the most sensible thing she has ever done.”

“Her reasons were of a more mundane variety, Michael,” said Mary. “She was seven and twenty and wished for a situation of her own.”

“Mr. Collins was eager to provide it.” Elizabeth shook her head. “He was so disappointed by my refusal that he waited all of three days before prostrating himself before Charlotte.”

“Then there was little affection in the marriage.”

“On Charlotte’s side, none at all, though she appreciated her situation. On Mr. Collins’s side, I must suppose his regard for her was as imaginary as his esteem for me.”

“I think,” said Mary, proving she still had an element of primness in her character, “we should refrain from speaking of such things.”

“You are correct, of course,” replied Elizabeth. “I had more knowledge of the Collinses’ situation than you, for I visited them for six weeks in Kent. Though I would not have chosen such a marriage for myself, Charlotte seemed content enough in it. Little else signifies.”

“As I recall,” said Mr. Hardwick, “we were speaking of Mason.”

“So we were,” agreed Elizabeth. “Little though I appreciate his eagerness to impose himself upon me, there is not much I can do to prevent it.”

“If you wish, I could speak to him.”

Elizabeth regarded her brother-in-law. “Do you suppose he will listen to your counsel? Mr. Mason’s towering conceit reveals his excellent opinion of himself, sufficient to make the word of a mere parson of no consequence.”

Mr. Hardwick did not bat an eyelash at Elizabeth’s characterization of her neighbor; he was as well acquainted with the man’s ways as Elizabeth was herself and had become accustomed to Elizabeth’s sportive way of speaking.

“Perhaps he will not. Yet, it may at least open his eyes to the truth.”

“Maybe it will provoke him to come to the point more expeditiously,” added Mary. “I do not suppose the notion of your disinterest has yet pierced his vanity.”

“Yes, that is a possibility,” mused Elizabeth. “It is also probable he would discount it.”

“Yet, I am pleased to do what I can if you wish,” said Mr. Hardwick. “It is distressing to witness you endure his officious attentions when I know you wish he were miles away. As I am your brother, I am happy to involve myself in your concerns.”

“I know you are,” replied Elizabeth with a warm smile. “I thank you for it, Brother, for I appreciate the experience of having a brother after so many years of wishing for one.

“At present, I have no notion that I cannot withstand Mr. Mason’s predations, so while I thank you for it, I believe it is unnecessary at this point. Should he become more obnoxious, I may accept your offer.”

“It is open to you whenever you wish.”

Elizabeth acknowledged him and turned the conversation to other subjects. Though he was slow to intrude upon her concerns, Elizabeth had always thought her relationship with Mary’s husband was akin to what she might have enjoyed if she ever had the good fortune to have an elder brother. This concern for her wellbeing while allowing her to manage her affairs was welcome, for Elizabeth appreciated his goodness. It was a blessing to have close family nearby.