Page 4 of It Taught Me to Hope
E lizabeth’s steward , Mr. Matthew Whitmore, came highly recommended. Though Mr. Gardiner, her uncle in London, had no experience in estate management, Elizabeth had confidence in his intelligence and diligence in investigating the man she had hired. Mr. Whitmore had been at the time of life where he had desired to take a wife, and while Longbourn was not a large enterprise to which he might aspire to manage, it was a position he could not pass up. His other option had been to wait for some larger estate, and there was no telling how long that might take or whether he could obtain a position at such an enterprise.
Elizabeth met often with him, speaking of tenant concerns, plans for the future improvement of the estate, or even discussing such topics as the gamekeeper or woodsman on the estate. On most estates owned by gentlemen, hunting was common, not only to provide game for their tables but to control the population of birds and pests such as foxes. As Elizabeth was not a gentleman and did not hunt, she must employ other means of accomplishing the same tasks, which was why she had a gamekeeper where her father had allowed the position to lapse, though he had shot little himself.
“I hope Mr. Bates is not terrorizing the other tenants,” said Elizabeth that morning when Mr. Whitmore had arrived with the gamekeeper’s name on his lips.
Mr. Whitmore smiled and nodded his understanding of Elizabeth’s jest. “Fortunately, he does not. He informed me a fox was threatening the chicken coop on the Johnson farm, but he chased it away.”
“That is the third this month,” said Elizabeth with a frown. “Or is it the same fox?”
“Likely the same one, though England is overrun by foxes. Bates does not associate much with the other tenants now that he is no longer among their number. Those who remember his stewardship over his lease remember this and express their gratitude frequently.”
Unable to help the laughter, Elizabeth allowed it free rein. Mr. Bates was now sixty if he was a day, but still spry and healthy, unlike many others his age. When his eldest son had taken over the lease from his father, Mr. Bates had lived with his son for a time, but knowing his nature, Elizabeth had offered him the gamekeeper position, allowing him some measure of autonomy and active employment that did not include the heavy labor of the farm. His second son was a tenant now at one of the neighboring estates. The irascible man still associated with his sons, of course, but the news that he kept himself away from the other tenants was welcome.
“Setting him up in the gamekeeper’s cottage now appears inspired. Had he remained at his son’s farm, I thought he would come to blows with Mr. Campbell, even if he does not manage the land any longer.”
“Which was why I suggested it,” agreed Mr. Whitmore.
“Very well,” said Elizabeth. “He manages the wildlife on the estate well, so I suppose we can ignore his eccentricities. Is there anything else of note to report?”
Mr. Whitmore sat back in his chair and considered. “Little enough. I inspected the fence on the northern border with Mr. Campbell, and while weathered, it is still sound. It may become a problem in the coming years, so we should inspect it regularly. Also, Mr. Johnson reports that the thatch on his cottage is showing signs of potential leaks. It may be best to speak to the thatcher in Meryton and engage him to inspect it.”
“Oh, aye. The man is a cutthroat—I do not expect he would ever suggest thatch does not need replacing, so we may as well engage him to do the work now.”
Again, Mr. Whitmore smiled; he was as well acquainted with the thatcher as Elizabeth was, having dealt with him before.
“As for the rest, everything appears well. The tenants are well provided for, appear to possess all the necessities, and are not prone to complaints. You support them so much that they all praise you to the other tenants of the neighborhood.”
Elizabeth felt a little abashed, but she nodded. “My mother was not a woman to concern herself much with the tenants, Mr. Whitmore, though that was because she was not born a gentlewoman and did not understand the family’s duty. My sister Jane started caring for Longbourn’s tenants when she was fifteen, and I helped when I turned that age.”
“It is well that you saw the need,” said Mr. Whitmore. “At present, however, there is nothing to report. If you will excuse me, I must check on the herd of sheep this morning.”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth, rising and giving him a warm smile. “Thank you, Mr. Whitmore, for you are a treasure. I do not know what I would do without you.”
With a word of thanks, the steward let himself from the room, leaving Elizabeth to turn idly back to the desk, where she sat in the chair behind it. For some time after her father’s death, Elizabeth had striven to smooth the ruffled feathers of the tenants accustomed to a master who took little thought for their welfare or the estate itself. Though she deflected the praise whenever another mentioned it, she was not insensible to the superior quality of her management over her father’s, even if she, as a woman, could not undertake certain tasks her father could. For the past several years, the estate had been at harmony, though problems always arose no matter how much care she took. Elizabeth preferred tranquility, for it made problems much easier to resolve.
A knock interrupted her reverie, and Elizabeth called permission to enter. Charlotte appeared in the doorway, grinning at Elizabeth.
“Charlotte!” exclaimed Elizabeth, rising to greet her friend with an embrace. “I did not expect to see you this morning.”
“My presence is not unwelcome, I hope.”
Smiling at Charlotte’s jest, Elizabeth nodded. “You are welcome always, of course. Come, let us go to the sitting-room. The study is an excellent room, but I much prefer to speak with good friends in the more comfortable confines of my mother’s favorite room.”
“Of course,” murmured Charlotte, allowing Elizabeth to lead her from the study.
“You did not bring Jenny?” asked Elizabeth when they settled in for the visit.
At Charlotte’s response in the negative, Elizabeth fixed her friend with a chiding look. “That is twice in succession, Charlotte. I might think you are hiding your daughter from me.”
“Not at all, Lizzy. I have come here for a particular purpose this morning and left Jenny at home with her grandmother.”
“A particular purpose, is it? Then please explain, for I am eager to hear of this solemn business.”
“My father is hosting a party on Friday.”
Elizabeth allowed the bubble of laughter to escape her lips. “That is not a surprise, Charlotte, for everyone in the district knows your father loves company.”
“Yes, he does.”
Charlotte allowed Elizabeth’s mirth to infect her, and they jested for several moments about the more amusing foibles of their relations, friends, and other acquaintances. At length, Charlotte turned the conversation back to the subject of the proposed party at Lucas Lodge.
“I do hope you will join us, Lizzy.”
“When have I refused to attend a function at your father’s house? Of course, I am happy to accept. Tell me, is your father holding this event for a particular reason, or is it just his usual interest in hosting the neighborhood?”
“There is no special reason of which I am aware. I believe my father has some notion of inviting the new tenant of Breckonridge if he arrives tomorrow as the rumors say.”
“Then he had best hope the new tenant is as amiable as Mr. Bingley, for that is only two days after the quarter day. Most gentlemen wait until a few days pass before imposing on the newest member of their fraternity.”
“You know my father, Lizzy,” replied Charlotte with some amused fondness for Sir William.
“Yes, I do. I suppose I must thank him, for as a lady possessing an estate, I cannot visit to introduce myself and welcome him. Therefore, I must depend on the other gentlemen for my introduction.”
“Oh? And was your father diligent about seeing to such matters?”
Elizabeth laughed, albeit a little ruefully. “You have the right of it, Charlotte. When Mr. Mason came, Papa did not bother to bestir himself to visit him, though I suspect now that the ailment that took his life had begun to take hold of him. When Mr. Bingley came, my father declared he would not visit, only to explain we could not avoid the acquaintance when Mama lamented that we were not to know Mr. Bingley.”
Charlotte’s shaken head was not unexpected. “I apologize, Lizzy, for I know you esteemed your father. He was an intelligent man, but the way he teased your mother was cruel.”
“Well do I know it.” Elizabeth sighed and offered a weak smile. “I loved my father, Charlotte, but I was not blind to his faults.”
As was the custom when such conversations grew maudlin or the memories grew unpalatable, they changed the subject, speaking for some time about other inconsequential matters. It was welcome to Elizabeth, for she had long determined to consider her parents only as she could remember the happy times and not dwell on their faults and how they had sometimes disappointed her. Elizabeth tried to take this same approach with her absent and wild youngest sister, but in Lydia’s case it was often more difficult, as by the time Lydia had reached her teen years, there was little enough of pleasurable memories to recall. As such, Elizabeth took the expedient of considering Lydia as little as possible.
“Then we shall expect you at my father’s party,” said Charlotte at length, returning to the previous subject. “I hope you will consent to entertain us all with your talents on the pianoforte.”
That was a request Charlotte made at almost every event at her father’s home. “Why you persist in the face of my ordinary talents I cannot say.”
“You play far better than anyone in the district, Lizzy.”
“Mary would be quite put out with you if she heard you say as much!”
The friends laughed together again, Elizabeth adding: “In truth, Mary’s improved playing is inversely proportioned to her waning need to display herself.”
“Perhaps it is,” agreed Charlotte. “Yet I will state that Mary’s playing is not so fine as yours, Lizzy, for she lacks something in her appeal to the audience, a quality your playing has always possessed in abundance. If it will make you happy, I shall be certain to include Mary in my request for entertainment.”
“See that you do,” replied Elizabeth. “Then I shall see you on Friday. Your father’s parties are always so interesting that even if my life at Longbourn was not so sedate, I would not refuse to come.”
Charlotte paused in the act of rising to her feet, spearing Elizabeth with a look that appeared quite odd. She could not quite make out what had caught her friend’s attention, though the way Charlotte regarded her, Elizabeth was certain it would not be long before she would explain. As Charlotte sank back onto the sofa, an expression containing compassion, understanding, and several emotions Elizabeth could not name came over her face.
“Lizzy,” said she, “you have asked me many times to come and live with you at Longbourn; for the first time, I believe I see something of your motivations. I am shocked I never saw it before.”
“Given your knowledge of my character,” replied Elizabeth lightly, not understanding what her friend recognized, “I am shocked you did not comprehend me at once.”
An uncomfortable silence to Elizabeth’s feelings ensued, and she felt measured by her friend, her character laid bare to Charlotte’s judging eyes. It was not sensible, Elizabeth knew, for she and Charlotte were the closest of friends and had been for many years. Charlotte was not looking at her to judge, but she felt it all the same and it was not comfortable.
“Tell me, Lizzy,” said she at length, “do you find your solitary life at Longbourn a lonely one?”
Understanding flooded through Elizabeth, carrying a soothing balm to her feelings. “That is a difficult question, Charlotte,” said she, trying to formulate a response.
“Lizzy,” prompted Charlotte, a warning note in her voice. “Do not search for an answer. Tell me what is in your heart.”
Elizabeth offered her friend a misty smile, feeling a trace of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
“It is nonsensical, is it not? I have you nearby, and Mary lives in the parsonage a mere moment’s walk from the gates of Longbourn, along with all my other friends in the district. Yet I will own that sometimes I do feel alone as if I were on an island amid a stormy sea with no one to keep me company.
“Perhaps it will strike you as odd—it would not surprise me at all if it did! —but sometimes I remember Longbourn as it was when I was a young woman, the tumult, and the noise my father deplored, and I long for those days. It is the sense of belonging to a family, of sharing my life with others in a most intimate way that I regret, I suppose, though you remember that I often deplored the antics of my younger sisters. My mother also had a hand in creating that atmosphere, for she was often as loud as Lydia could ever be!”
“It surprises me to a certain extent to hear you own to it, Lizzy,” said Charlotte. “Yet I do not think you are silly, for what you feel is natural. Few are eager to spend their lives alone, I think, for we all crave the society of others.”
“Yes, I suppose you must be correct.”
“That is why I believe you would do so much better as a married woman, Lizzy.” Charlotte’s smile was affectionate, one of genuine friendship and understanding. “Your vibrant character is wasted here in the hinterlands of England, alone at your estate. It gives you the security your family lacked when you were younger, but it does not offer the intellectual stimulation you require. In a real way, your circumstances mirror what they were when you were a girl.”
Never having considered it that way, Elizabeth nodded, reflecting on what her friend had said. Jane had long been Elizabeth’s closest confidante in the family, followed by her affection and intimacy with her father. Yet, even as she had deplored the chaotic nature of the house in which she was reared and exasperated at the silliness of her mother and sisters, she had loved them and remembered many pleasant times in their company.
“Your perspicacity is even more profound than you know,” laughed Elizabeth when a thought occurred to her. “I was not intimate with Mary when we were girls—no one was, for she often kept herself aloof. Now we are as devoted to each other as any sisters can claim.”
“That is my point and not surprising, given your proximity to each other. Mary was never excessively detached from anyone , as you claim. Rather, I suspect she was only awkward, with no one in the family with a similar character allowing her to forge those closer bonds you have since developed.”
“As she has owned herself more than once.” Elizabeth offered her friend another smile, though tinged with sadness at the girl who had often found herself alone in a family of seven. “One of my greatest regrets is that I paid Mary little attention when she was younger. Mary does not make an issue of it, but I still feel my failure.”
“Mary understands , Elizabeth,” replied Charlotte. “Had matters been different, had Mary and Lydia been the only two sisters left near Longbourn, I still believe they would have grown more attached.”
This time, Elizabeth’s laugh was cathartic. “Perhaps you are correct, though the very notion baffles my mind. Of us all, Mary and Lydia were the two most likely to engage in heated argument, for Lydia was thoughtless and heedless and often teased, while Mary was judgmental and inflexible.”
“Well do I know it.”
Charlotte regarded her again, this time demanding. “Now, Lizzy, I have another question for you, one that is of the greatest importance, such that I demand honesty and not dissembling. All the times you invited me to live at Longbourn; have they proceeded because of your loneliness?”
Not having considered it, Elizabeth did not respond at once, for thoughts flew through her head, each demanding her attention. At length, however, she pushed them away, sighed, and nodded to her friend.
“In all honesty, I am not certain I can say with any surety. The thought has occurred to me, but it is not my only motivation. You have a comfortable situation at Lucas Lodge, but you worry about becoming a burden. My situation is secure, but it far exceeds my needs. To me, it is only sensible that you come to Longbourn and live here, and compensates you, at least in part, for the accident of birth that led to my residence at Longbourn rather than your own.”
It was well that Charlotte did not make any attempt at refuting Elizabeth’s claims of recompense, for Elizabeth did not think she could have withstood it. Instead, she proved Elizabeth’s supposition about her eventual capitulation.
“Thank you, my dear friend,” said Charlotte, enfolding Elizabeth in a tender embrace. “With your honesty, you may have persuaded me to your way of thinking. For the moment I shall remain at Lucas Lodge, but I promise I shall give the matter greater thought.”
“That is all I ask,” replied Elizabeth.
“Then I shall depart, for I believe my daughter awaits my return.”
Charlotte’s admission was a turning point, thought Elizabeth as she farewelled her friend. Though she had never considered her invitation to Charlotte in terms of companionship for herself, Elizabeth knew her friend’s presence in the house would improve her life. Perhaps she would persuade Charlotte sooner than she had ever thought; the notion gave her immense satisfaction and peace.
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E LIZABETH’S SUPPOSITION proved incorrect in a spectacular fashion, though she remained unaware of the change in the wind. Those days before the party at Lucas Lodge, she tended to her estate, visited with Mary several times, wrote letters to both Jane and Kitty, and another to her Aunt Gardiner in London, and existed in a state of contentment superior to anything she had experienced since Mary had wed and left her alone in the house. What prompted her improved spirits was both easy to discern and difficult to understand, for while Charlotte’s softened stance concerning her residence at Longbourn was a matter to anticipate, little else had changed to improve Elizabeth’s perspective.
On the night of the party, the night that was to change everything, Elizabeth prepared herself for an evening in company and made her way to Lucas Lodge. As it was a party and not some fancy ball, Elizabeth dressed simply, not that she often indulged in a more formal style of dress these days. There were those in the neighborhood who might suppose her plain dress and simple hairstyle did not flatter her—Mr. Mason had even commented once or twice in his pompous tones about how more elaborate clothing would favor her. As Elizabeth did not think she would ever find a husband and did not wish to impress Mr. Mason of all men, her appearance was the last of her concerns.
Charlotte was not in evidence when Elizabeth arrived at the party in Mary and Mr. Hardwick’s company. Sir William greeted them with the enthusiasm that was such a part of his character, though there was something strange about it that Elizabeth could not quite understand.
“How pleased we are that you have graced us with your presence, Miss Bennet, Mr. and Mrs. Hardwick. Why, I declare this evening will prove most interesting for us all.”
While Elizabeth was tempted to allow the comment to be nothing more than his civility speaking, the way he watched her suggested something out of the ordinary, though Elizabeth had no notion what it was. Sir William was not a man to conceal anything—he was as frank and forthright in their company as anyone Elizabeth had ever met, almost a match for Lady Catherine at her most insistent, though he had shown remarkable restraint in that lady’s company. Elizabeth might have pushed it to the back of her mind altogether had Mary not noted the oddity herself.
“That was strange,” said she to Elizabeth as they moved away from Sir William, who had already turned to the Gouldings, who had arrived on the Bennets’ heels. “What do you make of Sir William’s behavior?”
“I am certain that I cannot say,” said Elizabeth. “It also struck me as strange, though I do not know why.”
“Sir William is a strange sort of man,” said Mr. Hardwick, glancing back at the gentleman and grinning. “I noted nothing, though my acquaintance with him is not as profound as your own.”
Elizabeth nodded, but soon Charlotte appeared, and Mary left with her husband to visit with some other neighbors. The anticipation Elizabeth had sensed in Sir William was if anything amplified in Charlotte, for she exuded expectation. There was no time to question her on the subject, for Charlotte spoke the moment she was in Elizabeth’s company.
“I hope you are well tonight and eager to mingle, Lizzy.”
“When am I ever not?” asked Elizabeth, by now feeling perplexed.
“Never, I suppose,” returned Charlotte, though Elizabeth noted her friend’s close observation. “You are much as you ever were, though tempered with the greater wisdom maturity brings.”
“Charlotte, something is strange tonight,” said Elizabeth. “Your father, who is always an open book, greets me as if he suspects some momentous event is about to unfold, and your behavior is even more puzzling. If there is something significant about tonight, I plead with you to inform me what it is.”
Charlotte only offered her a lazy smile, which by this time was beginning to annoy Elizabeth. Instead of an open response, Charlotte was even more mysterious.
“Tell me, Lizzy—you mentioned something familiar about the notion of someone coming to the neighborhood to lease an estate. Does this evening not put you in mind of a similar night soon after the Netherfield party arrived, the first function the officers attended in the neighborhood?”
“Of course, I remember the event,” said Elizabeth, impatience welling up within her breast. “That was the night your father presented me to Mr. Darcy as a desirable dance partner, only days after he insulted me in Meryton’s assembly hall.”
“Yes, I remember you recounting that occasion to me.” Charlotte smiled, though it was not a gesture of provoked memory. “That, and Mr. Darcy’s subsequent behavior on other occasions, were what formed the origin of my suspicions about his preference for you, and his actions in Kent firmed that opinion.”
“I recall your teasing on the subject,” agreed Elizabeth, by now quite cross with her friend.
Elizabeth determined not to consider Mr. Darcy’s actions and proposal confirmed Charlotte’s suspicions, given her friend’s lack of knowledge on that subject.
“Perhaps you should explain yourself, for I am becoming quite cross with you. Why would you mention such subjects as Mr. Darcy and his haughty behavior in this very room?”
“Was Mr. Darcy haughty when he followed my father’s officious suggestion and stated his willingness to dance with you?”
“Your father left him little other choice.”
“Ah, but left with little choice on another occasion, he proclaimed his disinclination for dancing and disparaged your charms, though I remain convinced his reasons for saying as much differed greatly from any disapproval of you.”
“Charlotte, if you do not tell me at once what has provoked your behavior, I will not speak to you again tonight!”
At that moment, as Charlotte regarded her, amusement and satisfaction emanating from her, Elizabeth caught sight of a new arrival at the entrance, coupled with the jovial greeting from the host. Turning, Elizabeth felt her mouth widen in shock, for there in the door, speaking with Sir William, stood the tall figure of Mr. Darcy.