Page 4 of Lizzie’s Spirit

“My dear friends,” said Mrs. Bennet, “I must be blunt. The heir presumptive, Mr. Collins, whom you have already met, claimed in the Chancery court that Mr. Bennet’s inability to manage Longbourn resulted in damage to the estate and loss to himself.”

A murmur of angry discontent escaped the servants; they knew, contrariwise, that the estate prospered under the diligence of Mrs. Bennet and, particularly, Miss Elizabeth.

“Pray, let me continue. Miss Elizabeth and I attended a session of the court in St. Albans a week past. The judge made an order we must obey. This is the law, whether there is right or not—the family must remove to the dower house. Mr. Collins is to become master of Longbourn. There is, notwithstanding anything else, a waiting period of some two months. This is where we are at.”

Mrs. Bennet paused, annoyed by the brusqueness of her declaration, though it was best to convey the circumstance directly without obfuscation.

She continued, “Fortunately, the family is well provided for by the estate; thus, we can take any or all of you with us. While the family accommodations are lesser than those here in the manor, the servants’ quarters are their equal.

If you wish to move to the dower house, you are welcome—you are all dear friends; alternatively, you may seek employment under Mr. Collins, or, if elsewhere, I’ll write you a good character.

“There is no need for a hasty decision. Think on what such a move would mean, whether to your benefit or not. My desire is to ensure your well-being at this difficult time. Sadly, we’ll only be able to keep a chaise and two of the horses from the stable.

There’s employment for a groom-coachman and a stable boy.

We’ll see the other outdoor servants transferred to the home farm, which will be managed by Mr. Collins. It’s the best we can do.”

She addressed one of the housemaids, “Sarah, you and Adam are courting”—the young girl blushed.

“Miss Elizabeth suggested your Adam may wish to take the position of groom at the dower house. It would be a step down for him with fewer horses to manage, but there’s a tidy cottage attached to the stables, which would suit if you and he are wed.

” Sarah was discomposed by this generosity.

Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, turned and hugged her.

“Didn’t I say they’d do right by you—ne’er better mistress than Mrs. Bennet! ”

The housekeeper returned to the business at hand. “I believe, ma’am, that some of the estate farms are short-handed. Hence, there’ll be no difficulties in finding employment for the outdoorsmen.”

She addressed the servants. “The dower house needs a good clean, and Mrs. Bennet has said that any repairs must be made before the move. Major work will be carried out by the Meryton carpenter. Sarah, fetch your Adam, and we’ll see about putting him to work.

The cart needs harnessing, and he must see whether repairs are required for the dower stables and cottage. ”

Once the servants cleared the room, Elizabeth stepped up and placed her arms around her mother. “Mrs. Hill is a wonder. I do hope she’ll come with us to the dower house.”

“Oh, for sure, I had already apprised her of the situation. But let me retire for a while, Lizzie. There’s much to do, and meetings such as these are exhausting. You must have compassion for my poor nerves. ”

Life at Longbourn settled into a routine.

Every day, servants went to the dower house to clean the rooms, polish the doors and mantels, and make repairs where necessary.

Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth made plans for each room and began the task of having furniture, paintings, carpets, and other such items moved from the manor house.

Mrs. Hill made an inventory of all the crockery and silverware together with the pots, pans, and kettles in the kitchen and other hearths of the house.

The coach was sold and replaced with a well-used but solid four-wheel chaise, suitable to be pulled by one horse or two for longer journeys.

The younger girls, in addition to helping Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth sort through the linen and attics, continued to attend their lessons with the local schoolmaster, who visited the manor following his morning classes in the parish school.

Elizabeth made time to tutor them in French and Italian, the two languages accomplished young ladies were required to know, while Mary, the next after Elizabeth, aged fourteen, supervised the needlework of the two youngest, Catherine, known as Kitty, aged twelve, and Lydia, aged ten.

For Mrs. Bennet, the end of each day was met with relief.

They had refused several dinner invitations, not because they would not enjoy them—in fact, the diversion would be welcome—but rather because they could not return the invitation as was proper.

Their kitchen was depleted of cooking utensils, and they were using old crockery, the best and second-best having already been removed to the dower house.

***

“Lizzie, do you visit the Meyers this evening?” asked Mrs. Bennet.

“If so, could you give these tablecloths to Mevrouw Meyers? Hill discovered them at the back of the hall closet under the stairs. They are of no use to us and of little value if sold in the market. The weave is certainly of Dutch linen damask, and she may have a use for them.”

“Yes, Mama. Mynheer Meyers requested me to come and bring my guitar. I thought with our changed circumstances, it would be improper to visit, but they are so kind. I’ll enjoy my remaining visits with them. Mr. Collins will certainly forbid such in the future.”

The weather was fine, so they took the chaise—two riding with Adam on the forward seat and two facing backwards on the rump seat.

The distance to the Meyers’s house in Meryton was just over two miles, but the journey was rather cramped, with Elizabeth clutching her guitar lying across her and Mary’s knees; Kitty and Lydia sat giggling on the rump seat, waving to their friends as they trotted by.

“Goeije ‘n avend, Mynheer Meyers. Oe ‘wis’t?”

“Good evening to you, Miss Elizabeth. I am well,” replied Mynheer Meyers, in West Flemish.

“There is another reason for asking you to come this evening rather than practising conversation. Mevrouw Meyers will take your sisters in hand and show them how to bake poffertjes, a traditional Dutch batter cake. These are rather sweet, especially with butter and syrup, so I know Kitty and Lydia will love them. I’m sure your mother will forgive the impropriety of young gentlewomen being active in the kitchen, but Mevrouw will instruct them in French, so they will be learning the language of haute cuisine , after all! ”

Elizabeth chuckled. Mynheer Meyers knew of their removal to the dower house, and, because of their reduced circumstances, some knowledge of the kitchen would be very useful.

While Mrs. Hill supervised the cooking, if she were absent, the household might not be able to afford a replacement cook and be reduced to eating nothing but toast and drinking weak tea .

“This evening, we will practise singing where the melody and harmony evoke the emotion of the song.” Mynheer Meyers handed Elizabeth some sheets of music.

“They are Spanish love poems, with lyrics and accompaniment.

My voice is rather weak—anyways, I shall sing first, and then you follow.

We sing the Spanish, the Castilian dialect, then the same melody with the English words.

This way you can take any song and translate it to another language but keep the emotion intact. Let us begin.

“The first song, La mi sola, Laureola, is inspired by a 16th-century Spanish song wherein the melody and harmony highlight the melancholic words of Leriano, who longs for Laureola:

La mi sola, Laureola.

Yo el cautivo Leriano

aunque mucho estoy ufano

Herido de aquella mano

Que en el mundo es una sola.

La mi sola, Laureola.

“And now the English:

My only, Laureola.

I, the captive Leriano,

Although I am very proud,

Wounded from that hand

That in the world there is only one.

My only, Laureola.

Elizabeth took up her guitar and tuned it to Mynheer’s voice.

Her ear for language readily accepted the musical interpretation of the Spanish songs, and she found the exercise enthralling.

Time stood still; each song was beautiful on its own.

Her favourite was ?Corazón, porqué pasáis?

which narrated the worries and uncertainties of a young lover’s perception of her beloved.

Rapid rhythms in the accompaniment mirrored the staccato of an unsure heart.

Dissonant harmonies created uncomfortable feelings of uncertainty; a chromatic melody and mixed meter further embodied the riddle that is an undetermined love story:

?Corazón, porqué pasáis

Las noches de amor despierto

Si vuestro dueno descansa

En los brazos de otro dueno?

Ah!

She cried as she sang the translation:

Heart, why do you pass

The nights of love awake

If your owner rests

In the arms of another?

Ah!

What would it be like to feel such worry? To experience such love? The joy of binding her soul to another? Could she bind herself to Collins? No! She only felt despair. Her voice stumbled, “I apologise, Mynheer. I cannot continue—singing these songs is too painful.”

“But why? Surely, one day, you will arouse such passion in a young man. You will be ardently loved and admired!”

She broke down into tears. Her misery was too much. She needed someone to confide in. Mynheer Meyers looked enquiringly at her; he took her hands. “You have so much to give, Miss Elizabeth. Please tell me. Gemeene plaag rust wel— a trouble shared is a trouble halved. ”