Page 44 of The Countess and Her Sister
The next day, Mrs. Bennet sent a letter to Jane and Elizabeth at Matlock. Jane read it first, and shared it after Elizabeth finished a music lesson with their younger sisters. “It was not at all what I was expecting, and I find myself greatly desiring to know your opinion,” Jane said.
Elizabeth took the letter as if it were poison, but sat down to read it.
My dearest Jane and Lizzy,
I find myself weeping at my solitude, and what I have done to deserve it. I miss my girls already, but it is nothing to how l long for some reconciliation with you, my eldest, though you have been better off without me.
I remain at Montrose by your generosity, and I will not presume again to impose my company on you at Matlock Hall. But I wish to see my daughters and my grandson, in my lonely house here.
I have taken Lizzy’s recommendation and asked my guests to leave, though it was a horrid scene!
I did not wish to believe that they could be capable of any mischief, but I discovered this morning that I was very wrong!
Lady Catherine did intend you some wicked devilry, and I refused to comply with her scheming, for fear of losing my girls forever.
I am only sorry that I listened to her plans and entertained the notion before I turned her away from Montrose, it was a shameful disgrace!
I wish to make amends and put things right forever.
I would be content to part with my girls if I could but see my grandson, and know that I am not despised at Matlock Hall.
I beg you would attend a party in your honor at Montrose, and accept the offered olive branch now that the ghastly Lady Catherine and her friends are gone away.
I look forward to giving you all my good wishes on Thursday, and showing your friends that you have no cause to be ashamed of me.
Your devoted Mother,
F. Bennet
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as she handed the letter back to Jane. “I do not know what to think. She was so horrid when I went there, Jane. What could have brought about such a reversal?”
“I suspected that Lady Catherine must have come into the country with another nefarious scheme.” Jane furrowed her brow, her lips twisting in contemplation. “Could she have tried to enlist Mrs. Bennet in her cause, and actually offended her?”
“It is possible,” Elizabeth mused. “But she has schemed against us before. How wicked could Lady Catherine’s scheme have been, for Mrs. Bennet to take umbrage and turn away the guests she has been more inclined to fawn over?”
“Probably very bad,” Jane sighed. “Perhaps I ought to just marry Mr. Bingley and be done with it, so Lady Catherine will leave me alone.”
Elizabeth grinned. “Perhaps you should! You have progressed a great deal since coming to the country.”
“I am nearly ready to consider it, I think,” Jane said. “He has been so wonderful. But I do not know what to do about Mrs. Bennet – I wish he were here to advise me.”
Jane and Elizabeth consulted with their relations that evening before supper, while Kitty and Lydia were still dressing. Mary was sympathetic to Mrs. Bennet, reminding Sir Edward of how her mother had wept at parting with her daughters.
The Gardiners and Lady Augusta remained skeptical, and Rebecca was cynical as ever.
“Lonely after just a day, even she must find her own company unbearable! But you ought to ascertain that she is alone, that my aunt and uncle and odious cousin have really departed Montrose. Perhaps you might check at the local inn, Sir Edward. If Lady Catherine is still about, she may be a danger to Jane whether Mrs. Bennet is complicit or not.”
“Lady Catherine has been ill since coming to Montrose,” Mary protested.
“I have known that woman for thirty years – she has not once been ill, unfortunately,” Lady Augusta drawled.
“I will send word to Darcy and Bingley in the morning,” Sir Edward said. “We will take your advice, Lady Rebecca, and ask after her at all the local inns. But if Lady Catherine is gone, and not a danger to you, Jane, that still leaves the question of whether or not you will see Mrs. Bennet.”
The question hung over them like a dark cloud as the family dined together.
When they reached the second course, Lady Gardiner scolded Kitty and Lydia for whispering and laughing together; the rest of their relations had been pleasant but withdrawn during their meal, as if they all shared Elizabeth’s silent rumination about Mrs. Bennet.
While Kitty pouted, Lydia grimaced at everyone. “Well, I do not see why Kitty and I might not be merry, even when our hearts are broken – I have no idea why the rest of you should be so dreary.”
Lady Augusta lifted her brows high and gave an indulgent smile. “Your hearts are broken, are they? What has happened, girls?”
Lydia looked hesitantly at Elizabeth and Jane before giving in to her penchant for gossip. She leaned forward, her pleasure in sharing news surpassing the sentiments she had lamented. “Why, Captain Tilney has gone away!”
Jane’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“Betsy told us,” Kitty said. Jane had sent the maid she and Elizabeth shared to attend the younger girls, until another maid could be found.
Since the sweating sickness, servants had been in short supply, and they had brought their staff from London, only able to hire a few additional hands from the village.
The younger Bennet sisters had been fond of their maid Hannah at Montrose, but Jane and Elizabeth mistrusted the idea of bringing in any former servants of Mrs. Bennet.
Rebecca looked over with interest. “And how does Betsy know this? She is one of ours from London; she cannot have any acquaintance here.”
“She heard it from….” Kitty began to say, but Lydia swatted at her.
“I will tell it! Betsy said that she heard in the kitchen that when the cook’s boy went to the village for supplies, he saw a girl he’s gone sweet on – it is our own maid, Hannah….”
“Surely she must come to use here, if she has an admirer in the house,” Kitty interjected.
“And Hannah told the cook’s boy about how Mamma threw Lady Catherine and the Tilneys out of Longbourn this morning in such a state! And Lady Catherine was shrieking like the devil, and Mamma was cursing and crying, and even threw a rock at her ladyship’s carriage as she fled back to London.”
“That does sound like Fanny,” Lady Gardiner observed.
“But Lady Catherine took Captain Tilney away,” Kitty cried. “He was so handsome!”
Mary’s face lit up. “But if they are really gone away, then Mamma was telling the truth! She stood up for you, Jane. Can we not see her and give her the chance to atone?”
Lydia pouted. “Did you tell her to send them away, Jane?”
“I did,” Elizabeth said. “And if you knew what that man was truly like – as I am glad you do not – you would thank me.”
“And good riddance to Lady Catherine, too – if she is really gone,” Rebecca said. “I still think we ought to be sure.”
Mary looked between Jane and Elizabeth, dropping her voice low.
“It is a right thing to have peace between families. If Mamma is telling the truth, can we not all visit her and hear her apology? She might see the effect you have had on us already, for I have never gotten Kitty to spend so long at the instrument with me as I did this morning. Maybe she will really see….”
Elizabeth gave her younger sister a look of pity.
She could well understand the irrational hope that someday Mrs. Bennet might see sense, might see the true worth of her children.
Elizabeth had given up any hope of Mrs. Bennet’s reformation the day she stole Sir William Lucas’s horse and left Longbourn forever.
Jane let out a heavy sigh. “I have wanted her to see… do you really think she could? I have not dared ask what she has been like these two years.”
Mary’s lips twitched. “Angry. Sad. Desperately sure that one day she would see you again, and Thomas. Lizzy, we listened at the door the day you came to Montrose and had Uncle take us away. All the horrid things she said to you… she never said any such things to us. She was bitter and hurt, but I believe that it pained her to be excluded from the life she gave you.”
“Gave me,” Jane scoffed. “Mary, you were old enough to understand that it was no gift – that I was not willing….”
“But she never did. You know there was little affection between our parents – she treated your complaints the way Papa treated hers. Lady Augusta was so uncivil the day she came for Lizzy’s things and said that you would both stay with her always, that you never wished to see Mamma again.
And when you came to say goodbye to Papa, and said that we would go to Montrose, you did not travel with us.
But she has been so sure you would come, someday.
When our mourning for Papa ended, she was sure you would come. She has been anxious for it.”
“We did not travel with her because she compelled that slimy weasel Mr. Collins to offer for me so that she could keep her house,” Elizabeth hissed.
Jane’s countenance was a mirror of Elizabeth’s own painful recollection. “From what Lydia and Kitty have said, you have not been observing mourning for Papa as Lizzy and I have done.”
“We wore black for a year,” Mary insisted. “We have visited with our neighbors, and at first I protested – not that anybody ever listened to me – but we were lonely, away from everyone we knew.”
“ So was Jane ,” Elizabeth said. “She had nobody at all when she was first brought to Matlock – thanks to that woman.”
But Jane’s face had begun to soften. “I did neglect you, while I was in mourning. I might have sent tutors or invited you three to London.”
“We might have done the same,” Sir Edward sighed. They were too small a party at the dinner table for the anguished whispers between Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary to remain private.