Page 50 of The Next Mrs Bennet
H ertfordshire was getting more and more frustrated. He had been married to the spitfire for more than seven months and she was not yet with child.
Of one thing he was certain, the failure was hers, it could not be his fault. Even though he had celebrated his seven and sixtieth birthday in January 1807, he was sure he was as virile as he had ever been.
He had come close to punishing her for her failure, but his desire for an heir had won out. If something occurred to end her life before he had an heir, Hertfordshire was sure no woman would ever again join herself with him. It was times like this the Duke wondered if the harpy of a mother—Mrs. Bennet—as his wife referred to her—had not been right and he should have chosen the older sister.
As he did whenever he had these thoughts, the Duke reminded himself he would not have enjoyed being married to the insipid one and as such, he would not have been able to rein in his proclivities until she bore him a son.
Even the fact the mother had birthed five daughters and no sons did not cause him to waiver from his determination that when his duchess bore him a child, it would be a son.
When he had considered taking away her privilege to send and receive letters via the post again—what cared he if the settlement stated she could, Wickham had suggested the chances of his wife becoming with child would be reduced if she was unhappy. That information had stayed his hand and Hertfordshire had allowed his wife to continue to communicate with her sisters unimpeded.
The nights he went to her, he had considered demanding she open her eyes when he was joining with her, but he had remembered what Wickham told him about the cause and effects of being unhappy, so he had not given the order.
He had hoped to be in London pursuing his preferred entertainment by now, but Hertfordshire had sworn to himself to remain with his wife until she was confirmed to be with child. His cravings to have his needs met were increasing daily. All he could hope was he would be able to continue to control them until his wife was in the family way.
The Duke tamped down his desires reminding himself he was doing this for the very survival of his name and line.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Aunt Maddie was with child again, and having a devil of a time with sickness in the mornings, necessitating Jane’s assistance. Hence the only park the Bennets and Gardiner offspring had visited for the past few months was the one opposite the Gardiners’ house.
Three of the four Bennet sisters living at Gracechurch Street had become a year older since coming to live with their aunt and uncle. In July 1806, Lydia turned eleven. In October, Jane turned nineteen, and lastly, in November Kitty reached the age of thirteen. The only sister not to celebrate her birthday with the Gardiners was Mary who would be fifteen in April 1807, a little more than a month after Lizzy turned seventeen.
Jane was somewhat sorry she had not been able to return to Hyde Park and possibly spot the Viscount who had saved her from falling.
Even if she was socially too low for him to consider, Jane would have liked to see him again. It was something beyond her control so she decided not to expend energy dreaming of that which was impossible.
By December Aunt Maddie’s morning illness had all but gone away, however, it was a particularly cold winter so walks in Hyde Park were out of the question. Even the pond in the park opposite had—much to Lilly and Eddy’s consternation—frozen over. Both had been very concerned about their friends the ducks until Jane and Mary had explained how they would fly to the south of England where it was a little warmer.
So far, other than the month after her presentation, letters from Lizzy had not stopped coming. No matter how much she wanted to see her younger sister above all else, Jane was well aware it was in their best interests to be away from the old man’s company.
It was a small consolation, but from what Jane could see, and in her letters received from Charlotte, her friend had agreed, it seemed there were parts of Lizzy’s life which were not terrible for her.
Her husband had not restricted her from taking walks and Lizzy had learnt to ride at Falconwood.
That was something which had surprised Jane. Lizzy had been afraid of riding horses ever since she had fallen and broken her arm while learning to ride a pony when she was but ten. It was nothing the placid mount had done, Lizzy had simply lost her seat and fallen. That had led to, until now, her refusing to learn to ride.
Lizzy had written in one of her first letters after beginning her riding lessons about the extensive stables at her husband’s estate. The stablemaster, and head groom—the one who had been her teacher—had introduced her to a perfectly docile white Arabian mare named Jamil , which Lizzy had been told was Arabic for beautiful. Evidently. rider and mare had adopted one another, so the horse was unofficially Lizzy’s
According to Lizzy, the name was apropos as her mare was truly beautiful. She had perfect lines and the longest eyelashes and perfectly coiffed main and tail. If she did not know better, Lizzy stated she would have sworn Jamil would preen when anyone looked at her, as if she knew how pretty she was.
The old man did not ride himself. Lizzy had opined it was his age, girth, or both which was the cause of his not partaking in the sport. Jane had smiled when Lizzy had written how her pleasure in riding had increased as soon as she discovered he did not ride.
She wrote that most days she saw him no more than once at dinner. Even when he imposed himself on her, she told Jane since the first time she had kept her eyes shut tightly so even though she was in his company—after a fashion—she did not see him. In her last letter, Lizzy had expressed frustration she was not with child yet.
Jane’s thoughts meandered to her three sisters living with the Gardiners. All three had matured considerably. Mary no longer needed to hide her true self, her intelligence, or her beauty now Mrs. Bennet was no longer around to denigrate her.
Kitty—now called Kate—had been working with art masters who were developing her native talent for drawing, sketching, and painting. Subsequent to her past birthday, Kitty had decided she preferred Kate as it was a much more mature sounding name. She had become so accomplished at her art that Jane had requested she take a likeness of the Gardiners and Bennets in residence on Gracechurch Street which would be sent to Lizzy. The art master would add Kate to the portrait.
Lydia had grown the most. No longer was she the vapid, unmanageable, animal-spirited, and spoilt girl she was well on her way to becoming under Mrs. Bennet.
With her energy directed toward positive pursuits, Lydia had discovered her intelligence. She was now, more rather than not, seen reading a book. To her own shock as much as everyone else’s, it was discovered that she had a talent for music! Lydia was now learning to play the pianoforte and the harp.
After the first few weeks living with the Gardiners, any mention of her mother and missing her had ceased. Lydia did not refer to them as Mr. and Mrs. Bennet like the rest of her sisters, she simply did not mention them at all.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Fanny Bennet could not believe it was more than seven months since that ungrateful, wilful girl married His Grace, and things had not improved for her in the Meryton area.
No one called on her and she was not welcome at anyone’s house. Ever since the supposedly jovial Sir William had arrested her and caused her to languish in the town gaol for five days—a humiliation she was certain she would never live down—when she was told she was not welcome, Fanny took the person stating thus at their word.
The worst betrayal she felt, even more than her own sister turning on her, was the fact not one letter had been received from either Jane or Lydia.
Jane had begun to be influenced by that cursed Miss Lizzy, which was the obvious explanation for her defection. But Lydia, the girl who had been her unabashed favourite, to have abandoned her as well cut her to the quick.
There was nothing she could see she had ever done to cause this level of disloyalty from her favourite daughter. There was only one explanation, it must be Miss Lizzy’s influence. That was it, she had turned Lydia against her own mother, just like she had done with Jane.
Writing to her illustrious son-in-law had produced no results. Not one letter had been received in reply, and that too Fanny had convinced herself was Miss Lizzy’s doing. She conveniently forgot what the Duke had told her in the one and only reply he had sent.
Fanny could not remember the last time she had been in her husband’s company for more than a few minutes at a time, not that she regretted it too much. He took all of his meals on trays in his infernal study and whatever estate business he needed to do was done in the early mornings before she rose from her warm bed.
Her only company was Mrs. Hill, her maid, and the other servants working at Longbourn’s manor house. If it were not for them, Fanny Bennet would go weeks, or longer without conversing a word with another living soul.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Other than the fact he could no longer order his needs, mainly his books, port, and pipe tobacco on account, life had not changed too much for Thomas Bennet.
Without Lizzy there to perform his estate duties, he actually had to venture forth from his study to deal with estate issues—occasionally, not as much as was needed, but he made sure he did so when his wife was yet abed so she would not be able to accost him.
That he was drinking far more port than he used to did not worry him, nor the fact the more he imbibed, the more he seemed to need to dull his senses. To increase the effectiveness, Bennet had taken to substituting some of his glasses of port with at first, an occasional tumbler of whisky, gin, or brandy. Soon the volume of those spirits being imbibed increased, and they became the primary drinks for Bennet.
The one thing he missed was the stimulating conversation and games of chess he used to enjoy with Lizzy. There was a time, not long after Gardiner had hit him, when Bennet had felt a modicum of guilt for not protecting his daughter, but that was not a feeling he had indulged in for quite some time.
In his mind, the ends justified the means. The entail would be broken and his daughters who were no longer his concern, would have dowries to rival those in the first circles. In addition to the monthly amount he sent to Gardiner, he missed the four hundred pounds per annum interest from the initial payment of the girls’ dowries he had planned to use, but there was nothing to be done about that. He ignored the fact the settlement precluded him from using any of the interest.
The only way he was able to play chess now was either against himself or via the post. His some-time partner via the post was an old professor of Bennet’s at Cambridge who was retired now and one who had evidently not heard about his local ostracization who would occasionally send a move by letter.
The best thing about the whole situation, besides the peace and quiet in his home, was the fact his wife had all but given up entering his study. At some point, Fanny had got it through her thick skull that no matter how many times she burst into his study to berate him, nothing would change. For the first fortnight after Gardiner took his daughters, it had been daily, sometimes more than once per day. A month later it had become every two or three days, then weekly, monthly, and eventually, as the futility of her actions sunk in, it became very rare; it had already been more than three months.
Financially there were less household expenses than there had been before Lizzy’s wedding.
On the one hand, he paid forty pounds per month for his daughters’ upkeep in London, but that was juxtaposed against no allowances for the girls, his wife not entertaining, and almost never buying new clothing.
Mrs. Hill made the orders for food and other goods needed from Meryton, and given how much more sensible than his wife she was, there was no extravagance there. The savings on their living expenses meant more books, port, and spirits. Bennet knew his spending on the latter three far outstripped the household savings, but it was not an issue as they gave him pleasure.
As much as he did not want to acknowledge it, the earnings from his estate had fallen precipitously. He had begun to use some of the principal from Fanny’s settlement to make up what he needed. He intended to repay it all once things improved. He would make an effort to increase the estate’s income only once the entail was broken.
When he looked at it objectively, Bennet decided his life was actually better than it had been before the Duke came into their lives.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Elizabeth still felt she was in a gilded prison, but at least with the painting Kate had made of the family which her uncle had sent her brightened her mood each time she looked at it. It was framed and occupied a place of honour on the wall opposite her bed. That way, it was the first thing she looked at when she got up in the morning, and the final thing she saw before the last candle was extinguished at night.
Over the months she had been the mistress of Falconwood, the staff and servants, including to a certain extent Mr. Wickham, had become fiercely loyal and protective of Her Grace.
After a few short weeks in residence, none of them were surprised she knew their names and a little about each of them. Several who worked for the Duke had been employed on other estates with different families. None of the servants, including those who had experienced working for others, had ever worked for a better mistress.
For Elizabeth’s part, her interactions with the staff and servants, and soon enough the tenants, brightened her day.
After she raised a tenant issue the first time with her husband, he told her to speak to his steward. He did not believe in getting involved with his tenants, so Elizabeth had gone to Mr. Hampstead directly from that day on. For his part, the steward was more than pleased the Duchess was taking her duty to the tenants so seriously.
As much as Elizabeth had wanted to maintain a friendship with Lady Morag McIntire, the old man had forbidden it. It seemed he was still perturbed he had lost his leverage over the Earl of Colbath.
Elizabeth Chamberlain thought God had been playing a cruel trick on her. She had been shackled to him for more than seven months and her courses had come each month like clockwork, as they had from the time she had first experienced them.
“Please Lord, allow me to become with child and give me a son,” Elizabeth beseeched in prayer as she lay in her bed one night after her husband had come to importune her again. “If You allow me to fall with child, then that man will no longer visit me. As long as it is a son, I will be safe from him.”
At least her courses were due to begin in a day or two. That would—even though it would mean she was not with child—give her a week’s respite from his disgusting attentions.
As she did every night, Elizabeth ended her prayer asking God and Jesus to watch over her sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends, and keep them safe. The warm bath Loretta had made sure was ready for her mistress, as she did every time her husband told her he would come to her in the evening—had been relaxing which helped Elizabeth slip away allowing sleep to claim her.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The next morning she was up early, as was her wont. It was a much colder winter than Elizabeth could remember. There had been much snow which had begun shortly before Christmas and since had fallen a few times. That fact did not stop Elizabeth from exercising as long as there was no precipitation.
On waking to a cup of hot chocolate her maid delivered, Elizabeth had hoped it was not snowing or raining. Loretta had confirmed there was neither.
Warmly dressed in a thick wool riding habit, fur muffs over her ears, a fur-lined jacket and hood and wool-lined gloves, Elizabeth made her way to the stables—with Mr. Wickham, John, and Brian in tow—to greet Jamil . As she always did when she rode, she offered her mare an apple and carrot, both were munched gratefully which led to the horse nuzzling her mistress.
While the Duchess’s horse was saddled, Wickham mounted the gelding he rode when at Falconwood, and by the time she was in her side-saddle, he, Biggs, and Johns were waiting with a groom, ready to escort Her Grace.
She was not sure when it had occurred, but Elizabeth no longer thought Mr. Wickham quite the most contemptable man who worked for her husband. He had begun to give her more space when they rode or walked and based on the lack of anger directed at her by her husband, Elizabeth was sure Mr. Wickham reported very little of what she said to his master.
It was not that she liked or trusted her husband’s guard dog, but she no longer openly disdained him.
She had grown very close to her two guards, John Biggs and Brian Johns which was why she addressed them as John and Brian when not in his company. Elizabeth felt they were there to protect her, not spy on her for her vile husband.
This particular morning, they rode north into the part of the estate which was in Hertfordshire. The first ride they had made to the northern border of the estate, Mr. Wickham had informed Her Grace they were less than five miles from Meryton at that point.
Although she did not want to chance it, Elizabeth could not but imagine meeting her Aunt and Uncle Philips and Charlotte at the border of the estate. As much as she enjoyed Charlotte’s letters, it was nothing to being able to see her again.
She did not want to strain the fragile détente with Mr. Wickham so it was something she thought about but never articulated.
All too soon she guided her mare towards the stables. It was time to break her fast.