The Golden Apples of the Sun Page 4

  “Charlotte, who in heaven’s name was that awful man that you sent with your message,” she asked now as they hurried along.

  “That, my dear, was Mr. Darcy: Bingley’s friend. I thought to do you a favour. Isn’t he handsome? Papa says that he is worth some ten thousand a year and has a great estate in the north.”

  “What a rude person! Do you know that he wanted to take my book from me to put it back on the shelf and when I refused, he looked as if he would snatch it?”

  Charlotte laughed. She could easily imagine the scene for she knew Elizabeth Bennet well; Jane however was rather distressed.

  “Oh! Surely not, Lizzy,” she exclaimed. “His friend is such an agreeable man. Why didn’t you just give up the book to Mr. Darcy and have done with it?”

  “Why should I? At that point it was mine to keep or replace. Anyway, I didn’t want him asking me questions - as he would have done if he had read the title.”

  “Say that it wasn’t another of your dreary historians, Lizzy,” pleaded Jane, looking mortified.

  “It isn’t,” said Elizabeth, stopping to show her sister the title of the book.

  “Oh!” said Jane, digesting this. “You are right. He would have thought you strange. But are you still caught up by this idea?” she asked doubtfully.

  “What idea?” asked Charlotte.

  Elizabeth said fiercely, “If I tell you, you have to swear to keep it a secret. You can’t share it with your mama or Maria. In either case it would get back to our mother.”

  A shadow crossed Charlotte’s face. “This doesn’t sound like a good thing, Lizzy. Are you sure that you should be getting into something that you already know your mother won’t like?” she asked uneasily.

  “Oh nonsense! It’s nothing wicked. At worst, it’s possibly a little unladylike. Give me a working alternative, Charlotte and I will consider it: in the meantime, I am learning all I can about farming methods and increasing crop yields. I’m hoping that with improved harvests, we can persuade my father to put some money aside for our future without my mother spending it. The fact is that my father will not stir himself. Someone has to make a push to ensure that we girls remain out of the poorhouse once he passes on.”

  “What about marriage? You’re both still young and that nice Mr Bingley already seems to be sweet on Jane. Having a rich brother-in-law could solve all your problems, Lizzy.”

  “You sound like our mother, Charlotte. I love fairy stories, but let’s be realistic. Beyond your family, we are accepted by no one else in the neighbourhood. Mr Bingley might admire Jane at the moment, but you know that once Lydia’s story gets to his ears, his admiration will die a sudden death.” She turned to her sister, concern written on her face, “I’m sorry, Jane. But you said it yourself yesterday and there’s no use hoping that it will be different.”

  Jane nodded in misery, her face concealed beneath the brim of her bonnet.

  Charlotte looked at Jane’s bowed head pensively. “Over two years have passed since Lydia’s death. Surely you have all lived in seclusion long enough for people to accept that what happened was a tragedy; not a reflection on your family’s morality in any way. After all, Lydia was hardly responsible. She was so young when she ran away from home with that man.”

  “Ah! Charlotte. You think that way only because our families have been so intimate.” Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “My father is of the opinion that most people enjoy feeling superior and will not easily surrender their supposed moral advantage over us - especially while it is not to their advantage. I find it hard to argue against that, so I can’t see things changing in the near future. Perhaps after the last young man is married: when we girls are past our last prayers and no longer competition for their daughters, it might finally suit the ladies of the area to relent and invite us to afternoon tea.”

  “Well, here is my lane.” Not trusting herself to speak further, Charlotte blinked back the tears that always come upon her when she thought of young Lydia Bennet. She nodded briskly. “Lizzy. Jane,” she said gruffly and turned down the path.

  _______________________________

  Ten minutes later, Jane and Elizabeth were busy scraping the worst of the mud off their boots outside their front door when it suddenly opened on them.

  “Mama says that you are both to come up to her room. She wishes to speak to you on a matter of some urgency,” said Mary, their younger sister, in her usual, deliberate manner.

  The two young women looked at each other, disinclination writ large upon their faces. Lizzy immediately suspected that she was in trouble over the stains on the hem of yesterday’s dress. Jane, of course, had a clear conscience in that regard; nevertheless, she too looked concerned.

  “Has something happened while we have been gone, Mary?” she asked. “Did you forget to give Mama her vinegar tea?”

  “No, Jane. I gave her the tea,” said Mary with unruffled calm. “But she hasn’t even touched it because a letter arrived just after you left. Papa came up with it and told Kitty and me to leave the room. He sat with Mama for almost half an hour and when we returned he had left the letter lying on the table. Kitty asked Mama, but she wouldn’t say what was it was about. She just got up and put on her best dressing gown and cap. She’s up there now, fanning herself and not saying a word. She sent me down to watch for your return. You are to go up to her immediately!”

  “We had best make haste, Jane. It looks as if it might be something important,” said Elizabeth uneasily, divesting herself of her bonnet and spencer and patting her wayward curls into submission.

  Inside their mother’s room the curtains had been pulled back and grey daylight flooded the usually dark interior. Elizabeth and Jane looked at each other in surprise and hastened over to where their mother sat: a small woman lost in the depths of a large armchair.

  Mrs Bennet was something of a hypochondriac. Fancying herself to be suffering from one obscure illness or another helped to while away the long hours that she spent alone in her room - unless, of course, there was something of greater interest happening elsewhere. However, it seemed that today she was putting herself out to be charming, for she had covered her greying hair in a frilly mobcap and was pouting flirtatiously.

  Unfortunately for her more serious daughters, Mrs. Bennet was one of those women who had never quite managed to put the heady days of girlhood behind her for the quieter life of marriage. Clothing, male admiration and flirtations were still food and drink to her and, as she could no longer experience them for herself, she tried to live vicariously through her children. It was Elizabeth’s privately held conviction that her mother’s ridiculous behaviour had been directly responsible for encouraging their younger sister Lydia down her headlong path to self-destruction.

  “My girls! Come and sit here with me. Such news I have for you,” she said, simpering and rubbing her dimpled hands together with delight. “Here Jane,” she said passing her a letter and sinking back amongst cushions. “Read this to us. Slowly, if you please.”

  Hunsford, near Westerham,

  Kent

  Dear Sir,

  The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts and certain events, fearing that it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with any one with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.

  My mind however is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination last Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose beneficence has placed me in the position of pastor of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to serve her Ladyship with grateful respect at all times.

  Given my recent good fortune as a clergyman, and under the guidance of her Ladyship who has urged me to marry, I feel it my duty to promote a
nd establish the blessing of peace; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures of goodwill will not lead you to reject the olive branch offered by myself as the heir to Longbourn Estate.

  Having heard, through family connections, something more of the circumstances surrounding the death of your youngest daughter, I further feel myself called upon by our relationship to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are suffering under. Be assured, my dear Sir, that I sincerely sympathise with you in your present distress. It is certain that Lydia’s death is in many ways a blessing but you are nevertheless grievously to be pitied, if only because this false step in one daughter must have been injurious to the fortunes of all the others. And on this matter, I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being myself a further means of injuring your daughters through the entailment of Longbourn and beg leave to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends -- but of this, more hereafter.

  If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family on Monday, June 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se’nnight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.

  I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

  WILLIAM COLLINS

  “Well, what do you think of that, Girls? Is it not very prettily written?” said Mrs. Bennet, her head tilted to one side, much like a bird.

  “I disagree. I cannot approve of a man who expects Lydia’s family to see her death as a blessing!” blurted out Elizabeth, her expressive mouth curling downwards in disgust.

  “Oh! Of course not! But why will you always dwell on the negative, Lizzy? Can you not see that the man means to stay with us for the express purpose of offering for one of you?” Mrs Bennet clapped her hands together in childish delight.

  “Oh! Jane, Jane,” she said turning towards her eldest daughter, hoping for a more optimistic reception of the news. “This is the solution to all of our problems. With one of you as the future mistress of Longbourn, our futures will be secured.”

  Elizabeth looked at her sister’s stricken expression and interrupted her mother’s ecstasies in full flow.

  “Thank you, Mama but I think that both Jane and I would prefer to do without a husband, than have one that displays this sort of callousness.”

  Mrs Bennet’s voice rose hysterically. “You would, would you, Miss Lizzy? You don’t even know what you are talking about. From a child, your father has indulged you. You haven’t known a minute’s care; but I warrant that you will be singing a very different tune if you have to scrounge out a living under the hedgerows after he dies. No, as the two eldest, it is up to one of you to accept Mr Collins. It is your solemn duty to this family and I will hear no more about it,” she said, her hands fluttering nervously to her face.

  Over the years Mrs Bennet’s family had become well acquainted with the palpitations that racked her body at the merest hint of opposition, so Jane and Lizzy were less disturbed than they might have been when their mother fell back into the chair and clutched dramatically at the lace collar of her dressing gown.

  “Oh! Oh! My heart is beating as if it would jump out of my chest! Do you see what you have done, you unfeeling girl? Now bring me my hartshorn, Jane and call Hill to help me back to bed. I am suddenly feeling very poorly. Tell your father that I will not be down to dinner. And, if you like, you may tell him the reason,” she said, shooting a poisonous look at her younger daughter.

  Jane led the way out of the room. On the landing, she turned despondently to Elizabeth.

  “What are we to do? I have always suspected that marrying for love might be too much to hope for, but I did hope to be allowed to choose someone kind whom I could respect. At best, this Mr. Collins sounds unfeeling and somewhat foolish; but what I fear most is that he might also turn out to be one of those petty tyrants. Stupid men are often so.”

  “That is one of the most uncharitable statements that I have ever heard you make, Jane; but also one of the most insightful. You are quite likely right. I will speak to Papa. I’m sure that he would not force either of us into marriage with such a man.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Lizzy. Remember that he spent a good half an hour with Mama before we arrived home. Had he not supported the idea of one of us marrying this Mr. Collins, she would not have been in such good spirits.”

  Chapter 6

  “I saw a young girl, and she had the walk of a queen.”

  W. B. Yeats

  Following hard upon the first, Darcy had received another letter from Georgiana that was even more cheerful in tone. And so, having peace of mind on one front, he found himself free to wonder about the mysterious Bennet family a little more than he might otherwise have done.

  Though they were really none of his concern, Darcy rationalised his interest by telling himself that he was concerned for the well-being of his friend. It was true that Bingley was showing all the signs of talking himself into yet another infatuation - this time with the beautiful but provincial Miss Jane Bennet. However, Darcy’s interest really sprang not just from concern for his friend but also from his own infinitely more cautious and sceptical nature. Bingley might have chosen to set aside his original suspicions but something bothered Darcy about the Bennet’s position in local society: something more than could be explained by the eccentricities of their father.

  This feeling was to intensify on the Wednesday, when he and Bingley obliged Sir William Lucas by attending the Meryton Assembly. Despite having heard of Mr. Bennet’s dislike of company with their own ears, they were still somewhat surprised to find the young Bennet ladies absent from the event. Darcy, who was not dancing, used the time to make some discrete enquiries amongst the gentlemen present and learned that the Bennets never attended the monthly assembly or any other social occasion. Furthermore it was clear that no one expected them to do so; although their absence was declared to be a loss to the social life of the community by more than one of the younger gentleman present. Mr. Bennet, it would seem, had kept his handsome daughters on a tight rein for quite some time.

  Half-way through the evening, Bingley, who had danced every dance and given every outward appearance of enjoying himself, came over to where Darcy stood against the fireplace and momentarily allowed his frustration to show.

  “What do you make of the absence of the Bennet ladies, Darcy,” were the first words out of his mouth.

  “Very strange. I’ve remarked on it here and there, but so far no one has offered an explanation. It just seems to be an accepted fact that the family keeps to itself. To my mind, something is not right. I would be careful of getting involved there, Bingley.”

  Darcy was all too familiar with the mulish looked that now passed over his friend’s face. It was a look that appeared only when Bingley was foiled in his pursuit of an attractive, young lady.

  “I can’t see what there could be to object to in Mr Bennet’s control over his daughters, Darcy. You have met Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth and they are perfectly genteel,” Bingley said, “and from what I can gather, the family have been established here as far back as anyone can remember.”

  There was a sudden lull in the background noise and both men, being aware that an assembly was a public affair at which there was every possibility of being overheard, fell into silence. They stood quietly surveying the room and sipping self-consciously at their glasses of weak punch, well aware that they were being scrutinised in their turn.

  When the orchestra began again, Darcy looked over Bingley’s shoulder and sighed. “Well, don’t look now but here comes Sir William and, if I don’t mistake the matter, we are about to be inveigled into attending yet another of his trumpery affairs,” he murmured. “For the sake of my sanity, Charles
, mind that you refuse this time.”

  “Mr Bingley. Mr Darcy,” said Sir William in a tone rich with satisfaction, “Lady Lucas has just devised a pleasant plan for our entertainment and asks if you will join us for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “We have no plans, Sir William,” said Bingley cheerfully, without a moment’s hesitation. “It would be agreeable to both of us, I think. What say you, Darcy?”

  “What is left for me to say, Bingley?” Darcy muttered. “Thank you for the invitation, Sir William,” he said more audibly and turning towards the older man bowed politely.

  “Not at all. Not at all,” said Sir William, rubbing his hands together in a pleased fashion as he ambled off to give his wife the news.

  Darcy turned on his friend. “Bingley, can you never refuse? A simple ‘no’ usually suffices. If you carry on in this fashion, you will find yourself married off to Charlotte Lucas or someone similar before you are very much older,” he warned but there was a laugh in his voice.

  “I thought that you were interested in discovering more about the Bennets, Darcy? It seems to me that if they are friendly with anyone, it is the Lucas family. Tomorrow night should provide the answers to some of your questions.”

  __________________________

  As his man drew back the heavy curtains the next morning, Darcy, who was still in bed, rolled onto his back and rejoiced to see blue sky. The clouds that had hung low over the horizon the day before had disappeared. It was gloriously bright and sunny: a day to be out, striding down country lanes.

  Flinging back the bedclothes, he swung his legs off the bed, quite resolved not to wait about for his friend. Bingley was always sluggish first thing in the morning and today Darcy would not allow him to waste these precious early hours. A mere half an hour later he had left the grounds of Netherfield and was striding through the dappled shade, down the lane that led to Oakham Mount. He knew the way from previous excursions on horseback and was looking forward to the exertion of the long climb up the grass-covered slope.