Netherfield Park Revisited (5 page)

Elizabeth had never seen her sister in such a state before. She looked up at Darcy, who read the letter through again before he spoke.

He was very gentle, but quite firm. “Jane, it is quite plain that Jonathan has made up his mind. I do not believe for a moment that in doing so, he has decided to risk the destruction of his marriage. But, I do believe that Amelia-Jane has done so. She is not without blame in this matter. Is there not something irresponsible and even presumptuous about her total opposition, her absolute refusal to accommodate his chosen career, upon a whim?” he asked.

“Were she to continue at Rosings for a short while, there would be no great harm in it. The distance between them would not be great and it may be argued that it is convenient, because their children and Mrs Harrison's share a governess. But should she continue this obstinate opposition even after he has purchased a suitable place in the country, I would find it difficult to apportion any blame to Jonathan.”

As both Jane and Lizzie listened, he continued, “Surely you must agree that, at forty-two, he is entitled to pursue a career that interests him. The Law and Commerce, at which his father excels, hold no attractions for him.”

Jane seemed confused. “But is it not his own desire to return to Westminster that is at the root of all this trouble? Is that not rather selfish and irresponsible, too?” she asked. Even as she spoke the words, it was quite clear that it pained her to contemplate such a thing about her beloved Jonathan.

Darcy smiled and shook his head. “My dear Jane, I would gladly wager the entire Pemberley Estate against the possibility of your son ever acting in a selfish and irresponsible manner. It is not in his nature; it would be simply impossible,” he declared.

After many hours of discussion and several cups of tea, Jane was finally persuaded to let Darcy speak to Jonathan and discover what he intended to do if his wife remained totally opposed to his plan. Meanwhile, she agreed to write to her daughter-in-law inviting them all to Ashford Park at Christmas.

Jane hoped by this means to bring them together and settle their differences. Elizabeth, however, was unsure that it would help, but had not the heart to discourage her sister's efforts.

***

Later that year, the two sisters and their families travelled to Woodlands, Lizzie's farm in the south of England, as they did every Summer.

Lying in a fold of the Downs, amidst some of England's loveliest country on the border between Surrey and West Sussex, it was a place Darcy had purchased for his wife on an impulse; a place they had all grown to love.

It was of a size and character that was convenient and comfortable and they shared its delights only with their favourite people.

This year, because their uncle Mr Gardiner was, sadly, not well enough to join them and Mrs Gardiner wished to stay with her husband, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline came instead with their youngest daughter Amy, who was pretty and accomplished and not yet nineteen. Her remarkable resemblance to Caroline at that age was always a talking point among their friends.

Elizabeth had hoped that she could entice Jane away from her unhappy concentration upon the problems of Jonathan and Amelia-Jane, but it was not easy. Jane wanted with all her heart to help solve her son's dilemma, but Elizabeth, being rather more realistic than her sister, doubted that a resolution could be found especially because the two participants were themselves reluctant to seek it.

“How is it possible,” she asked Darcy, as they lay awake one night, discussing the matter, “to find such a solution when we know so little of their own wishes? What good would it do?”

Darcy sympathised with her concern, but he had a different opinion. “Lizzie, my dear, Jonathan Bingley is unlikely to rush into anything without giving it a good deal of thought. I have been speaking with Fitzwilliam about this situation at Westminster that he has been offered and he believes it is a most responsible position, requiring a man of utmost integrity, who commands the trust of all parties.”

He was keen to emphasise the importance of the work that was being undertaken and explained patiently. “Negotiations are proceeding to achieve a coalition of members that can defeat Lord Derby's Conservatives, and Jonathan is to be involved as an honest broker. It is not reasonable to ask him to turn down such an opportunity simply to satisfy the whim—and I might add a rather petulant whim—of his wife.”

Elizabeth was struck by the seriousness of Darcy's tone and the terseness of his words. “A whim? Is that all you think it is?” she asked.

He would not retreat. “Can it be more than that, Lizzie? Surely not, my dear; there is not one good reason why Jonathan should not accept. How will it harm him or his wife and family? Consider this: with Lady Catherine's business affairs being placed in the hands of the Trust, the opportunities for his advancement are few. Much of the work will be legal and commercial in nature, for which Jonathan has little liking. On the other hand, he is offered a real chance of preferment at Westminster.”

“But what about his wife's objection, is that of no account?” she asked.

Darcy had an answer for her. “Certainly, if there was some evidence his decision would lead to neglect or if it were just self-indulgence on his part, I would have some sympathy for Amelia-Jane, but as it turns out, I can only conclude that the merit is almost all Jonathan's. His wife's obstinacy, her current childish conduct does her little credit. It reveals a total lack of understanding and judgment.”

Seeing that his wife was about to protest at the harshness of his words, Darcy held up his hand and continued, “Please understand, my dear, that if the Reform Group does succeed in their plan, it will be a considerable achievement and all those involved will be credited with it, most particularly Jonathan. And should he, at some future date, attain higher office as a consequence, his wife and children will all benefit greatly.

“No, Lizzie, I must agree with Fitzwilliam. And indeed, Bingley thinks, too, although he feels deeply for Jane in the circumstances, that there is no justification to blame Jonathan at all and no reason to try to dissuade him from his chosen path.”

Elizabeth felt helpless. “Then what is to be done? How are they to be reconciled?” she asked.

Darcy was thoughtful. He had a strong aversion, born of bitter experience in his youth, to interfering in the personal lives of his friends and family.

After a while, he spoke rather tentatively, “Catherine Harrison has always struck me as an eminently sensible and practical sort of woman. I know Amelia-Jane is close to her; they are often together. Perhaps an approach through her may succeed where others have failed. I cannot believe that she would support her sister's present attitude. Her advice may help Amelia-Jane see things differently.”

Elizabeth, seeing what looked like a glimmer of hope in the gloom, decided she would speak with Jane after breakfast on the morrow.

The following morning, Caroline and Amy decided to drive into the village, leaving Jane and Elizabeth to prune and store the rosemary and lavender that grew in great profusion in the kitchen garden. It was a task the sisters had always enjoyed.

While they were so employed, Elizabeth took the opportunity to broach in a casual manner the subject of Jonathan and Amelia-Jane and suggest an approach to Catherine Harrison, but found Jane quite unwilling to interfere.

“Should Jonathan hear of it, and you may be sure he will, he may be very unhappy. He has told us honestly where his problem lies, but has never asked for our intervention. He may consider it unwarranted interference and I should be most upset if he were to be angry with us. As it is, he knows well that he can call on us for help at any time,” she said quite decidedly.

“Have you written to Amelia-Jane inviting them to Ashford Park at Christmas?” Elizabeth asked, and Jane said she had, but had not heard back from her daughter-in-law.

“Perhaps she is reluctant to write until she has settled matters with Jonathan,” she said, carefully and deliberately carrying on her task.

Elizabeth broke the silence. “Jane, do you recall a discussion we had after I had returned from Italy, during which you related the news that Emma and Jonathan were both engaged?” she asked. “It was during that cold, bitter Winter following the deaths of Edward and William.”

Jane remembered it well. She had always felt that the haste with which both her elder children had rushed into engagements in the months following the terrible accident that had taken the lives of their two young cousins, was due to the shock and sorrow occasioned by those tragic events. Grieving and missing the two boys, both Emma and Jonathan had seemed to grasp at the comfort and hope offered by young love.

They had both become engaged before the Winter was over, Emma to David Wilson, a most eligible man about town, and Jonathan to Amelia-Jane, who was not sixteen at the time, but was so pretty she was admired wherever she went.

When she spoke, Jane's voice and countenance reflected her thoughts. “Yes, I do remember, Lizzie; you were astonished at the speed with which it had come about in those few months when you were in Italy with Emily and Paul. I confess that, while I had my reservations, I was pleased for them. They seemed so happy with each other. Jonathan actually rediscovered the art of smiling—he had been so dejected and melancholy since the boys' accident, I had been very anxious for him. Amelia-Jane changed all that; she was vivacious and pretty and appeared to adore him. It was probably unwise; clearly so in Emma's case, it was disastrous.

“But we were not to know that, Lizzie. Jonathan and Amelia-Jane were perfectly happy until she lost her two little boys, and now it seems he is being punished for it.”

Jane sounded and looked so miserable that Elizabeth was sorry she had even raised the subject. She did her best to comfort her, to suggest that it was quite possible that the problem might be solved by the couple themselves, but she knew she was not very convincing. It was only the return of the gentlemen, who had been out shooting, with a good bag of game that brought a change of mood and some light-hearted banter to occupy the hour before lunch.

Afterwards, Jane was clearly tired and depressed, and Bingley insisted that she should rest upstairs. He was less concerned with the stability of Jonathan's marriage than with the state of his wife's health. He knew how she had suffered when their daughter Emma's unhappy marriage had ended in tragedy; it had taken a terrible toll upon her health. Now, it seemed she was taking Jonathan's troubles very much to heart, and Bingley feared Jane might become ill again.

***

Later that day, with the afternoon sun creating a patchwork of light and shadow in the wooded valleys below them, Elizabeth and Darcy took a walk away from the house, towards the river that cut its way through the chalk hills and green meadows. They had often taken this path, which led to a place they had found on their very first sojourn at Woodlands, when, heartsick and emotionally drained from the accumulated sorrow of three terrible deaths in the short space of two seasons, they had needed time alone to comfort one another and learn to bear each other's pain as well as their own. Woodlands had been their private healing place.

They returned often, and sometimes, it hurt more than at others.

On this occasion, however, it was not their own pain that concerned them. Elizabeth, recalling Jane's words that morning, asked, “Do you suppose that Jonathan and Amelia-Jane have fallen out of love?”

Darcy almost laughed out loud, but seeing her earnest expression he checked himself. “Lizzie, my dear, why should I suppose such a thing? I have no evidence to reach such a conclusion. But, if I were to be scrupulously honest, as I am with you, always, I would have to admit that the thought had occurred to me. Why do you ask?”

She told him of her conversation with Jane, and Darcy agreed that it was possible that Jane was quite right. Since Emma and Jonathan had both been very close to William and Edward, their sudden, tragic deaths must have made them dejected and vulnerable.

“An engagement and marriage may have seemed a way out of the gloom and sorrow that had enveloped us all at the time; people always cheer up for a wedding,” he said, adding in a more serious voice, “but now that they are older and circumstances have changed around them, the partners they reached for in their youth may appear in quite a different light. It was certainly true of Emma's marriage, perhaps Jonathan is realising it too … a pretty face, a bright smile, and an amiable temperament can be very appealing in youth.”

Elizabeth sighed, “And some years later, things appear rather different?”

Darcy nodded sagely. “Alas, it is not uncommon, Lizzie, for in youth we tend to make judgments that seem perfectly reasonable, but are often indefensible in later years,” he said, and his wife groaned.

“As we both know only too well!” she said, recalling their own unhappy errors of understanding, which had resulted in much soul-searching.

“Indeed,” he replied, “but we were fortunate enough to discover and amend our mistakes before they destroyed our prospects of happiness; not everyone is as well favoured. To a very few, a second chance is given, as with Emma's second marriage to James Wilson. It is happier and more successful because they share so much, and he is a man of intelligence and sensibility who cares deeply for her. One cannot fail to see their felicity.”

Elizabeth acknowledged that he was right, adding with a sigh, “And poor Jonathan, unhappily, seems to have outgrown his early enthusiasm for a quiet life in the country with a pretty little wife, and he seeks a more active political career when she clearly does not share his ambition,” she said, and even as he agreed, Darcy smiled.

“You put it well, Lizzie. But, returning to your earlier question, they may have grown apart in other ways, as well. He has certainly become more serious of late and she seems less so. He has a desire to perform some significant public service, while she cares only for her private satisfaction. These things could result in matrimonial misery.”