It had been a week since Jane had stood by the gate waving good-bye to Lizzy and the Gardiners as their carriage disappeared into the distance. When she had turned around, the four young Gardiners were waiting for their cousin Jane to play with them, but after a week, she was tired because the children required her constant attention.
As they did each evening after dinner, everyone adjourned to the front parlor. While Jane played with the children on the floor, everyone else was otherwise engaged. Mama was doing needlework, Papa was reading the newspaper, Kitty was drawing, and Mary was playing on the pianoforte. Looking around at this scene of domestic felicity, it dawned on Jane that the care of the children had fallen entirely to her. She was being treated in exactly the same way a governess would be. But she was not a governess, and she intended to make that fact known.
“Mary, stop playing the piano and start playing with your cousins,” she said, rising from the floor. “The same thing for you, Kitty. And both of you will prepare the children for bed, and since you are so proud of your voice, Mary, you may sing to them. And tomorrow, Kitty, you may take the children outside. They love to run, and since you demonstrated your lightness of foot at the Netherfield ball when you chased after all those young officers, you may run with them. I am now going to my room where I shall spend the rest of the evening reading. Alone!”
Everyone, including the children, went quiet. No one had ever heard Jane raise her voice before nor could anyone remember her storming out of a room. Jane was reliably calm, which was an absolute necessity because of their mother’s nerves, and had always shouldered more than her share of the responsibilities. She could be depended upon to do the right thing without complaint. What had happened to cause such an emotional outburst?
From the time she had come back from London following Mr. Bingley’s return to town, her emotions had been in a state of flux. The initial sadness had been replaced by acceptance and resignation, but then things had started to change. How dare Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst pretend they were her friends, and who was Mr. Darcy that he should decide who Mr. Bingley would or would not marry?
When she had finished reproaching that trio, she looked to her own family. Jane and Elizabeth were well regarded in their neighborhood, but conversations regarding the Bennet family usually began with how well the two eldest Bennet sisters performed in public and ended with a discussion of what had gone wrong with the youngest three. And no one could speak of those younger girls without including the inappropriate behavior of their mother. Jane and Lizzy knew this, and there was no doubt in her mind that her father was well aware that three of his children were frequently a topic of conversation in the village.
Behavior that had once earned Kitty and Lydia a disapproving glance from the ladies in town had turned to full-blown criticism and finger wagging when the militia arrived in Meryton. Jane had first overheard it from the town gossip, Mrs. Draper. “Those younger Bennet sisters are always chasing after officers. I saw Lydia drag Kitty across the street for that very purpose.” And as soon as Mrs. Draper voiced her opinion, everyone else felt free to do so. On more than one occasion, when Jane and Lizzy walked in the village, the gossiping hens would stop talking. They were all kindness while they were visiting, but as soon as the sisters were out of earshot, the whispers began again.
But the main culprit was outside her bedroom door asking if he could come in. She was shocked at how angry she was at her father. He, better than anyone else, knew of his wife’s shortcomings but did nothing to correct them. Instead of providing guidance for his three younger children, he looked upon Mary, Kitty, and Lydia’s behavior as theatre. And the combination of the mother and her daughters, and the friend, and the sisters had cost her dearly.
When Jane finally opened the door, she saw the look of concern on her father’s face. Because it would provide the easiest explanation for her display of temper, he would attribute her outburst to “female troubles” and look no further. But not this time. Father and daughter sat side by side in the window seat in silence. If Papa was waiting for her to tell him why she was so angry, he would have a long wait. She was tired of him sitting back, watching instead of doing, but then he surprised her.
“Jane, I am sorry for making you so unhappy. I know you place a good deal of the blame for Mr. Bingley quitting the county on me, and rightly so. As you know, your mother and I are from different ends of the spectrum. She shows too much emotion, and I show too little. But for these past twenty-four years, my mild temperament has served me well, and as a result, I have chosen to overlook the silliness of your sisters because it was convenient to do so. And now I know my lack of oversight has injured you.
“I cannot alter the past,” he continued, “but the future is very much in my hands. As soon as Lydia returns from Brighton, you will see changes aplenty at Longbourn. I promise you that. There is little else I can do except to ask for your forgiveness.”
Jane kissed her father but said nothing. She feared she might end up telling him what she was really thinking, but then decided that they could not part in silence.
“Papa, all is not lost. I have received a letter from Aunt Susan inviting me to visit with her for the summer, and in that letter she has told me that Mr. Dalton Nesbitt, whom I had met at her Christmas party last year, has asked if he may write to me. By yesterday’s post, I informed her that he may. The gentleman is a solicitor and a pleasant man. In addition to his salary, he receives an annuity, which is sufficient to provide a handsome living, and he is worthy of my consideration. I just wanted you to know.”
There was nothing for him to say. His reliance on producing a son, who would negate the entail, and his lack of foresight once it was obvious Mrs. Bennet was incapable of conceiving another child, had jeopardized his children’s future. The result was before him. Jane would be forced to marry a man for the financial protection he could provide. With profound sadness, he acknowledged the information and returned to his library.
In her prolonged musings following Mr. Bingley’s departure, Jane had found fault for her heartache with just about everybody, except Charles Bingley. But that was no longer the case. It was true he had never said he loved her, but it was implicit in all of his actions. During their walks at Longbourn, he had told her he was to inherit a goodly sum of money, which, under the stipulations of his father’s will, had to be spent on a country manor that would represent all that was good in the Bingley family. But the money was still in the bank because he had no interest in building a house. He wanted to go to dances and visit different parts of the country, so that he might ride across their landscapes. However, since coming into Hertfordshire, he was of a very different mind. He had looked straight into her eyes when he had said that.
It was true her mother and sisters’ behavior at the ball had been improper, but what about his behavior? There was no doubt in her mind that they were in the midst of a courtship when he had been convinced by his sisters and Mr. Darcy that any marriage with Miss Jane Bennet was impossible because of her family, the notorious Bennets of Longbourn Manor. She knew better than anyone of her lack of connections and her paltry fortune. All of this she understood, but what she did not understand was the total lack of communication on Mr. Bingley’s part. He believed himself to be a gentleman, and yet he had left her checking the post for a letter explaining his absence for a fortnight before even she had to admit he was gone forever.
From the time she had come out into society, she understood her chances of marrying for love were not good. Considering her current situation, if Mr. Nesbitt proposed, she would accept him. He was a plain man, but of good temperament, and all things considered, she believed she would not receive a better offer. And because she would be forced into such a marriage, she would have been much happier if she had never met Mr. Bingley because now she knew what love was, and she would feel its absence when she married.