Netherfield Park Revisited Read online

  When she saw what Charlotte had written, she was very upset.

  “Lizzie, what on earth does she mean? Why does she believe Jonathan is so unhappy? Do you think he is? He has said nothing to us. I know he has been very busy with his work and I do know he wants to do well at Westminster, but Emma tells me he is very well regarded by his colleagues. What ever could have happened to make him miserable?” she asked.

  Elizabeth thought it unlikely that Jonathan’s state of mind, if he were unhappy, would have anything to do with his work at Westminster.

  “Dear Jane, if what Charlotte suspects is true, it is hardly likely that it is in any way connected with his work. When Darcy last spoke with him, he appeared delighted with the way matters were progressing and, as you say, he is well regarded in the party.”

  “What then?” Jane was bewildered. “I know he is very pleased with Longbourn, he has said so repeatedly, and Bingley says the place is better run than ever before. Lizzie, is it possible he has money troubles?”

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “No, Jane, I could never see your Jonathan having ‘money troubles,’ as you call them. He is far too sensible and careful a man. No, I am inclined to think that it has more to do with matrimony than money, Jane.”

  Jane looked exceedingly anxious. “Do you mean there is a problem with his marriage?” she asked. It was a subject that had caused her some concern, and her sister knew it.

  Elizabeth nodded, and Jane continued, “Do you suppose it is to do with Amelia-Jane? I know she has been miserable since losing her little boys, and she was against him returning to Westminster, of course, so it is possible that she could be unhappy, and that would upset Jonathan,” she mused.

  “Indeed, it would, Jane, but we must remember also that Jonathan has been very busy and his wife may be feeling rather lonely and neglected,” said Elizabeth. “I did notice, at Lady Catherine’s funeral, that she was very much with the Bingley women, Louisa and Caroline and that other rather extravagantly dressed woman, who seemed very attentive to her. Do you remember her name?”

  Jane could not; but she did remember her hat!

  “It was the largest hat in the church, and I did not get a good look at her face. What do you suppose she has to do with it?” she asked in some confusion.

  “I do not know, Jane, but if there is any matter that has added to Jonathan’s woes, by making Amelia-Jane less amenable, I would wager London to a brick Miss Bingley is involved. Jane, she has never forgiven you for marrying her beloved brother and thereby foiling her own plans in relation to his best friend,” said Elizabeth so decidedly that her sister was shocked.

  “You cannot mean that she is still smarting over that disappointment? Not after all this time?” Jane was unsure, but Elizabeth was quite certain.

  “Caroline Bingley will never get over it. She wastes no love on either of us and if she were able to discomfit us in any way, she would gladly do so. Mark my words, Jane, she is involved. Ask Jonathan when you see him.”

  ***

  On arriving in London, Jonathan Bingley went directly to James Wilson’s place at Grosvenor Street and, there, discovered that the urgency of Wilson’s message owed little to the political situation and rather more to his own domestic problems.

  His sister Emma was there, too, and together they gave him details, dates, and places of all the circumstances related to them by Anne-Marie and Eliza Harwood, both of whom had since returned to Harwood House.

  “Jonathan, your daughter, who is not generally given to flights of fancy, was certain that Caroline Bingley and this new friend of hers, Mrs Watkins, intended to take Amelia-Jane back to Bath with them,” said Emma. “I was not entirely convinced that this was the case, but seeing how upset Anne-Marie was, I travelled up to London with her and saw James.”

  “Which was why I sent you that telegram,” said his brother-in-law.

  Jonathan thanked them both profusely for their concern and, more particularly, for the care they had taken of his daughter, but he was equally sure that his wife would not be easily persuaded to leave her home at Rosings Park and travel to Bath.

  Nevertheless, he was determined to see her as soon as possible and, despite their efforts to persuade him to stay and take some refreshment, he left almost at once and went directly to the Bingleys’ town house, where he found Amelia-Jane at home, alone, and feeling very sorry for herself.

  On seeing him, her expression changed from a somewhat petulant one to a rather injured, unhappy look. When he approached her with his usual affectionate greeting, she flung herself into his arms and made a great scene. Jonathan, though not always understanding his wife’s recent tantrums, had tried to comfort her and he did so again, reassuring her and trying to allay her fears. Clearly, she was insecure and unhappy and even his most loving and sincere expressions of affection did not entirely calm her anxieties. However, he did discover that she had arrived in London with Miss Bingley and her friend Arabella Watkins, who had tried to persuade her to go with them to Bath.

  But, she told him, she had not had the heart to go because, as she put it rather quaintly, “I could not bear to leave my dear ones behind.”

  The fact that her “dear ones”—if by that she meant Teresa and Cathy—spent most of their time with either their aunt Catherine Harrison or their grandmother, Jane Bingley, seemed to have quite escaped her notice.

  Wisely, Jonathan did not point this out, judging correctly that this was not the time for recriminations. Instead, he continued to soothe her hurt feelings and suggest it was probably all his fault.

  “I know I have been away, dearest, far more than I should, and you have been on your own, which is not fair. Well, I have a plan that will help us solve all those problems. Tomorrow, after you’ve rested, I shall tell you all about it. I am sure you will love it.”

  She was impatient to be told, cajoling and pleading for more information, but he was firm and insisted that she should get a good night’s sleep first.

  “Tomorrow, I shall tell you all you want to know, I promise. We are both too tired to talk about it tonight.”

  Amelia-Jane had been feeling lonely and depressed and appreciated the genuine warmth of his concern for her. As she had done many times before, she abandoned her tantrums and, taking the path of least resistance, gave in and did exactly as he asked.

  It was a tactic she had perfected over several years of marriage to a kind and amiable man who, she knew, could not resist her in a compliant mood.

  The following morning’s mail brought the letter he had written her from Longbourn. Jonathan waited until after breakfast had been cleared away then placed it before her.

  At first, she was surprised and confused.

  “Jonathan, this letter is from you. Why are you writing to me? Why can you not tell me what it is about?” she asked.

  When he insisted that she read it first and then ask questions, she adopted a rather arch manner and tried to play games with him.

  “Were you so displeased with me that you would not speak with me?” she joked, and, when finally persuaded to read it, she did not understand the point of it.

  She thought he wanted to purchase Netherfield as a good investment—a place to be leased to tenants. Only when he took the letter from her and told her in simple terms what he proposed to do did she admit to understanding its true import. That he intended they should move to live at Netherfield Park when he had finished his work at Rosings seemed, at last, to sink in.

  Jonathan had been prepared for astonishment and even displeasure, but he had not expected the violence of her reaction and the bitterness of her words.

  “Move to Hertfordshire? Jonathan, are you mad? How can you suggest such a thing? What on earth would I do there? Who would I visit? Who would call on us, other than your aunt Mary and my mother? And I suppose, when you come to Westminster for days and weeks together, I will be expected
to keep house and knit and sew.”

  Her fury was so great, it silenced him altogether. It was as if nothing he could say would matter or persuade her to change her mind. He knew it would do no good at all to suggest that there were many useful and interesting things to engage the mind of the woman who would be the Mistress of Netherfield Park. It was of no account to her that the Bingleys had been well liked and regarded in the district and she would have a respected position in her own right, unlike the situation at Rosings, where they had been dependent upon the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  After the splendour of Rosings, even though she had only occupied the humble Dower House, Netherfield seemed déclassé, like a profound social demotion. She refused even to contemplate it.

  Jonathan did not pursue the matter further, still hoping she might be persuaded to visit Netherfield and confident that if she did, she would be won over.

  The signs, however, were not hopeful.

  That evening, Amelia-Jane insisted that she intended to return to Rosings Park, where she declared she would occupy the Dower House “until they throw me out” rather than move to Hertfordshire. So saying, she retired to her room to pack for her journey and could not be persuaded to venture downstairs even for meals.

  Her husband’s disappointment was so profound he said nothing all afternoon. Having dined alone, he went out to his club and returned to sit in his study until nightfall. When a note was delivered by hand from Westminster, he opened it and had to read it twice before realising that it contained the news he had been waiting weeks to hear.

  An historic political alliance had been formed, and the nation was on the verge of seeing a new government take office. A straight vote of “No Confidence” was set to bring down Lord Derby’s government and, in the culmination of all their work, Lord Palmerston would form the new ministry.

  Excited and immensely pleased, Jonathan ran upstairs to collect his papers and his coat, taking a few minutes to look in on his wife and tell her the news before racing out of the house.

  Amelia-Jane received the news without excitement; she had long ceased to be interested in his political work and, indeed, blamed much of her unhappiness on his continuing interest in it. Significantly, Jonathan did not notice her indifference. He, too, had long since forgotten to feign disappointment at her lack of enthusiasm.

  It was late when Jonathan returned to Grosvenor Street, and if he were to be quite honest with himself, he would have had to admit that he was somewhat relieved to discover that his wife had already retired to bed. His undeniably elated, even euphoric state would not have pleased her, nor was it conducive to logical argument about their future home.

  The housekeeper advised him that Mrs Bingley had asked for her two maids to be packed and ready to travel to Kent on the morrow, stating that they would be making an early start.

  Jonathan, who had spent several hours celebrating the prospect of bringing down the Tory government and restoring the Whigs to office, did not quite appreciate the full import of her words until he came down to a late breakfast on the following day to find that his wife had already left for Rosings Park.

  “Mrs Bingley left very early, sir, and asked that you should not be disturbed, but she left this for you,” said Mrs Giles, the housekeeper, handing him a sealed letter.

  After breakfast, Jonathan opened it to find a curt little note in which Amelia-Jane reiterated her desire to return to the Dower House and her total opposition to any move to Hertfordshire, saying rather melodramatically, “I would rather die!”—after which she was able, surprisingly, to wish him well and urge him to “mind that you do not let James Wilson and the rest of those wretched Whigs take advantage of your obliging nature.”

  Jonathan was sad and confused. Sad that she had set her mind so firmly against a plan that meant a good deal to him, and confused because he could not understand why she had done so.

  Not being privy to the snobbery and pretentiousness with which Caroline Bingley and Arabella Watkins had filled her head, he could not know how badly advised she was. Singing the praises of Rosings and Bath, whose constricting social mores were upheld as the epitome of upper class behaviour, they had consistently referred to places like Woodlands and Netherfield as provincial and lacking in style. When the first suggestions had come that Jonathan might want to move from the Dower House at Rosings Park, both women had urged her not to leave, but to attempt to reach an accommodation with the new manager of the Trust.

  Miss Bingley had even suggested mischievously that, with Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam on the board, they would surely not evict her and her children if she stayed.

  “They would not want the embarrassment, my dear,” she had declared, all the while entertaining the hope of seeing the family embarrassed by just such a contretemps!

  Elizabeth was right about Caroline Bingley.

  So deeply mortified had she been by her brother’s determination to marry Jane Bennet and, to add insult to injury, by Elizabeth’s marriage to Mr Darcy, that she sank into deep resentment, which she hid beneath a veneer of civility. Every so often, however, it broke through in the kind of petty spitefulness that Elizabeth and her sister had long since learned to treat with contempt.

  On this occasion though, by being instrumental in the destruction of Jonathan Bingley’s peace of mind, if not his marriage, she had reached a new level of malice. In this vicious exercise, she had been ably assisted by her newfound friend, Mrs Arabella Watkins.

  A woman of mean understanding, little learning, and no taste, who had made her way in the world by ingratiating herself with those she considered to be her superiors, Arabella Watkins had money, but no other means to gain entrée into Bath society.

  By the merest chance, she had been at the home of a Lady Gertrude _______, widow of a well-known Admiral, whither she had gone to seek a position as a paid companion, advertised in the local journal.

  Mrs Watkins was being interviewed for this situation when the two Bingley sisters had called on Lady Gertrude.

  Recalling a previous meeting with Caroline Bingley in London, sometime before the death of her second husband, and seeing a valuable social opportunity, she had introduced herself and, thereafter, used every occasion to consolidate her acquaintance with them.

  Caroline Bingley, being single and without the contacts that enabled titled women to trawl the social scene for useful hangers-on, had welcomed, with but a few reservations, the egregious attentions of Mrs Watkins. She was certainly useful, being quite free with her money and time, whenever the Bingley women required her company.

  Caroline had spoken highly of her to her sister Mrs Hurst, who had by now reached an age when she was disinclined to expend much effort or time on any person or activity that did not directly benefit herself.

  Caroline promoted the value of Mrs Watkins to her sister.

  “Arabella Watkins is the type of person who is genuinely obliging and helpful. Nothing is too difficult for her nor too tedious, if it will please a friend,” she said and, in that instant, sealed for her worthless protégé another niche in Bath society, as the preferred companion of the Bingley sisters, who would accompany them wherever they went, ever ready to aid and abet in all their schemes, without actually imposing upon them.

  When Amelia-Jane had first visited them in Bath, there had been no Arabella Watkins, and Caroline Bingley had made much of her nephew’s wife, introducing her to all her friends and taking her to what she claimed were all the right places, where a woman of fashion and consequence would wish to be seen. Young enough to be gulled by the show of influence, Amelia-Jane had thought Caroline a kind woman who wanted to be her friend.

  When she next visited the city, for the funeral of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the indefatigable Arabella Watkins had joined the Bingley sisters, and young Amelia-Jane had no chance of escape.

  Already depressed and unhappy after the loss of her s
ons, she had been ripe for picking, and the efforts of Mrs Watkins paid off handsomely, as she became to young Mrs Bingley a friend and confidante who would provide a sympathetic ear for all her complaints.

  It was the very last thing that Amelia-Jane needed.

  None of this was known to her husband, who still hoped for a late conversion to his way of thinking. He loved and cared for her and hoped she would finally see that they had no other practical alternative; they had to leave Rosings by Christmas. Too interested in Netherfield to be easily deterred, Jonathan had decided to seek his parents’ opinion.

  On the following day, he travelled to Woodlands to see them and to convey the good news regarding the imminent return of Lord Palmerston to government to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline.

  Arriving at Woodlands, he was greeted effusively as some sort of hero by the Fitzwilliams and more soberly, though with no less affection, by the rest of the family.

  His mother was especially pleased because she had been very anxious ever since reading Charlotte’s letter. She was truly happy to learn that Amelia-Jane had returned to Kent and was even now with her children at the Dower House in Rosings Park, where she would spend the rest of the Summer.

  “And what about you, Jonathan?” she asked. “What will you do now?”

  Jonathan replied quickly that there was still much work to be done at Westminster. “I shall be busy all week, Mama, and will continue to stay at Grosvenor Street, but I do intend to go down to Kent as often as possible,” he declared, trying to set her heart at rest.

  During and after dinner, he told them of his plans for Netherfield Park. He intended to use some of his savings and the money left to him by Lady Catherine to make an offer for the property, he explained.

  They were all interested. Bingley declared that he had heard the new owners had made several improvements, and Darcy expressed the hope they had not destroyed the character of the early Georgian house.

  Jonathan was happy to be able to assure them that yes, there had been much good work done with modern plumbing and lighting, and no, since it had been carefully and sensitively done, it had certainly not ruined the character of the place.