Excentryke's Musings

Rose and Lavender Water

Part the Fifth

Miss Bingley did not invite Jane but instead invited Bella over to supper one evening when the gentlemen were to dine with the officers.  The Militia had lately quartered at Meryton and many of the young ladies were all a fancy.

Bella was not among them.

When Bella got the invitation, she folded it and asked Mama, “Well, may I go?”

“Of course you may go, my dear!”

“I take it I should send for the carriage,” Papa remarked.

“No!” Mama cried.  “It looks like rain.  Isabella will go on Nell for then she will get wet and will most certainly have to spend the night.”

Bella thought of the sleepovers she had had in Arizona before Renee had gone missing that fateful night.  She had never much liked them.  Perhaps it would be better if she had her own room and did not have to sleep in a sleeping bag.

“Mama, that is madness!” Mary exclaimed, looking out the window as Papa was doing.  “Bells will catch her death.”

“Isabella has a strong constitution,” Mama argued.  “She is not so delicate as Jane.  If only I could think of a reason for Jane to go, then all would be as I should like it, but the invitation seems to be so specific to Isabella.”  She looked thoughtful.  “Have you spoken much to Miss Bingley, Jane?”

Jane, who had been looking out the window at the grey clouds, turned to Mama.  “I am afeared I have not.”

“That is all the pity,” Mama opined, regarding her eldest daughter.  “I should like Mr. Bingley to see more of you.”

“Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth put in, joining the conversation, “should see Jane at Aunt Phillip’s card party.”

“Indeed,” Mama agreed.  “That, however, is nearly a fortnight away.”

“Surely it must be sooner,” Bella remarked.  “Uncle Phillips should like to have the business the officers would bring.”

“That he would,” Mama agreed.  “I will ask my sister Phillips when I see her on the morrow.  Meanwhile, you will go on horseback to Netherfield Park.  It would look odd for you to go in a carriage when you often go about on your horse.”

Bella could not argue with the truth of that statement.  She did often ride about the countryside on horseback.  That is, after all, how she had met Darcy and Bingley.

She spent the afternoon embroidering cushions, which was a dull day’s work, and when it was after tea, and the sky was certainly grey, she went and saddled Nell and set off in the direction of Netherfield Park.

The gentlemen had already left to dine with the officers and only Caroline and Louisa were at home and dressed in silks, though they fortunately were not wearing feathers in their hair.  Louisa was wearing a white lace matron’s cap, which looked very well on her.  Bella secretly dreaded the day when she would be wed and would have to wear a similar cap when she was at home.

Caroline performed at the harp before dinner and Louisa and Bella sat and listened politely.

“Now you must tell us about yourself,” Caroline began when she had joined Bella and Louisa on the settee.  “Your father is the owner of Longbourn Estate and the foremost gentleman of the neighborhood, save Sir William Lucas though he is in trade.”  This last bit was said a little wryly.  “What of your mother’s people?”

Bella took a breath and paused.

Caroline and Louisa were waiting patiently.

“Uncle and Aunt Phillips live in Meryton,” she began carefully.

“Meryton!” Louisa exclaimed.  “How nice to have relatives close.  Does your Uncle Phillips have property there?”

“No,” Bella answered carefully, smoothing her dusk pink skirts that Mary had trimmed with ribbon.  “He’s an attorney.”  She looked up.  “You should be receiving an invitation to a card party there next week or so.”

Caroline and Louisa shared a slightly worried glance. 

“Who is the connection?” Louisa asked.  “Uncle or Aunt Phillips?”

Bella could see what Louisa was getting at.  She wanted to know if it was her mother’s brother who had a profession or if her mother’s sister had married beneath herself.  “Aunt Phillips is Mama’s sister.”

Caroline breathed out, perhaps in relief.  She might have misconstrued the situation and thought that Uncle Phillips was a second son and the elder had inherited. 

They had not learnt of Uncle Gardiner yet, Bella thought wryly to herself.

“And does your mother have any other relations?” Caroline asked, which was clearly also on Louisa’s mind. 

Bella’s stomach sank.

“Uncle Gardiner, her brother,” she told them.

Louisa got up and poured all three of them a sherry.  Bella accepted hers and took a sip to fortify herself.

“He owns several—warehouses in Town and imports silks from Italy.  He and Aunt Gardiner are very elegant.  They are always in the latest fashions.”  She looked between Caroline and Louisa carefully.  Their silks came from warehouses such as Uncle Gardiner’s.  They might even be his customers.  They would, however, see him as beneath them.

“What is his address?” Louisa asked, glancing at her sister.

“Cheapside.” 

There was dead silence in the room.

“But your mother married a gentleman,” Caroline grasped.  “She must have had an acceptable dowry.  Mrs. Bennet is also a handsome woman.  She resembles the eldest Miss Bennet quite closely.”

“Our own fortune comes from trade,” Louisa reminded her.

This was news to Bella.

“Yes, but Charles is a gentleman, and we are of the second circles.  We went to the finest ladies’ seminaries and Charles attended Cambridge.”

“I—” Bella interrupted, and the sisters looked at her, their deep ginger hair shining in the candlelight.  “I am a gentleman’s daughter.  I do not understand the problem.”

“Darcy’s uncle is the Earl of Matlock,” Caroline told her plainly.

Bella suddenly felt very small.  “He asked you to learn of my relations then.”  She set her sherry glass down.  “He would have learnt as soon as you received the invitation to Aunt Phillips’ card party or Aunt and Uncle Gardiner visited for Christmastide.”

Louisa looked at her.  “We are to go to Town for Christmastide, though I had wondered if our party would be amended.”

Bella glanced at her sharply.  She could have meant Miss Darcy.  Darcy had mentioned that he had thought of sending for her when they had initially met on horseback, but Louisa might have also been referencing a marriage between herself and Darcy.  It was a bold statement.

Louisa stared directly back at her with her pale green eyes.  It seemed she had meant the latter possibility and felt no compunction in bringing up the possibility.

Caroline was certainly worried.  Louisa placed her hand on Caroline’s.  “I will think of something, Carrie.”

“Before later this evening?”

Bella looked out the window.  It was certainly raining.  She had galloped all the way to Netherfield and had avoided all but the first drops, coming in and laughing off the impending rainstorm, but she was certain Caroline would be kind enough to send her home in the carriage if she asked.

“I should tell him,” Bella decided suddenly.  “If my relations are a difficulty, I should tell him.”

Louisa looked at her sadly.  “He will be expecting a report.”

“Can you not give him a note from me instead?”

“And we do what?” Caroline asked, “invite you to tea in several days and leave you alone in a room together?  We cannot be so reckless with your reputation.  He will also know that something is wrong.”

“Then you must be present,” Bella told her.  “You and Louisa.  We shall have to exclude Mr. Bingley somehow because I shall not confess my relations to him like a—maid who has stolen the silver.”

“I shall distract Charles and Thomas,” Louisa decided, turning to Caroline, “and you shall be in the room with Isabella and Darcy.  You can leave them alone in a corner.  Propriety will be satisfied.”

Caroline considered for a moment.  “The gentlemen shall not return home until late.  You know officers.  They toast until the small hours of the morning.”

“I was going to extend an invitation for Isabella to stay the night,” Louisa said, smiling at Bella, “unless you should like to go home in our carriage.—You can speak to Darcy after breakfast.”

It was then that the butler came in and announced that dinner was served.

The three ladies stood and made their way into the dining room.

Caroline was sitting at the head of the table, with Bella and Louisa on either side of her.  Bella was assigned her own room and after playing cards for about an hour, she retired before the sisters, and she expected that to be an end of it the next morning.

At first, she could not sleep, but the sound of the rain—which reminded her so much of Forks—lulled her to sleep despite her anxieties.

She woke up, however, when the gentlemen returned.  There was movement along the corridor, and she heard voices.  Ignoring it, Bella pounded her pillow with her fist and laid her head back down, determined to go back to sleep.—if sleep would even take her.

Then there was a soft knock on her door.

Bella was wearing a soft cotton nightgown she had borrowed from Louisa Hurst, who was approximately her height (Caroline was slightly taller), and she grabbed a shawl and pulled it around her shoulders.  Answering the door, she was met with the light of a candle and a shadowy figure.

The figure pushed in.

“I beg your pardon!” Bella exclaimed, but the door was quickly shut.

“Mrs. Hurst will not tell me,” Darcy informed her, a hint of worry in his tone, for it was Darcy.  “She told me you would tell me on the morrow.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Bella worried, “you are in my bedchamber.  You are compromising me.”

“No one in this house will reveal it, not if I ask for their silence, and I do not mind if I compromise you, Isabella.”

Bella’s breath hitched.  It was the first time he had addressed her by her name.

She lifted her head and searched for his eyes, but they were shadowed.

“Tell me what is damaging about your relations,” Darcy demanded, “so that it might be overcome.”

She took a deep breath and sighed.  “In about a week, the Netherfield Party will receive an invitation to a card party from my Aunt Phillips in Meryton.  She is my mother’s sister.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed.

“Her husband is an attorney.”

Silence descended.  Darcy was clearly considering.  After a moment, he reached over to the nightstand and lit the candle there before setting his own candle down next to it.  Now the bed was cast in shadows and Bella could only see Darcy as a looming shadow and his dark sleeve and hand.

He reached out and clasped her upper arms.

“Are you telling me, Isabella, that your mother’s sister married beneath her?”

“No,” she breathed in.  “I’m telling you that my mama’s brother owns several warehouses in London where he imports Italian silks.  My mama married above herself.  My grandfather was in trade.”

Darcy completely stilled.  “Your mother’s family is in trade,” he qualified.

“My father is a gentleman.”

“I know, my darling,” he murmured, drawing her closer and pulling her into an embrace.  He tucked her head under his chin and breathed her in.  “You still smell of rose water even though you are wearing someone else’s nightshift.  The scent of roses is going to torture me for the rest of my life.”

“You are leaving me then,” she guessed astutely.

“I must think.”

“Do not think too long,” she begged.  “I depend on finding bluebells at my window.”

He laughed wryly into her hair.

They stayed like that for several minutes until she pulled away and tried to look into his eyes, but she could not make them out.  Eventually he took his candle and left through the door.  She would not see him again until the Netherfield Ball.

The next morning only Bingley and Hurst were at the breakfast table.  Bella tried to be cheerful, but Louisa was looking at her worriedly. 

She shrugged and went back to her coffee.

After breakfast, Bella accepted Nell from a groom and rode home.

Mama wanted to know all, but Bella just said it was a pleasant evening, not sharing any of the details.  She could not bear to break Mama’s heart.

That night, she crawled into bed with Mary and cried, her sister holding her.  In the morning, there were no bluebells waiting for her.

Papa, in all peculiarities, announced the arrival of Mr. Collins, the cousin who was to inherit Longbourn, who was to arrive that very day only a week later.  Bella was very cross with her papa.  He gave them no time to prepare a special dinner and the guest room had to be turned down very quickly. 

When Mr. Collins arrived, he was all blond curls and dark blue eyes.  He looked like a younger, blonder version of Papa.  It was quite startling.  Mary immediately grabbed Bella’s hand, squeezed it, and whispered in her ear, “Is he not,” she paused, took a deep breath, and then continued, “pleasant looking?”

Bella regarded him again.  He was—certainly favorable, if one liked clerics, but Mary always read her Fordyce’s sermons.  She could perhaps make an excellent cleric’s wife.

For these past three years Mary had pined after an officer she had known for but half an hour in the middle of a rainstorm.  Perhaps Mary was prepared to move on.

That night, after dinner, Mr. Collins offered to read to them from Fordyce’s sermons and Bella immediately said, “Bravo, Mr. Collins!  Our dear sister Mary reads Fordyce’s sermons to me when I cannot sleep.  Perhaps you can compare your favorite.  Mary, which one would you recommend to our dear Mr. Collins?  Where is your copy?”  She gave Mary a very firm look.

“Oh,” Mary whispered, then, when Bella kicked her, she uttered a louder, “oh!”  She stood up and brought her own copy which she had set on a table in the sitting room as she had been reading it just the day before.  “I do like his homily on The Sermon on the Mount, Mr. Collins.  Here, I have it marked in my own copy, but I am certain that whatever you choose will be more than adequate.”

Mr. Collins looked pleasantly surprised.  “Indeed, Cousin Mary.  I did not know we had such a pious young lady among us.  As it is your favorite, I shall indeed read it.”  He opened his own copy and turned to the correct page.  He smiled at Mary, who smiled back as she resumed her seat beside Bella, and he began to read.

Mary was the better reader, that was certain, but Bella was certain to at least look attentive.

When he finished the homily, he asked Mary for her opinion on his next choice.

It was a job well done.

When they retired to bed that night, Bella looked out onto the windowsill and saw a green apple for Mary.  She opened the window and fetched it, showing it to her sister.

“Who do you find more handsome, Henry Lucas or Mr. Collins?”  She did not mention the officer in the rain.  She knew he would be handsomer than either of the offered choices.

Mary blushed all the way down her neck.  “Why should you ask such questions?”

“We know from his letter,” Bella reminded her, lying down across the bed, “that Mr. Collins wishes to make amends for injuring Papa’s ‘amiable daughters’ which can mean only one thing.  He means to marry one of us.  Mama will tell him that Jane has a suitor in Mr. Bingley and I have a suitor in Mr. Darcy”—she paused, thinking at just how upset Darcy was to learn of her relations—“so that leaves only you and Elizabeth.  Elizabeth will not suit and you have shown yourself to be a young lady of reverent reflection.”

Mary smiled to herself.  “I do not want to live over a shop.  That has been the only option open to me for quite some time now.”  She hesitated, as if considering, and Bella held her breath.  Mary did not mention any other possibility, no matter how remote it was.

“And Henry might go into trade,” Bella agreed after the long pause.  “Mr. Collins shall inherit Longbourn.”

“Is it wrong to wish this to be my home my whole life?”

“You shall have to go to Kent in the intervening years.”  A pit formed in Bella’s stomach.  “That seems so far away.”

“Not farther than Derbyshire,” Mary reminded her.  “When Mr. Darcy marries you—”

“If Mr. Darcy marries me,” Bella qualified.

“When Mr. Darcy marries you, you will be going away yourself.”

If Mary had become an officer’s wife, she would have been traveling all over England and possibly abroad.  They had been prepared for that outcome three years previously, though neither of them mentioned it now.

“I suppose that is true,” Bella sighed, returning to the subject of Darcy.  “I wish it could all stay the same.”

“The world moves on,” Mary noted.  “We grow up.  Jane might marry Mr. Bingley.”

True, Bingley’s fortune came from trade.  He would not mind Jane’s connections, not like Mr. Darcy who was the grandson of an Earl.  Bella’s stomach clenched again.

“She will live at Netherfield Park.  You will marry Mr. Darcy and move to Derbyshire.”

Bella did not correct her.

“And I—”  Mary sighed.  “My future is ahead of me—in whatever form it now chooses to take.”

“If Mr. Collins is the man you now want,” Bella told her sincerely, “then I will do my best to get him for you.”

Mary bit her lip, her face the exact mirror of Bella’s.  “Promise?  If that is what I should now decide?”

“Promise.  I will do everything to keep Elizabeth from him and strengthen your claim.”

Mary reached for her hand and squeezed.  “We shall visit each other.  You in Derbyshire and I in Kent.”

“Yes,” Bella promised although she was not certain it was a promise she could keep.  “Yes, we shall.”

The next day the four sisters were in the garden.  Bella was sitting on a bench, watching Jane prune her roses.  Elizabeth was with her, the two blonde heads so similar, although Jane was certainly the beauty.  Mary was sitting under an apple tree reading Fordyce’s sermons, which was just like her.

Mama came up on the other side of a lilac bush that obscured Mama’s view of Bella on the bench and it appeared she was with Mr. Collins.

“Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Collins began.  “You know I have a comfortable living in Hunsford under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourg.”

“Yes,” Mama said.  “I am so pleased for you.”

“Lady Catherine desires for me to take a wife.  ‘Mr. Collins,’ said she, ‘you must marry!  Make her a sensible woman for my sake, but for your sake make her an active, useful sort of person.’  My eye has fallen on your daughters as I am to inherit Longbourn.  It is the only way I can correct the entail as I cannot break it.  The eldest Miss Bennet should, of course, take precedence—”

“Oh, my dear Mr. Collins!” Mama exclaimed.  “I am very sorry to tell you that it is very likely the eldest Miss Bennet is to be very soon engaged.  The same is true for Miss Isabella Bennet, the youngest of the twins.  As for my other daughters, Elizabeth and Mary, I know of no prior attachments.  Now, Elizabeth, who is next to Jane in age and beauty—”

“Forgive me,” Mr. Collins interrupted, his voice thoughtful.  “You say that Miss Mary has no previous attachment.  She is the young lady who reads Fordyce’s sermons.”

Bella leaned forward to try and see Mr. Collins’ face, but it was obstructed by the lilac bush.

“Indeed!  Mary is very pious.  She gives her time to the church and the poor and is very devout.  She is also very talented on the pianoforte.  She often accompanies Isabella who sings.  We shall have them perform for you tonight.”

“Then I shall further engage Miss Mary in conversation.  I see she is reading under yonder tree.”

“Indeed,” Mama agreed.  “Fordyce’s, certainly.  She always carries her copy.”

It was then that Bella got an inkling.  Standing from the bench, she came around the lilac bush and smiled.  “Mama, I thought I would go into Meryton, to the booksellers.  Perhaps we should make a trip of it.” 

She looked over at Jane and Elizabeth.  “Jane?  Lizzy?  Should you like to go into Meryton?”

Jane set down her pruning shears and took off her gloves.  “A walk should be quite lovely, thank you, Bells.”

“Mr. Collins,” Mama asked.  “Should you like a walk?”

“Indeed, I should, Mrs. Bennet.  Indeed, I should.”  He looked off toward the tree and called, “Cousin Mary!  Cousin Mary!”

Bella smiled to herself.  She had arranged that quite nicely.  Now if only she could go for a ride instead.

Jane and Elizabeth walked together, Bella on her own, and Mary and Mr. Collins made up the rear.

Bella was certain to try and listen and it seemed that Mary was quite shy.  Mr. Collins, though, was patient with her and soon drew her into a conversation on church flower arrangements.  It was not the most engaging of subjects, but it appeared Mary had an opinion, which she would certainly need as a cleric’s wife.

When they came upon Meryton, Jane and Elizabeth began to speak to Mr. Denny and another man, and Bella did not pay attention.  Instead, she went into the booksellers to see if there were any new volumes of poetry.

She was surprised when, five minutes later, Bingley came in.

“Miss Bennet,” he greeted, tipping his hat to her.

“Mr. Bingley.”  She curtseyed.  “How are you?  How are Caroline and Louisa?”

“They are quite well, thank you.  They are missing your company.”

“We must have tea soon,” she agreed.  “Did you meet our cousin, Mr. Collins?  He has come for a short stay from Kent.”

Bingley looked out at the window toward where her sisters had congregated.  “Indeed, I need to go introduce myself.  I shall have to amend my invitation for the Netherfield Ball to include him.”

Bella looked at him in interest.

“Oh, of course you do not know.  It was decided when I received a letter from Darcy.”

Bella opened her mouth to ask, but found she could not politely form a question, so she closed her mouth again.

“Darcy,” Bingley continued, “has taken a brief trip to Aubrey Hall to visit his friend, Benedict Bridgerton.”

Bella remembered the name Bridgerton.  Caroline had mentioned a Viscount Bridgerton when Bella had first come to tea.  This must be some relation of his.

“As it is, Bridgerton is to join our house party and to celebrate, I am throwing a ball.  We will be issuing an invitation within the coming week.  I shall have the pleasure of dancing with you again.”

Smiling at him, Bella’s bright eyes shone violet.  “I look forward to it, Mr. Bingley.”

It seemed like Bingley had imparted the information he had wished to tell her.  Darcy had left, Darcy was returning, and there was to be a ball.  Bella remembered that she had accused Darcy of leaving her and he had told her that “he had to think.”  It seemed he had to consult Bridgerton over the matter.  The brother, perhaps, of a Viscount.  What would a Viscount say to Bella’s relations in trade?  Nothing good, she should warrant.

“Well,” she decided, “let me go introduce you to Mr. Collins.”

On the way home, Bella was once again walking on her own, but she did not mind.  She had much to think upon.  She hoped Bridgerton did not have any sisters.  That would be disastrous.  She could just imagine them, all soft curves and bright eyes with large dowries.  Darcy’s own mother was the daughter of an Earl.  Just imagine if he himself married the sister of a Viscount.  It would be the most reasonable expectation in the world.

However, Darcy was bringing Bridgerton to Netherfield Park.  Was that so Bridgerton could meet Bella and judge her?

The thought turned her stomach. 

She was so distressed, she could barely eat dinner and retired early to bed.

When Mary came in two hours later, Bella almost pretended to be asleep. 

“I believe he finds me agreeable,” Mary whispered, little emotion in her voice, and Bella squeezed her hand.  “He is a decent man.  He is intelligent and he is so cheerful.  He is not like Papa at all.”

“Oh no,” Bella agreed.  “We would not want to marry a man like Papa at all.”

“That would be horrible,” Mary agreed.  “No, he is nothing like Papa.  He might lock himself away in his study to write his sermon, that is perfectly understandable, he is a clergyman after all, but he would never slam the door in my face or demand that I leave him alone for days on end.”

“No,” Bella agreed.  “I have seen no evidence of a temper or Papa’s general indifference.”

“Mr. Collins seems genuinely interested in my opinions.  Of course, he speaks of Lady Catherine a great deal—”  She paused.

“That will pass,” Bella assured her, “once he is married and has a family.  He is merely in awe of her at the moment.  Perfectly natural.  He owes his place and position to her.”

“Yes,” Mary agreed, her voice becoming stronger.  “Yes, that must be it.”  She still sounded a little worried.

“I should surely like to meet her when I come and visit you.”

“That would certainly be quite the thing, would it not?”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  “Yes, it would.”  And with that, the sisters went to sleep, one dreaming of her future felicity in Kent, and the other dreading when Darcy would return.