44. Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four

November 26, 1812 Longbourn Jane

J ane stared at the garish décor in the mistress’s suite. Mama always did have a peculiar taste, she mused. I cannot replace everything at once, but I can make a few changes. The first to go would be the dark, heavy drapes at the windows and around the bed, followed by the coverlet. The serviceable furniture would be kept for now, despite how much she disliked it.

The large chamber had ample space for a cradle for her son as well. Though there was a place for Henry in the nursery, Jane more often wished him close to her. He already slept through the night at just shy of three months old, a feat that several Meryton matrons had assured her was unusual. Mrs. Moore appreciated the babe’s nightly habits, too, and the master of Longbourn continued to please all around him.

Darcy and Elizabeth had proved invaluable. Elizabeth taught Jane everything their father had shown her about the management of the estate. Mr. Brown and Darcy had suggested improvements and ideas that made everything easier. Jane appreciated their efforts, as it made her transition to both master and mistress of the estate easier.

The servants and staff of Longbourn were quick to align their allegiances with the new mistress, much to Mrs. Bennet’s displeasure. Her constant calls for Hill continued daily until Jane confronted her.

“Mrs. Hill has other responsibilities that supersede your demands,” she told her mother patiently one morning after Hill came to her in distress, wondering how to handle the situation.

“Hill has always been my faithful attendant!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Why can she not continue as we always have?”

Jane sucked in a breath, steadying the irritation she felt lest she lash out at her mother. In truth, Mrs. Hill had always been running frantically about Longbourn. Her tasks were interrupted more often than not when some idea struck Mrs. Bennet’s thoughts. Mama could never wait when some notion came to her, either. Everything was required to be attended to instantly, put ahead of anything else, be it more pressing or less.

As Jane had taken her place as mistress, Mrs. Hill had slowly relaxed as she realized she would not be required to accede to Mrs. Bennet’s every whim. It had made her work easier, and she could only be grateful to the former Miss Bennet for that.

“You are no longer the mistress here, Mama,” Jane reminded her. “Mrs. Hill is to follow my commands first. If you wish for someone to be at your beck and call, then hire a companion. You have enough funds.”

“This is all Lizzy’s fault! My Jane would never be so cold and cruel. It must be that ungrateful girl that has poisoned you against me. Where has my Jane gone?” Mrs. Bennet began weeping noisily, and her daughter left the room shaking her head.

Elizabeth had taken the brunt of their mother’s ire since arriving. Despite being married to a wealthy man, Mrs. Bennet still carried antipathy for her least favorite daughter. Jane did not understand it. What did her mother think would happen if Lizzy had become mistress instead of her? Elizabeth’s temper might have pushed her to cast their mother to the hedgerows, the very thing Mrs. Bennet had feared for so long.

Suddenly restless, Jane gathered her outerwear and left the house after telling Mrs. Hill she would be out for an hour or so. She had never been the great walker her younger sister was, but the autumn leaves and brisk breeze beckoned.

Walking swiftly, Jane traversed Longbourn’s garden and little wilderness, leaving through a gate in the stone wall that surrounded it. She followed the well-worn footpath through the trees, winding her way toward Oakham Mount. It had been over a year since she had taken this way, and the lack of change comforted her.

At the top of the mount, she took in the view. Soon, winter would set in, turning the lovely autumn vista into a cold, dead landscape.

A horse whinnied, and she turned instinctively toward the sound. Immediately she recognized the beast as belonging to Mr. Bingley, and she made to turn away. Too late, she thought, realizing he had seen her. The horse came toward her, stopping some ten feet away, and its rider dismounted.

“Mrs. Collins,” he said, bowing and touching his hat. “I did not think to encounter you here. How do you do?”

“I am well, sir, and yourself?” Jane shifted nervously, biting her lip. With great effort, she forced herself to look him in the eyes, straightening her shoulders and tilting her chin defiantly. She had no cause to be ashamed or embarrassed.

His warm, brown eyes pulled her in. In their depths, she could see tenderness and, dare she name it, love , and all her suppressed emotions came flooding back in an instant. I still love him? she thought miserably.

“My aunt would love to meet you if you have the time,” he said without answering her query. “We have come several days, yet you are never available.”

“I am much occupied learning to run the estate,” she replied defensively. In truth, she avoided him, and they both knew it.

“If I scheduled an appointment, would that help?” he teased.

Jane sighed. “Mr. Bingley, we have discussed this.”

“I do not know what you mean.” He stepped toward her, gazing intently into her eyes.

“Yes, you do. I am in mourning , sir! This is highly improper.”

He shook his head. “There is nothing wrong with paying a call to a friend whilst they are in mourning.”

Jane threw her hands in the air in an uncharacteristic show of irritation. “There is when said friend wishes to be more than that!”

“Tell me that you do not love me, and I shall cease all attempts at winning your good opinion.” He took her hand, gently caressing it with his thumb. “One word will silence me on the subject forever.”

Jane choked back a sob. “It changes nothing. I told you months ago at Pemberley what my sentiments were.”

“And I have worked diligently ever since to become a man you could rely on. Caroline is gone. Her dowry has been released. She is living with Louisa and Hurst.”

Jane closed her eyes and shook her head. “How can I trust you?” she whispered miserably.

“Let us begin again,” he suggested. He released her hand and stepped back. “Charles Bingley, at your service.” Bingley bowed low and then straightened, smiling a smile that melted her heart.

“Jane,” she said, curtseying in return.

“Just Jane?” His speculative gaze pierced her, and she nodded.

“Yes. For now.” She moved to a fallen log and sat. He followed, sitting beside her and taking her hand.

“This changes nothing, you know,” she gently reiterated, tugging her hand away. “I am still in mourning.”

“In less than a month, you will reach half mourning. While I cannot begin courting you in earnest, we might be in each other’s company more. I can begin making amends for my deplorable behavior last autumn.”

Jane nodded, allowing a small bit of hope to creep into her chest. Perhaps things might work out after all.

“Will you meet my aunt?” he asked again. “I promise, she is one of the better Bingleys. Though not raised as a gentlewoman, she is kind and engaging. I believe you will find her to be a good friend.”

“I promise I shall not absent myself when you next call,” she replied.

He smiled. “That is all I can ask.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Will you tell me about your son?”

Jane froze. Immediately, she stood. “I need to return,” she said hastily. “I shall… later…” She turned and hurried away, leaving Mr. Bingley on the log.

“Jane!” he called, but she ignored him, hurrying down the path back toward Longbourn.

Later, when she had time to reflect, she wondered what had caused her to flee. Was it that she had named her son for him, despite believing that they had no future together? Or was it something more?

Her marriage had been short and trying, but she had been comfortable enough. In time, she might have grown more than fond of Mr. Collins, especially once Lady Catherine no longer held any sway over him. Miss de Bourgh had only just taken control of her inheritance. In time, Mr. Collins might have given his loyalty to his wife since his former patroness had been dethroned.

But love him? Would she have ever loved her husband? She doubted it. Her heart, once engaged, could not be easily redirected to another. Perhaps had she heard of Mr. Bingley’s marriage, she might have let him go sooner. But, even now, after a year, she still felt the stirrings of regard when she thought about him.

What will he say when he learns that Henry is named for him? she wondered. Doubtlessly, he would be thrilled, for Jane knew it confirmed her feelings for him. Perhaps that is what so frightened her.

When she returned to Longbourn, she felt a little better, though she had not been completely restored to good spirits. Divesting herself of her outerwear, she went in search of Elizabeth, wishing for her sister’s good sense to guide her.

She entered the parlor and froze when she noted they had guests. “Charlotte!” she cried, delighted. “And Sir Andrew! You are very welcome.”

“We wondered where you had gone off to,” Charlotte teased lightly, standing to embrace her friend. “How do you do?”

“Mrs. Collins, ‘tis a pleasure to see you again!” Sir Andrew bowed slightly, his cheeky grin spreading across his face. “My dear cousin Miss de Bourgh sends her felicitations. We visited Rosings Park soon after our marriage.”

“I am quite well. Please, resume your seats.” Everyone sat, and Jane reached for a cup of tea from the tray sitting beside her chair. Elizabeth must have ordered it whilst I was out, she mused.

“Charlotte tells me that Miss de Bourgh is thriving,” Elizabeth said lightly. “Lady Catherine has moved to the dower house.” She eyed Jane knowingly, a little smirk on her face.

“My cousin wishes to correspond with you, Mrs. Collins.” Sir Andrew extended a missive, and Jane took it.

“I should be pleased to exchange letters with Miss de Bourgh,” she replied. “I will read and reply to this directly.” She set the letter aside and changed the subject. “How long are you to be in Meryton?”

“My mother has begged that we stay until after Twelfth Night,” Charlotte answered. “Amelia—that is, Lady de Bourgh, was to come, but she has gone to Rosings Park instead.”

“Lady de Bourgh… is that not your title now?” Elizabeth grinned, and Jane chuckled.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte waved a hand dismissively. “ You may continue to call me Charlotte. Mama is terribly pleased, you know.”

“We all are.” Jane poured herself some more tea.

“I know that you will not be able to participate in many of the holiday activities, but we will be sure to visit you as often as possible.” Charlotte gave them a pitying glance, and Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders.

“It does not matter. We shall have many Christmases to celebrate in the future. Besides, our entire family is here. That is all we really need.”

Jane nodded in agreement. Yes, everyone she cared about… her thoughts drifted three miles away to Netherfield Park, and she realized with a start that she looked forward to when he came to call next.

Charlotte and Sir Andrew left after tea, promising to come again very soon, and Jane took Miss de Bourgh’s letter to her chamber to read it.

Dear Mrs. Collins,

Pray, forgive me for writing, but I find myself in such a similar situation as you that I just knew you would understand my wish for a friend. You see, my cousin has convinced me to take a more active role in the management of my estate, and I feel quite unequal to everything I am learning. My steward is grateful for a less officious mistress and my cousins and uncle are doing everything in their power to ease the transition, but I still find myself frustrated by my general lack of knowledge.

I do hope you will consider me a friend. May I beg that we dispense of the formalities and call each other by our Christian names? I have so few, and though I have Mrs. Jenkinson, she is more of an age with my mother than myself.

My cousin tells me that you have returned to Hertfordshire after spending some months in Derbyshire. I do hope everything has proceeded smoothly. Andrew and Charlotte also inform me that you gave birth to a little boy. I am so happy that you came through your ordeal so well.

Please, will you tell me how you fare with managing your estate? Let us compare our experiences. Perhaps I shall feel like less of a failure.

Sincerely,

Anne de Bourgh

The brief letter was very disjointed, and Jane thought she detected nervousness in Miss de Bourgh’s words. The poor dear had been almost exclusively at Rosings Park for many years and likely did not know how to go about forming a new friendship. Happy to discuss her efforts, she went to her writing table to compose a reply.

Dear Miss de Bourgh,

I was very pleased to receive your letter from Sir Andrew today. Please feel free to make use of my Christian name. Jane will do quite well.

My own forays into estate management have been exhausting. There is so much to learn. I, too, have support in the form of my brother Darcy, my dear sister Elizabeth, and Mr. Brown, who is the steward that my father hired before he passed away.

Longbourn is not nearly as large as Rosings Park, so I imagine that you have a vast deal more to learn than I. As long as you have the aid of loyal friends, family, and staff, you will likely do admirably well.

I shall have to hire a secretary eventually, I suppose. Being both master and mistress of an estate is time-consuming. Sometimes I feel as if I do not have time to do anything other than stare at estate books or household ledgers, or have meetings with the steward.

My son and I have been in Hertfordshire for almost a month now, and it has been a joy being close to my younger sisters again. Henry is a good boy, never giving anyone a bit of trouble.

I, too, look forward to hearing from you again.

Sincerely,

Jane Collins

It would be pleasant to speak with another woman who understood the position Jane now found herself in. Elizabeth made everything seem so simple. Jane often had to seek multiple explanations for why something was done a certain way before she understood and could move on. Her younger sister hid her impatience well, but Jane could detect it in the slight pursing of Lizzy’s lips or the little sighs that escaped from time to time.

“It would all be easier if I had a competent husband,” she muttered aloud as she sanded and sealed her letter. Perhaps I shall have one… someday.