Pride Prejudice and Perplexity

An Unexpected Reunion

Chapter Thirteen – An Unexpected Reunion

Elizabeth was delighted at the arrival of her aunt and uncle, and their children. Ever since she and Jane had grown older, they had learned to confide in their Aunt Gardiner, and seek her advice when they were in want of guidance from a sensible older lady, for they were well aware that their own mother was entirely unsuited to the office. And their aunt, who loved them both, had watched her two eldest nieces blossom into intelligent and charming young ladies with delight, and was always most interested to hear of their affairs.

When she was in London, Elizabeth had seen much of her aunt, and had shared all the interesting details of her many acquaintances; and although she had written from Pemberley, there was much to recount and speak of. Her aunt knew of the visit she and Kitty had paid to Lydia, but Elizabeth had not made mention of her encounter with Julia beside the river; and her aunt knew nothing of her recent visit to Freston with Jane.

“I hope you will excuse me, Lizzy,” said Mrs Gardiner one day as they were strolling together in the garden, “if I am so presumptuous as to tell you that when we were in Derbyshire last summer, it seemed to both your uncle and myself, that Mr Darcy was very much in love with you; and from what you have told me of him dancing three times with you at Jane's wedding ball, and then twice at the ball he held in London for his sister – including the first set – and his continued attentions when you were recently in Derbyshire, my suspicions of a very strong preference are confirmed. The only thing I find surprising is that he has not yet paid you his addresses. If he cannot see that you return his affections, then the man is blind! Excuse me for saying it, Lizzy, but it is most clear to me that you, too, are in love.”

Elizabeth sat down on a bench and, to her aunt's great surprise, began to cry. Sitting beside her and putting a comforting arm around her, Mrs Gardiner asked gently, “What is the matter, child, what has happened?”

Elizabeth spoke of her encounter with Julia, on her first visit to Freston with Kitty; and of her subsequent visit with Jane, on their return journey from Derbyshire. She faithfully repeated her conversation with Julia, and also Lydia's report of her going off with Mr Darcy in his carriage, and observing them embracing.

She was eager to hear her aunt's opinion. “Can there be any explanation other than that she is his mistress?”

“It is difficult to imagine any other,” agreed her aunt.

“The reason Mr Darcy does not ask me to marry him, is that I have been explicit that I would never marry a man who keeps a mistress. I know that many wives would simply ignore such a thing, and act as if it were something that only existed in a dream – that was in no way a part of their life – and was of no consequence whatsoever. It would never be spoken of between them. But I could never be happy with such a husband. Am I wrong to refuse to accept such an arrangement?”

“No, my dear, you are entirely right; you could neither be happy, nor make him happy in such a situation. Have you thought to say to him that if he wishes to marry you, he must give up his mistress – and promise you never to again see her, or take another?”

“Yes, before the second visit I did consider it; but when I thought of the young lady I had seen beside the river, and imagined her being thrown out, at my behest, and perhaps falling into such terrible circumstances as those from which Lydia was rescued, I hesitated. And then when I met Julia, again, and became somewhat acquainted with her, and saw how she loved him, I doubted that I could ever demand that he give her up.”

“How old is Julia?” asked Mrs Gardiner.

“I should say she must be around one or two and twenty; about the same age as myself.”

“And there was a housekeeper, you said, a Mrs Harrison, who was sitting, sewing, together with Lydia and Julia when you and Jane entered the sitting room; and she gave Julia a glance – who then immediately left the house. It is strange behaviour for a housekeeper, is it not?”

“Yes, I agree, it is,” said Elizabeth. “It occurred to me at the time, but I dismissed it as being of no importance. I remember now that on my first visit, when Lydia asked Mrs Harrison to serve tea, she did it in so awkward a manner that it seemed to me that she was not used to treating her as a servant. Do you think, perhaps, it can be some kind of boarding house for young ladies in Lydia's circumstances, or one where a gentleman may keep his mistress out of the way? Perhaps Mrs Harrison is the owner of the property, or at least its manager. That would accord far better with the authority I observed in her behaviour, than her being simply the housekeeper.”

“Yes, it would. How old is she?”

“A year or two above forty, I should think; and yet she is still a very handsome lady. She must have been quite a beauty in her youth.”

“How long did it take you to reach Longbourn from there?”

“From Freston? About three or four hours, I should say.”

“I think I should like to visit my niece, and see how she gets on,” said her aunt.

“You wish me to take you to Freston? When?”

“Why not tomorrow? Mr Gardiner is engaged to fish with your father, so I may have the use of the carriage. Anna, my nursery maid, can look after the children. We shall leave after breakfast. Of course, I shall inform Mr Gardiner as to where we go, but as for the others, they may think that I simply wish to make a tour of the neighbourhood – otherwise your mother would most certainly wish to join us, and that would not suit my purpose.”

~~~~~

When they reached Freston, the following day, Elizabeth and her aunt alighted from the carriage at some distance from the gate, and the coachman was instructed to await them there. They walked quietly to the gate and then up the path. When the servant opened the front door, Elizabeth said, “Please inform Miss Bennet that her sister and Aunt Gardiner are come to visit.” They followed closely behind the servant and entered the sitting room immediately they had been announced.

Lydia sat cradling a tiny infant in her arms; and, together with Julia and the housekeeper, she was astonished to see them.

“Lydia!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Why did you not write to say that the baby was born? Are you well? Is your baby well? Is it a boy or a girl?”

Lydia smiled proudly and held her baby up for Elizabeth to take. “It is a darling little girl, and I have named her Susan. She was born just a week ago and we are both very well, as you can see.”

“You look well, Lydia,” said her aunt, “and little Susan is lovely,” she said, taking the baby from Elizabeth.

“I am glad you have come,” said Lydia, “for it will save me all the trouble of writing to my mamma, and telling her the news. You may say that I am very well, and tell her all about my lovely little Susan. But now you must excuse me, for I must take her upstairs to be fed and put to bed.”

Elizabeth watched her sister, who looked a picture of health and happiness, as she took little Susan back from their aunt and left the room. When she turned back to her aunt, she saw her staring thoughtfully, and with great deliberation, not at Julia, but at Mrs Harrison; who, clearly wishing to escape further scrutiny, rose to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said, “I shall arrange refreshments for you.” Then turning to Julia, who appeared confused as to what she must do, she said, “Miss Julia, I believe you are expected at your friend's house. Were you not planning to wait on her?”

But before Julia had arisen, Mrs Gardiner surprised them all by saying. “I would prefer you stay a few minutes, if you will, Julia; and you too, Mrs Harrison.”

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Mrs Harrison.

“Please be seated,” said Mrs Gardiner, politely, but forcefully, as she sat herself down on a sofa and indicated to Elizabeth to join her.

Mrs Harrison reluctantly resumed her seat. “I would be most obliged to you, Madam, if you would explain what this is all about.”

To the amazement of the other three ladies, Mrs Gardiner replied, “Do you not recognise me?”

The face of the other lady became most serious, indeed, as she studied the face of her interlocutor, shaking her head.

“Perhaps twenty-two years is rather a long time, Miss Catherine Norton,” said Mrs Gardiner.

Mrs Harrison appeared momentarily shaken at hearing herself thus addressed, but recovering herself, she said, “That is not my name, and I have not the least idea who you are, Madam. The servant announced you as Mrs Gardiner, a name with which I am completely unfamiliar.”

“Of course, for that is my married name. But before I was married, my name was Jane Elliot. I am quite certain you must recall it, for you repeated it every morning when you read out the roll at the Lambton School for young ladies. And I replied, 'Present, Miss Norton'”.

Mrs Harrison gasped, one hand covering her mouth, as she stared back in horror at Mrs Gardiner.

“Then one day, twenty-two years ago, with not the slightest warning, we found ourselves without a teacher. Eventually another lady was found to teach us, and we were told that Miss Norton was gone as a governess, to Scotland. I was an innocent girl of fifteen, and I simply accepted that it must be true; although I recall that your younger sister, Mary, who was my closest friend, was always embarrassed, if ever I spoke of you, or asked to where in Scotland you were gone, or how you liked being a governess.

“Last summer, I had the great pleasure of making a tour of Derbyshire, from whence my family departed, not long after I finished my schooling. Naturally, I was eager to search for old acquaintances of my girlhood days; an endeavour in which I met with some success. One of my former friends, with whom I was pleased to renew my acquaintance was your sister, Mary, who you will be happy to hear, is well-married to an attorney in Lambton and has three delightful children. We had a wonderful time talking about our girlhood days, and of our friends, and what had become of them all.

“I was most curious to know about my former teacher, Miss Norton, for I was now older and wiser in the ways of the world, and the story that had been circulated at the time of her disappearance no longer satisfied me. Your sister confessed that, indeed, it was but an invention, put about to cover up a great scandal. For what could be more disgraceful than a school teacher, the daughter of a vicar, having an illicit liaison with a gentleman, and expecting his child?

“No!” exclaimed Mrs Harrison, more in shock at the revelation, than denial.

Elizabeth, too, was stunned.

“Rather than going to Scotland as a governess, the gentleman who fathered your child removed you from Derbyshire to avoid a scandal, and to protect his name. He purchased this property, where you and your child have lived and been supported ever since. Is it not so, Miss Norton?”

“Please, please, do not call me by that name,” she begged, burying her face in her handkerchief. Then looking up woefully she asked, “Did my sister tell you the gentleman's name?”

“Of course – it was Mr Darcy.”

Mrs Harrison began crying in earnest; and her former student came to sit beside her on the couch and attempted to comfort her. Turning to Elizabeth, Mrs Gardiner said, “Perhaps you young ladies might like to walk in the garden?”

Elizabeth was in a state of shock, and it was not until Julia stood and looked at her expectantly, that she was able to gather her wits, and rising unsteadily to her feet, she followed Julia outside.

Finally, she managed to say, “Then you are the sister of Mr Darcy?”

“Yes, his half-sister.”

Elizabeth stopped and took Julia's hands, staring into her face, looking for some resemblance to Mr Darcy or Georgiana. Eventually she said, “I can see something of your brother, in your eyes and mouth.”

“Do you know his face well?” asked Julia, with a shy smile.

“Yes, yes,” said Elizabeth, “and I am so happy to learn that you are his sister, and not his...”

“Mistress,” said Julia.

“Yes!” said Elizabeth, embracing Julia as if she were her own long-lost sister.

“Let us sit down,” said Elizabeth, leading Julia to a bench in the sunshine, “for I wish to hear everything about you; about your whole life, if you do not mind to tell it.”

“I do not mind, but there is very little to tell, for I have led such a sheltered and uneventful existence.”

“Did you ever meet your father?” asked Elizabeth.

“Oh yes, he visited every year in the winter, when he was in town; and in his later years, following the death of his wife, Lady Anne, he was able to come more often. But I have learned not to think of him as my father, for he did not wish it.”

“Did he refuse to recognise you as his daughter?” asked Elizabeth.

“No, not exactly. I remember, since I was very young, him coming to visit my mother each year; he was always very kind to me, bringing me small gifts, and wishing to hear me sing or play, or to admire my drawing books. My mother told me to simply call him 'sir'. At first I did not know he was my father.”

“Your mother did not tell you?”

“No. But when I began reading books, I soon understood that a child must have a father; and I asked my mother who was my father, and where did he live; but she would only say that she would tell me when I was older. When I was six or seven, after one of his visits, I guessed that he must be my father; and when I asked my mother, she said yes, he was my father, but I should never address him as such.”

“It must have been awful for you, knowing he was your father, but having to act as if he was not,” said Elizabeth.

“I believe he treated me like a daughter – albeit one whom he rarely saw – with true affection and love. He provided for my every need; and when my mother, who, as you have heard, was a school teacher, had taught me everything she knew, he arranged for masters to visit and teach me – I had the very best music and art teachers that any young lady could wish for.”

“You had the benefit of a much better education than I, or my sisters,” observed Elizabeth. “In that regard, at least, you had all the advantages that would have been yours, had you lived at Pemberley.”

“Yes, it is true. But while my father was able to ensure that I had every advantage and material comfort I could wish for, he felt guilty, I believe. He greatly regretted that he could never give me a normal, happy life, with friends and family; for I could never go out into society without the stigma of illegitimacy attaching itself to me. He was, I believe,

afraid that the secret of my existence might somehow become known to the world, and bring him shame. That is why he did not wish to have me think of him as my father, because our true relationship could never be acknowledged in the world.”

“How very sad,” said Elizabeth, wiping away a tear and squeezing Julia's hand. “When did you first meet your brother?”

“I knew nothing of his existence until I was fourteen years old, when our father died. For neither my mother nor my father ever told me that I had a half-sister and half-brother. I remember discovering the name Darcy on a letter, which arrived for my mother; for no one ever told me my father's name, or where he lived, or anything of that nature.”

“It must have been very difficult growing up like that. Did your mother never tell you anything of her past, of her own family?” asked Elizabeth.

Julia shook her head. “She was a good mother; kind and entirely devoted to me, but she would tell me none of those things. Today, when Mrs Gardiner spoke of it, was the very first time that I ever heard my mother's real name, or knew that she was from Lambton, or that I have an aunt living there. Whenever I asked, she would always say that she would tell me when I was older. Eventually I stopped asking those questions, for I realised that my mother felt great shame concerning what had happened, and perhaps, like my father, she felt guilty for the lonely life, which must inevitably be mine.”

“What happened when your father died? Is that when you first met your brother, the present Mr Darcy?”

“Yes. My mother received a letter from him, informing her that his father had passed away, and that he had been entrusted with providing for us. I remember how my mother cried a great deal at the news; I suppose she must have loved my father very much. I, too, was sad, because he had always been so kind to me; even though I was never permitted to become close to him, or think of him as a father. My mother was anxious, and worried about what would become of us, for she was afraid that the son would be less willing than his father to support us.

“I can remember the first time he came; it was not long after my father's death. I was but fourteen, and my brother must have been one and twenty. It was the happiest day of my life. He immediately laid all mother's fears to rest, and promised that he would continue to maintain our establishment, and make provision for the support of us both, for all of our lives.”

“That was most generous,” said Elizabeth.

“Oh, yes. And do you know that he, himself, had known nothing of my existence – or of my mother's, or of this house – until just before our father died, when it was all revealed to him. He was as delighted to discover that he had a half-sister as was I, to have a half-brother. And most surprisingly, he wished to treat me as his sister, and for me to think of him as my brother. He straight away understood how lonely was my life here; and over the years, he has done everything in his power to try to make me happy.”

“That is most kind,” said Elizabeth, “and yet I would expect nothing less of him. Nevertheless, it would seem that there is little he can do to remedy your principal affliction, of isolation and loneliness.”

“No. Except to visit me often, which he does – far more often, than did his father. And he always brings me books and the latest musical scores, and the finest painting materials; and he takes me on long drives in the countryside. In summer, we have picnics, and walk along the seashore together. Before your sister, Lydia, came, he would often come for longer visits and stay for several days – but now it is no longer possible. Miss Bennet, please keep your discovery a secret – even from your sister, Lydia. No one but your aunt and yourself must ever know the truth about me.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Julia; I shall tell one other person, only; my elder sister Jane – who you briefly saw on my previous visit – for we are very close and always share our confidences.”

“You are very lucky to have such a sister; I am so envious,” said Julia. “How wonderful it would be, to have a sister with whom I could share all my feelings, and hopes, and fears, and desires.”

“But surely you know that you have a sister – Georgiana,” said Elizabeth.

“Oh yes, I know all about her; how accomplished she is at the pianoforte, and how beautifully she sings, and what a charming young lady she is. My brother has told me everything; but his promise to his father prevents him from ever mentioning my existence to her. I have the most adorable younger sister, it seems, but I shall never know her,” said Julia sadly.

“You cannot blame Mr Darcy; he is a most honourable man, and I am certain that nothing could make him break a vow given to his father.”

“Yes, he has no choice in the matter. Before he died, his father made him promise to keep my existence secret from the world. Even in death, he feared for his reputation, and that his most shameful secret should ever be known.”

“But it would be difficult for you, also,” observed Elizabeth. “The stigma of illegitimacy would make it difficult for you to appear in society, if the circumstances of your birth were known.”

“And no gentleman would ever wish to marry me,” said Julia sadly.

“Of that, I am not entirely certain,” said Elizabeth thoughtfully. “You are so very beautiful, Julia, and pleasing in every way. Just imagine that a young man was to fall in love with you, and then afterwards become aware of your parentage?”

“He would feel angry at having been tricked, and wish to have nothing more to do with me,” said Julia, shaking her head vehemently.

“Most gentlemen might very probably behave in such a manner,” said Elizabeth, “but perhaps not all. But even were you never to marry, that does not mean that you must spend your whole life shut away from the world – it is too horrible to contemplate,” said Elizabeth passionately.

“My brother and I have sometimes speculated on how it might be possible for me to enter society; and we have always arrived at the same unhappy conclusion – that it is not possible, without the shame of my birth being attached to me, and the secret of our father's part in it, which my brother is sworn to keep, becoming known to the world. I have long ago come to accept the lonely life that lies before me. Just like my poor mamma, I am doomed to spend the rest of my days in this lovely, gilded cage.”

“Leave me to think on it, Julia, and do not give up hope. In another week or two, I go to stay with my sister, Jane, and her husband at Ashbourne, in Derbyshire, where I am certain to meet with your brother. I shall speak with him on these matters, and see if we cannot devise a plan. If you should write to him, it might be best if you do not mention my visit today, or the previous one.”

~~~~~

Not many days after the departure of the Gardiners from Longbourn, a letter arrived from Jane to inform Elizabeth that although there was still much to be done at Ashbourne, they were well enough on their way to establishing themselves there as to be ready to receive her. Bingley would send a servant the following week to accompany Elizabeth on the journey.

Mrs Bennet was naturally delighted at the news, and wasted no opportunity in advising Elizabeth to secure Captain Radford as soon as may be. When she was not thus engaged in exhorting her daughter to act speedily, before some other unworthy young lady beat her to the prize, she was contemplating just how rich her second daughter would be – how many carriages and servants she would have, and all the jewellery and pin money that would be hers.

But instead of Bingley's servant coming on the appointed day, a carriage, which Elizabeth immediately recognised as belonging to Mr Darcy, arrived at Longbourn. The coachman handed Elizabeth a note from Jane, explaining that on account of not yet having secured the services of all the servants they wished to engage, Bingley had asked Mr Darcy if he might send one from Pemberley to accompany Elizabeth – however, he had insisted upon sending a carriage instead.

Mrs Bennet was pleased to imagine that the carriage was Bingley's, and that he was wealthy enough to be able to spare one; but Mr Bennet recognised the livery, and when Elizabeth came to his library to bid him farewell, he commented, “The fact that Mr Darcy should send his carriage to convey you to Derbyshire, lends considerable weight to the surmise I related to you here, in this very library, some weeks ago, regarding the reasons for that gentleman's exemplary behaviour towards your sister, Lydia. Would you not agree, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth blushed, for she was quite certain that her father was correct in his conjecture.

“Please be assured, my dear, that I now hold the very highest opinion of the gentleman; and should the circumstance that I supposed, arise while you are in Derbyshire, you may inform Mr Darcy that while I would expect the courtesy of a formal application, he may rest assured that I would not deny him the hand of any of my daughters.”

Elizabeth again remained silent, for her father's wit was not enough to overcome her embarrassment at speaking upon such a subject.

Observing his daughter's discomfort, he said, “Do not worry, my dear, on account of how your mother might take the news; for while she would doubtless be shocked at your fickleness, in so unexpectedly transferring your affections from Captain Radford to Mr Darcy; when I have explained to her that Mr Darcy is very likely the richer of the two gentlemen, and most certainly of an older and more noble family, she will be consoled; and very soon discover that others had misled her concerning his character – and that he is the finest of men.”

Elizabeth could not but laugh at her father's parody, which was, very likely, exactly how her mother would respond to such news – but she, herself, was cautious; for her relationship with Mr Darcy had undergone so many surprising alterations over the past two years, that she could not share her father's confidence that the happy ending to which he alluded was yet certain.