Well, society has ties to us all!
I thought about this with such anger and animosity as I raced back into my room. Safely within, I opened my journal, ready to write down the day’s events.
I saw the page, and I dipped my pen into the ink, but I froze… I did so, in consideration of the pain that the day had caused…
“Come along, girls,” Mama had cried through the house as she was having our servant, Hill, help put on her pelisse.
Lydia and I had rushed down the steps.
“Lydia and Kitty, do not rush down the steps,” Mama reprimanded, “you tear my nerves to shreds when you do so.”
Lydia and I got our bonnets on, just as Mary was putting on her gloves.
“I understand the desire for fulfilling societal obligations,” Mary voiced, “but do we really have to call on the Bingleys? Today, I feel as if I have a slight headache.”
“Then you can remedy that by not talking the entire time that we are there,” Lydia interjected.
“It is better to speak little, but wisely while doing so, than to always be speaking and only say nonsense.”
“And who are you talking about?” Lydia asked, daring Mary to tell the truth.
“You know who.”
They both looked at me and I felt caught in between.
“Don’t expect me to say anything, in either way,” I responded, wanting to untangle myself from that situation. “I am not in the mood to get in between either of you.”
“Mary,” Mama said, as Jane was helping Elizabeth tie her bonnet, “this is the right thing to do, by all accounts. If we can get the sisters to like us, that will strengthen Jane’s chances of making Mr. Bingley fall in love with her.”
“Mama,” Jane objected, “I have no objective of making anyone fall in love with me. I do not even have the right to do so.”
“Sadly, Jane,” Father said as he passed us to go looking for Wallace, our manservant, “that logic will not do for this household. Because it makes too much sense.”
When we were alone, Mama huffed.
“I could have married a viscount,” she said to her reflection in the mirror in the hallway. “Yes, I could have!”
When we were all assembled, we had ridden to Netherfield Park and arrived five minutes early.
When our carriage stopped in front of it, Mama marveled at it.
“Look at it, girls! It is the finest house in the county. Sometimes, in my dreams, I see you five all living in houses such as this. If that were to happen, then I would want nothing more.”
The steward came down, arranged for where our carriage should go, and we were escorted inside.
* * *
“Oh, behold this tea,” Mama had declared as the tea was brought in. We were all sitting opposite Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the tea and cakes had been brought in. Truly, everything did indeed look lovely, and the presentation was the best that I had ever seen. “Never before have I seen a better display, and I can declare that this is the best tea arrangement. This shows how Netherfield Park has been taken by the right and proper renters.”
“And that is the dilemma that haunts our family,” Miss Bingley explained, “for we wonder when our dear brother will settle down fully, changing his title as a renter, to an owner of a home.”
“That is marvelous to hear! Oh, to have him permanently settle down here in Hertfordshire would give us the perfect neighbor, belonging to a perfect family.”
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst gave each other a look.
“We confess,” Mrs. Hurst countered, “that there were other counties we found to be equally desirable for our brother to settle in. Surrey, Northampton, Derbyshire, and Kent were primary in our minds. Truly, Hertfordshire was the last place that we expected to have him place himself.”
“Oh, but if it had been otherwise, then we never would have become acquainted,” Jane voiced, her tone even and serene. “And the village does find you a charming set of people. I confess myself being glad that fate took a little turn, and you blew where the wind took you.”
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst nodded to her, pleased with her tone.
“Miss Bennet,” Miss Bingley stated, “the human mind has a love for recalling pleasant memories. When I reflect on when we first saw you at the ball, I was amazed at your skill as a dancer. Our brother noted it as well, since he asked to dance with you twice.”
“Thank you,” Jane responded, “but you flatter me on something you excel at.”
“The whole county has talked continually on your elegant movement and interesting character,” I said, wishing to have something to say. I thought I did remarkably well, but the sisters only looked at me, with a narrow look.
“Oh!” Mrs. Hurst said. “So…people talk about us, I see?”
“Oh,” I stuttered, “well, what I meant was…”
“Kitty meant it as a compliment,” Jane said, coming to my defense. “And she was right, because it was praise.”
“You must understand,” Elizabeth added, her voice even as she tried to calm her objection, “that when new acquaintances arrive in a neighborhood, people cannot help but wonder about them, as if they are a comet out of the clear blue sky. Their marveling at your family’s company is meant as reverence, with no false severity in mind.”
“Oh, well then…”
And that had been the last thing that I said for the entire visit. It is a moment that faces us all eventually; we say something that gets misconstrued, and we are silent the rest of a conversation, because it is the only way that we know how to apologize. And the more that I thought of it, what was so terrible about what I said? I cried from within. There were so many limitations on the things that we women and men could say to each other, that offending someone was inevitable.
Give me my aunt and Uncle Philips!
Give me Mr. Atkins!
Give me Mr. Dixon!
The Johnsons, the Longs, the Slicksons, the Lucases, the Coxes, and the Higgins. But God save me—spare me—from the Bingley sisters, the Darcys, and the Hursts in the world.
I was resolved to be silent the entire time, and I stuck to the resolution with eagerness. It became evident, very quickly, that Mr. Bingley was the only person in the company who was worth knowing.
However, Jane said everything perfectly! From the turn of her neck, to the expression she gave, her grace, naturally put the sisters at ease. She clearly was a favorite, seconded by Elizabeth. While Jane was the principal subject that they focused their conversation on, every now and again, they spoke to Lizzy. She returned their questions or comments with one of her own that gave a great display of her amusing intellect. Also, she would ask them questions, without fear, and her lack of being intimidated naturally put her at ease.
I, on the other hand, felt as if I was being stuck with pins and needles the entire time, while my mind was frantic. For if his sisters did not like me, then what choice did I have? After all, family can hold a great influence on a man, and his choice of wife. I already began badly, with Jane already triumphing over me at the assembly, and now her being the favorite at this visit, I felt myself losing even more ground.
Yet, I still dared to cling to hope as if it were the last bread that was at my table, and it would be the last bit of nourishment that I would forever receive. All was not over—no! All was very far from being over.
Faith, I decided to dwell on a better image, internally. It was of myself, in a beautiful and elegant white satin gown, sitting among friends at an illustrious ball. And there, on the other side of the room, stood Mr. Bingley. He was speaking with friends when our eyes met. Abandoning his company, he walked straight up to me and asked me to dance. The evening outside was a beautiful starry night, and the candles augmented romance. This image—this dream—had helped me survive the rest of the visit.
On the ride home, once more, the conversation had been focused on Jane’s excellent performance.
“Jane, you did splendid, my dear,” Mama cried, “I could not have planned it better myself.”
“The sisters were very amiable, and improve on a further acquaintance,” Jane said, “and they seemed to like Elizabeth as well.”
“Only as an obligation,” Elizabeth responded. “I am the second eldest and therefore, I might be somewhat worthy of notice. After all, they have to maintain propriety.”
“Well, I don’t like them at all!” Lydia groused. “They didn’t try to talk to me at all, and when I said things, they acted as if I was not there half the time. Also, they treated Kitty’s comment as if she had put a curse on them. It was a compliment, and they were most mean about it!”
I smiled, happy to see that Lydia had not forgotten me. Taking her hand, I squeezed it.
“Thank you, Lydia.”
“Their apprehension might have been a little misplaced, I confess,” Jane said.
“A little?” Elizabeth said. “Their reaction verged on the extreme.”
“Indeed,” Mary agreed. “Kitty was not being offensive. They deliberately misjudged her meaning.”
“If they return the visit, Kitty, we can remedy the situation and they will get to know you for what you truly are,” Jane assisted.
“That would mean that I had to tailor what I said and be performing off a script of what they expect of me,” I extoled, exasperated. “I’m sick of such things.”
“Kitty, I admire your spirit, but don’t talk so,” Mama replied. “There is a proper way to be, and society places its regulations on us all. You must adhere to them.”
Why? I thought, when you do not.
“You are learning bad habits,” Mama said, “and that comes from watching Elizabeth. Lizzy, look what your influence has done?”
“What are you talking of?” I asked, confused. “When has Elizabeth ever given me such an influence? Why are you pressing us in such a way, Mama?”
“Oh, do not contradict me. You both will give me a headache.”
Everything I did was wrong, and I didn’t understand why.
I only looked out of the carriage window as we rode along home. I was already out of spirits, but a sudden rain came down upon us, and it felt as if the very skies echoed my mood. When we arrived home, Hill and Wallace rushed out with umbrellas and shielded us from the onslaught. The weather allowed us to go to our rooms and change for dinner earlier than usual.
Since my hair had gotten wet as well, I looked at myself in the mirror and decided not to have Betsy, our servant, do my hair. Once she helped me get my gown on, I dismissed her and allowed her to enjoy a little bit of time in the kitchen to sit and refresh herself.
Looking at my reflection, I began to comb my hair. Once I finished, I braided my hair and then tied it with a ribbon at the bottom, and let it hang along the right side of my neck and fall over my chest. Since I spent a great deal of time having my hair either tightly curled or tied in a knot, my hair was actually longer than was traditional, and fell down to the middle of my back. When I looked in the mirror, with my braid falling across the front of my dress and resting there, I felt desolate. After all, when you are feeling worthless, you dress like how you feel.
“What is that?” Elizabeth asked, having passed my doorway, and seeing how I looked. “Where is Betsy to do your hair?”
“I let her have time for herself. This is how I am going downstairs.”
“Are you looking for Mama to be angry with you? She will notice how improper it looks from the moment she sees you in that way.”
“She only notices me when there is something to be vexed by, so what does it matter?” I asked, still looking in the mirror.
Elizabeth stood in the doorway, with her arms folded over her chest. In her eyes was a pertinent and scrutinizing gaze. I knew that look—she was looking into my soul.
“You are responding to what happened on our visit,” Elizabeth deduced. “You feel as if you are all undone, and so you naturally felt like your outside should match your inside.”
“And you think you are correct?”
“You are sixteen years old. Believe it or not, but I remember what being that age was like. It is a time that I have no desire to return to.”
“Does it ever get better?”
“Yes,” she informed me, “it gets much better. Because eventually, you cease to care what others think. Well—if you have a decent mind—you do.” She entered and sat down in the rocking chair that was near my window. “If it helps, I have studied the Bingley sisters’ characters.”
“Have you?” I asked eagerly, turning to her. “What are your findings?”
“That they shall always be more pleased with themselves too much to be pleased with us, excepting Jane.”
“Of course, they love Jane.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Everyone does.”
“They are in fact very fine ladies. And while they are not deficient in good humor when they are pleased and have the power of making themselves agreeable when they choose, it is evident that they are proud and conceited. They are both handsome, have been well-educated, and clearly have a dowry that is a small fortune. Also, it is as plain as daylight that they only care to associate with people of rank, and thus feel entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others.”
“But that is the strange thing of all. From what our aunt and Uncle Philips have told us, they are no higher than us in society. They are of a respectable family in the north of England, and their father acquired his fortune through trade.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as she looked at an invisible horizon and devised a theory.
“From what Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have displayed, the respect of their family is more deeply impressed on their memories than that their brother’s fortune and their own had been acquired by profession. I acknowledge that they were kind to me at moments, but I believe that their good manners are changeable. I still saw superciliousness in their treatment of everybody, except for how they behave towards Jane. No, I suppose I cannot like them.”
“Neither can I,” I said, smiling happily. If Eliza felt such a way, then I was not alone again. And between her findings, and Lydia and Mary’s defense towards me, I would be surprised if there was not a glow to my cheek. Turning around, I looked at myself in the mirror. Indeed, I looked less flushed, and more like my merry self.
Suddenly, Lydia burst into the room, took one look at me and she laughed.
“What have you done with your hair?! Oh, I know what that’s about.” She grabbed my hands, picked me up and started twirling me around.
“Oh, and now that is the indication for me to go,” Elizabeth responded as she left us alone.
Lydia continued to twirl me around the room.
“Never let such foolish people affect your heart!” Lydia cried. “Do what I do! Only laugh harder and show them that they mean nothing! What a joke they are. They mean nothing to us, and we shall rise above them and fly!”
Lydia was right. Everyone was so busy being serious and unhappy, that we had quite eclipsed them all, rising to new heights and leaving them behind. Immediately, I felt lighter and as if wings were attached to my heels. I twirled around with Lydia, before she pulled me back to my chair and began to undo my braid.
“Now that I found you in a happier way,” she concluded, “we don’t need Betsy. I can do your hair all on my own.”
And she did. I sat there, happy to be tended to as she tied up my hair and placed my curls along the sides of my face.
When I went downstairs again, I looked like the rest of us, and there was nothing there for anyone to reproach.
I finished writing the entry in my diary.
* * *
Very shortly after we called on them, the Bingley sisters returned the call, and it was obvious where we stood with all of them.
They favored Jane and spent the chief time speaking with her. Jane enjoyed their kindness toward her and was much flattered by it.
Elizabeth was less important to them, but they could tolerate her company with calm equanimity.
Mary, Lydia, and I were evidently not worth knowing at all.
And, despite that they exchanged the traditional comments that women give when they visit each other, it was even more obvious that they found our mother intolerable.
“I bet I know why they are kind to Jane and not to the rest of us,” Lydia whispered to me.
“I thought it was because she is beautiful and refined,” I whispered back as the sisters prepared to leave.
“Oh, that is very much part of it. But I believe it is also because Mr. Bingley likes Jane. Their brother’s natural preference for her must make her appear more important than us. His affection for Jane must raise her reputation in their eyes.”
I bit my lip, annoyed when hearing of Mr. Bingley’s potential affection for Jane. How I did not want it! How it would hurt me so!
“We are not certain that Mr. Bingley feels for Jane so,” I retorted. “He could merely be friendly.”
“Kitty, you are blind.”
“We’ll speak of this later.”
The Bingley sisters only stayed for a little less than half an hour and happily departed, expressing only a desire to further an acquaintance with Jane.
When Lydia and I were alone, we continued our discussion.
“So, you really think I am blind?” I asked Lydia.
“Blind as a clergyman in a billiards room,” Lydia responded, “oh, I said something witty. What a good joke. But yes, Kitty, how stupid are you?”
“I am not stupid.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I am not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Don’t say it again. Just tell me why I am stupid and leave me alone about it afterwards.”
“It is obvious that Mr. Bingley dotes on Jane.”
“Why do we know that? They haven’t spoken to each other much. Mama would have it that Mr. Bingley is in love with Jane. But what does Mr. Bingley want? I am sure that I do not know. He could easily love someone else.”
“Well, he doesn’t love me, so he must be stupid in some way.”
I laughed.
“And if he doesn’t love me, he must be even stupider.”
By the end of the day, I was certain about two things:
I did not fully know what I wanted in life or where I desired to go.
And second, morning calls could be such tedious and worthless things!