“I hope,” said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the next day, “you will give your mother- in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue.”
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, drawing the crisp country air into her lungs to refresh both her body and her spirit. Though London offered diversions and an atmosphere unique in all England, her honeymoon there had confirmed that she was a country girl at heart. The slower pace gave one time to think, to notice one’s surroundings, to gain an intimate understanding of self and others, instead of getting lost in the perpetual whirl of the
If she could not enjoy the tranquility of her own home, visiting Jane was the next best thing. Netherfield Park offered not merely the companionship of her most beloved sister, but also extensive walking paths. Elizabeth took great pleasure in walks; only the most disagreeable weather prevented at least one outing each day. Sometimes she preferred to go by herself and be alone with her thoughts. On other occasions she welcomed company, as today when Jane joined her.
The Bingley sisters walked when it suited them: namely, when a brief stroll offered the opportunity for a private tete-a-tete or, in their maiden days, a chance to show off their forms to best advantage before eligible gentlemen. Since they had thus limited their excursions at Netherfield to the immediate environs of the house, Caroline had allowed many of the park’s more distant paths to continue unmaintained — a condition left by the previous tenant — during the year she’d governed her brother’s housekeeping. The garden paths near the house remained tidy, but disuse had caused the more remote trails in the rest of the park to grow further untamed. Elizabeth and Jane had to watch their footing as they traversed the grounds lest they catch a toe on a rock or root.
Jane had modest plans for restoring the paths; indeed, three new gardeners had already begun. Their work, however, left something to be desired. Hired shortly after Bingley’s engagement, they eagerly sought to please their new mistress and proceeded immediately to address her general remark about tidying the paths. Figuring that if a dirt path was adequate, a brick one was better, they undertook to surprise Jane and their new master while the head gardener was away purchasing bulbs for autumn planting. Their inexperience, however, led the trio to lay the bricks rapidly, in unfavorable weather, and without proper foundation, edging, or slope to facilitate drainage. The resulting path was a gauntlet of hazards. Shifting had started as soon as cold temperatures arrived, and uneven bricks competed with icy pools to upset the unwary. The “improved” path was now the most treacherous one on the estate.
“The poor lads meant well,” Jane said. “Mr. Smyth wanted to dismiss them when he returned and saw what they’d done, but Bingley interceded. They’re all three of them orphans, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with nowhere else to go, and winter was coming.”
Elizabeth smiled at Jane’s charity. Leave it to her sister and Bingley to hire three new gardeners in the fall, and inexperienced boys at that. Fortunately, snow had put a temporary halt to their overzealous efforts to please their benefactors.
Jane described their plans for spring plantings. Bingley hoped to purchase an estate of his own soon, so he and Jane did not wish to invest much time or capital in the enhancement of interim surroundings. But while Netherfield was theirs, she wanted to make it a home, and she shared her ideas for the house and grounds as they walked. It was a more pleasant topic than the unspoken one that weighed on both their minds.
Though she tried to focus on Jane’s words, Elizabeth’s thoughts defiantly kept returning to Caroline Parrish. Yesterday’s family conference at the townhouse troubled her in a way she could not pinpoint, leaving her mind restless as she sought to define the vague sense that something more than frayed nerves propelled the recent events surrounding the former Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth so loved life that she found completely alien the notion of taking one’s own. To intentionally end the adventure of daily existence was to close a book before reaching its last page. Even for those in dire worldly straits, she considered suicide not taking arms against a sea of troubles, but a cowardly refusal to face them. Yet to all appearances, Caroline Parrish had made such a choice, a choice Elizabeth believed to be as contrary to Caroline’s nature as it was to her own. Whatever faults comprised Mrs. Parrish’s character — and they were numerous — weakness was not among them. With a backbone of brass and a core of pure selfishness, Caroline was not likely to give up easily what she believed life owed her. Especially not less than a week into a very advantageous marriage.
“You are pensive this afternoon.”
Jane’s gentle chide drew her from her reverie. She smiled apologetically, realizing she’d given up all pretense of listening to Jane’s discourse. “My thoughts keep straying to your sister-in-law.”
“As do mine. I pray this visit to Netherfield proves beneficial for Caroline.”
“And short?”
Now it was Jane’s turn to look guilty. “I am certain we all wish for a swift recovery.”
Elizabeth would have laughed at her sister’s equivocation had the subject not been so serious. “She’s friend to neither you nor I, but I do believe Darcy gave Bingley sound advice. She’s better off here than traveling to America. Such a trip seems imprudent for many reasons, not the least of which are Caroline’s own inclinations. I did not want to injure Mr. Parrish’s feelings by saying so, but his wife never appeared interested in Mont Joyau even before all this started.”
“Those were my impressions as well. And the mere trip here wore her out so — Mr. Parrish says she’s been sleeping since we arrived. Poor man! He looks exhausted himself.”
They reached a fork in the path and decided upon the branch leading back to the house. “Perhaps Mrs. Parrish will feel up to joining us for dinner, or at least having visitors to her room,” Elizabeth said. “I would like to hear her explanation of what happened, though I doubt she’d confide the details to us.”
“She won’t talk to Charles or Mrs. Hurst about it. Only Mr. Parrish. Who can blame her? How mortifying to have so many people know that one’s nerves have frayed to the point of — to… to
“Well, someone ought to discuss it, if we are to learn what really happened.” Since the family council at the Parrish townhouse, no one had said a word about the suicide attempt. The subject was like an elephant in the middle of the parlor; its presence dominated the room but nobody would acknowledge it.
Jane regarded her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“Has Caroline ever impressed you as a woman with fragile nerves?”
“No. Quite the opposite. But I suppose anyone’s inner fortitude can fail under stressful circumstances.”
“Yes — circumstances like the death of someone close, or the loss of a family fortune, or some other calamity. But marrying a kind, handsome, rich man at a wedding designed to be the social event of the season? Unless her nerves broke because all her dreams have been realized and she has nothing left to which to aspire, I fail to see a convincing cause for such an extreme action as attempting to take her own life.”
“But she was holding the knife when their cook found her in the kitchen.”
“All the more reason to question. Would she choose such a painful, violent method of death? Or one so untidy? She would be too conscious of the fact that her body would be found in a stained gown. And to perform the act in the kitchen? I doubt Caroline Bingley Parrish had ever entered a kitchen before in her life. Would she end her existence in one? In a place where she would be discovered not by her husband or even her lady’s maid, but one of the lower servants?”
Jane stopped and looked her full in the face. “What are you saying, Lizzy? That both the constable and the surgeon are wrong?”
She had no real answer for Jane. What
“I don’t know. Just that it’s all very puzzling.” The sound of horses drew her attention toward the house. A
