The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet

teacher and nursemaid, both petrified of her. “They must be given good principles now, not later. Their true characters will emerge under our kind regime, but we must not hope for forty-five angels. There will be imps- William is one-and possibly a devil or two-Johnny and Percy. Set them predictable standards, so that they will all know which deeds will be praised, which condemned and which will earn the birch rod. The sort of child who cannot be disciplined by the birch rod will have to be threatened with expulsion, or some other dire consequences.” She looked around. “I see that there is a pianoforte here. I think we should offer music lessons to children who like music. I will look for a music teacher. In our Children of Jesus institutions, we will offer pianoforte and violin.” She looked fierce. “But not the harp! Fool instrument!”

And off she marched to the carriage. It was a long way to visit Hemmings. Once ensconced in the vehicle, she leaned back against the squabs and sighed in sheer pleasure.

Who could ever have believed what would come out of her brief odyssey? The days when she had dreamed of Argus seemed lost in the mists of time, so much had happened. I suffered a schoolgirl’s passion, she thought. His ideas inflamed me, and I took that as evidence of love. Well, I still don’t know what love is, but most definitely it isn’t what I felt for Argus. Who hasn’t corresponded with the Westminster Chronicle since I went away. I wonder what kind of summer he has had? Perhaps his wife has ailed, or a child. Those are the kind of things that destroy private passions. I can wonder, but I don’t feel anything beyond a natural sorrow for his plight, whatever it may be. He has done great work, but what else can be done, when Fitz says the Parliament won’t act? The Lords rule Britain because the Commons is stuffed with their second, third, fourth and so on sons. Nothing will happen until the Commons is filled by true commoners: men whose roots do not lie in the Lords.

She must have dozed, because the carriage had passed through Leek and was now on the Buxton road. Waking, she didn’t remember quite what she had been thinking. Well, time to think about her own future. Fitz had seen her yesterday and apologised to her sincerely-how changed he was! Not proud or haughty at all. Of course any fool could see that he and Lizzie were on much better terms; they floated around like newlyweds, exchanged speaking glances, shared private jokes. Yet at the same time they had developed that irritating habit only people who had been married for many years possessed: they said the same thing at one and the same moment, then smirked at each other.

Fitz had told her that she would receive a reward for her discovery of the gold-fifty thousand pounds. Invested in the Funds, she would have an income of two thousand pounds a year-more than enough, he assured her, to live exactly how she wished, anywhere she wished. If she wanted to live unchaperoned, he wouldn’t object, save to caution her against living in a city. How much of her original nine and a half thousand pounds did she have left? he asked her. She was proud to be able to tell him, almost all. Then use it to buy a good house, he said. Promising to think about everything, she had escaped, very uncomfortable with this sympathetic Fitz. For she had discovered that she thrived on opposition, and now no one was opposing anything she said or did. Only in the number of orphanages were people against her, but she had come around to their way of thinking: two, and two only.

Oh, it was too bad! Independence had been a challenge when everybody was against it, but now that, in effect, she could do whatever she liked, independence had lost some of its glitter. However, dependence was infinitely worse! Fancy needing another person the way, it was all too obvious, Lizzie needed Fitz, and he, her. As a child she had never enjoyed the closeness Lizzie and Jane had, or Kitty and Lydia. Mary in the middle, and overlooked. Now Mary was in the middle again, in a far better way. Lizzie, Jane and Kitty all admired her as much as they loved her, and they loved her now more than they used to. Being a rational creature, she admitted that she had earned their love, had expanded her always-present nucleus into something huge and well-rounded. But none of that was an answer to her dilemma: what was she going to do with her life? Could she fill it with orphanages and other good works? Highly satisfactory, yet not-satisfying.

Buxton had come and gone by the time she had arrived at one conclusion: that she would be responsible for the Sheffield orphanage alone, leaving the Buxton one to Lizzie and Jane. If she did that, she wouldn’t be perpetually on the move in a carriage between the two. After a while, she suspected, the children’s faces would become blurred, and she would lose track of which child was which in which institution. Having families, Lizzie and Jane could share the duties in an alternating fashion. The Sheffield orphanage was being built in Stannington, so perhaps she could have a house at Bradfield or High Bradfield, on the edge of the moors. That appealed; Mary liked beautiful aspects. She didn’t need a manor house. Just a roomy cottage with a cook, housekeeper, three maids and an outside handy-man cum gardener. Renting in Hertford, she had learned that no servant liked a heavy load of work, and that all servants had ways of evading work. The thing to do, she decided, was to pay well and expect value for money.

It was time, for instance, to sit at the pianoforte again; she hadn’t even practised in weeks. That would fill in some spare time. A library. Her new house would have a magnificent library! Once a week she would spend the day at the Sheffield orphanage. Yes, once a week was sufficient. Were she to visit more often, the staff would grow discontented, feel that they had no independence. That word again! Everyone needs a measure of it, she thought. Without it, we wither. So I must not seem to be the superintendent, just what in fact I am-a benefactress. Though they will never know which day of the week will see my arrival!

What puzzled her most was her yearning for Hertford, for the tiny life she had led there after Shelby Manor had been sold. Yes, she was missing the receptions and parties, the people-Miss Botolph, Lady Appleby, Mrs. Markham, Mrs. McLeod, Mr. Wilde. And Mr. Angus Sinclair, in whose company she had spent nine wonderful days. Longer, actually, than she had during the weeks at Pemberley, where so many people gathered for every meal, every conversation, every orphanage meeting, every everything. At Pemberley he wasn’t hers the way he had been in Hertford, and that hurt. Such talks they had enjoyed! How she had missed him when she set out on her adventure! And how glad she had been to see his face when her ordeal was over! But he had stepped back into the shadows, probably feeling that, now she was reunited with her family, she had no need of him.

But I do! she cried to herself. I want my friend back, I need my friend in my life, and when I move closer to Sheffield I’ll never see him except on visits to Pemberley when he’s there, which isn’t often. Just for the summer guest parties. This year he has stayed longer because of me, but not in any personal way. To aid his friends Fitz and Elizabeth. Now he’s talking of going back to London. Of course he is! London is his home. While I was in Hertford he wasn’t far away, but the north is an interminable and arduous journey from London, even by private carriage. I will never see him! What an empty, horrible sensation that causes in me! Like losing Lydia, only more so. She was important to me as a duty; I didn’t admire her or think her a nice woman. And Mama’s death was like being sprung from a trap. I didn’t even miss Papa, who regarded me with contempt. Oh, but I’ll mourn Angus! And he isn’t even dead, just no longer in my life. How terrible that is.

She wept the rest of the way home.

Indeed, the party was breaking up. Fitz and Elizabeth had decided to accompany Charlie to Oxford, then go to London, Fitz to attend Parliament, Elizabeth to open up Darcy House in preparation for Georgie’s coming-out in the early spring. Angus had elected to travel with them, but it didn’t occur to anyone to ask Mary. With Georgie and Kitty in the coach, Elizabeth wouldn’t be alone. How strange it would seem not to have the dark presence of Ned Skinner lurking out of sight! thought Elizabeth. He protected me, and I never knew it.

The orphanages had commenced a-building, but neither would be fit for occupancy until late spring, and Mary admitted that there were many decisions to be taken that could only be taken by one of the Founders. Her days at Pemberley would not be idle ones.

So at the beginning of September she waved them off on their journey to Oxford and London, then, abhorring inertia, summoned Miss Eustacia Scrimpton to have a little holiday at Pemberley in order to discuss the appointment of senior staff. Naturally Miss Scrimpton came with alacrity, and the two ladies settled down to discuss what sort of qualifications were necessary to fill such desirable vacancies.

“You will have your pick, dear Miss Bennet,” said Miss Scrimpton, “considering the generosity of the salaries. We will call them salaries for the senior staff-it makes them feel very important. Wages are for the lowly.”

By the time that Miss Scrimpton departed for York a week later, all was in train to advertise in the best papers nearer to the time.

Mary gravitated to Matthew Spottiswoode, who had good ideas too, some of them at the suggestion of the builders.

Coal fires, fires in the dormitories, hot water for ablutions, said Mary, brooking no opposition.

“Those will make a Children of Jesus orphanage kinder than Eton or Harrow,” Matthew said with a smile.