The Nurse

The Nurse

Ella Wilde-Hoague

The Nurse

Copyright © 2020 by Ella Wilde-Hoague

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-3660-5 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-3659-9 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-3661-2 (eBook)

Table of Contents

1808

Chapter 1 The olive branch

Chapter 2 Banishment

Chapter 3 Portugal

Chapter 4 Devotion

Chapter 5 Lord Wellesley

1809

Chapter 6 Horrors of war

1810

Chapter 7 Mr. Bingley

Chapter 8 Choices

Chapter 9 Battlefields

Chapter 10 Wickham

Chapter 11 Frustrations

Chapter 12 Confrontations

Chapter 13 Decisions

Chapter 14 Life changes

Chapter 15 The Christmas Season

1811

Chapter 16 Home

Chapter 17 Mrs. Darcy

Chapter 18 Protests

Chapter 19 Plans

Chapter 20 Foiled plans

Chapter 21 Sisters

Chapter 22 London

Chapter 23 Introspections

Chapter 24 Prospects

Chapter 25 Mrs. Fitzwilliam

Epilogue

1808

Chapter 1

The olive branch

Mr. Bennet put down his teacup and leaned back in his chair. Looking up from the letter which he was reading, he surveyed his large family gathered around the breakfast table.

As usual, his two youngest, Kitty and Lydia were bickering loudly over the ownership of some ribbons and gloves. Alas, they were just as noisy and silly as his wife, he sighed shaking his head. The nose of his next youngest, Mary, was buried in a book. Some sermons no doubt, he smirked. Although the child loved to read, which in itself would have been quite a laudable passion, he had never been able to induce her to be interested in anything other than religious texts. Admittedly, he never tried too hard to reach her, contented to leave her to her own devices as long as she did not add to the din that her younger sisters and her mother were making.

His two eldest, Jane and Elizabeth were engaged in a quiet conversation and he noted, yet again, their elegant demeanour which so much contrasted with that of their younger sisters and even more so with that of their mother who, despite the fact that as always, nobody cared to listen to her, was busy to loudly enumerate all of her household grievances at the top of her voice, constantly complaining about her abused nerves which, according to her no one had any consideration for, of how hard it was to find a decent piece of fish on a Monday morning and how the butcher’s daughter had been seen kissing the son of the milliner.

Unfortunately for him, Mrs. Bennet’s nerves and shrill voice had been his constant companions for many years now. Unfortunately the woman was oblivious to the fact that no one paid her and her nerves any attention, least of all her absolute favourite daughter Lydia, who was the exact replica of her mother, only some five and twenty years younger.

Mrs. Bennet, he interrupted his wife’s monologue with a sigh. I hope that you ordered a good dinner for today, as I have good reason to believe that we will have the addition of a gentleman to our repast.

Oh, my dearest Jane! You sly thing! Mrs. Bennet shrieked. You said nothing about having a gentleman calling on you! And for dinner no less…

"This is not a gentleman calling on Jane specifically Mr. Bennet interrupted her with a smirk. In fact, he is a man whom neither of us has ever met before. Satisfied with the astonished looks staring back at him from around the table, he deigned to elaborate. Our visitor is Mr. William Collins, my heir presumptive who will be the master of this estate once I depart this world. He is a clergyman and he boasts that he has an excellent living. He expressed his desire to extend an olive branch to our family and he will arrive here this afternoon with the purpose to further this… shall we say, laudable endeavour."

After a moment of shocked silence, the ladies started to speak all at once.

As he expected, the ever kind Jane commented on the commendable goodness showed by the gentleman in expressing his desire to come to meet them and get closer to their family. Elizabeth was wondering how sensible a man Mr. Collins will turn out to be, given the fact that his father had not been one, at least according to Mr. Bennet’s account of his late cousin. Mary seemed to be dully struck by the idea of the olive branch which, in her opinion was so fitting for a clergyman. Mr. Bennet refrained of pointing out to her that the symbolism of the olive branch was born way before Christianity, ever since Athena allegedly planted an olive tree on the Acropolis, not to mention Virgil’s Aeneid, but he was in no mood to get into a debate about that over breakfast.

Kitty and Lydia giggled and started to whisper furiously, wondering how handsome this cousin of theirs might be, even though he was only a clergyman.

Covering them all, Mrs. Bennet’s shrill wails immediately filled the room. Whatever that vile man means by coming to Longbourn? she complained. I am sure I will not be able to stand the sight of him. Oh my poor nerves, how ill they are always used! Yet nobody cares of what I must suffer. I have to have my salts! Hill! Hill! she urgently yelled for her housekeeper’s immediate assistance.

Having fulfilled his duty of apprising his wife of the impending visit of his cousin and quite unwilling to submit himself to the pandemonium that ensued after his announcement, Mr. Bennet quickly gathered his newspaper and his correspondence and hastily retreated to the relative quiet of his library, leaving his wife and daughters to speculate freely over the man’s person and intentions.

Mr. Bennet had a pretty good idea that Collins was in search of a wife. As the heir of Longbourn, the Bennets’ ancestral estate, Collins would have been a very eligible match for any of his daughters if it weren’t for the fact that the tone of his letter and his manner of expression did not bode well for the man’s understanding. He would not consider tying even his silliest daughter to the sycophant, yet pompous man that seemed to be his heir. Half of Collins’ letter was boasting of his eminent position as a clergyman, while the other half was singing the praises of his patroness, a certain Lady Catherine de Bourgh who had elevated him to said position. After reading Collins’ letter, Mr. Bennet wondered whether the parson’s adoration of his patroness bordered on heresy, suspecting that he might worship Her Ladyship even above God himself.

Mr. Bennet had long given up the hope to find a sensible and pleasant companion in the woman who was his wedded wife, the mother of his children and the mistress of his house. He had married her in a moment of infatuation and he bitterly regretted his impetuosity only a few months after the wedding, when he realized that he and the empty-headed woman to whom he was now tied to for life had no common interests whatsoever, and the mere sound of her shrill voice sent him running for the tranquillity of his book room, the only sanctuary that he could still claim as his own in his house. He had long given up all hopes of domestic felicity and returned to the love of his life, philosophy, submerging himself in his beloved books. They at least never failed to entertain him and they provided him with an escape into a world devoid of Mrs. Bennet, her pettiness, her narrow mindedness and her vulgarity.

Until his last child, Lydia was born, he kept hoping for a son. The heir so much needed to break the entail that willed his estate away from the female line, the son to whom he could pass on their heritage and whom he could have taught to love all the thigs he himself valued so much. However, that was not to be and he was going to his grave without a son to carry on the Bennet name.

The lack of a son to inherit Longbourn and continue his family’s legacy dampened even more the less than tepid enthusiasm that Mr. Bennet ever had for estate management. He had not been meant to be the Master of Longbourn. That had been his brother, Joshua’s place. His dream had been to become a scholar and spend all his life among his beloved books. However, this dream died at the same time as poor Joshua did, when he perished in that blasted hunting accident and he had to take his elder brother’s place as the spare heir of Longbourn. Joshua never married and therefore, he had no heirs. Thus, it became his duty to take up the mantle as Longbourn’s master, no matter how little it appealed to him.

He contented himself with preventing his wife from driving them into debt by her tendency of overspending, but he did nothing more to improve the estate or to increase the portion of his daughters, which was all but non-existent. In his own mind he justified himself by saying that any man who would marry one of his daughters only because of her dowry, was not worthy of her. He did not wish to think beyond that, although he knew well enough that no gentleman of any standing married as imprudently as he did, even though Mrs. Bennet did have a dowry of five thousand pounds which for a woman of her station had been quite a handsome one and it was much more than what his own daughters could boast of. It was the disparity of their characters that made his marriage the most reprehensible, not the want of Mrs. Bennet’s dowry. He also had to reluctantly admit that, maybe except for Jane and Elizabeth, no gentleman will agree to marry either of his daughters for their charms alone. They were nothing out of the ordinary and any young lady with a dowry of a thousand pounds in hand rather than to be received on the death of their mother, would trump them instantly.

Mr. Bennet did not like to dwell too long on subjects he felt uncomfortable with, especially the ones that made him feel inadequate, so he quickly put away his cousin’s letter, just as quickly dismissing the plight his daughters will be in after his demise. The man’s manner of writing portended him to be a most ridiculous toad. Although always drawing much pleasure from laughing at his acquaintances’ follies, Mr. Bennet’s attention never dwelled too much on any human being not immediately in front of him, no matter how diverting their follies and absurdity might be. Thus, Mr. Bennet soon forgot his cousin and his impending arrival as he submerged himself with pleasure in the musings of Aristotle.

Meanwhile in the parlour, Mrs. Bennet who ever since it became obvious that she will not birth a son lived in fear of being thrown into the hedgerows as soon as her husband died, was in deep hysterics declaring that she will have none of that man at Longbourn, buzzard that he was to come and gloat over his no doubt, eagerly anticipated inheritance. She was sure that he was coming to catalogue the silver and the furniture that was to be his as soon as Mr. Bennet was dead and buried. Insufferable man!

---$---

The early afternoon brought the controversial visitor to Longbourn’s doorsteps. He was a tall, heavyset young man of about five and twenty, awkward and blundering, saying all the wrong things and thus angering his hostess and mortifying his young cousins without even realizing it. Mr. Bennet stayed in Collins’ company just long enough for him to ascertain that the man was just as pompous and obsequious as his letter had heralded him to be and that, taken in small doses, his company will be beyond diverting.

Soon after his arrival, Mr. Collins was ushered to his room and, after having declined the offer of a bath, a thing that his young cousins deplored deeply, he was left to rest with the promise of being summoned at half past six as dinner was to be served at seven.

Mrs. Bennet also retired to her rooms immediately after Mr. Collins did, to nurse her frayed nerves. Being a woman of mean understanding, Mrs. Bennet’s only goal in life was to marry off her five daughters to gentlemen of means and, if at all possible, to live out her life as the mistress of Longbourn. Her greatest fear was that after Mr. Bennet’s death, as he was twelve years her senior, she would be losing her home and her status in society in the small community of Meryton, the little market town closest to their estate, the Bennets were the most prominent family. Besides hunting for suitors for her daughters, her greatest enjoyment in life was her daily gossip and complaining about anything and everything, especially about how ill she was being used by everybody, most of all her husband and her second daughter, Elizabeth. Everybody in and around Meryton knew just how vexed Mrs. Bennet was with the daughter who, in her opinion had not a smidgen of ladylike behaviour as she was even going as far as to personally tending to Longbourn’s tenants’ ailments along with Mr. Jones, their apothecary.

Although even before she married Mr. Bennet she had been told that Longbourn was entailed, Mrs. Bennet did not understand much of estate matters, nor did she care much about them. All she understood was that they needed to have a son and all will be well. Of birthing a son, she had no doubt. After all, she was strong and healthy and she had been the prettiest girl in Meryton before she married Mr. Bennet, when she was just sixteen. She was sure to have plenty of children and no doubt, at least one of them was sure to be a son. She had been right in her first assertion, as she had been blessed with five children. Alas, all of them turned out to be girls.

Mrs. Bennet had not been worried at all when her first child, sweet Jane was born a girl, especially that she was such a beautiful babe with golden ringlets, large blue eyes and forever smiling. She assured herself that the next one will be the much-needed heir. And indeed, her second pregnancy was so different from the first one that she had been convinced that she will birth a son. Her disappointment was fathomless when she gave birth to a tiny little thing with a headful of dark curls and inquisitive eyes which in time turned out to be dark brown, almost black. Ever since her birth, Elizabeth had been Mrs. Bennet’s most vexing child. Never one to sit still, and in Mrs. Bennet’s opinion or at least what she had been told by everybody, a proper lady’s behaviour meant that she should be sitting quietly and peacefully embroidering in the parlour, Elizabeth was forever scampering about the fields and woods. When she could not be outdoors, Elizabeth hid herself in her father’s library burying her nose in one of those worthless books her husband so much prized. To Mrs. Bennet’s further vexation, instead of shooing Elizabeth away like he did with most of the other girls, Mr. Bennet actually encouraged the little scamp in all those unladylike behaviours.

When two years later Mary was born, Mrs. Bennet started to panic but she told herself that there was still time for her saviour to be born, even though her marital relationships with Mr. Bennet by then had changed drastically from what they were in the beginning and he seldom visited her bedchamber. Then Kitty followed, a sickly and weak babe whom both Mrs. and Mr. Bennet feared would not reach her first birthday. But she rallied and, albeit prone to most of the childhood illnesses, Kitty had thrived. When Lydia was born two years after Kitty, Mrs. Bennet almost died and she had been told that she will no longer be able to bear other children. That was when her fears and anxieties got the better of her.

Soon she started to see a suitor for her daughters in any man who passed through the village. She pushed the girls out in society as soon as they were fifteen, and she was deeply disappointed that even though already nineteen, Jane who was the most beautiful of them all, and indeed of all the neighbourhood, was still unwed. Nor did Elizabeth show any signs that she was about to attract a serious suitor anytime soon. Admittedly, Mary had just recently come out, but her looks were too unfortunate to be likely to attract anyone, especially since even Jane’s exceptional beauty did not. Mrs. Bennet was getting quite desperate.

And now, this vulture came only to appraise his inheritance and gauge how much longer Mr. Bennet was likely to live, she was sure of it. Nobody had any consideration for her poor nerves!

---$---

Dinner was a rather subdued and boring affair, as Mr. Collins managed to monopolize all of the conversation and nobody could get in a word edgewise. His topics were exclusively the same as they had been in his letter. His happy situation as the parson of Hunsford and his beneficent and condescending patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Collins took great delight in describing in great detail his parsonage and all the improvements that his patroness had made to it, most of which, in Elizabeth’s opinion at least, were nonsensical and a waste of money and effort, but apart from a couple of amused looks that she exchanged with her father she held her peace. Collins was quite oblivious to the fact that he was the only one around the table enjoying his effusions.

Rosings Park, which they were to understand was the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s residence and was the greatest mansion in all of England, or maybe even in the entire world if Mr. Collins was to be believed, was also described in glowing and minute details by the enthusiastic parson, down to the number of windows and the cost of their glazing, the chimneys and the mantelpieces which were the most impressive that any manor ever boasted of, in the parson’s opinion. Even the housekeeper’s rooms were deemed worthy of a detailed description, although by then all of Collins’ audience was openly yawning. However, when desert was served he managed to recapture at least Mrs. Bennet’s attention.

You must get a wife Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine said he told them. She is very attentive at these things and it is her opinion that a parson ought to get married in order to set a good example in his parish, and to not have the young ladies’ fancies run amok over a most eligible bachelor.

Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet looked at each other, both almost choking on their pudding at the thought of any young lady’s fancy running amok over Mr. Collins. Mrs. Bennet’s ears however perked up instantaneously.

A wife, sir? Are you affianced then? she inquired.

Oh no ma’am the man actually blushed. Not yet, at least. And this is why I am here. You see, when Lady Catherine heard about me being the heir of Longbourn, however far in the future we hope that my inheritance might befall he bowed his head towards Mr. Bennet, and that I have five fair cousins she advised me that I should select a wife from among them.

A very laudable advice, I am sure Mrs. Bennet leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smirk.

Despite Mr. Bennet’s frown at Collins’ statement, Mrs. Bennet was not at all averse to the idea and she appraised her daughters. Kitty and Lydia were obviously too young, not yet out even by her own standards. Jane was by far too beautiful to be wasted on a mere parson, and a ridiculous one at that. Surely an Earl or maybe even a Duke will claim her before long. Mary had just come out and she was of a pious bent which must be appealing to a parson, but she had nothing to her person to tempt a man into matrimony, not even a clergyman. That left Elizabeth. She was pretty enough in a wild kind of way, although nothing to what her own beauty had been or to Jane’s angelic beauty. And if Elizabeth married Mr. Collins, she would be away from Longbourn for many years hopefully, no longer vexing her by her contrary opinions and engaging in endless discussions with Mr. Bennet, discussions of which she did not understand one word out of ten. Yes, this was the perfect solution to all her grievances and frustrations.

For the rest of the evening Mrs. Bennet kept praising Elizabeth’s accomplishments whenever she could wrestle the conversation away from the loquacious Mr. Collins, and manoeuvring for him and Elizabeth to sit close to each other, trying