Rebellion at Longbourn

Elizabeth grabbed her bonnet from a peg and tied it on as she spoke to her sisters. “Jane and Kitty, can you help Hill with dinner? I do not want our cousin to guess that I have left the house.” While her sisters had other chores, Elizabeth usually helped in the kitchen, but nobody knew the tenants as well as she did. If there was a problem, Elizabeth was the one to handle it.

“Of course,” Jane said.

Kitty held out Elizabeth’s cloak; it was not quite spring yet, and the air was still cold. “Do hurry. Mrs. Wiley needs your help!”

Elizabeth bounded out of the back door with Charlie hard on her heels. As they crossed the back garden, she interrogated the boy. “Which men came to Mrs. Wiley’s cottage?”

“It was only one.” Charlie panted as he raced to keep up with her longer stride. “Sam White.”

Sam was one of Longbourn’s stable hands, a gentle and simple young man. The order to evict the Wiley family must have come directly from Collins, and Sam would not feel comfortable refusing.

Collins had promised to let the widowed Mrs. Wiley stay. The blackguard. But it would not be the first time her cousin had promised something and then did the opposite. No doubt he had hoped the Wileys would be gone before Elizabeth learned of the eviction.

Her father had respected Mrs. Wiley’s late husband; he would have been appalled at Collins’s actions. But, she reminded herself, as bad as life is now, nothing compares to the awful days following Papa’s sudden death.

The day that Mr. and Mrs. Collins had arrived to take possession of Longbourn had been a beautiful June day, entirely the wrong setting given Elizabeth’s state of mind. Their mother had declared herself unequal to the task of greeting the new owners of the estate and shut herself in her room. So it had fallen to Jane to provide Charlotte with the keys to the china cabinet and the silver chest. Charlotte had been everything that was gracious and understanding, doing everything possible to ease the awkwardness of the situation. The same could not be said for her husband, who had taken little care to conceal his joy at acquiring such an estate.

Elizabeth had known, of course, that someday Mr. Collins would inherit Longbourn estate, house, and its furnishings. But until that day she had not considered what “furnishings” encompassed. Suddenly, she realized that her father’s favorite reading chair by the fireplace now belonged to Mr. Collins. The clothes press in her room likewise. The dining table where Kitty had once carved her initials. The china shepherdess figurine on the mantelpiece that had fascinated Elizabeth as a child. Her father’s beloved books. The garden. The pianoforte. The sheets of music. All these things no longer belonged to her family. They were now Mr. Collins’s possessions.

Of course, their mother had brought some valuables to the marriage, and some jewelry was hers outright—a gift from her husband. Each of the daughters owned clothing and shoes, of course, and a few pieces of jewelry. And Elizabeth possessed a small collection of books.

But on the evening of Collins’s arrival, Elizabeth had sat at her dressing table, gazing at a little pile of ribbons she used to adorn her hair and realized that her cousin now owned Longbourn and all its contents—while Elizabeth herself could lay claim to little above a handful of ribbons. Simply because he had the good fortune to be born male while Elizabeth had not.

That was the problem with men, she had decided that night: they possessed…well, everything. Women could only enjoy things temporarily, and only with men’s permission. Men owned the land and the buildings and the furnishings and the horses and the chickens and the books while women were reduced to the status of renters, fleetingly making use of men’s possessions—if they were fortunate. Any worldly possessions they brought to the marriage—whether it was an estate or a hairbrush—became the husband’s property once they were wed.

It was a bitter realization. That evening Elizabeth had stared at her face in the mirror and wondered why she had never recognized this truth earlier. The world was divided into owners and owned. And women almost always fitted into the latter category.

Unexpectedly, she found herself envying Anne de Bourgh, who was sickly and cross and had barely spoken two words when Elizabeth had visited Rosings Park. But Miss de Bourgh had the great good luck to inherit her own land and fortune. Her property was not entailed, and she need not wed if she did not wish it. At Rosings, Elizabeth had regarded the other woman with pity and revulsion; only later had she realized how fortunate Mr. Darcy’s cousin had been. In Miss de Bourgh’s position, Elizabeth would not have allowed her mother to dictate to her.

The Bennet family had been fortunate, too, Elizabeth was quick to acknowledge to herself. Mr. Collins had immediately offered hospitality at Longbourn indefinitely. Few men would have been so generous to distant relatives. And yet the Bennet sisters were all too aware that their residency could be easily revoked. They were now guests at Longbourn—guests who were more tolerated than welcomed.

Of course, the Bennet women had never really been in possession of Longbourn at all; it had been an illusion that the house and estate had been theirs. Her father had owned it, and they had been his guests. Their father merely had a greater obligation to house them.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow. Unless Collins broke the law, the Bennet sisters could do nothing to protect the tenants or Longbourn or themselves— or even prevent him from bankrupting the estate.

When Elizabeth was tempted to despair, she reminded herself that many women in England would give much to ha

ve safety, a good home, and a steady supply of food. She was fortunate indeed. But it was hard to remember that when she suddenly felt so vulnerable.

The Wiley cottage, a simple wooden structure, came into view. A small cart sat in front of the door. Sam White had carried a chair from the cottage and stacked it none too carefully in the cart. Tall and broad with a shock of blond hair, Sam always moved ponderously, but he was very good-natured.

Elizabeth hastened her steps, slipping into the cottage behind Charlie while Sam fussed at the wagon. She found Mrs. Wiley huddled on the floor by the fireplace with her two boys. The cottage itself was no great prize. Water stains marred one wall, and a rag was stuffed into a window where the glass was broken. The door to the cottage’s other room hung crookedly on its hinges, and several of the floorboards had warped.

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could shut out the sight entirely, but that would be irresponsible of her. The Wileys’ cottage was not in the worst condition of all those at Longbourn. She had visited most of the cottages, delivering food from the manor’s kitchens—unbeknownst to her cousin—to nearly every tenant family.

Her anger at Collins surged again; he was responsible for keeping the tenants’ homes in good condition, but he shirked that duty. If he had agreed to Mary’s plan, at least Longbourn might have money to initiate these needed repairs, despite the cost of embroidered waistcoats.

The younger of Mrs. Wiley’s children, a boy of about four, cried in his mother’s lap while the older boy, eleven years of age, clung to his mother’s side, watching the proceedings with a grave face. Mrs. Wiley herself was wide-eyed with shock.

Charlie ran up to his mother, Mrs. Greeves, a stout matronly woman who stood nearby, scowling out of the doorway at Sam. She and her husband were well regarded in the tenants’ community, and Elizabeth was not surprised that Mrs. Wiley had asked for the woman’s help in her alarm.

“What is happening?” Elizabeth asked both women.

Mrs. Wiley peered up at her. “You knew nothing of this?”

“No! Did you not plan to remain at Longbourn until John could take over the work?” The poor woman’s husband had passed away less than a year ago. It was customary to allow a widow to take over a lease in her own name until her son was old enough to work the farm.

Mrs. Wiley struggled to her feet, still clutching the younger boy in her arms. “This fellow showed up a half an hour ago and says I have to leave!”