Too Close to Mr Darcy

by Claire Cartier

  “What is it then?”

  Charlotte’s face assumed a serious expression. Her voice became even quieter and her eyes constantly darted around lest they spotted an intruder.

  “Remember how you asked me to, er, tactfully inquire whether there was a call for employment somewhere respectable? You still have not changed your mind, have you?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She stopped feeling the cold at once. Her heart thumped louder under the stays that felt too tight. Blood rushed to her face. Her ears suddenly burned with excitement. She forgot all about caution and grabbed Charlotte by the shoulders, giving her a light shake.

  “Have you heard something?” she asked breathlessly.

  “You would not believe it, Lizzy,” Charlotte said, her eyes twinkling.

  “What is it? A call for a governess?”

  “Better. A lady’s companion.”

  “Where?”

  “That is what you would not believe. Netherfield has been occupied again. Mr. and Miss Bingley are back and this time their intentions seem to be to stay longer. Since Miss Bingley is looking for a lady’s companion, that is.” Charlotte giggled.

  Elizabeth clapped her hands together.

  “Oh, that is simply perfect! Admittedly, Miss Bingley is not the most pleasant person on Earth but she is an angel compared to dear Cousin Henrieta.”

  “So, you intend to apply for it?” Charlotte asked cautiously. “You do not believe it might appear… Odd? Improper? Oh, forgive me, Lizzy. I do not want to sound as if I do not support your decision. I just… I simply hate that you need to resort to this.”

  Elizabeth was not listening. She grabbed Charlotte’s heavily gloved hands and twirled her around, then bound her in a tight embrace.

  “Thank you, Charlotte,” she said, her eyes glazed over with hope.

  “I must go back now,” Charlotte said, somewhat awkwardly and gently extricated herself from Elizabeth’s hands. “I do not know how you manage to do this without wrecking your nerves. If I had had to wait here another minute, my resolve might have waned too quickly. I feel like a criminal, but I preferred to tell you in private rather than write. Who knows where such a note might—”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered and squeezed her friend’s well-padded hands. “I am grateful for all you have done.”

  On her way inside, Elizabeth almost skipped and twirled and made a whole lot of noise in her excitement. Surely, perhaps nothing would come of this piece of news, but there was a glimpse of hope that would help buoy her through the coming days.

  She did not possess the first clue of how she would get in touch with the Bingleys undetected and the consideration that only one sister could profit from the opportunity only occurred to her later, but she was content.

  Suddenly, she had renewed energy to go about her day. She would think about her plan’s faults tonight when she would finally be able to tell Jane.

  4

  “It will be over before we know it,” Jane whispered with a slight tilt of her head as both she and Elizabeth rose to face the parlor doors. They plastered a set of affected smiles over their faces in anticipation of their guest’s entrance.

  As soon as they had heard a carriage approaching Longbourn’s front door, they had strained their ears (as Henrieta would not allow them to go to the window and look) to discern any clues about the visitor.

  Who was he? What was he like?

  They had not gathered much by the rattling of his carriage wheels, the snorting of his horses or the clatter of steps in the entryway.

  “Let us hope I have been wrong about it all and he is really just an innocent visitor, not a suitor,” Elizabeth whispered back.

  However, there had already been a few bad signs throughout the day. Mrs. Collins had been unusually cheerful and amicable, especially in her dealings with Jane. Elizabeth had even heard her praise Jane’s handiwork and produce a cackle of a laugh at some of Jane’s less than witty observations.

  Mrs. Collins had encouraged Jane to select the pale violet silk gown to wear at dinner, which was uncharacteristic. The woman was known to frown upon extravagant clothing, an attitude she applied strictly to the choice of her own attire.

  To Elizabeth, on the other hand, Mrs. Collins had been her customary insufferable self. She had taken every opportunity to scold or humiliate her and at one point Elizabeth had to wonder whether this was all revenge for catching her in the wrong yesterday morning. Henrieta had not openly admitted to it, however.

  In the meantime, a girl had been temporarily engaged to help in the kitchen. Fresh flowers had been brought in from the greenhouse. A somewhat exotic (at least by Longbourn’s current standards) dinner menu had been crafted and all supplies procured from Meryton earlier in the day. The kitchen steamed with activity. To Elizabeth, it seemed like Mrs. Collins had gone to extraordinary lengths to impress just any guest with no ulterior motive.

  Mr. Collins had also put more thought and preparation into his appearance before dinner. Despite a busy schedule throughout the day, he had managed to fix his thinning hair with an extra dose of pomade. His shirt collar was whiter today and sturdier with starch. He reeked of a perfume so overpowering, Elizabeth had to sneeze every time she passed by him.

  Henrieta Collins had changed into an acceptably elegant dress herself. It was a miracle how a change of color (ink-blue compared to the mousy browns she routinely wore) brought out a youthfulness and even a degree of charm in her. In fact, Elizabeth was the only one who got criticized over her choice of wear and was promptly sent back upstairs to change into something more prudent.

  Presently, the doors to the parlor finally opened and Fanny, Mrs. Collins’ bulldog of a maid, led the way inside. Her drooping cheeks, bulging eyes and constant frown afforded her an uncanny resemblance to the dog breed. Fanny appeared to muster all of her skill to sound more refined in introducing the guest instead of producing her usual series of grunts. Undoubtedly, she had been well instructed by her mistress beforehand.

  “Mr. Bowles,” Fanny announced.

  Elizabeth commanded herself not to crane her neck to better see the man who was currently completely hidden behind the maid’s stout frame. Still, her self-control did not extend to stifling a sigh of disappointment when the man eventually stepped out into view.

  He was nearly bald, apart from a few oily hairs that were carefully smoothed over his shiny crown. His ample girth did little if anything to compensate for his lack of height. His face was dominated by a set of ruddy cheeks and a mole at the base of his nose that was so prominent, Elizabeth found herself fixated on it and unable to look away.

  Jane, on the other hand, maintained her cool exterior and quickly sunk into a curtsy, discreetly nudging Elizabeth to follow suit. Once they had concluded lavishing their guest with greetings and compliments, Mr. and Mrs. Collins briefly introduced the two sisters. Mr. Bowles appeared enthralled.

  Elizabeth was relieved when eventually everyone was invited to dine. At least she could now focus on the food and occupy her hands with a napkin or the cutlery. So far, all she had done was sit, nearly stupefied, and fight the incessant urge to laugh at Mr. Bowles’s looks and demeanor while hoping to catch a glimpse of Jane’s eyes and silently speak her disgust.

  “It is a shame that Mr. Collins has not introduced us earlier,” Mrs. Collins said once the effusive laughter following Mr. Bowles’s not-so-insightful comment on the weather and road conditions finally subsided.

  “True,” Mr. Collins agreed. “It is a shame that with all my numerous duties I hardly find the time for pleasant diversions such as entertaining guests.”

  “It is even more of a shame,” Mr. Bowles croaked, “that I have not realized earlier that you had such lovely young cousins. I would have rather intruded my company earlier, had I known.” The gentleman offered a greasy smile, revealing uneven rows of yellow teeth.

  The sight caused Elizabeth to attack an undercooked pea with more zeal than she had intended. It flew out of her pl
ate and landed straight in the butter dish. Elizabeth nearly squealed when she promptly received a kick on the ankle by Henrieta Collins’ pointed slipper. Above the table’s surface, the hostess’s face remained tranquil and angelic.

  “Mr. Bowles,” Mrs. Collins cooed, “do tell us more of your adventures overseas. It must be fascinating to live such a daring life and we rarely get to hear stories as riveting as yours.”

  It had become clear in the course of the evening that Mr. Bowles was a relatively well-off merchant, a bachelor, and the owner of a modest estate not far from Meryton.

  “I must admit,” Mr. Bowles said, “that at my age, a warm meal, pleasant company and the peace and comfort of home cannot compete with even the wildest of adventures.”

  Elizabeth had calculated the gentleman’s age to be almost double her own by every outward sign. She groaned inwardly. For the first time during dinner, she had found herself interested in what he had to say and was disappointed to be served with platitudes instead.

  “How true!” Henrieta Collins exclaimed with vigor. “Jane, dear, do you not agree?”

  Jane appeared startled to be addressed so suddenly. She had become distracted with her lamb chop, so she just nodded dumbly.

  Elizabeth had not intended to speak. In fact, she had promised herself she would not utter a word lest it was interpreted as her taking interest in Mr. Bowles. However, under the current circumstances, once again she failed to restrain her impulses.

  “I believe what constitutes adventure is certainly relative to one’s age,” she said with more passion than the subject warranted. “I suppose that Jane, just as well as I do, craves adventure such as travel and experience before settling down and committing to the comforts of a home.”

  Mrs. Collins visibly bristled at the unspoken attack.

  “Elizabeth!” she chuckled with false surprise. “What an odd sentiment to express! I have certainly never gathered that our dear Jane is one to share such an unpopular view. In fact, Mr. Bowles, let me tell you how accomplished Jane is in the matters of the home…”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks burned as she received yet another kick under the table. Despite her thick stockings, her ankle was becoming sore and she longed to rub it. She looked for something, anything, to distract herself as she felt the tears prickle her eyes.

  Her worst nightmare was turning into reality. This hideous man was really here to seek Jane’s hand. All the attention was purposefully being diverted from her and directed at poor Jane for the rest of dinner.

  Desert could not have come sooner. A sweet bite of cake turned sour as it lodged itself in Elizabeth’s throat. She recognized that reality was even worse than her nightmares as she felt another foot brushing against hers. She looked up, alarmed, for she had not done anything remotely defiant this time. Only, she discovered it was not Henrieta whose foot she had felt.

  And it was not so much a kick she had felt this time, but rather a vigorous rubbing…

  From across the table, Mr. Bowles was smiling salaciously at her, taking every precaution to be discreet.

  Elizabeth’s stomach suddenly turned. She jumped from her seat and, excusing herself briefly, rushed out of the room.

  5

  More than anything else, Henrieta Collins wished to have children of her own. Surely, she had recently become a reluctant guardian to two grown girls for whom she was expected to care, but that did little to soothe the aching need to cradle her own baby.

  And soon.

  When Mr. Collins had proposed to her, she had been thrilled to accept the marriage. As it stood, she had already resigned herself to a life of spinsterhood. Not only was she nearing thirty years of age, but she had also not had a single suitor in her rather sheltered, uneventful life.

  Admittedly, she saw her future husband for the shallow, pompous man that he was. At the time he was also not of any significant fortune, living under the favors of his beloved benefactor, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  Still, a silly and narrow-minded Mr. Collins was a better prospect than remaining at her rather dreary home with her fast-aging parents and continuing her joyless existence of endless embroidering. At her age, she could hardly hope for a better proposal.

  Now that fate had smiled on her husband and her and upon the Bennets’ sudden demise they had received an entire estate of their own, even if it were modest in size, Henrieta felt she had more than accomplished what she had set out for. The only piece missing to complete her bliss was an heir. She constantly fretted she might have missed her chance.

  Nevertheless, she daydreamed of her future son daily and made mental preparations for his arrival, despite Mr. Collins’ disinterest in rushing the whole matter. Henrieta felt that he lived under the impression that his two cousins kept her hands full throughout the day and were enough of a company for her while he was gone visiting his parishioners.

  Not only did it cost a fortune to keep the girls at Longbourn, for they had to be fed, clothed and occasionally entertained, but the house appeared falsely full. How could Mr. Collins grasp the pressing need for a child when he came back to a houseful of people every evening? An empty dining room and parlor would better signal how critical it was for them to approach the matter with more urgency. Henrieta was too embarrassed to speak plainly on the subject with her husband and could only hope that subtle hints such as clearing her home of its excess occupants would communicate her desires to him.

  She had already done all she could think of to make life at Longbourn as unbearable as possible for the Bennet sisters so they might accept whatever offer of marriage came their way. She had stripped them of nearly every possession they held dear, she had made it impossible for them to engage in activities they found pleasant, such as reading, receiving visitors or traveling to Meryton, and she had assigned household tasks to them that would be more suitable for a scullery maid.

  Still, Jane did not complain. Elizabeth, however, Henrieta estimated, was nearing the point where she would rather work as a scullery maid than remain trapped at her own home.

  Now, as Henrieta prepared to come downstairs for breakfast, she thought back on the previous evening. Dinner had been a disaster! And she had put in so much time and effort into preparing for it…

  When she had first learned that Mr. Collins had invited a guest and a possible suitor for Jane, she had been ecstatic, but upon his arrival, even she could see that Mr. Bowles was a perverted, leering old man. Still, she was desperate. Her desire for a baby was stronger than her compassion for the Bennet sisters’ predicament.

  In Henrieta’s view, dinner had started out well and there might have even been a mild attraction between Jane and Mr. Bowles, but then that dreadful Elizabeth had ruined everything! Perhaps she should concentrate on removing the second eldest Bennet daughter first, for finding a suitable match for Jane would be much easier.

  Yes, Jane had been a dream throughout dinner. She had been pleasant if a little quiet, but she at least had done nothing to offend their guest. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had not only spoken up her defiant mind but had also left the dining room in a rush right in the middle of desert. How disrespectful and off-putting!

  Finding a husband for Elizabeth would be that much harder, however. The girl appeared to want nothing to do with men or marriage. On top of it all, she defied Henrieta’s judgment with her every word and action and was a constant nuisance in her day.

  Henrieta sank to her knees and launched into an extensive prayer, asking that an opportunity to get rid of Elizabeth, which she currently could not see, be presented to her from above. Finally feeling her mind eased, she rose and finished her preparations for the day. She was glad she could return to her familiar grey woolen gown and simple hairstyle for the extravagance of her last night’s appearance had put an additional measure of discomfort on her.

  As she descended the stairs, she felt encouraged that her prayers might be answered this time. Why had she not thought of it earlier? After spending countless hours kneeling and begging
for a child and receiving no respite for her misery, she trusted that her new tack of asking for something smaller first should work better.

  Upon entering the breakfast parlor and greeting her already assembled family, Henrieta even did something she had rarely done since she had come to live at Longbourn.

  She smiled.

  Elizabeth noticed that Mrs. Collins was in a mysteriously good disposition this morning. She had expected her to be in a rather sour mood after last night’s disaster.

  Once Elizabeth had left the table, claiming indisposition, she had failed to return and had instead crawled into her cold bed, trying to forget the whole evening. Only, peace had not come to her. Her dreams were plagued by horrid visions of Mr. Bowles’s lecherous smile.

  For offending their guest so gravely, Elizabeth expected to be severely reprimanded in the morning. Besides commenting on the quality of the tea (which she oddly judged as excellent) and the weather (which she wrongly observed as fine), however, Mrs. Collins made no reference to Elizabeth’s misconduct at dinner.

  Elizabeth felt her stomach tighten. Such unusual behavior could only be warranted by a development that Mrs. Collins thought favorable. Had Mr. Bowles forgone propriety and expressed his interest in marrying Jane (or, God forbid, herself) after only having met her?

  Elizabeth shuddered. Perhaps Mrs. Collins was only acting nonchalant in the company of her husband and would resume her caustic nature once he was out of the house?

  Last night, Elizabeth had fallen asleep before Jane had retired to their room and had not had the chance to discuss with her sister what she had learned from Charlotte or even the despicable Mr. Bowles. In the morning, Jane had risen uncharacteristically early (for Elizabeth was normally the earlier to wake) and was nowhere to be seen.

  Now, when Elizabeth looked at her sister across the breakfast table, her heart convulsed with pain. Jane was too quiet and her face resembled a mask. Her eyes were dead and focused on her plate, which remained empty. From time to time, she would sip from her teacup, but other than that she appeared utterly resigned. Elizabeth longed to reach over the sparingly filled dishes of toast and dried fruit and either stroke her sister’s hand or shake her awake.