Win, Lose, or Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  So much for his eternal silence on the subject of her pitiful dowry. If only she possessed a modest fortune. Not that money could guarantee love, but it could not hurt.

  Standing, she said, “Mr. Collins, I cannot marry you. I will not marry you. That is my answer whether you choose to believe it or not.” Before he could speak another word, she left the room, nearly knocking over her mother, who, from her bent posture, had been listening through the keyhole of the door.

  “Lizzy, what have you done?” hissed her mother.

  “I cannot marry him, Mama. Do not make me,” Elizabeth paused long enough to say as she bolted for the door leading outside.

  She heard the steps of her mother hastening to Mr. Collins and her agitated voice assuring him that she would make her errant daughter see reason. Elizabeth quickened her pace so that she would not have to hear the nonsense with which Mother filled Mr. Collins’ head.

  “Mr. Bennet, you must make her marry Mr. Collins,” exclaimed Mother in the garden.

  “My dear, what am I to do if she has already refused him— and several times at that?” Father chuckled.

  Elizabeth took heart.

  Mother plunked her fists on top of her plump hips. “If that is how it is to be, then I… then I declare that I shall never speak to her again.” She folded her arms and clamped her mouth shut to prove her point.

  Elizabeth had never known Mother to remain silent for long and so was not overly concerned. Father looked rather pleased at the prospect of silence.

  As quickly as the glint in his eyes had appeared, it was replaced with a serious look which encouraged doubt. Father took Elizabeth by the hand. “There it is, Lizzy. From this moment forward, you are to be a stranger to one of your parents.”

  Elizabeth’s heartbeat drummed in her ears, and she grabbed her churning stomach.

  Mother interrupted, “Who will keep you when your father is gone? What will happen to us, Lizzy?”

  Father continued, his voice grave, “Your mother will never speak to you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins…, and I will never speak to you again if you do.”

  Elizabeth walked into Father’s open arms. “I ought to have known that you would give a clever response,” she said into his waistcoat. He patted her hair and held her until she was ready to let go. By the time Elizabeth stepped out of his embrace, Mother was gone.

  Father released her, but held onto her hand. “My dear Lizzy, I meant what I said. It would disappoint me terribly for you to marry a buffoon like Mr. Collins. However, you will not have many other options, and you may not be able to be so choosy when another gentleman offers for your hand.”

  Elizabeth bristled.

  He patted her hand. “It is a harsh truth, my dear, and the sooner you accept it, the better. I cannot give you a sizable dowry with which to tempt suitors.”

  “Father, I do not want to marry a man who would offer for me only for money,” she vehemently retorted.

  “I expected you to say so. It would, however, buy you time enough to find someone more suitable. Though I may boast of excellent health today, I will not be with you forever. What is to become of you then?”

  Elizabeth bowed her head under the burden a single woman of no fortune must bear, but she remained firm. Raising her chin, she said, “I do want to marry, Papa. It is just that I must do so on my own terms.”

  Father chuckled and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Of course you do, and I wish you success in your noble endeavor. I only suggest that you not dally.”

  They entered the house to find Mr. Collins standing with his things packed and ready to leave Longbourn. Elizabeth was pleased with the arrangement until she heard his destination. Poor Charlotte would have to put up with his presence at Lucas Lodge until he decided to leave Hertfordshire.

  Chapter 4

  The breakfast table was quiet the following morning. Jane and Father thought no less of Elizabeth for her decision not to sacrifice her happiness for the immediate comfort of her mother and sisters. On the other hand, Mother, true to her promise, had yet to speak to Elizabeth since her refusal the day before.

  Nervously tapping her spoon against her teacup, Mother said, “Mr. Bennet, I think I shall write to our relatives to inquire about small cottages we might be able to rent should we be left destitute. Is there anyone in your family to whom I should write?”

  Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes to keep from rolling them. Could Mother be any more dramatic?

  Lydia said, “Oh, do let us go to Brighton! I should love to go to Brighton.”

  “You do realize that we are talking about what would happen to us should Father leave this earth. We are not planning a holiday,” said Mary, voicing Elizabeth’s thoughts.

  Lydia stuck out her tongue, and Kitty said in support, “Should we have to leave Longbourn, I do hope that we may at least live somewhere pleasant.”

  Father sat back in his chair, one hand on the folded newspaper he always read at the end of his breakfast. “Let us hope, Mrs. Bennet, that I will not die as soon as you suppose.”

  “I do not suppose anything, Mr. Bennet. I am only concerned for the welfare of our daughters should you die before they marry.”

  Elizabeth spoke, “But Mama, Papa is in excellent health.”

  Father stabbed a sausage with his fork and raised it up in a salute. “Might I add that I have no plans to fall ill anytime soon. You may have to endure my company for several years more.”

  Mother waved her spoon at him. “Mr. Bennet, you mock my nerves.”

  “You mistake me, my dear. I would never mock so sacred an entity. They are as much a part of our family as I am.” Father unfolded the newspaper, lifting a barrier between himself and the rest of the table.

  Smiling at Jane, Mother said, “At least Jane has Mr. Bingley. She is my only comfort in these times of distress.”

  Mary’s fork clunked against her plate as she set it down. “True and lasting comfort can only come from God. It is the pursuit of virtue which should be the order of the day, not riches and security.”

  Lydia guffawed. “And why do you not consider the pursuit of Mr. Bingley virtuous? He is rich and has not missed a church service since his arrival.”

  Giggling at Lydia’s retort, Kitty sang, “Jane and Bingley, our salvation!”

  Elizabeth reached over to squeeze Jane’s hand.

  With the forbearance of a saint in an apprenticeship, Mary wiped her fingers with a napkin and folded it neatly before standing to depart from the unwholesome association of her wayward sisters.

  Before Mary reached the doorway, their manservant appeared. “I beg your pardon for the interruption,” he said. “A letter has just arrived for Miss Bennet.”

  Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hand so tightly, she held her breath to keep from shouting.

  Even Mary turned to see who had written.

  Mother fluttered in her chair. “Oh, do bring it in!”

  Kitty said, “It must be from Mr. Bingley.”

  Lydia added, “I bet he wishes to request an audience with Jane so that he might propose.”

  Mother fluttered her fan in her excitement.

  Mary, the voice of reason, said, “Mr. Bingley is a gentleman, and he would not write a letter to a single lady unless they had already reached an understanding.”

  All eyes looked at Jane.

  “Well, Jane? Are you secretly engaged to Mr. Bingley? How could you keep such a secret from me?” asked Mother.

  Kitty swooned, “A secret engagement! How romantic.”

  Taking the letter, Jane read the inscription and calmly said, “It is from Miss Bingley.”

  “Who penned the letter for her brother, no doubt,” suggested Mother, her face shining with joy.

  “Open it!” cried Lydia and Kitty in harmony.

  Elizabeth did not believe the ridiculous suppositions of her mother, but her pulse quickened all the same.

  And then she saw it. The excitement in Jane’s eyes dimmed, and she bit
her bottom lip to keep from frowning. Whatever the letter contained, it was bad news.

  Mother’s patience wore out. “What does it say?” She leaned forward, her hands gripping the side of the table as if she would leap forward to snatch the letter out of Jane’s hand.

  Jane lowered the single page to her lap, the paper crumpling in her grip. “The Bingleys have left Netherfield Park.”

  Elizabeth gasped along with everyone else— everyone except Father, who sat obliviously ensconced behind his newspaper.

  “You did not have an argument with Mr. Bingley, did you?” asked Mother. “Oh, Jane, what did you do to discourage him?”

  Willing Mother to be quiet with a glare, Elizabeth asked, “Does Miss Bingley say how long they will be gone?”

  Jane said in a voice just above a whisper, “Mr. Bingley has business in London which she suspects will take some time.”

  “How long?” asked Elizabeth, on the edge of her seat.

  “She says that they do not expect to return any sooner than in six months.”

  More than anything else, Elizabeth wished she could take away the pain she saw in her sister’s crestfallen face. Maybe… if Jane were to go to London…

  Surrounded by the exclamations and gasps of her mother and sisters, Elizabeth put her hand on top of Jane’s. “I am so sorry. Does Miss Bingley give no hope of their return or indication as to why they left?”

  Jane shook her head.

  Elizabeth sat next to her in silence while the rest of the family wailed in desperation. Perhaps Jane could pay a visit to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in London. That was it!

  “We are ruined!” Mother repeated more times than Elizabeth cared to count. So distressed was Mother, she dared to lower Father’s newspaper with the tip of her fan. “Did you hear that, Mr. Bennet? We are ruined! It is certain!”

  Father took the opportunity to sip his cold tea. “Ah, how nice,” he said as he put his newspaper shield back in place.

  That was too much for Mother. Her fan ripped through the sheets of paper in her enthusiasm to express her disappointment. “How can you say that, Mr. Bennet? Who will want Jane when it is found out that she could not entice Mr. Bingley long enough to court her?”

  Elizabeth felt a teardrop land on her hand still holding Jane’s chilled fingers. Could they not see that Jane’s heart was breaking? Elizabeth would write to Aunt Gardiner that same day to suggest that she invite Jane to London.

  “Do not say such things. Jane is young and beautiful, and I am certain that if more gentleman could know her as we do, they would love her and line up to beg for her hand,” Elizabeth said, imploring Father with a look to help contain the unreasonable demands against Jane.

  Lowering his paper and his spectacles, he smiled at Jane, furling up his bushy, white eyebrows. “Oh, my Janey. What Lizzy says is true, though it is your unfortunate lot to marry well. As my two most sensible girls, you are in charge of seeing that you marry men who will see that your mother and younger sisters are provided for should I depart from this world.”

  Not exactly encouraged, Elizabeth said, “We only need to get out more and put ourselves in the position of meeting more eligible young men. That is all.”

  “Yes, dear, you are beautiful enough to tempt a gentleman without a dowry to offer, so our hopes really do rest on you,” added Mother.

  Elizabeth exhaled a puff of air. No matter how she tried to soften the blow to Jane, her parents seemed determined to make her feel the burden of their singleness and insecurity. If only they could go to London during the Season. Jane would be a success, and Elizabeth flattered herself that she would not lack in proposals— although she only needed one. But how frustrating to go to London with no money.

  The noise in the room subdued. Elizabeth could only suppose that Mother’s comment about Jane being the handsomest among them did not sit well with Lydia, who sat pouting. Without Lydia to prod her along, Kitty had nothing to say. Mary sat back down at the table, pulling a book of sermons from her pocket to read. Father took advantage of the brief calm to resume his reading. The only sound was the rustling of the pages as he turned them.

  Father reached for his empty teacup, but his hand stopped midway. He sat as straight as a board in his chair and peeked over the top of the pages at Mother. His eyes went from the paper to Mother, and back again.

  “Mrs. Bennet, did you purchase a lottery share?”

  Mother waved her napkin at him. “I did. Only, this time, I was able to save enough of my pin money and borrow a small sum from the girls to purchase an entire share.”

  Father’s eyes grew. “Who did you borrow from?”

  Mother narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do you ask?”

  Growing impatient, an emotion which Elizabeth had never seen Father suffer, he said, “Just answer my question, Mrs. Bennet. Whom did you borrow from and how much was it?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Mother said, “Only from Lydia and Kitty. Mary also contributed.”

  “Mother! I did not know that you asked for money so that you might squander it on an undignified vice!” Mary’s face looked as red as a sun-ripened tomato.

  “Pshaw! You never would have let me borrow from you had I told you my reason for wanting it.”

  Father interrupted. “Was there anyone else from whom you borrowed?”

  “My sister lent me some coin,” she replied before she remembered to be annoyed. Spreading her fan with a snap, she added, “You have never asked me about how I spend my pin money before, Mr. Bennet. Why do you ask now?” Mother asked, not a little flustered.

  “Because there will be no getting any sense out of you once I tell you my reason. Now, please be so kind as to give an answer to what I have repeatedly asked.”

  Tapping her fan against her hand, Mother said, “Only one other lady who is the pinnacle of discretion. I already made arrangements to pay her back if that is what concerns you, Mr. Bennet.” She harrumphed and pursed her lips together, making clear that she would reveal no more.

  “How much was the share?” he asked, squirming in his seat.

  Mother scowled. Elizabeth, too, wondered what he was about. She could not recall an instance where he had concerned himself with their spending.

  “I did not buy a fraction of a share this time, Mr. Bennet. Otherwise, I would not have borrowed from anybody just like the last times when I bought part shares. When I inquired about the tickets, I was pleased to hear that they were only ten pounds instead of their normal twenty. So, I borrowed what I could and bought a ticket.” Quickly, she added, “It is for the good of England. They use the money to improve the roads and for building projects.” She nodded particularly at Mary, whose mortification at being a participant— albeit an involuntary one— was complete.

  Father’s eyes glazed over and he stared out of the window.

  Lydia started singing and was soon joined by Kitty.

  “He, whose life’s seas will successfully sail,

  Must often throw a sprat to catch a whale,

  Apply this proverb then; think, ere too late,

  What fortune, honor, and what wealth await

  The very trifling sum of one pound eight.

  Elizabeth thought of the passed down dresses she mended to stretch their use, Jane’s need for a new pair of slippers, and the countless books she would rather spend their meager coins on. It was shameful of Mother to squander their money on a game of chance.

  “It is for a good cause, Mary. For the good of England!” Mother insisted.

  Suddenly, Father gripped the edge of the table and stood. A hush fell over the room.

  He held the paper up in his hand and shook it. “It says it right here, but I am only now beginning to believe its truth.”

  Mother rolled her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Bennet, you can be so tiresome! What are you talking about? Speak plainly for heaven’s sake, or I shall suffer from another bout of nerves!” She fanned her reddened face.

  All eyes looked at Father, who smiled and said, “Wel
l, dear, you finally won.”

  Chapter 5

  “But I never win,” Mother said in disbelief.

  “How much, Papa?” asked Elizabeth.

  Without taking his gaze away from Mother, he said slowly, “Your winnings are to the sum of thirty thousand pounds.”

  “We are saved! Oh, we are saved!” Lydia and Kitty spun around the table while Mother waved her fan to their tune. Mary looked up from her book briefly.

  Elizabeth grabbed Jane by the hand and pulled her out into the hallway. She needed to speak with her, and there was no hearing anything over the squeals of delight in the dining room.

  "Jane, we must convince Father to let us go to London," she said.

  "Mr. Bingley is in London." Jane still gripped Miss Bingley's letter in her hand.

  "Precisely. I am convinced that his leaving Netherfield Park is the doing of his sister, and I will not watch you suffer at her hand. If we go to London and he sees you, who is to say but that he will not propose before the Season even begins? With this news, Miss Bingley can no longer say that you seek his fortune."

  Jane looked down at the letter. "What if his objections are of a different nature? What if he does not love me?"

  “Of course he loves you.” How could Jane doubt Mr. Bingley’s affection when he had been so obvious in its display?

  “If he loved me, then why did he leave?”

  Elizabeth could not pretend to understand his reasons for departing, nor Jane’s doubts that he preferred her above all others, but she recognized an opportunity when she saw one. "Would you rather pine away here, waiting for him to return to you?" Elizabeth argued.

  "No," Jane said slowly, thoughtfully. "I think that I would feel better knowing that I had done what I could. However, I should perish in shame if my reason for going to London should be made known."

  Elizabeth pointed to the dining room. "As if we could keep Mother and the girls at Longbourn now that they have money to spend. No, Jane. You need not worry on that account. Mother will insist that we move to town, and we will have to go along. There is nothing to hold us here…" She cut herself off. That was not entirely true.