by Tilly Davis
‘Mother, come now,’ Lydia said, ‘did you really wish this marriage to go ahead? I, for one, certainly did not.’
‘And what do you know of marriage, Lydia, you are merely a child, and of course I wanted it to go ahead, what mother would not wish to see her daughter married.’
‘But to Mr. Collins?’ Kitty said.
To which her mother remained silent.
At length Mr. Bennet appeared in the parlour, and informed them of Mr. Collins’ words, imploring his family to make ready to depart the parsonage as soon as possible, lest another violent outburst on the part of the clergyman ensue.
He himself now went to find his daughter.
Mr. Bennet had deduced that Elizabeth must be at the inn, and having not seen Jane since the dramatic incident at the church, he reasoned further that she must be comforting her sister at that very moment.
His assumptions were of course correct, and upon entering the inn, where the landlord had now learned the full story of what had transpired from those guests now seeking liquid refreshment at his hands, he ascended the stairs, and rapped upon the door of Elizabeth’s room.
‘Elizabeth,’ he said.
Inside the two girls looked at one another nervously, for their father, though generally good-humoured, could also be formidable when a wrong had occurred.
‘Open the door, Elizabeth,’ he continued.
Reluctantly she did.
Her father stood before her, he smiled and embraced his daughter, who was a little surprised by his actions.
‘And Jane here too, I can always trust my daughters to band together in time of crisis, the others are seeing to your mother.’
‘Is she terribly upset?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘She is upset that fewer people admired her new bonnet than she anticipated, but I think, and though she may protest it, that she will not be too concerned about your refusal to marry Mr. Collins once the reality of the idea has sunk in. Though of course, I am here to ascertain if you really are refusing to marry him or whether this is merely a hiatus in your decision-making process? I believe though I know the answer.’
Mr. Bennet sat heavily upon the bed, and placed his hands on top of his walking stick, his top hat next to him and looked expectantly at his daughter.
‘I …’ Elizabeth began, ‘I cannot marry Mr. Collins, Father, not even to save Longbourn, not even to save us all, I cannot marry him, the thought of a life of unhappiness here is too much. I couldn’t face the prospect of your all departing tomorrow and my being left here alone, I just couldn’t face it,’ and the tears welled up again, running down her cheeks.
‘But it was also, I think, the shock of your seeing Mr. Darcy which caused such a dramatic reaction in you,’ her father continued, ‘was it not?’
Elizabeth was forced to admit that it was, and she explained to her father what she had told Jane, that Mr. Darcy’s presence had ignited within her a whole series of thoughts relating to the past months, culminating in her admittance that it was Mr. Darcy who held her affections, the like of which Mr. Collins never had.
‘I understand,’ Mr. Bennet said, ‘from the very beginning I said to you that marriage was your own decision and that I would not interfere on either account, but I believe, despite the consequences which it entails, that you have done the right thing today, Elizabeth, though how it will now play out is anyone’s guess.’
The three sat in silence for a little while longer, whilst below the sounds of the wedding guests quaffing their ale and marvelling at the afternoon’s entertainment continued.
At length Mr. Bennet suggested that now was the time for Elizabeth to confront Mr. Collins and the rest of the family and so they made their way back towards the parsonage, Mr. Bennet stopping on his way to wisely reserve an extra two rooms at the inn, the landlord only too happy to oblige.
Mr. Collins was waiting for Elizabeth in the parlour of the parsonage, the rest of the Bennets wisely waiting outside on the road, their trunks packed and ready to depart.
‘We will stay at the inn tonight,’ Mr. Bennet said to his wife, ‘and tomorrow morning depart for Longbourn.’
‘Elizabeth,’ Mrs. Bennet hissed, ‘what were you thinking?’
‘Of herself, Mother,’ Mary said, ‘and she was right to do so.’
‘Really, Elizabeth …’
‘Enough,’ Mr. Bennet interjected, ‘Elizabeth must speak with Mr. Collins now.’
And with that the family watched as Elizabeth went to her fate, though perhaps it was a small price to pay for being saved from a lifetime of residence in Hunsford.
‘Cousin, you will be seated,’ Mr. Collins said, as she entered the parlour.
‘I’d prefer to stand,’ Elizabeth replied, ‘I am sorry but …’
‘You are not at all sorry,’ he said, ‘if you were sorry in the least you would have not humiliated me before my entire parish, the bishop and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am a broken man, and from this I shall not recover.’
‘If I can just explain to you,’ Elizabeth said.
‘There is nothing to explain, but mark my words, for this humiliation I shall have Longbourn whilst your father is still warm in the grave, and from it I shall expel all who remain. You could have had everything, a pleasant home, security, status and honour in society, and instead I shall leave you with nothing.’
‘Except my heart,’ Elizabeth said.
The words perplexed Mr. Collins, for not one moment had he thought of this contract as having any bearing upon matters of the heart. It was, rather, an arrangement expedient to them both, and Elizabeth should have welcomed it warmly, but instead she had rejected it and in the process embarrassed him in front of his benefactor. For this he could not forgive her, though his status as a clergyman might have suggested that he should.
‘I do not wish to see you again, until the day I take possession of Longbourn, and only then in a carriage departing forthwith,’ he said, and with that he turned to face the fire, as Elizabeth made her way from the parlour which could so easily have been her own.
On the roadway the family were waiting for her, Mrs. Bennet having been placated from asking her daughter as to the nature of her actions, they being a cause of much distress to the good lady who, though she disliked Mr. Collins immensely, had so enjoyed wearing her new peach bonnet with the pink ribbon and being the centre of attention as mother of the bride.
The church had now been locked, and the bishop had departed for Rochester, chuckling to himself about the events which had transpired.
Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy had returned to Rosings Park and the Bennets now made their way silently across the green to the inn, where they were to pass a tolerable night, none of them feeling like eating the mutton pies which the landlord had prepared especially for the day, his trade increasing considerably on the misfortune of the cancelled wedding.
And so, it was that Elizabeth, Jane and Charlotte, for they all had to squeeze into a room meant only for two, drifted off to sleep that night, the emotional exhaustion of what had transpired somewhat overwhelming them, whilst Mrs. Bennet lay awake, wondering whatever would happen to them all should her dear husband truly be in such poor health as he appeared to be.
8
The Return to Longbourn
‘Well, I have never witnessed such a spectacle in all my life,’ Lady Catherine said at dinner that evening as she and Mr. Darcy sat with Anne, a light consommé preceding an excellent piece of brisket.
‘And she ran from the church, Mother?’ Anne asked, not daring to believe the account her mother was giving.
‘Am I a liar?’ Lady Catherine said, ‘with my own eyes I witnessed it, she took one look at me and dashed from the church.’
Mr. Darcy spluttered a little into his consommé, but Lady Catherine didn’t notice, enthralled as she was to her captive audience.
‘Afterwards it was an uproar, there was not a person who knew what to do, that silly mother of hers fainted, and Mr. Collins went into a rage, the
only people with any sense were ourselves and the bishop, and heaven knows what he must have thought about the whole charade.’
‘I’m sure Elizabeth had her reasons,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘as surprising as her actions may have seemed.’
‘I cannot see what reason there is to cause such a scandal,’ Lady Catherine continued, ‘Mr. Collins will no doubt be visiting us very soon to lament, I am surprised that a letter has not already arrived, though perhaps he is in a state of shock, though he is rarely speechless,’ and she laughed.
‘I wish I had seen it,’ Anne said, smiling to herself.
‘If Mr. Collins marries again then perhaps you shall be well enough to attend. Marries again, what a terribly modern concept,’ and with that she continued with her consommé.
Mr. Darcy knew that Elizabeth’s reason for running from the church was a direct result of his being there, he felt thoroughly embarrassed that his presence should have elicited such a reaction. Was it because she harboured feelings for him which he too possessed, though admitting them would cost him dearly, as it clearly had Elizabeth. Or was it simply that she had realised that she could not marry as odious a man as Mr. Collins, and seeing him there had merely acted as a catalyst for her feelings to overwhelm her, he being everything she might possess in another man, other than Mr. Collins?
It was a most confusing time for him, and as he bid his aunt and niece goodnight he pondered considerably as to what his next step should be. At the very least he felt he must write to Elizabeth to express his sorrow at her being embarrassed in such a way, and offering to somehow make amends. Yet there remained a niggling thought within him that he too had been rather hasty in his proposal to Caroline Bingley, had Elizabeth only assented to marry Mr. Collins out of some misguided notion of duty, Mr. Darcy having learnt from his aunt of the clergyman’s hold over the property at Longbourn.
His head was most confused, filled as it was with speculation of the day and he went to bed that evening far from satisfied that his thoughts upon the matter had clarified.
‘Elizabeth?’ Jane said, gently shaking her sister from her sleep, ‘Elizabeth, come now, dear sister, it is time for us to ready ourselves and depart, the carriage has been commissioned for nine o’clock and we are shortly to depart.’
For all her worries Elizabeth had slept remarkably well, though perhaps it was because the worries she had before had now been replaced with fresh ones which she could look at with a renewed energy. For anything was better than remaining in Hunsford. Now she had her dear sisters about her and was returning to her beloved Longbourn, Elizabeth felt something of a happiness she had not possessed since the days prior to Mr. Collins’ arrival before Christmas.
To Elizabeth, the events of yesterday seemed almost like a dream, they were almost too fantastic to believe, had she really run from the church at the sight of Mr. Darcy? Were her emotions so enflamed that the sight of one man could make her do that? She felt a little sorry for Mr. Collins, but then again, a little sorrow is not enough to give up one’s life for, is it?
Momentarily she roused herself, and with her sister’s help she prepared to depart from Hunsford and return to Longbourn.
Downstairs the family had assembled, they having passed a cramped and invariably restless night, the landlord delighted at the payment he now received from Mr. Bennet for his troubles.
‘I am so sorry the events of your time here did not pass as planned,’ the landlord said, counting out the money across the bar, ‘I imagine we won’t be seeing you again?’
‘Indeed not,’ Mr. Bennet said, ‘ah, Jane and Elizabeth, there you are. Now, the carriage is out at the front, please be so kind as to ready yourselves to depart.’
Mr. Bennet appeared more formal than usual, his kindly manner reverted a little to a more brusque persona. Elizabeth and Jane felt a little scared of him, but if truth be told it was not emotion which caused his discomfort but physical ailment, Mr. Bennet feeling most out of sorts that morning, as he had done now for some time, the constant effort to appear normal to his family taking its toll.
This was commented upon by his wife as he struggled to clamber into the carriage, Mary darting down to assist him as the gentleman sat heavily next to Mrs. Bennet.
‘Mr. Bennet, are you alright?’ his wife asked.
‘Perfectly fine, and all the better for knowing we are about to leave this wretched place.’
The family had of course foregone attendance at church that morning, and as the carriage now drew out of Hunsford, they passed the parsonage, where the housemaid could be seen feeding the chickens in the garden at the front.
‘Do you suppose Mr. Collins is terribly cross?’ Kitty asked.
‘Be quiet, you foolish girl,’ Mrs. Bennet said, as the family sat in silence, the sound of the church bell reverberating behind them.
As they left the village they passed the gates to Rosings Park, and in the distance, could be seen the trap transporting Lady Catherine de Bourgh to church. She was unaccompanied by either her daughter or Mr. Darcy. And as Elizabeth looked out from the carriage she wondered whether Mr. Darcy was still present in the great house, and what it was he was thinking at that very moment.
‘I refuse, I absolutely refuse.’ Caroline Bingley said, as her brother pleaded with her in the drawing room of the house on Berkeley Square.
‘It is just for a few more months, the owner was most beseeching in his letter, apparently the regiment have left the house far sooner than he expected.’
‘And of what concern is that to us?’ she said.
‘He simply asks if we would consider taking up residence at Netherfield once again, he would prefer someone to take the house whom he knows, and besides, I rather liked the district.’
‘A filthy backwater, that’s what it is, a filthy backwater.’
‘Well, I have already agreed to take the house again, I’m tired of London, it’s so dirty, and the people are only concerned with one thing: money.’
Mr. Bingley was not normally a forceful man, but in this matter he had decided to be, and since his sister was still under his care, the decision to return to Netherfield, or remain in London, was his to make, a fact which Caroline Bingley knew all too well.
She most certainly had no desire to return to the house, which had not only been a source of constant boredom to her, but also the sight of much emotional strain on her part. The thought that the Bennets would be just a few miles away at Longbourn filled her with dread. Though at least, she consoled herself, Elizabeth Bennet would not be present, and if her betrothed should make his way to visit them there would be no danger of his encountering her.
This conversation had taken place a week or so before the events in Hunsford had transpired, and so it was that on the same day that the Bennets travelled from that scene of matrimonial chaos, Mr. Bingley and Miss Caroline Bingley returned to Netherfield, she having written to Mr. Darcy at Rosings Park to inform him of her brother’s decision.
‘I will not stay longer than a month,’ she said, as the carriage transporting them to Netherfield departed from Berkeley Square that morning.
‘Haven’t you had enough of London life, all those endless balls and parties, ladies preening and prancing themselves up and down, gentlemen behaving in the most obnoxious manner, and they look down upon us because we are new money,’ Mr. Bingley said, ‘I, for one, am most happy to be returning to the countryside.’
‘And what of the Bennets?’ she said.
‘What of them? We will be neighbourly towards them, why I may even call upon them at some point in the future.’
‘I absolutely forbid that,’ Caroline said, ‘absolutely.’
‘You have always possessed such strange passions towards them, their class is not so lowly when compared to ours, they are friendly, kind-hearted people, most learned too, the gentleman is a scholar, well-read, his wife, I admit, is a little forward in her ways, but the daughters are amongst the nicest you could meet.’
‘Nice? They conspire
d against you, dear brother, think of all that the eldest hid from you.’
‘I have thought about the matter for some time, if truth be told I question why I believed she should have informed me of her sister’s betrothal, really it was none of my, or your, business.’
‘She led you a merry dance, just as Elizabeth did Fitzwilliam, I shall have nothing to do with them.’
‘Confine yourself to the house then, dear sister, for I am most pleased to be leaving London behind, even if you are not, besides, I am sure Fitzwilliam will be joining us very soon, and it is far easier for him to remain sometime with us at Netherfield, if to Pemberley he should go, than to visit us in London. So, you see there is always a silver lining, dear sister.’
And with that they sat in silence, as the carriage drove past St. Pauls and north towards Hertfordshire and Netherfield.
‘Will you stop fidgeting so,’ Mrs. Bennet snapped at Lydia and Kitty.
The carriage really was most uncomfortable, and with all five Bennet sisters, their parents, and Charlotte Lucas crammed inside there was really very little room to manoeuvre.
They had been travelling for around four hours and Mr. Bennet now proceeded to bang his stick upon the ceiling, signalling the driver to stop.
They were still a few hours’ journey from Longbourn, but the day was a fine one, the pleasant spring sunshine providing something of a contrast to the sombre mood of the carriage’s occupants.
‘We’ll break here for half an hour or so,’ Mr. Bennet said, himself struggling a little as he climbed stiffly out.
They had stopped on a bridge beside a brook, and Mrs. Bennet took out the little meat pies which the landlord had provided them with as they left Hunsford that morning. The family sat in silence by the water eating as above them the larks sang, and the water gushed beneath them, the scene a most redolently pastoral one.
They were on the main road between London and St. Albans, and there was a fairly regular stream of traffic passing: carts pulled by pack horses laden with hay, farm hands leading animals to the markets round about, and of course the occasional carriage.