by Olivia Kane
“Even if the burning is a small incident, like the loss of a much-anticipated book. Then there was the matter of his refusing to dance at the assembly when we were short of male dancers.” She held her tongue on the matter of Darcy insulting her looks.
“He does not bend his will for the comfort of others. I am well acquainted with his refusal to dance. I wonder why he even comes out when such society offends him. Your sister, Jane, had hopes for Bingley?”
Elizabeth began to make excuses for Jane but Wickham held up his hand to stop her.
“It’s fine. You needn’t protest. I dined with Mr. and Mrs. Phillips recently. They couldn’t help but confide in me about the situation in a very private way.”
Elizabeth nodded in agreement.
“She is bearing her disappointment the best she can.”
“She has my sympathies,” he said with sincerity. “But if I may be so bold as to attempt to console her, she is better off away from them. Bingley’s sisters are a cruel set; they display the worst qualities of the ton. She would be folded into their company and despite Bingley’s amiableness, they would soon find some reason to be jealous of her good nature and make her life unbearable. It was the same competition for me with Darcy; his father’s favor for me drove Darcy mad with jealousy and caused him to undo all the good his father had provided for me. I had a living as a pastor but Darcy refused to fund it once his father was gone. I had no written proof with which to defend what was mine by right. Not being one to fight, he won in the end. We do not speak now. I for one am glad that they have quit Meryton. This is a very pleasant town and their sort spoils the charm of being in the country.”
“I am so glad you think so,” Elizabeth said, brightening to hear someone compliment her much-loved neighborhood. “It feels lighter tonight knowing that his towering presence will not be darkening the door. They did not seem very happy here. It is for the best, for all of us, that they are gone.”
“Indeed. I have been to many small towns and our time in Meryton has been spent in the nicest society. Oh, look. They are dancing the quadrille. Shall we?”
Wickham crooked his arm for Elizabeth to accept. She did it without hesitation. Thanks to Wickham’s company, Elizabeth enjoyed the assembly greatly. He made pleasant conversation throughout the dance and complimented Elizabeth on her gown and her looks. His behavior was so opposite that of Darcy’s, Elizabeth marveled that the two of them could ever have stood to be in each other’s company. Moreover, her attention to Wickham achieved what she most wanted: the notice of her mother.
For Mrs. Bennet indeed watched the young couple with pride. How she would love to see the dashing young Wickham at her table! Maybe her Lizzy was not as plain as that horrible Mr. Darcy said?
If Jane were to marry Collins and Lizzy marry Wickham, she would have security and a handsome son-in-law albeit not all in one man.
“Yes,” she muttered out loud. “I would like that very much.”
“Like what?” Lady Lucas asked.
“Oh never mind, you!” she snapped at her old friend. “I’m parched. Let us go find the punch.”
Chapter 9
With a wave of hopeful goodbyes, Mr. Bennet, Jane, and Elizabeth departed Longbourn for the journey to Rosings Park.
As their carriage rambled its way through Hertfordshire towards Kent, Elizabeth gleefully entertained her father and Jane with tales of Darcy’s ill character, his disposal of Wickham’s living, and of his sister Georgiana’s flirtatious nature. By the end of the journey, the Bennets were exceedingly grateful that Officer Wickham was so generous with his information about the devious Darcy siblings.
“Wickham has suffered more than anyone at the hands of Mr. Darcy, yet remains the most genial, most humble man of our acquaintance. Mr. Darcy, with all his riches, cannot please a crowd as Wickham can,” Elizabeth pronounced.
“I consider myself lucky then, to have only observed Darcy once or twice from afar thus managing to escape his acquaintance,” Mr. Bennet replied.
After an uneventful journey, they reached their destination. Accommodations at the Crane Inn, an establishment situated in convenient proximity to Rosings Park, were reserved for them. Lady Catherine de Bourgh had procured its finest rooms and all considerations for their comfort were provided for.
A letter from Mr. Collins awaited them, inviting them to dine at Rosings the following evening. Lady Catherine’s best carriage would be sent for them this time, he promised. Mr. Collins included several presumptive statements welcoming Jane in particular to her future home county. Upon reading the letter, Jane’s good nature wilted.
“Oh, Father! Now that we are here, how awkward will it be? By coming to Rosings Mr. Collins will think I am willing to be made an offer of marriage. This is a mistake.”
Her father did not flinch.
“Be brave, Jane. There was and is no way out of this situation other than to placate Mr. Collins and that must happen away from your mother’s influence. Her anxiety is such that no reasonable discussion of the matter can take place within her earshot.
“However, once I have an opportunity to meet with Mr. Collins alone, away from her influence, I will be able to set the matter straight. Letting him down will require some finesse, but I am up to the task. Enjoy the setting as best you can, rest assured that I will take care of Mr. Collins. You may be required to dance with him, at least once. You may also be required to sit near him for the length of a dinner. This is a small price to pay for the opportunity to discourage him permanently, away from your mother’s interference.”
Elizabeth agreed. “Mamma is not here to pressure you or make you cry. You must only be polite. In the end, you are encouraged to say no to Mr. Collins. I intend to do so. I intend to not even dance or sit near him!” she declared. “He will be required to chase me down to achieve either of those ends.”
Emboldened, Jane relaxed and even began to sing in her quiet moments. By the time Lady Catherine’s carriage arrived the next evening, she was spiritually strengthened and ready to fend off all of Mr. Collins’ attempts at courtship.
The Bennets were admitted to the grand drawing room where Lady Catherine was holding court and introduced.
“These young ladies are your pick?” she queried Collins, her smile gracious but her tone disparaging.
“Yes m’lady,” he replied, brimming with pride.
She raised her eyebrow imperiously.
After exchanging polite conversation and observing Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth for half an hour, Lady Catherine’s judgment was strict and clear.
“Mr. Collins, have you gone mad? These young ladies are completely unsuitable for you. You flatter yourself. Miss Jane Bennet is too elegant for the likes of you. You are seeking a parson’s wife not entry into the ton! Lower your expectations, good man. Even her sister, who is not as striking, is infinitely too pretty for the job.”
Mr. Collins was unnerved and deflated by Lady Catherine’s criticisms. He rubbed his chin, now covered with a thick beard that he had grown at Mrs. Bennet’s suggestion. Elizabeth stifled a giggle upon first sight but Jane thought it added a modicum of character and was a change for the better. Neither thought it polite to make a direct comment about it to his face.
“But the entail! I feel it is my Christian duty to help,” Mr. Collins exclaimed.
“I thought you said there were five of them? Isn’t there a plain one in the bunch? That should be your goal. Start over.” She shook her head with displeasure.
Mr. Collins struggled to remember the faces of the other three sisters. He had hardly taken a good look at any of their features once his eyes rested on Miss Jane. There was a pale-faced one with spectacles, if he remembered correctly, whom he imagined would probably do as a wife. Her name, however, escaped him.
He sighed with annoyance at the rapid way his matrimonial hopes were dashed and stared down in silence at Rosings’ parquet floor.
“Chin up, Mr. Collins. I am right about this. Am I not always right?”
Lady Catherine scolded.
“You are, my lady.”
“As you know nothing of women, you will thank me for this advice one day.”
“You are correct, as always. I am most exceedingly sorry if my choice of Miss Jane Bennet offended you.”
“Do not make the same mistake again, Mr. Collins, or I will feel that my largesse is wasted on you.”
“Yes, ma’am. M’lady, am I allowed to dance with Miss Jane or Miss Elizabeth without incurring your disapproval?”
“Of course you may dance with them. A dance is not a marriage,” she snapped.
Jane and Elizabeth dared not meet each other’s eyes but each savored the exhilarating feeling of relief that flooded them. The much-desired escape from Mr. Collins was now complete.
At dinner, Lady Catherine quizzed her new arrivals.
“You have five daughters, all unmarried, and the last is out?”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “The youngest is exceedingly high-spirited. It is better for the well-being of the whole household not to restrain her.”
“I do not envy you, Mr. Bennet. Luckily, I do not have to worry about my Anne’s future as she is already spoken for by her cousin. His estate is equal to mine; it was always my wish that the extensive properties be united. I have heard of your entail from my Mr. Collins. Terrible burden. You have my sympathies.”
Mr. Bennet nodded his thanks. He was in agreement, after all, with her sentiments.
Elizabeth glanced across the table at Lady Catherine’s daughter Anne, a frail, seemingly timid girl with a complexion paler than dough. She was constantly attended to by a Mrs. Jenkinson who fussed over her charge nonstop—urging her to eat or blowing on her soup or replacing her shawl as it slipped off Anne’s slight shoulders. Upon hearing of the engagement, Elizabeth could not help but picture an equally mute and sickly young aristocrat as Anne’s future husband.
“You will all meet Anne’s intended tomorrow evening at our ball. As there will be no marriage with Mr. Collins, I am inclined to help you in that regard. There is a widower nearby with an opening for a wife. I will write and extend an invitation to him to join us for later this week.”
Elizabeth caught Jane’s eye at the mention of a wealthy widower and rolled her eyes. After dinner, the sisters linked arms and walked the perimeter of the massive, but chilly, drawing room.
“I fear we are going from the frying pan into the fire with her widowed neighbor coming to look us over,” Elizabeth predicted.
Jane laughed and whispered, “Luckily we are under no obligation to Lady Catherine’s picks. However, I am most curious to see Anne’s fiancé. She hardly speaks; he must be just as lifeless as she.”
“But he is only her cousin so courtship requires no effort on either part,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“Nevertheless, I am grateful to Lady Catherine for her sharp remarks to Mr. Collins. Mamma will not be happy with her edict but I am exceedingly relieved for both of us,” Jane said.
“Yes, I heartily agree.”
“But now the widowers,” Jane whispered. “It feels as if unwanted suitors multiply and those we favor are removed from our company.”
“I am grateful for any company that does not include the gruesome Mr. Darcy and the Bingley sisters.”
“Be thankful for small favors,” Jane said. “And pray that the widowers be as virtuous as they are handsome.”
“Then we must both prepare ourselves to fall in love,” Elizabeth laughed.
When it was time to depart, Lady Catherine’s best carriage was called for again. Goodbyes were exchanged and as they made the trip back to the inn, all three travelers agreed that the evening’s entertainment had exceeded their expectations. Lady Catherine was bountiful in her hospitality and her quick evisceration of Mr. Collins’ romantic aspirations was as satisfying as the finely roasted pheasant served at her table.
Chapter 10
The following day’s sky offered only low grey clouds and a steady drizzle that trickled down the windowpanes. The chill wet weather prevented Elizabeth and Jane from exercising outside but between their books and several very competitive rounds of backgammon, they filled their day.
The only change of scene was a move into the snug dining room of the Crane Inn for lunch and tea. Mr. Collins made a brief call; the nature of his inquiry to discern which of his three remaining fair cousins they thought was best suited as the future inheritress of Longbourn. Neither Jane nor Elizabeth nor Mr. Bennet was encouraging beyond repeating the young ladies’ forgotten names.
By evening time, the small family circle was fully rested and elegantly dressed for the ball that was to be thrown that night. Again, Lady Catherine sent her best carriage and the quick journey to Rosings Park was completed. They were shown into Rosings’ drawing room where a substantial party was gathered under its high ceiling.
To Elizabeth’s horror and Jane’s delight, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were spotted amongst the cluster of party guests. They stood before Rosings’ famed and costly chimneypiece engaged in a serious conversation. Engrossed, they did not look up in time to see the new arrivals enter.
“Oh, Jane!” Elizabeth uttered.
Jane positively glowed with delight. Elizabeth, however, sighed and looked down to smooth her dress. It appeared her sister’s good fortune and her own bad were inextricably linked in the two friends. Elizabeth awaited Bingley’s notice of Jane with much anticipation. If he loved Jane, his reaction to her sudden appearance would surely show on his face.
Eventually, a break occurred in the men’s conversation and Bingley’s gaze momentarily wandered the room and rested upon Jane. Mr. Darcy’s gaze followed that of his friend’s. Upon seeing the ladies, both men looked back at each other in astonishment. Bingley’s face colored red while Darcy went white. Bingley’s immediate removal from the conversation and advancement toward Jane warmed Elizabeth’s heart. Mr. Darcy’s gaze met Elizabeth’s across the drawing room and then he abruptly turned away.
The fact that Mr. Darcy did not follow Bingley was a relief.
“Miss Jane Bennet! Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Of all the people in the world I would least expect to see here tonight! What a delight!” Bingley effused.
Jane tilted her head and greeted Bingley warmly. There was obvious affection in her tone as she replied cheerily, “Likewise, it is so wonderful to see you. We are here as the guests of Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine. And you?”
“Here with Darcy. Lady Catherine is his relation. We tired quickly in London and she wanted Darcy’s company, so here we are. Who is this Mr. Collins? Do I know him?”
Jane pointed him out in the crowd. “He is our distant cousin, to whom Longbourn is entailed. We have only made his acquaintance recently. He came to Meryton; did you not meet him there?”
“Lady Catherine’s parson is the suitor who came to Meryton?” Bingley blurted out, visibly distraught.
Elizabeth, sensing the nature of his emotions, quickly sought to clarify the arrangement or lack thereof.
“Mr. Collins sought to make one of us his bride as a means of amends for his future inheritance. He was refused but undaunted, and thus invited us here to continue to make his case. Alas, he has received the strong message from Lady Catherine that neither Jane nor myself fit her picture of a cleric’s wife. As a result, Mr. Collins is currently committed to pursuing a partnership with one of our other three lucky sisters who sit at Longbourn, unsuspecting of their future fate,” she said with a playful smile.
Mr. Bingley smiled broadly in response to this statement, all his hopes for Jane evident in his expression.
Elizabeth, sensitive to the reuniting of the two young people, excused herself, claiming to be in urgent need of a glass of punch. Jane did not implore her sister to stay.
Across the ballroom, Mr. Darcy stood stock-still, struggling to conceal his delight at Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s surprise appearance at Rosings. His attempts to forget her with the distractions of London and its society had backfired. In the face of so
many suitable women from aristocratic families, he longed only for the one whose provenance lacked grandeur.
A longing for Elizabeth settled over him his first evening in London and stayed. He missed the arch tone of her voice, the teasing manner in which she addressed him, her total lack of deference toward him. He fell to comparing every young woman’s wit to hers. All fell short.
An uncomfortable yearning to be in her company again, coupled with the snobby trivialities of London society, stretched his patience to its breaking point. He was irritable on a daily basis, no longer just on a quiet Sunday afternoon with nothing to do.
Indeed, over the winter he was worse to the society in London than he was to the good people of Meryton. He cut out of assemblies at a whim; eschewing the carriage to walk home alone via the dark London side streets. His tone was decidedly clipped even at quiet family dinners. And when he closed the door to his library on a rainy morning, everyone knew not to disturb him unless the kitchen was on fire.
“Is he ill?” Caroline Bingley wondered aloud one afternoon as they sat in the drawing room awaiting callers. Darcy had slammed the door behind him with the force of a gale wind after ignoring their pleasant calls that he enjoy his walk.
“He is missing the country,” Mr. Hurst laughed.
“The country?” Mrs. Hurst repeated, curling her lip with disgust.
“The country ladies, I mean,” Mr. Hurst snickered.
“Oh no. It’s not possible,” Caroline blurted out, quickly employing her finely-honed instincts to ignore the truth when it suited her.
As soon as the worst of the winter was behind them, Darcy was desperate to escape. Pemberley was vacant so he refrained from seeking its comforts; he knew he was apt to brood if in residence alone. Instead, he acquiesced to his aunt’s persistent invitations to visit Rosings. He suddenly longed for the countryside—its wide-open skies, the scent of mud and spring blossoms. He was too self-reflective to wonder at his sudden longing to be in the country; obviously, the countryside reminded him of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, with whom he feared he had fallen in love.