by Jemma Thorne
“I need not answer to anyone about my familiarity with the fellow. I’m glad you do not know him well. He is not worthy of your interest.”
Mr. Wickham was not worthy of my interest?
Luckily the dance was nearly at an end, for I could barely suffer Fitzwilliam Darcy’s company for a dozen more steps.
As the music ceased, I twirled from him. “Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” I spoke as I left, neglecting courtesy with a disdain that I knew he saw for what it was.
I could only hope that my family wouldn’t pay for my smart mouth and reckless lack of manners. We had no power in comparison to the master of Pemberley, and I had made us no new friends just now.
The evening did not improve. Miss Bingley cornered me to snarl over my insinuations that Mr. Darcy had somehow harmed Mr. Wickham. I knew no more at the end of the night, truly, about their quarrel than when I’d begun, and I’d been far too forward with the Mr. Darcy over it. Mr. Collins approached Mr. Darcy in a most unseemly fashion and engaged him in an awkward exchange about his elderly aunt. Still my mother would not filter her words, despite the company, and my sisters continued their merry, haphazard circuit of local society.
I noted that each and every bit of trouble – minus, perhaps, my wayward sisters – involved ill-tempered Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
At least Netherfield no longer housed a phantom. I could count that among my successes.
* * *
In the morning every one of us was tired, not to mention famished. Hill loaded the table with breakfast, and hastily left the room. Only the Bennets were present at the moment, so at least we need not listen to an impromptu sermon prior to breaking bread. We all filled our plates and ate in silence, even down to Lydia and Kitty.
Mr. Collins entered after Father had already pushed back his plate and rested his hands over his belly.
“I would like to request a private audience,” Mr. Collins said, “with Miss Elizabeth this morning.”
Mother gave a small gasp. I restrained myself from giving a much larger one.
Oh no. The time had come and I was woefully unprepared. He could only be requesting such an audience for one reason. It was awfully forward with how little we’d interacted, but I could not expect him to appreciate that. And he would beg an answer of me, even though I barely knew the man.
Father didn’t meet my eyes.
“Father?”
He shook his head slightly as Mrs. Bennet urged the rest of her daughters out of the room. He followed them silently, and Mother bustled out of the room last, giving me a huge smile before closing the door with a ring of finality.
I remained in my seat and gave Mr. Collins a steely look. He didn’t seem to notice that my expression was not a happy one.
He stepped closer to me, to stand at my side. Now he was looking down at me, but if I stood he may attempt to take my hands or some other attempt at affection that neither of us felt. No motion felt like the correct one, and so I sat immobile.
“Miss Elizabeth, I daresay you Bennet women have spoken amongst yourselves about this possibility; let me affirm it for you. I came to Longbourn to meet your father, yes, but also to meet his daughters, that I might choose a wife from among his household.” I moved to stop him, but he held up a hand and I didn’t press. I’ll admit I wanted to hear what he would say next, though not for reasons he’d appreciate.
“Let me tell you that the motives for my choice to take a wife are several. First, it is only right that a clergyman should be married, for he sets the example for his entire parish. Next, I believe that marriage will greatly increase my own personal happiness. And for a third, my patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh has advised me that taking a wife is in everyone’s best interest.”
Well now that I understood his copious thoughts on the matter of matrimony…I could still do nothing but reject him. He must know that!
“I do hope that you realize that my choosing to take a wife from among your father’s household is meant to be an advantage to the Bennet family. In this way, when your father does pass away from this earth, may it be many long years from now, your family will be least affected by that transition.”
Surely there could not be more reasons. I began to speak, but again he hushed me. This time I frowned, but he went on without regard for my obvious unease.
“And so it only remains for me to tell you, in the most expressive of language, of the violence of my affection towards you. I assure you that I do feel such, and it is—”
I couldn’t wait to hear what it was. “Mr. Collins, I must stop you there. You have yet to let me speak an answer. I assure you that I understand the compliment you pay my family, and my own person, with such a proposal. But I am not the wife for you.”
He smiled good-naturedly and rocked back on his heels like we were sharing a joke. “I happen to know that refusing a first proposal, for a female, is not to be taken as a refusal at all. Even a second or a third proposal may yet return a positive response. And so I will hope to soon hear a different answer.”
I flushed, with anger not sentiment. “I assure you, sir, a refusal that passes my lips shall not be reconsidered.”
He gave me a smug look that reeked of condescension and I found I could bear his presence no longer.
I crashed from the room, straight into a pile of my sisters, and flew past them toward the stairs.
My mother chased me. “Elizabeth Bennet! You come back here this moment!”
I didn’t, but she followed me up the stairs. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom that I shared with Jane.
I stood with my back against the window, as far as I could possibly get from her. “I will not marry him.”
“Of course you will marry him! You ungrateful girl! I say you will marry Mr. Collins or I will never speak to you again!” Her eyes narrowed on me, and I felt the full brunt of her petty rage. “How dare you refuse his proposal without so much as thinking it over.”
“I don’t need to think it over. I will not marry Mr. Collins.”
Mary stood behind Mother in the hall, wringing her hands.
“Your father will hear about this!” Mother shrieked before retreating. I could hear her steps thudding down the stairs. No doubt everyone could, which meant that to my horror Mr. Collins was absorbing this very private Bennet family exchange.
Mary just stood there, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. At least she wasn’t berating me.
My blood sizzled with adrenaline and a sort of fear that spirits and ghosts could never inspire.
Soon enough, Kitty came upstairs and told me Father wanted to see me.
I marched downstairs with my head held high. They couldn’t force me to marry Mr. Collins. And I wasn’t going to have him.
Kitty pointed toward Father’s study.
Dread filled my belly as I stepped inside. Would Father take Mother’s side?
My eyes flitted instantly to the corner, where an apparition stood. Clarice. My father’s great-grandmother. She was watching her descendent carefully, and said not a word to me. She did not even acknowledge my entrance.
Mother entered the study behind me, and stood behind my left shoulder. “Mr. Bennet, you will tell your daughter to marry Mr. Collins. He has proposed and she has refused him outright, without so much as a consideration. There is no excuse for it!”
Father’s gaze fell upon my face, searching.
“I will not marry him, Father. I will not.”
He blinked. His great-grandmother’s spectre moved to stand behind his left shoulder in the same posture as my mother standing behind me. Could I have some hope of assistance from Clarice?
It turned out I didn’t even need it.
“Elizabeth, your mother has said that she will not speak to you again if you do not accept Mr. Collins’ proposal. Here we stand at a crossroads. It seems that moving forward, you must choose between your parents. For your mother says that she will not speak to you if you reject Mr. Collins’ proposal, and I say that I will never
speak to you again if you accept him.”
Clarice Bennet’s spirit smiled at her great-grandson, and moved as if to touch his shoulder. Father drew a deep breath and sighed as he relaxed in his chair, his eyes twinkling at me.
Mother, on the other hand, flew into a tizzy. She declared me the least grateful, most ill-behaved daughter a mother ever had to bear.
I was unmoved. My refusal stood.
Chapter 7
All was awkwardness for days after. Mr. Collins, after catching snippets of conversation among us daughters of the Bennet family, came to the realization that I probably was not, in fact, the wife for him. It was just as I had told him. And so he retracted his proposal, much to my mother’s chagrin. Victory!
But still… It was awkward. I wondered whether he might turn his attentions toward Mary, but he didn’t make any move in that direction. Maybe he was done with the Bennet daughters.
Two days later, a letter came from Netherfield for Jane. It was a stormy morning, and Hill retrieved the letter from the horseman for her, frowning as he flicked the moisture from it and handed it over.
“It is from Caroline.” Jane read the letter, her eyes moving quickly as color drained from her face.
“What is it?” I asked.
She folded it again. Her face was pinched, like she’d tasted something too sour. “It seems the Bingley party has left Netherfield for London.”
What? Oh…Jane. I moved to take her hands. “I am sure they will return before long.”
She shook her head. “They may never.” She squeezed my hands and I squeezed back, unsure of my voice.
I had thought it was going so dashingly with Jane and Mr. Bingley. Could I have misinterpreted? “May I read the letter?”
My sister handed it over. I perused the contents with my lips pursed. I grew more and more uncomfortable. My family’s actions at the Netherfield ball had ruined Jane’s possibilities with Mr. Bingley; I could feel it in my gut. Mother’s wagging tongue plagued us all. It was possible my own exchange with Mr. Darcy had been the final straw…
“Jane. I am so sorry. Let us see how it will settle, all right? Maybe it is not as it looks.”
Jane nodded, but I could tell she felt hopeless. For my part, I felt angry and dismayed. I wanted Jane to have everything she desired in life, and not to please my mother but because she was truly the best of us.
And now more than ever, I detested the words Caroline Bingley.
* * *
Charlotte Lucas came to visit later that afternoon, without announcement or preamble. Upstairs, in the bedroom I shared with Jane, she told me of her acceptance of Mr. Collins’ proposal of marriage.
My eyes went wide and I couldn’t decide how to answer. I hesitated, and mumbled my congratulations in a tone that so little resembled a true celebration that I would not have accepted it myself.
Charlotte’s eyes flashed. “Do not judge me, Elizabeth Bennet! The man will make me a fine husband, and I can finally leave my parents’ house. A home of my own… Don’t you understand?”
No, I did not understand. I couldn’t understand at all.
In the corner of my bedroom, where I had first seen the apparition of my great-great-grandmother flicker into existence after my return from Netherfield, I saw her again. When she appeared to me now, she appeared firm, whole. Real enough that I could see her expression and hear her words when she chose to speak.
Clarice’s spirit just stood there, observing my exchange with Charlotte. It was over quickly, and I set my teeth against the shame knotting my belly.
I had responded inappropriately. I had no reason to hurt Charlotte, and no desire to wound her at all.
After Charlotte left, I said aloud to the otherwise empty room, “How could she settle for Mr. Collins?”
“Yes… It is unfortunate,” My great-great-grandmother’s spectre muttered. She watched me sadly, and shook her head. “Never settle,” she said simply.
“What?”
“Never settle for a man who won’t hold your interest,” Clarice clarified. “Never settle for marriage if you desire to tread a different path.”
Marriage advice from the spirit of my great-great-grandmother? I was certainly the first with this tale to tell. “I agree, completely,” I told her.
“A house full of daughters!” she proclaimed proudly. It was the most emotion I’d seen her display. “I knew you would be the bunch to end it.”
“It appears likely that we will be the last Bennets raised in this house. Is that what you mean?”
“Precisely. A marvelous turnabout.”
Was this what had kept Clarice’s spirit at Longbourn?
“Why are you still here? Didn’t I help you? You can move on now.” At least that would be some small success after the trials of the last week.
“No. I want to stay. I am not finished with this world yet.” The ghost seemed to sigh. “Leaving Longbourn would be nice. It is a long-held dream of mine.”
I didn’t understand. “Leave Longbourn? You can do that?”
“Yes… Now.”
A jolt of fear went through me. “Because…because of the séance?”
She nodded.
“So instead of helping your spirit move on, I have freed you to roam outside of Longbourn?” I had a bad feeling about this.
Clarice’s spirit smiled at me. “My spirit was long attached to this place. Now I find I am attached to you, dear granddaughter. I hold high hopes – do show me some excitement soon, won’t you?”
I giggled nervously. “Yes. I daresay I will.”
Jane entered the room in time to catch me laughing. My face went red, and she looked from me to the corner of the room where Clarice stood, and back at me. “What has you so merry, sister?” she asked.
Could she see Clarice at all? It didn’t seem so.
“I’ve had news from Charlotte, and it seems none of us need worry over a proposal from Mr. Collins now.” I filled her in on the details and her face grew white. She, of course, would worry over how Mother would take it. She would worry over all of us, yet unmarried, being turned out at Father’s death. I couldn’t believe it would be so, and couldn’t bring myself to worry about whether it would come to fruition or not.
I had much to learn on the subject of spirits – even more after the exchange with Clarice just now – that would occupy me well enough.
When Jane wasn’t looking, I grinned at the spectre of my great-great-grandmother and Clarice smiled in return, both of us glad for the company.
The End
* * *
Rosings and the Wraith
Chapter 1
“Elizabeth, while I am glad to be along, I cannot comprehend how you manage, being surrounded with such drivel constantly.”
I stared through my great-great-grandmother Clarice’s spectre, where she was riding on the bench opposite me in the carriage transporting our party toward Rosings Park, the grand estate of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. As the ride stretched on, I was finding it harder and harder to keep my composure through the ghost’s endless attempts at conversation. She knew I couldn’t speak with her in present company – why did she go on as if at any moment I would finally engage?
She continued, refusing to be diverted by my expression. “Are you absolutely certain about making this trip? You certainly detested Mr. Collins when he stayed with your family, and when you thought you might have to marry the man. But I can understand, his being married to your friend Charlotte does change matters.”
I had suffered this line of questioning before. Sir William watched me and I made an effort to unclench my jaw and smile, for his benefit.
“Are you quite alright, Miss Bennet? You look ill. Is it the rocking of the carriage? It has been quite a time since we left, hasn’t it? For my part, I am famished.”
So we had started with concern for me, and ended with concern for his belly. All was truly right with the world.
“My stomach is feeling a bit off. No matter, I believe our t
ravel is nearly at an end.”
Clarice glared at the other two occupants of the carriage. Their presence was the reason that I was not engaging the ghost in conversation. Sir William and Charlotte’s younger sister Maria were my ride to Hunsford for the visit that I had promised Charlotte when she married.
Life had largely been quiet for the Bennets in recent months. Jane had been staying with our aunt and uncle, the Gardiners, in London. I had missed her terribly.
Mother’s pride was not assuaged with the turning of recent events. Mr. Bingley’s departure had been a blow, and when she heard no news of a reconnection from Jane the possibility withered in her mind. Yet she wasn’t looking at me the same way in terms of marriage prospects. My headstrong actions over Mr. Collins’ proposal and the ensuing disagreement with my father had left her raw on the subject.
I was glad for the reprieve.
“Ah, we are almost arrived,” Sir William spoke suddenly. Maria looked nervously about. This would be her first season out in society, now that Charlotte was wed. She was young, fidgety, and needed to learn to at least seem sure of herself. I hoped this visit would do her good.
The countryside in Kent was charming, and the lands around Rosings Park were no exception. Vast lawns stretched on invitingly and snaking laurel hedges denoted the edges of the grand estate. We could see the house itself in the distance. It was modern, impressive and surrounded by acres of carefully maintained gardens.
As we rounded another bend, I leaned forward, eager to take in the first view of Hunsford House, where my friend Charlotte now lived with her husband, Mr. Collins. I shivered. I still could not imagine it – the two of them married. But I could not imagine anyone taking Mr. Collins seriously, much less sharing a home with him.
There it was! A quaint two-story house surrounded on two sides by laurel hedge, with a great garden extending on the south side of the house.