He watched them until they were out of sight, thinking that if Miss Gardiner had been the daughter of one of the landed gentry round about, instead of the daughter of a Meryton attorney, he might have been tempted to fall in with his father’s wishes. But the daughter of an attorney would not be acceptable to his parents as a wife for him. Besides, he knew very little about Miss Gardiner, other than that she was pretty and good humoured, and for all he knew, she would not be acceptable as a wife to him either. So he turned back to his book and occupied himself until the sun went down.
The Miss Gardiners continued on their way. They walked the mile into Meryton, from whence they had set out earlier in the day. They had been tempted out of doors by the spring weather and by a desire to show off their new parasols, even if it was only to the cows and sheep, for they had not noticed John in the tree.
The small town of Meryton was busy with shoppers intent on their business. Some were housewives frequenting the butchers and the bakers, buying food for the family. Some were footmen making purchases for their masters, and some were young ladies, like themselves, who were intent on looking at the latest fashions.
As worn in London, ran the unlikely legend in the milliner’s window.
The girls stopped to look at all the hats, praising and criticising them in turn.
“That one is not very pretty but I think I might buy it all the same,” said Jane. “If I pull it to pieces when I get home, I might be able to make it up into something better. I think it might suit me if I change the brim.”
“And that one is very ugly, but I am determined to have it,” said Mary. “If I trim it with some ribbon, it will at least be tolerable.”
They already had a house full of hats, but they shared the belief that a young lady could never have too many of them, and their mother was of their opinion. Their father could not see what all the fuss was about, but he liked to indulge them. His business was prosperous and it pleased him to see his family happy.
They went into the shop and made their purchases, and then, with only one brief stop at the general shop, they finally arrived at their father’s office.
They had not really called there to see their papa, as Jane well knew, but to see his clerk, Mr. Philips.
Mr. Philips was young and handsome, and Mary was enamoured of him. She took every opportunity of calling on her father with some excuse, so that she could laugh and flirt with his clerk. Jane was happy to indulge her sister, for she liked nothing better than to laugh and flirt with her own beaux, and so she would not deny her sister that happiness.
When the two Miss Gardiners entered the office, Mr. Philips looked up and jumped to his feet. He welcomed them with easy charm, remarking on the fineness of the weather, the versatility of parasols, and the likelihood of rain.
Miss Gardiner wandered into a corner and took an interest in a painting which hung on the wall, leaving her sister to flirt to her heart’s content.
At last Mr. Philips was recalled to his duties, and they left him with an invitation to dinner, which they issued in their mother’s name. She, good lady, never objected to their inviting young men to the house, and it was understood by all of them that they should ask any eligible gentlemen they should happen to meet, saying that the invitation came from Mrs. Gardiner.
Then they went into the office to see their papa.
He rose from his chair with a beaming smile and opened his arms to them, for he was always pleased to see his girls. They brought laughter and brightness into his life. He made much of them, serving them canary wine and telling them how pretty they looked.
Having drunk their canary wine, the two young ladies then returned home. Their mother saw them walking down the path and jumped up, eager to greet them. She exclaimed over their purchases and agreed with them that the hats were vile but that they could be made presentable.
Their brother Edward was less agreeable and only snorted before going back to the newspaper.
“Is there any news?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.
“Well, we happened to pass Miss Long in the street and she said that George King is going to marry!” said Jane, fluffing her fair curls in front of the looking glass.
“And about time, too,” said their mother. “That shop of his is flourishing and a man with a settled income ought to take a wife.” She glanced significantly at Mary. “There’s another man with a settled income, and prospects, too, who will soon be thinking of taking a wife, if I don’t miss my guess.”
“If you mean Papa’s clerk, why can you not say so?” demanded Edward. “All this hinting is nothing but tomfoolery.”
“And why should Mama mean Arthur?” asked Mary, tossing her head.
“Because he has a settled income and prospects, being set to take over Father’s business when the time comes, and you have both of you set your sights on him joining the family,” said Edward.
“And why should he not have the business?” demanded Mary. “You were offered it, but you refused it.”
“He would give it to you now if you changed your mind,” said Mrs. Gardiner to her son.
“Thank you, but I have no wish to be an attorney,” said Edward. “I would much rather go into trade.”
It had caused several family arguments so far, but Edward could be stubborn when he set his mind to something, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had reconciled themselves to the idea.
Besides, it had its bright side, because then Mr. Gardiner could leave the business to Arthur and thereby provide for Mary; Jane being so pretty that neither of her parents thought they would need to provide for her.
The talk turned to the next assembly.
“You will need a new gown,” said Mrs. Gardiner to her eldest daughter. “It is high time you were married, Jane, and a new gown will do the trick. You are not so pretty for nothing. Half a dozen young men in the neighbourhood would be glad to take you to wife. There is William Lucas; he is in a good line of trade and looks set to rise in the world. You could do worse.”
“Oh, Mama! I cannot marry William Lucas!” said Jane, exploding into laughter.
“I cannot see why not.”
“He has nothing to say for himself, and besides, he cannot dance,” said Jane.
“Well, to be sure, that is a pity,” said her mother, “but, after all, there is more to life than dancing.”
But Jane did not think so, and young William Lucas was dismissed.
“Then there is Captain Quentin,” said her mother.
“Captain Quentin?” said Jane with more interest. “Mama, is he here again? Oh, do say he is! I love a man in a red coat.”
“Well, I hear that he is coming to see his cousins again shortly and that he will be here in time for the assembly.”
Jane danced around the room.
“And I must have a new gown, too, Mama,” said Mary.
“Oh, very well, I suppose you must, though Arthur Philips would propose to you if you were dressed in a flour sack,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “We will go into Meryton tomorrow and choose some fabric, and then we will be busy until the assembly.”
The following day brought a letter to Longbourn. It was from Mr. Bennet’s distant and despised Cousin Collins, and in it he declared his intention of calling on the family the following week.
Mr. Bennet read the letter out to his wife and son as they took breakfast together.
“… for my wife and I are going to Cheshire to visit her family, and would like to call upon you on the way,” Mr. Bennet read. “We have something to show you.”
“With his wife. You see, he has married already,” Mrs. Bennet said, turning to look at John. “Now, there’s a man who knows his duty.”
“He is five years older than I am,” John said.
“That cannot be helped. I cannot now make you older than you are, nor him younger than he is,” said his mama. “The fact remains that he is married and you are not.”
“I wonder what he wants to show us,” said Mr. Bennet.
“The only t
hing I want him to show us is a clean pair of heels,” said Mrs. Bennet.
Talk of the Collinses’ visit continued to fill the house for the following five days until Cousin Collins himself made his appearance. He arrived just after four o’clock with his wife, a vulgar creature by the name of Nancy. They had hardly descended from the trap when Nancy’s voice could be heard through the window.
“Coo, William, fancy! What a big ’ouse! I never thought it’d be so grand. And it’s all going to be ours, ain’t it?”
And William’s voice saying, “Don’t get your hopes up too high, sugar plum, it won’t be ours for a while yet, not until my cousin’s dead. But he looked sickly to me the last time I saw him, and I don’t suppose he’s got any better, living the way he does.”
The door knocker announced that they had reached the door, and, as the Collinses were shown in, the Bennets reluctantly greeted their guests.
William Collins was an oily young man with an ingratiating manner. His coat and breeches were too tight and his linen was far from fresh.
His wife was worse. With her rouged cheeks and her loud cries of “Look, William, did you ever? A long case clock. I’ve always wanted a long case clock,” she was enough to try the patience of a more patient woman than Mrs. Bennet.
“Then I must let you have the name of our clockmaker,” replied that worthy woman.
William put his head on one side and looked at her roguishly. “Ah, we don’t have room for one where we are. Our rooms aren’t big enough, just a small apartment, you understand, but perhaps one day …” and his eyes drifted round the room as though assessing its worth before coming to rest on the coveted clock.
Luckily, tea was brought in. Hardly had it been poured, though, when the conversation turned to the subject of duty. William Collins, with his ingratiating smile, said that he stood ready to do his.
“You need have no fear,” he said to Mr. Bennet. “I stand ready to do my duty at any time. If young John should die, Nancy and me will be here to shoulder the burden of the estate.”
“I’ve never been one to shirk my responsibilities,” said Nancy. She went over to her basket, which she had placed at the side of the room on entering, and took out a bundle of blankets. As she returned to her seat, the Bennets saw that it contained a baby.
Cousin Collins confirmed their worst fears when he said, “This is why we’ve come here today, me and Nancy. We wanted to show you our son.”
“Named William, after his father,” said Nancy. “Just think, William,” she cooed to the baby, “one day, this could all be yours.” Then she turned to Mrs. Bennet and said, “Don’t you worry, if anything happens to your husband and John—”
“—Carriages are always overturning these days,” put in Cousin Collins, “and men keep dropping dead of diseases—”
“Then we’ll be here just as soon as we learn of the sad accident, you’ll see. And don’t you be afraid we’ll turn you out of your home. There’s always something useful a woman at your time of life can do, mending tablecloths and suchlike. Me and William’ll see you right. And so will little William.” She had a sudden thought and said, “You can be his nursemaid.”
Mrs. Bennet looked at her in horror. But she was made of stern stuff and she quickly rallied, saying, “John and his father are both hale and hearty, and as for dying in a carriage accident, why, they never travel together. Besides, there will be another heir on the way very shortly. John is determined to do his duty and fill the nursery with sons. In fact, he is courting a charming young lady at the moment, one of our neighbours, a very handsome girl with a large dowry. Oh! She is so good and so agreeable. Very genteel! We regard her as one of the family already.”
Who this good and genteel girl was supposed to be, John did not know, but he suspected she was a figment of his mother’s imagination, invented to foil the Collinses. Indeed, he rather began to wish that she were real, for the thought of the Collinses in his beloved home made him shiver, and for a moment he thought that, perhaps, his papa was right, he ought to marry as soon as possible. But then he remembered that he was very young and not likely to die, and so he put his efforts into helping his mama by saying that he had always had the highest respect for the married state and that it was one he had every intention of entering promptly.
Nancy continued to talk of the furniture as though it were her own, saying to the baby, “That table’d look a lot better by the window, wouldn’t it, William?” or “That vase is an odd thing, ain’t it? It’d be better under the stairs,” whilst Mrs. Bennet continued to talk of the lovely young woman they all adored.
By the end of the visit, they were exhausted and it was with relief that the Bennets saw the Collinses depart.
“And those are the people you will have living in this house when I am gone,” said John’s father reproachfully.
“To think of the effrontery of the woman, to say I could do her sewing!” said Mrs. Bennet.
John knew that he would have no peace if he stayed at home and so he said that he was thinking of going to Cambridge to stay with friends for a few weeks.
“It is to be hoped there are some young ladies in Cambridge who will be prepared to put up with your freakish ways,” said his mother in an ill humour.
“Do not worry, Mama,” said John with a smile. “Perhaps I will come home with a wife.”
He did not come home with a wife. He did, however, come home in a more sober frame of mind, for on his way home, a bird flew up in front of his horse and the animal reared and threw him. He escaped with cuts and bruises, but as he caught the reins of his horse again he shuddered to see that he had only narrowly missed hitting his head on the milestone. As he mounted he knew that, if he had fallen three inches to the right, he would have been taken home lifeless. And with his mother and father being unable to have another child at their time of life, the Collinses would have been the future owners of Longbourn.
It was in this mood that he went to the Meryton assembly. As soon as he entered the room, he saw Anne Raistrick and he wondered if she bored him quite so much, after all. Perhaps he had not taken the trouble to get to know her. And so he walked over to her and asked her to dance.
She accepted with alacrity and he led her out onto the floor.
“How boring these country assemblies are,” she said. “How insipid! These people have nothing to say.”
John, who was standing next to Miss Gardiner and her partner, a smart young man in regimentals, thought that Miss Gardiner, at least, had plenty to say.
“Look at them! Is there anything more depressing than provincials? The shopkeepers and attorneys and bankers, all dressed in their ill-fitting clothes, and dancing without grace or fashion. Mama has promised to take me to London for the season. Will you be going?” asked Miss Raistrick.
“No,” said he shortly, being out of humour.
“A pity,” she said.
She danced with a great deal of energy, stepping on his feet no less than seven times. She went the wrong way twice in the dance, and only the lively eyes of Miss Jane Gardiner, which sparkled with mischief when Miss Raistrick bumped into her, made it tolerable.
He was glad when the dance was over and he could lead Miss Raistrick back to her mama. As he did so, his eyes drifted to the other side of the room, where the Miss Gardiners were chatting away merrily to a large group of young men. To be sure, the conversation was about dancing and clothes and charades and lottery tickets, but it was lively and good humoured, and their high spirits were infectious. He could not help himself, he went over to Miss Gardiner and asked her to dance.
She looked surprised, but then gladly accepted his hand and they went onto the floor. He briefly noticed the faces of his parents, who looked as if to say, Why is he wasting his time with Miss Gardiner when Miss Raistrick is sitting down? But he took no notice.
“I am surprised you asked me,” said Miss Gardiner. “I thought your feet would be too battered and bruised for another dance.”
He smile
d and took her to their place in the set, where she curtseyed to him without falling over, as Miss Raistrick had almost done. Her dancing, too, was good. She had none of the formal elegance of most of his other partners, but she had more ebullience, and more natural enjoyment.
Listening to her was a pleasure, for her lively nature made her a good companion. Indeed, even the most commonplace utterances sounded amusing from her lips, for they were delightfully shaped with a Cupid’s bow, and as pink as the flowers she had in her hair. By the time the dance came to an end, he felt that he had never been so well entertained. Miss Gardiner was lovely to look at, her voice was sweet to listen to, and she knew everyone in Meryton. He had learned more about them in half an hour than he had in the previous year. He quit her company reluctantly, whereas he had been eager to leave Miss Raistrick.
When the evening was over and he returned to Longbourn in his parents’ carriage, his father remarked on the importance of a large dowry and the folly of marrying a young lady who had only her pretty face to recommend her.
His mother, no doubt with visions of nursing the infant Collins dancing before her eyes, said that Jane Gardiner was a very pretty girl and that the Gardiners, though not genteel, were respectable.
In the Gardiner carriage, hired for the evening, the assembly was also being relived.
“What a wonderful night!” said Jane with a happy sigh.
She had danced every dance and had almost worn her slippers through.
“I think Arthur is on the point of proposing,” said her sister.
Jane made some reply, but her mind was not on her sister; it was on her own affairs. She had danced with Captain Quentin, and how handsome he had looked in his regimentals! And then had come something which had surprised her. John Bennet had asked her to dance.
Her mama’s thoughts were tending in the same direction, for she said, “Only think, Jane, at this time yesterday I thought that Captain Quentin would be a good match for you. But if I don’t miss my guess, we will soon see you as the mistress of Longbourn.”
“Oh, Mama!” said Jane. “Mr. Bennet asked me to dance once! That is hardly a proposal.”
Jane Austen Made Me Do It Page 21