When next Mr. Phillips distributed their weekly allowances, he took it upon himself to give Lydia and Kitty only half the usual amount. “I’m putting the rest aside for the whole family,” he said. “It will increase your income a bit. I cannot, in fairness, distribute the same amount of money to you two as I do to your two older sisters, who have worked very hard to see we don’t need more servants.”
Kitty and Lydia protested, but he was adamant. When they turned beseeching eyes on her, Mrs. Bennet considered protesting on their behalf, but it occurred to her that no one was asking her to do any work, yet she got her full allowance, as was her right. She knew that reprieve was because she grieved for Mr. Bennet and because of her injuries, but those were nearly healed. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to call attention to herself, not wanting anyone else to realize the double standard. Mr. Philips didn’t appear to notice her, which, for once, she was grateful for.
About a month after Elizabeth left to live at Longbourn, Sir William Lucas called. He was walking with a cane. Mrs. Bennet wanted to blame him, but seeing his gaunt face, etched with deep lines of pain, she couldn’t. She lost her husband, and he lost his wife. “Mrs. Bennet, I’ve been too unwell to pay my condolences. I’m so sorry about your losing your husband, and if you feel half as sad as I do, you are indeed miserable.”
“Thank you, Sir William. If only the carriage wheel hadn’t come off where it did,” she said, feeling the need to hold back tears. She’d grown accustomed to ignoring the loss of Mr. Bennet, but could not do so when people spoke of it.
“I blame myself and I blame my coachman. It was his job to see the carriage was maintained, but mine to employ a worthy man.”
Some of what Jane said about the accident came back to Mrs. Bennet’s mind. “But he paid for it with his life. There’s no purpose in assigning blame.”
“That is generous of you.”
His tone warmed so when he said it, his eyes glinting with gratitude, that Mrs. Bennet felt a surge of satisfaction. Was this why Jane was so pleasant to everyone? To secure such regard? Well, Mrs. Bennet thought to herself, I can pretend to be as nice as she is. “There is no point in bitterness,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life angry.”
She didn’t mean it before she said it, but when she said it, it made sense. A plan popped into her head. She knew she didn’t have the beauty she once had, but she was still a good looking woman. They were both in mourning, which meant nothing could be done for some time, but the groundwork could be laid.
She spent his visit being pleasant to Sir William and even asked him a question which allowed him to repeat the story of his presentation at St. James. Though she’d heard it many times before, she found the familiar story soothing. In spite of her changed circumstances, it was nice to know there were some constants.
Another, less pleasant, constant was Elizabeth’s continued disappointment as a daughter. She visited once a week, but they didn’t see much of her. Mrs. Bennet didn’t mind not having to speak to Elizabeth, but she felt the girl should make more of an effort toward her family. The Collins gave Elizabeth Mary’s old room. Mrs. Bennet was torn between the insult of giving her daughter the smallest room and pleasure that Elizabeth didn’t benefit too much from her friendship with the wife of the man she should have been smart enough to marry.
Another source of pleasure was an accidental discovery Mrs. Bennet made one morning. If she sat on the floor in the corner of her room, she could hear what transpired in the front parlor. She found this out when she leaned over to pick up her comb, after dropping it. Now, she closed her door and sat there when there were visitors. Once, she overheard Elizabeth and Jane talking. She was pleased that Elizabeth wasn’t too happy at Longbourn. She enjoyed Charlotte’s company, but found Mr. Collins difficult to bear. Mrs. Bennet didn’t like that Elizabeth enjoyed Charlotte’s company. Charlotte expelled them from Longbourn. She was glad Elizabeth was having difficulty with Mr. Collins, though. She should suffer, because she was responsible for their situation.
About five months after Mr. Bennet’s death, Mrs. Bennet finally overheard something interesting. It was Mary talking, but who was she talking to?
“Don’t worry, she’s desperate to marry us off.”
“But she wants you to marry a gentleman,” said a male voice.
“It doesn’t matter. Really. I love you and Mama will come around.”
“I can’t offer you much,” he said.
“You’ll take over my uncle’s practice soon. You’re already doing half the work.”
A clerk? Mary wanted to marry a clerk. What was his name? Mr. Morris. Mrs. Bennet had met him a few times but was unimpressed. He was an average fellow, not bad looking, no family worth mentioning. He had no money. But if one more daughter could be settled, that was one less worry. A plan came into her head. She might turn this marriage to her family’s advantage, after all.
She stood up, careful to do it silently. She spent a couple of minutes seeing to her appearance. It was so hard to do without a maid and with only a small mirror. She casually went downstairs into the parlor. “Hello, Mr. Morris, how nice to see you.”
They would agree to what she wanted since she would agree to the marriage.
Dear Mr. Bingley,
I hope this letter finds you well. My daughter, Miss Mary Bennet, is marrying Mr. Phillips’ clerk, Mr. Henry Morris, on November 26. When the happy couple set the date, I realized it was one year since we last saw you at the delightful ball you had at Netherfield. Since we enjoyed ourselves so much then, I thought I would invite you and your sisters to attend the wedding. Of course, Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy are both welcome to attend as well. Please extend this invitation to them, since I don’t have their addresses.
She may as well invite everyone. She didn’t care if Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst came and she didn’t like Mr. Bingley’s sisters, but she didn’t want it to seem she was trying to bring Mr. Bingley here for Jane.
The wedding breakfast will be held at the Phillips house, since Mr. Bennet’s untimely death last May forced us to move out of Longbourn.
We are all as well as can be expected, considering our reduced circumstances. My eldest daughter, Miss Bennet, is pining more than the rest of us, but she seemed unhappy before Mr. Bennet’s death. I hope time will allow her to recover.
She finished the letter properly and signed it. She sent it to Netherfield. It was a gamble, of course, since she didn’t know if it would be forwarded. She smiled at the puzzlement of Mary and Mr. Morris about her insistence on that date.
When Sir William called, as he did once a week, she explained the scheme to him. He laughed at her and said, “You will never change.”
She knew she had changed. She was poor now and spent a little time humbly helping her sister, even though her arm and shoulder still ached. But she could use that arm. Sir William still needed his cane to walk. Lydia and Kitty were changing, too. After weeks without money, they grudgingly started working around the house, restoring part of their allowances.
As the days passed, she worried about whether the letter was forwarded or not. A week passed, and there was no reply. A second week. Nothing. At least he would write and refuse. As long as he didn’t, she had hope.
Before the third week was over, a carriage pulled up. It wasn’t Mr. Bingley’s carriage. Mr. Darcy got out. What was Mr. Darcy doing here? She’d invited him, but who needed his dour presence? Well, he was a friend of Mr. Bingley, so she should be nice to him. Mr. Bingley got out, too, brightening her spirits considerably. She hastily withdrew from the window and ran to the stairs. “Jane,” she called, “come down here at once.”
Looking puzzled, Jane came down. Mrs. Bennet wished she had time to make her daughter look more presentable, but there was nothing for it now. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were already at the door. Mrs. Bennet’s sister greeted them, looking quite surprised, and they entered. Mrs. Bennet allowed her sister the privilege, as hostess. She fo
und she no longer resented it. She was grateful they took her in. It was bitter that she was a poor relative, but embracing her bitterness only made her unhappy, so she was learning to let it go.
She followed Mr. Bingley’s gaze to Jane. Her hands were red from doing laundry and her clothing was wearing out, in spite of careful mending. Jane and Mary retained their full allowances, but Mrs. Bennet had to give Lydia and Kitty some of hers, since the poor girls had nothing to wear. As it was, they each could only buy one new dress of half-mourning. What a waste, to buy a grey dress, but unrelieved black was so depressing.
The meeting went as well as could be expected. Both men were polite and stayed a half an hour. Mr. Darcy asked after Elizabeth, which surprised Mrs. Bennet. He usually wasn’t that polite. When the correct half hour was over, Mr. Darcy, of all people, suggested they should drive Jane over to Longbourn so she could visit Elizabeth, because he knew how close the two of them were. Surprised at his unusual curtesy, she encouraged the trip.
The next several days were confusing to Mrs. Bennet. She learned that Mr. Darcy visited the Collins several times. She had no idea what they had in common. Mr. Bingley came and visited, which made much more sense. Everyone conspired to allow him time alone with Jane. Mrs. Bennet listened from her post in her room and heard him commiserate with Jane on her reddened hands. Being Jane, she made light of it. Why couldn’t she complain so he could rescue her?
Mary’s wedding was fast approaching and still none of her schemes had come to fruition. She complained to Sir William on one of his many visits. “When the wedding is over, Mr. Bingley will probably go back to London. Why can’t he propose now?”
“He may think it’s too soon after her father’s death,” Sir William replied.
“Mr. Bennet and Lady Lucas died seven months ago. Jane isn’t growing younger and her hands and clothing will only get worse. He must propose soon, before she loses her grace. We all have to go on living, after all.”
“Yes, we do.”
Mary was married, the wedding breakfast eaten and the happy couple gone to his lodgings. Mrs. Bennet wondered if Mr. Bingley would go back to London. Was her letter all for nothing? Sir William came over and she indulged herself in a discourse about how vexing it was that Mr. Bingley wasn’t behaving as she’d hoped when she sent the letter. After she finished, she said, “I tried to do what was best for Jane. I may not have succeeded, but I had to try. With all her beauty, I hate to see her marry someone like Mary’s husband. I know he’s a good man and Mr. Phillips told me he will be a good lawyer, but I wanted better for Jane.”
“Of course you did. We all want better for our children.”
“And for ourselves,” she said. “I’ve been selfish. I wanted comfort. Thank you for listening. You’re too kind to me, Sir William.” She looked away, acting as if she were musing, but saying words she’d carefully planned. “I now know my relatives won’t let me starve, but I’ll never be mistress of Longbourn again. I miss it. But I have to live with what I’ve got. Lydia and Kitty are learning that, too. Mr. Phillips gave them their full allowances last week.” She looked at her old friend. “Here I am complaining, and you’ve lost your wife and you walk with limp. You have as much to complain about as I do.” Make it work, she thought. It has to work.
A scant half hour later, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley came for a visit. Elizabeth and Jane were with them. From the look on Jane’s face, Mrs. Bennet could tell that Mr. Bingley proposed. Oddly enough, Elizabeth had a similar look of happiness. Mrs. Bennet could tell that Jane wanted to wait until Sir William left, but she couldn’t. She burst out her good news. After the warm congratulations, Elizabeth announced she had accepted a proposal from Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Bennet was stunned. She’d had no inkling he was interested in Elizabeth.
It took her a couple of minutes to understand, but when she did, she gave her consent and congratulations. “My dearest, sweetest Elizabeth! What wonderful news. How clever of you.”
She wanted to go on in that vein, but Elizabeth stood up and came over to kiss her cheek. Mrs. Bennet hoped Elizabeth knew she should be grateful. If Mrs. Bennet hadn’t planned the whole thing by inviting Mr. Darcy to the wedding, this would never have happened.
She gazed up at Elizabeth, noticing how very pretty she was today. In fact, Elizabeth was, in many ways, prettier even than Jane or Lydia. When she was being clever about important things, Elizabeth was Mrs. Bennet’s favorite daughter. She was pleased she worked so hard to see Elizabeth was happy.
Sir William suggested they get out the wine and toast the happy couples. When they toasted Jane and Mr. Bingley, and then Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, Sir William said, looking at Mrs. Bennet, “And now, I would like to toast the next Lady Lucas.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled. When they married in five months, she would have something her daughters never would have: a title.
The End
The Second Mrs. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Novella Page 11