The only fact that supported one side of the question and not the other was Mr. Darcy’s temperament. Elizabeth could very well imagine his reaction to being told that his sister wished to marry Mr. Wickham. She did not know the details of the living Mr. Wickham had lost, but she suspected that, in Mr. Darcy’s view, it would appear a modest income.
Mr. Darcy claimed his opinions on such matters were recently changed, but she could not imagine them that changed. In any case, they had not been changed a year ago, when the supposed event had occurred.
Elizabeth had been silent as she did Jane’s hair, mulling over the facts at her disposal. It suddenly occurred to her that Jane was equally quiet.
“What do you think of, Jane?” she asked.
“Come, you must know what I think of,” Jane said.
For a moment, Elizabeth could not guess. Then she realized her mind had been so full of her Aunt Phillip’s house and what had been said and observed there that she’d entirely forgotten what must occur at Lucas Lodge.
“Ah,” she said. “Emma’s capitulation. Our dear cousin must unwind the web she so clumsily weaved.”
“How will she do it, Lizzy?” Jane asked, her voice full of the nerves it was clear she felt. “Is she to just march up to Mr. Bingley and say by the by, Miss Elizabeth Bennet does not prefer you after all. I am sorry I said so.”
The idea made Elizabeth laugh. “Goodness,” she said, “I had not thought. I cannot speculate on how Emma will do it, but misguided or no, our cousin has shown herself to be a resourceful sort of person. I am sure she will think of something.”
“I feel embarrassed down to my shoes just thinking of it,” Jane said.
“You?” Elizabeth said merrily. “It is I who was admiring, and now am to become not admiring after all. I find myself exceedingly fickle.”
“I will not even know what direction to look,” Jane said. “And how will I know when it’s been done? I shall be on tenterhooks all evening.”
“It is an awkward situation, to say the least,” Elizabeth said. “Though I think it shall all come right in the end. As well, dear Jane, I think you will know when it has been done.”
Compared to Stag Hill, which was a newer house, Lucas Lodge had a somewhat eccentric and ramshackle aspect to it. It had begun a hundred years ago as a small place, and then been added to over the generations. If its appearance were to tell the tale of its inhabitants, it was clear to anybody who considered it that the various occupants held wildly varying ideas of what the house should be.
Prior to Sir William purchasing the place, the last owner, Mr. John Ramsey, had built a gloriously ridiculous folly to the right of the house—a tower topped by gnomes and fairies peering out in all directions as a comment on the gossips of the neighborhood. Sir William, on the other hand, wished for a bit more pomp and circumstance than either a folly or a stable could provide and had installed columns in front of the house. As those columns did not actually support anything, the house had taken on the odd appearance of a Greek ruin.
The drawing room was a study of Lady Lucas and Sir William’s marriage. Sir William would bring the pomp and circumstance indoors, while Lady Lucas preferred a quiet elegance. Understated cream silk curtains looked down upon bold gold-leafed chairs, their backs embroidered with Sir William’s crest. Thoughtful arrangements of porcelain resided next to Sir William’s much-thumbed book of heraldry. Portraits of long-gone generations hung next to the largest portrait of all—Sir William standing regally in front of St. James Palace. Lucas Lodge had the effect of a comfortable, if slightly eccentric, mishmash.
Elizabeth had made her way round the room and said her hellos, including to Mr. Darcy who, if it were possible, appeared even more serious and silent than usual. The meeting was uncomfortable, and she had moved on as soon as she could. She now stood with Colonel Fitzwilliam, happy to observe Jane speaking to Mr. Bingley.
“Miss Bennet,” the Colonel said, “I have made my intentions known at Stag Hill. I intend to call on Miss Mallory on a regular timetable.”
“Have you?” Elizabeth asked, though she could not count herself surprised. Emily Mallory might be a proud and silly girl, but the Colonel had need of acting in a practical manner.
“I have,” the Colonel said. “Further, while I am there, I shall make a great effort to convince Emily, I mean, Miss Mallory, that she has no cause to feel inferior to the Bennets.”
Elizabeth was taken aback by the Colonel’s words. Inferior? Emily Mallory considered herself superior to the Bennets.
“I do not suppose you will be long at your work, Colonel,” Elizabeth said, laughing. “I believe Miss Mallory has never felt a hint of inferiority to my family.”
The Colonel, in his turn, looked surprised at Elizabeth’s words. “Indeed, she does,” he said. “She always has. I understand the cause of it, of course. She frets that her grandfather was a clerk and they do not have much of a family history. There are many such families, going about wondering if they are viewed as impostors. And then, to rub salt in the wound, there are the Bennet girls, coming from a long line of gentlewomen. It is hardly surprising Emily feels as she does.”
Elizabeth did not speak. She did not know how to respond. All along she had presumed that Emily Mallory peered down her pretty nose at the Bennets. Heavens, the Bennets had never intimidated anybody. At least, she had thought not.
“But Colonel,” Elizabeth said, “Miss Mallory, well she has often, what I mean to say—”
“No need to explain, Miss Bennet,” the Colonel said. “You refer to the endless comments on her dowry, no doubt. One often finds that a person will present themselves as overly confident when they are not confident at all. So it has been with the Mallorys. Her dowry was the only thing she thought she possessed to recommend her; I have since informed her otherwise.”
Elizabeth felt rather ashamed of all the times she had spoken ill of Miss Mallory or found her father so tiresome. How difficult it must be, to be unsure of one’s reception! Elizabeth had never given a thought to Emily’s grandfather being a clerk, but now she saw that Emily had. That Emily assumed everybody had given it a thought.
“For all that,” the Colonel went on, “she’s a stalwart sort of girl. Miss Bingley accompanied me to Stag Hill yesterday, though I did not particularly wish it. Miss Bingley, you will understand, is not comfortable unless she is mocking somebody or something. She would make some comment about the peas at Longbourn. I did not understand the half of it but was charmed by Miss Mallory’s spirited response. You may consider your house well-defended when Miss Mallory is nearby. Ah, there she is, you will excuse me.”
Elizabeth slowly sat down. Now Miss Mallory was defending the Bennets? She flushed as she imagined Miss Bingley’s scornful comment on Mrs. Bennet’s crowing over the peas. She flushed even more when she considered that Emily Mallory, of all people, had put Miss Bingley in her place.
How could she have misunderstood another’s true nature in such a spectacular fashion?
Emma sat down next to Elizabeth. “What troubles you cousin? Are you ill? You are very pink.”
“I am not ill, Emma,” Elizabeth said. “I have only realized that I am a very bad judge of character. I am a very bad judge of people in general. I think I understand them, and then I find I do not.”
Emma patted Elizabeth’s hand. “Ah, well, I suppose I am glad I am not alone in that. Now, I will tell Jane you have need of her, thereby having Mr. Bingley to myself for some minutes. He will know the truth. That is all we can do, is it not? Correct our mistakes as quickly as we can?”
Elizabeth watched as Emma accomplished her aim in mere moments. Jane was by her side and Emma was speaking confidentially to Mr. Bingley.
“Dear Lizzy,” Jane said, “Emma said you needed me. As I am looking at you, I fear you are ill.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You are the second person to think it, but I am not at all ill. It was only a ruse to get you away. Our clever cousin is just now confessing her crimes to M
r. Bingley.”
Now it was Jane who flushed so red she might have been ill.
“There now, Jane,” Elizabeth said, “I shall tell you something that will distract you. Did you know that Emily Mallory has always felt herself inferior to the Bennets?”
“Now you are inventing things to entertain,” Jane said.
“Indeed, I am not,” Elizabeth said in earnest. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is now courting the lady, told me it himself. She worries over her grandfather having been a clerk.”
“Why should she worry over such a thing?” Jane asked.
“Because she thinks everybody else thinks of it. The Colonel says she feels an impostor.”
Jane looked stricken. “Goodness. Have we misjudged her?”
“It appears so,” Elizabeth said. “I fear we have been unkind. We ought to have wondered why Miss Mallory did not call on us, rather than presume she did not because we were not worthy of her notice.”
“Then, we must call on her!” Jane said.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, “we must. We must end this coolness between us once and for all. By the by, the Colonel says Emily is a stalwart sort of girl, once one becomes better acquainted.”
Before Jane could answer, Mr. Bingley was before her. “Miss Bennet,” he said, “I wonder if you could show me Sir William’s collection of…books. Yes. Books.”
“Books!” Jane said. “Yes, books.”
With that wonderfully awkward exchange, Jane escorted Mr. Bingley to a bookshelf, where they not very convincingly pretended to examine books.
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth had not had any fear of being seated next to Mr. Darcy while at Lucas Lodge—Charlotte would have prevailed upon her mother to prevent it. It seemed, though, that Charlotte was not able to prevent every unpleasant possibility. While charming Mr. Claymore was to one side, Mr. Collins was on the other. This would, Elizabeth was certain, leave her often speaking to the clergyman. Mr. Claymore had his intended to his other side and would be too much distracted for her to expect any sort of reasonable behavior. Worse, Mr. Collins had Lydia to his other side and Lydia would not spend a moment speaking to him.
Mr. Darcy and Emma did not sit directly across from her, but rather diagonally. She would not hear their conversation, but they would be in view. Elizabeth supposed Emma would alert Mr. Darcy to the idea that Elizabeth’s interest in Mr. Bingley had been an invention. Emma would find a cold reception there, as Mr. Darcy could not be remotely interested in such news. However, Mr. Darcy might very well have to feign interest, as he had Mary on his other side. Elizabeth guessed that one lecture from Mary would be enough to teach Mr. Darcy that Emma was a more genial dinner companion.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Collins said in a muted voice, “I do wish to apologize for my behavior at Stag Hill.”
Elizabeth nodded. “It has all come right in the end, Mr. Collins. Colonel Fitzwilliam is to be a regular visitor to that house. I suppose he and Miss Mallory will be engaged before too long a time has passed.”
Mr. Collins crumpled his napkin in his fist. “And I am not engaged. Lady Catherine will not like it. She will not like it at all.”
“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said, “it is one thing for the lady to give her opinion on your closets, though that is peculiar, but it is another for her to direct when and who you marry.”
“If only that were true!” Mr. Collins said.
“But it is true,” Elizabeth said. “If the lady does not see that for herself, you must inform her of it.”
“Inform her of it?” Mr. Collins said, the horror in his voice evident. “One does not inform Lady Catherine of anything! Rosings is its own country with its own queen. One does not inform the queen that the queen has gone beyond her rights! Miss Bennet, what you propose is utter madness!”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. She thought she could see how Lady Catherine had settled upon Mr. Collins as her clergyman. He was an odd sort of person, but a less odd sort of person would be unlikely to hold the lady up as a queen. Poor Mr. Collins. He’d been sent out on a quest like a knight of yore and was to return home empty-handed to her majesty.
“Well,” Elizabeth said jokingly, “if you are determined that you must not fail in your aim, I am fairly certain Mary would be willing.”
Mr. Collins paused, and looked across the table at Mary. He was silent for some moments, then said, “In truth, she does look better ever since Miss Woodhouse did her hair. And when I think of it, I do not even own a pianoforte!”
“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said, “I spoke in jest. I do not believe you care a whit for my sister.”
Mr. Collins appeared thoughtful. “Yet, Miss Bennet, have not many marriages begun in the same circumstance, only to stumble upon felicity at some later date?”
“If it is felicity in marriage you seek,” Elizabeth said, “I am sure I do not think hoping to stumble upon it the most sensible course.”
“If she were to lecture even one time,” Mr. Collins went on, talking to himself, “Lady Catherine would put a stop to it. It might do. It really might do. Yes! I will do it!”
Elizabeth did not answer. She was not at all certain if she should be alarmed or glad. It was alarming to think of Mr. Collins asking Mary for her hand, only to satisfy Lady Catherine’s demands. Had it been another of her sisters she would take immediate steps to prevent it.
But it was Mary. Would Mary have another chance at marriage? That was a question she could not answer.
Still, if she would not take steps to prevent the proposal, Elizabeth would at least inform Mary of the conversation. If Mary were to accept the man, it would be well that she accepted with a clear eye regarding the circumstances.
Elizabeth’s attention was momentarily pulled from Mr. Collins as Lady Lucas said, loud enough for the entire table to hear, “Here comes James with the peas. The famed local recipe, you understand, originated at Lucas Lodge.”
Mrs. Bennet seethed, but only muttered something Elizabeth could not hear.
Elizabeth had two aims to accomplish after dinner. One was to speak to Mary, and the other was to occupy herself on the pianoforte so she would not have to speak to anybody else. If it was not her turn to play, she would happily turn pages for somebody else. Her misjudgment of Miss Mallory hung heavy upon her, and she was afraid she could not just assign it as a simple mistake. If she’d been wrong about Miss Mallory, what else had she got wrong? She still did not know the true circumstances regarding Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham, but she more than ever doubted her own ability to make a judgment on it.
The first necessity was to speak to Mary, as Elizabeth had already seen with what rapidity Mr. Collins could propose when he had a mind. While the gentlemen had been left to their port in the dining room, Elizabeth asked Mary to take a turn around the drawing room.
Mary’s expression at being asked shamed Elizabeth deeply. It was one of wonder and suspicion. As tiresome as her sister could be, Elizabeth realized that she should have made more of an effort with her. Her own sister should not be shocked that Elizabeth wished to have a confidential conversation. In truth, Mary might not be half so tiresome if she’d had more sisterly attention.
Mary had risen warily and now they walked arm in arm to the opposite end of the drawing room.
“Mary,” Elizabeth began, “I would wish to apprise you of a conversation I had at dinner, so that you are prepared for what may come.”
Mary’s lower lip trembled. “Papa has forbid me to play. Is that it?”
“No,” Elizabeth said, “though you might go lighter on the keys since you mentioned it. This concerns Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth felt Mary’s arm stiffen, but her sister said nothing.
“Mr. Collins feels an enormous pressure to marry, on account of Lady Catherine’s directive. I believe he intends to make a proposal, even though he does not feel any sort of attachment to the lady. Do you see what I say, Mary?”
Mary dropped Elizabeth’s a
rm and stared at her sister with a wrinkled brow. “Of course I see what you say, Lizzy. I am not an idiot, unlike some of my sisters.”
“I only wish you to consider the matter carefully,” Elizabeth said. “Marriage is a grave and serious undertaking.”
Mary suddenly laughed, much to Elizabeth’s surprise. “You wish me to consider a thing carefully? Good Lord, Lizzy, I have spent half my life attempting to get the rest of you to more carefully consider things.”
Elizabeth had no answer for that, as it was entirely true.
“I am the misfit in this family, as I well know,” Mary said. “Perhaps, though, I see the world more clearly than the rest of you. Lydia and Kitty may think they reign over the officers, but I think they will both come to a bad end. Jane does not appear to have many opinions of her own. And you, Lizzy, have far too many opinions, very few of which are grounded in any real knowledge.”
Elizabeth pulled back from her sister. “I did not know you looked upon us all with such derision,” she said.
“Really, Lizzy,” Mary said, “feigning innocence does you no credit. I have seen your sighs and smirks often enough when I have been talking or playing or even just breathing. It has been easy for all of you to forgive your own faults because you could point to Mary. Look at ridiculous Mary. Do not deny it. The only sister who does not point to me is Jane, and that is only because Jane rarely shows what she thinks.”
Elizabeth could not deny any of it, though she dearly wished she could.
“Emma has been the nearest thing to a sister that I have had,” Mary continued. “She may be more attached to you and Jane, but she has been kind to me.”
For the second time in one night, Elizabeth was deeply ashamed of her own behavior and judgments. And this was far worse! This was her own sister!
“I am sorry, Mary, truly I am,” Elizabeth said. “I have been careless and cruel and I will make amends for it. I really will.”
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