Deception

by Ola Wegner

  “I am afraid she is not, Mama,” Jane spoke calmly.

  “I think that she simply stepped on her own foot and is now trying to blame someone else for her condition,” Mrs. Bennet said with great conviction.

  “Mama, how can you say so?” Jane cried in outrage at her mother’s insensibility.

  “Oh… but she is all right after all,” Mrs. Bennet cried impatiently. “Doctor Trenton said so himself.” she added dismissively.

  “Bingley, Doctor Trenton, I think it is high time for us to go,” Mr. Darcy said unexpectedly, in a stern voice with an unreadable expression on his face.

  “But, Darcy,…” Mr. Bingley started to speak, but his friend was already walking briskly towards the door, without so much as a curt bow in the direction of Mr. Bennet and Jane.

  “Darcy,…wait,” Mr. Bingley cried again after the man, who had already disappeared into the corridor leading towards the main foyer.

  “Forgive me, madam.” Mr. Bingley bowed in front of Mr. Bennet. “I am afraid we have to go. We are happy to hear that Miss Elizabeth is faring better.” He said, dropping another bow in front of Jane and Mr. Bennet, and then quickly following his friend.

  “Miss Bennet, remember to keep your sister from any walking for the next two weeks,” Doctor Trenton said only, collecting his things calmly and disappearing through the doorway as well.

  ***

  At the same time, Elizabeth was settled comfortably in her room, curiosity burning in her about what was happening downstairs. She was sitting in the armchair by the window, her foot supported on the cushioned ottoman. She thought she heard raised voices from below, so she lifted herself from her place and wobbled a few steps to the window. First she saw Mr. Darcy walking hurriedly out of the house and climbing into the awaiting carriage without a second glance back. Soon Mr. Bingley ran out of the house, exclaiming something after his friend. At last, Doctor Trenton walked out calmly and, with the help of the servant, got into the carriage as well. The door closed and the carriage drove away.

  Elizabeth returned slowly to her place, wondering what could have happened downstairs to put Mr. Darcy into such an agitated state. Before she had managed to reach any conclusions, there was a knock at the door. It was her father.

  “How are you, my dear?” Mr. Bennet approached her.

  “I am fine, Papa.” Elizabeth smiled.

  Mr. Bennet moved a chair and then sat down beside her. He raised the hem of her gown, taking a long look at her bruised foot. “Does it hurt?” he asked, his expression clouded.

  “No, Papa. Only when I step on it,” Elizabeth assured him, still smiling.

  Mr. Bennet sighed, lifted from his place and titled her chin. “Why did you not tell me last night it was Mr. Collins who did this to you?”

  “Father, I could hardly do so in front of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Brooke,” Elizabeth spoke uneasily. “Moreover, you cannot imagine how embarrassing it is to confess such a thing in front of strangers. It was not my intention to draw anyone’s attention.”

  “You will not have to bear that man’s company any more, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said, reaching his hand to stroke her head. “I promise.”

  “But, Papa…” Elizabeth started, but her father was already walking out of the room.

  In the next half hour, Elizabeth could hear that her mother and father were arguing. At last, the door to her room opened wide, and much like in the drawing room that morning, her mother filled the entryway.

  “Lizzy, Lizzy, you must tell your father you will marry Mr. Collins!” Mrs. Bennet demanded, her chest heaving, her complexion flushed as if from great exertion.

  Elizabeth stared at her mother, her mouth slightly agape. “I do not understand.”

  Mrs. Bennet dropped on the chair beside her and started to speak very quickly. “Mr. Collins told me only last evening that he was decided to propose to you, Lizzy. But now your father has told him such horrible things. He has nearly thrown him out of Longbourn. Oh, my poor nerves!” Mrs. Bennet fanned herself with her handkerchief. “And when I mentioned to him that Mr. Collins is graciously willing to ask for your hand in marriage and rescue all of us from destitution after his death, your father…” Mrs. Bennet took a deep breath as if to calm herself only to exclaim almost hysterically. “He refused his consent. Can you imagine that? Mr. Bennet does not care for us at all.” Mrs. Bennet waved her hands in apprehension. “At all,” she added as she continued to cry out.

  Elizabeth stayed silent, too astounded by all she had heard from her mother in the last couple of minutes to formulate a coherent reply.

  “Now, Lizzy you must go downstairs and tell Mr. Collins you are ready to accept him.”

  “I cannot do that, Mama,” Elizabeth said without much thought.

  “I will help you walk downstairs, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet offered readily, obviously thinking that her daughter’s words referred to her injured foot and her inability to walk. “We must hurry, because Mr. Collins is already packing his belongings. He is threatening to move to Lucas Lodge. Can you imagine such a thing? He says that Sir William has invited him for a prolonged stay at Lucas Lodge. Oh, I always knew that Lady Lucas was a cunning woman. She has been waiting to snatch away Mr. Collins from us for her own daughters.”

  “Mama, I will not go anywhere.” Elizabeth straightened herself in her place. “I will not try to convince Mr. Collins to stay because I have no desire to accept his proposals.”

  Mrs. Bennet blinked a few times. “Lizzy, child, you cannot be serious.”

  “I am perfectly serious, Mama,” Elizabeth answered steadily.

  “But child, you cannot overlook your own good fortune in Mr. Collins' proposal. You will have this home after you father’s death, and you will ensure the safe future for all of us, for me and your sisters.”

  “Mama, I am aware of our situation, but I cannot marry Mr. Collins.”

  “And why not?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice started to sound irritated. “Could you please enlighten me?”

  “Mama, it is simply that I do not love him.”

  “Love him?” Mrs. Bennet cried mockingly. “You think that love is what marriage is about? Let me tell you, it is not the matter of love, but finding a respectable place for a woman in life, ensuring yourself a safe future. What has love to do with that?” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Mama, it is not even so much the matter of my lack of feelings towards Mr. Collins. I might have perhaps given second thoughts to his offer were he a man of some sense and education. I simply know I will never be able to like him or respect him. He is not my equal as far as interests and intelligence are concerned.”

  “So what if he is stupid?” Mrs. Bennet cried incredulously. “That is even better that he is so. He will be more easily controlled. Were you as smart as everyone thinks you are, you would understand this.”

  “It is not what I want in a marriage. I want a partnership.”

  Mrs. Bennet stared at her second daughter, mouth wide agape, for a long moment. “This is all you father’s fault. All those books he encouraged you to read! And this is the result. A bluestocking upstart under my roof! Oh, my poor nerves!”

  “Mama, please put yourself in my position.” Elizabeth caught her mother’s hand and looked pleadingly into the older woman’s face. “I simply cannot marry him. Not him.” She paused as if looking for the right words. “I find him repulsive,” she added quietly at last.

  Mrs. Bennet’s previously harsh and unyielding expression suddenly softened. “Daughter, I imagine you must have heard some tales concerning a marriage bed, but it is not that bad, I assure you.” She gave Elizabeth’s hand a squeeze. “I think that Mr. Collins will not be too demanding. It will be enough for you to welcome him into your bed once a month. I promise to teach you how to avoid the occurrence as much as possible. And after you will have given him a son, perhaps you will be in the right to lock him out completely in this respect. You will have children to take care of, and I am sure there are enough country girls in Ken
t to be found to appease your husband’s needs in this respect.”

  Elizabeth looked in sheer disgust at her mother saying the last words, but said nothing.

  Mrs. Bennet leaned towards her and whispered into her ear. “If everything goes well, it will be enough to let him come to your bed no more than a few times. That’s all. You see, I got pregnant with Jane just the first night.”

  Elizabeth did not look at her mother, but turned her head to the window. “No, Mother. I will not do it. I will never marry Mr. Collins.”

  There was a moment of silence before Mrs. Bennet spoke again. “As you wish, you ungrateful girl. But be aware that you are losing your only chance to catch a husband. Who will want such an impertinent, headstrong girl, without dowry or even looks?” Mrs. Bennet voice sounded cold and cruel. “But do not come to me for support you when your father’s time comes,” she added before leaving the room.

  ***

  The next few days, Longbourn was as quiet as ever. Both Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Bennet closed themselves in their rooms, leaving them rarely. Elizabeth was happy to stay in her room with her books, in fear of encountering her mother. She had no desire to be carried downstairs for the time being. She wrote a very long letter to her beloved Aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, pouring her heart into it. Her foot changed colours daily, and the week after the ball, it took on the shade of an unattractive yellow. Her father visited her every morning, asking about her health, but never starting the subject of Mr. Collins. Her mother had not visited her even once since the day when their cousin moved to Lucas Lodge. Elizabeth told herself that she did not care.

  More than once, her thoughts returned to Mr. Darcy and the reasons for which he had come to Longbourn the day after the ball. She thought over and over again about what Mr. Brooke had said to her about Mr. Darcy, trying to grasp the meaning of it all. She knew from Jane that Mr. Brooke had called and asked about her. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that only after a few days did she notice that Jane, who kept her company these days, was in a strange mood herself.

  “You are sad, Janie. Has something happened?” Elizabeth enquired gently one day when her sister brought her breakfast.

  Jane was silent for a long moment before answering while preparing Elizabeth’s tea. “You would learn about it from other people, so perhaps it is better to know it from me.” Jane made a pause and added in a slightly trembling voice. “Mr. Bingley has left Netherfield.”

  “When?”

  Jane avoided her eyes carefully. “The same day they visited here.”

  “Perhaps they had some urgent business in town,” Elizabeth suggested, attempting to give her voice a light tone.

  But her sister shook her head. “I thought the same, but Hill said that servants from Netherfield where ordered to pack all the things and close the manor for the winter. And only yesterday I received a letter from Caroline Bingley.” Jane took out a folded card from a pocket on her apron and handed it to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth opened it and scanned the elegant note quickly. “That cannot be…” She raised her confused eyes to her sister.

  “But it is. Caroline writes very clearly that they intend to stay the entire winter in town,” Jane spoke, her voice only bearing the resemblance of calmness. She lowered her eyes, let a soft sigh and added quietly. “From what she writes, it seems that Mr. Bingley is about to be engaged to Miss Darcy. I heard her to be such an accomplished and lovely young lady, with excellent connections and a large dowry. It is no wonder that Miss Bingley desires such a young lady as Miss Darcy for her sister-in-law.”

  “Oh, Janie,” Elizabeth breathed, feeling her heart breaking for her beloved sister.

  Jane tried a smile, but it ended in a short, muffled sob. “Oh, Lizzy.” She lifted up her tear-filled blue eyes toward her sister. “I thought that he really cared for me.” She broke down with a quiet cry, supporting her head on Elizabeth’s arm.

  Cradling her weeping sister to herself, Elizabeth wanted to say something, but she stayed silent. She wanted to assure Jane that Mr. Bingley loved only her and that it was surely only his sisters’ doing to separate them. However, her only coherent thought was that with the disappearance of Mr. Bingley from her Jane’s life, Mr. Darcy disappeared from hers.

  Chapter Eight

  “You look so shocked, Lizzy,” Charlotte Lucas said, looking at her friend carefully, both of them sitting in the drawing room at Lucas Lodge.

  “No, Charlotte, perhaps I am a bit surprised with such a course of action.” Elizabeth said slowly, her eye resting on Mr. Collins and Sir William as they were moving across the room. “When Jane told me that you had accepted Mr. Collins’ proposal, I could hardly believe it.”

  Charlotte stared perceptively at Elizabeth’s confused expression and spoke calmly. “I know it may seem odd that Mr. Collins proposed to me merely a fortnight after he had asked for your hand. However, you must understand that he is determined to find a suitable wife before the end of the year. His patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, expects this of him.”

  Elizabeth reached out her hand and placed it on Charlotte’s palm reassuringly. “Pray, believe me, Charlotte, I am happy for you, on condition that you are satisfied with your marriage to Mr. Collins.”

  Charlotte smiled contentedly. “Indeed I am very well pleased, my friend. It is the fulfilment of all my wishes in life to marry a respectable man with adequate fortune. Mr. Collins has a position in the world, and his prospects for the future are very promising. Moreover, what cannot be overlooked in my situation, he does not ask for a dowry.”

  “Yes, that is all true,” Elizabeth said hesitantly, staring at her lap. “But, Charlotte, do you like Mr. Collins?”

  Charlotte laughed merrily, shaking her head. “Oh, Lizzy! I wish you could see your expression at this very moment. You look positively terrified. You speak about my betrothed s if he was some strange, alien creature.”

  Elizabeth blushed instantly and murmured. “Forgive me. It was not my intention to offend your betrothed.”

  However, Charlotte did not seem to take the offence. “I know very well what you are thinking, Lizzy. I know you, and I am well aware of those ideas of romantic love you believe in. Pray, believe me that I am very well satisfied with my present situation. And Mr. Collins is not that bad, and when I eventually order him a good bath, he will become a very pleasant company in every respect.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she stared at her friend for a moment, before erupting in an animated laughter. Charlotte joined her, which soon brought Mr. Collins to her side, asking for the source of such an amusement.

  Charlotte winked at Elizabeth before turning to him. “We have recalled our adventures when we were little girls, Mr. Collins. I will be missing Eliza after leaving Herefordshire for my new home in Kent. I thought that perhaps she could pay us a visit later next year.”

  “That is a most excellent idea, my dear!” Mr. Collins exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Most excellent idea! Lady Catherine would be well pleased to meet one of my fair cousins. And you, Cousin Elizabeth, I think you will be happy to have the opportunity to meet in person such a noble lady as my patroness.”

  “I am sure of that, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth answered, concentrating very hard to keep a straight face. “Meeting Lady Catherine de Bourgh must be the most unforgettable experience for anyone, there is no doubt of it.”

  “My father and my younger sister are to come to Hunsford in March. You could join them, Eliza,” Charlotte said, with a pleading look in her grey eyes.

  Elizabeth looked from her friend to Mr. Collins, and spoke cautiously. “It is my fervent wish to visit you in your new home, Charlotte, but first I will have to talk with my father. I cannot give you a certain reply now.”

  “Of course, Eliza, I understand that you have to discuss it with your father. But you would go together with my father, so I cannot imagine that Mr. Bennet could have any objection against such a trip.”

  “I expect you are right, Charlotte,” E
lizabeth agreed with a kind of reluctance, clearly not entirely convinced about the idea. “My father will undoubtedly allow me to go.”

  “Then it is settled.” Charlotte squeezed Elizabeth’s hand, at the same time placing her other palm on Mr. Collins’ arm. “We shall await you early in the spring. I have heard so much about the beauties of Kent, I know you will like it.”

  “I am sure I will.” Elizabeth smiled at her friend, while carefully avoiding looking at her betrothed. “Once again, let me thank you for you kind invitation.”

  ***

  Soon Elizabeth excused herself from the company at Lucas Lodge, refusing even to take tea with Charlotte and Lady Lucas. She could not stay there longer and calmly observe Charlotte allowing that man to attend her, kiss her hand, pay her those nonsensical compliments. The worst was that her poor friend had to pretend that she was delighted with Mr. Collins’ attentions.

  It was the very first day Jane had allowed her to venture outside the house for a short walk. Her foot had healed very well, and the bruising diminished almost completely. She longed to go out, as being kept at home had never affected her spirits in a positive way. Visiting Charlotte had seemed to be a very good idea when she had woken up earlier in the morning. She certainly had not expected that such shocking news would be awaiting her at Lucas Lodge. She wondered whether her mother had already learned about Charlotte’s engagement to Mr. Collins. Probably yes, because on leaving Longbourn this morning, Elizabeth had caught a glimpse of Aunt Philips approaching the manor hastily.

  Before entering her home, Elizabeth took a deep breath, preparing herself to hear her mother’s hysterics about the Collinses throwing them out of Longbourn and about her selfishness and ungratefulness as a daughter for the rest of the day.

  Already in the foyer, Elizabeth heard voices coming from the drawing room, indicating that perhaps they had guessed. Hill, together with a maid, came from the back of the house, carrying trays with refreshments.