Her parents and the Collinses—her two closest examples of matrimony—did not give her a very good opinion of the married state. Although she could tell herself she was a different person from her mother or Charlotte, the fear of making the wrong choice haunted her. Perhaps it was best that she had never formed a tendre for any man—given what Jane had endured after Mr. Bingley had departed.
In any event, Longbourn obviously needed her presence to help the tenants and her sisters. She could not afford to wed and move to a husband’s home; it was best not to dream of it.
Mostly Elizabeth was content with this idea—part realization and part decision. Only occasionally at night, when she had trouble sleeping, did she stare at the darkened window and regret that she would never have children.
She shook off this melancholy mood and recalled she had another reassurance to offer her sister. “Besides, I must awaken early tomorrow to help purchase the seed drill,” Elizabeth said. They had been fortunate to locate a used machine that Elizabeth could afford. The next morning, Mr. Greeves would use Longbourn’s wagon to fetch the device from a neighboring town, but Elizabeth needed to meet his wife beforehand to provide him with the funds. I must fix my thoughts on that, she admonished herself. Not mooning over silly balls.
The sisters’ first meeting with Mr. Greeves, Mr. Fisher, a few of the other tenants, and their wives had shown promise. Initially suspicious, the tenants had finally trusted the sisters enough to relate some quite distressing tales about happenings at Longbourn. The meeting had provided new urgency to her project. Unless something changed soon, the estate would lose some of its best and most experienced tenants when their leases expired.
When Mary had started presenting her ideas, the men had been wary and dubious. But the middle Bennet sister had come prepared with books and articles. She had only spoken for a few minutes before the tenants launched into interested questions about the new crop system and the yields they might expect. Mary had asked their opinions about implementing the system, and the conversation had quickly become a lively one. Thank God the tenants were more open-minded than Collins.
But they were just at the beginning of the project. Elizabeth and Mary still had a lot of work ahead of them.
“As it is, Jane, I would not have time for a ball anyway.” She managed a smile. “Even if the handsomest duke in the land were to ask for my hand, I would demur, saying, ‘I have more pressing business, sir.’”
Jane laughed. “Of course, you would not. If the handsomest duke in the land appeared at the assembly, you would refuse to dance with him because you believed him to be a pompous bore.”
Elizabeth burst into unexpected laughter. Jane so rarely made jokes. “Aye, very likely true,” she admitted.
“Of course, it is true,” Jane said. “I can never forget how you reacted to Mr. Darcy.”
The mention of the man’s name caused a quite puzzling jolt of uneasiness. They had heard nothing from the man for two years; no doubt he was numbered among their acquaintances who would prefer not to acknowledge any association with the Bennets. Yet she often found herself recalling something he had said or a particular turn of his countenance. It was quite perplexing. He had been proud and disagreeable. She should be eager to forget him altogether. “Indeed, Mr. Darcy was very pompous, but he was the last man in the world who would think to offer for my hand.” She gave a little laugh.
Nevertheless, her memory conjured the image of his face when she could barely recall the countenances of those who had accompanied him to Netherfield. I am being overly fanciful. Mr. Darcy was a handsome man despite his faults. Possibly the handsomest man of my acquaintance. Apparently, I am just as susceptible as another woman to the charms of an attractive face.
Jane’s eyes were sad. “I do not suppose we shall ever see them again.”
Elizabeth knew Jane was not talking about Mr. Darcy or Bingley’s sisters. “Someday we might visit London—”
“I would not dare to call upon them,” Jane said in a low voice. “They might give us the cut direct. Surely they know about Lydia. There could be no other reason his sisters stopped responding to my letters.”
Privately Elizabeth believed Mr. Bingley’s sisters had never intended to maintain a friendship with Jane; Lydia’s behavior had merely provided a convenient excuse. But Jane was determined to think well of everyone and would not be convinced.
Jane’s fingers teased one of the curls near her neck. “No, it is better this way—if I never see him again. I will always remember Mr. Bingley as the most amiable man of my acquaintance. That is enough.” Only Elizabeth understood how much his sudden departure still troubled her gentle older sister.
“Perhaps a dashing young officer will attend,” Elizabeth said. A new militia regiment had been stationed at Meryton for several months, providing income to the town and distraction to the young women.
“Perhaps. I am certain Mr. Shaw will be there.” Jane’s smile was a little tremulous.
Jane was already resigned to her fate. Elizabeth wanted to utter some unladylike oaths. “Perhaps you can avoid him.”
Jane fiddled with some lace on her sleeve. “Our cousin would be angered if I did not dance with him.”
This was true, and Jane would not defy Collins in this. She might defy him for the sake of others, but she would never do so for her own.
“Perhaps you will be so much in demand as a partner tonight that the admiral will not have the opportunity. With these clever rosebuds in your hair, all eyes will be upon you.” Jane giggled a bit at this declaration.
The door swung open, and Kitty marched in. “Oh good, you are ready,” she said to Jane. “I need you to come and dress my hair. Mary is hopeless!”
***
Darcy’s appearance at the assembly dance had caused quite a stir. People who did not know him marveled at such a tall, well-dressed man appearing in company at Meryton. Those who did recognize him were quick to reassert their acquaintance, which Darcy found rather irritating.
After a long and pointless conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Long, he was accosted by Sir William Lucas, who pumped his hand and recommended several of his daughters as dance partners. Darcy thanked the man but declared a disinclination to dance at the moment. When Elizabeth joined the festivities, Darcy would need to find a reason behind his sudden urge to dance.
As he spoke with the attendees, he positioned himself to discreetly scrutinize the room’s entrance. When would the Bennets arrive? With four unwed daughters, surely Mrs. Bennet would not miss such an occasion. After half an hour passed and he saw no sign of the family, Darcy was compelled to put the question to Sir William.
“The Bennet family?” The older man surveyed the room as if he had somehow missed them. “They will be here presently, I would imagine. Mr. and Mrs. Collins would never miss such an event,” he added somewhat inscrutably.
A few minutes later, Darcy understood Sir William’s meaning. Mr. Collins promenaded through the entrance to the assembly room with his arm held high and his wife’s hand in his. His suit was too formal in both cut and fabric for a country dance; indeed, it would be ostentatious at Almack’s. With his haughty stare, Collins seemed to believe they were the medieval lord and lady arriving at the great hall for the feast. He paused in the entrance long enough to allow everyone to admire his attire and conferred smiles upon the room like favors granted by an ancient king.
By contrast, Mrs. Collins’s smile was rather fixed in place, and she would not meet anyone’s eyes. Her gown was a modest brown velvet, quite comparable to what the other ladies of quality were wearing.
But the question of how Collins styled himself was only of passing interest to Darcy. He longed to see the remainder of the Longbourn party. Once the first couple had passed through the doors, Mrs. Bennet, wearing black, hurried into the arms of other women her age. Pulling out a handkerchief, she immediately commenced to exclaim vociferously while also dabbing her eyes. Of course, the woman would make a performance of her widowho
od; why would Darcy expect anything else?
Miss Jane Bennet, as beautiful as he remembered her, glided into the room, accompanied by one of the younger daughters. He struggled to recall the different sisters. He believed Mary was the egregious piano player, and Lydia had run away, so this one must be…Catherine, called Kitty. She was pretty enough and possessed a sweet smile. Two years ago, she had been running after officers, but now she bore herself with far more dignity and grace. As he watched, she greeted one of the militia officers with civility and struck up a conversation. Jane Bennet slid more deeply into the room, passing several groups of young ladies her age without greeting them; apparently Timson had been correct about the family’s ostracization.
Unexpectedly, the doors closed behind Miss Jane and Miss Kitty; nobody followed them. Darcy watched the entrance for several minutes, certain that Elizabeth and the other sister must have lingered outside. But the hour grew late, and they did not appear. Was Elizabeth sick? Had she left town suddenly? Was she recently betrothed? Darcy’s stomach knotted with anxiety.
Finally, he abandoned his vigil and wended his way through the crowd in search of Miss Jane Bennet.
Unfortunately, she was dancing with a tall, striking man with a military bearing, and Darcy was unable to move quickly enough to escape a conversation with Collins. “Mr. Darcy!” Collins exclaimed in evident delight. “I was unaware you had returned from the New World. Have you informed your aunt? I did not hear the news.”
Good Lord, did Aunt Catherine share everything with this fool? “No, we arrived only a few days ago.”
Collins’s eyebrows rose, and Darcy cursed himself. Now the man would wonder why he had been in such a hurry to visit Hertfordshire. “I had some urgent business in Meryton,” he said in his haughtiest voice. It was not quite a lie, and he knew Collins would not dare question him if he believed the reason to be private.
But Collins had already exhausted his interest in Darcy’s life. “As you can see, sir, there have been some material alterations in my circumstances since we last encountered each other.” He preened, smoothing the front of his waistcoat, which was a most unholy shade of puce with green and gold embroidery. No doubt some shopkeeper had told Collins it would contribute to a gentlemanly image. His coat must have cost a pretty penny, but it was too big in the chest and too tight in the shoulders. As for his breeches, stockings, and slippers…the less said, the better. Darcy hoped he could soon blot them from his memory.
Collins was perfectly dressed to play the role of a man without discernment who had newly come into money.
“So I understand. My congratulations,” Darcy said.
“Thank you.” Collins made a half bow. “I flatter myself that I have made a few improvements at Longbourn since my arrival. Bennet squandered money horribly, you know.”
“Indeed?” Bennet’s clothing had never been half so expensive.
“Yes, and he was terribly lax with the staff and”—the man lowered his voice—“with his daughters. You heard about the youngest?”
Darcy nodded, and Collins gave a slow shake of his head in a parody of sadness. “Death would have been preferable to such disgrace, and now her sisters must bear the shame.” The ghoul. How often had Collins shared that sentiment with the Bennet family?
“Speaking of Mr. Bennet’s daughters,” Darcy seized the opening, “I glimpsed Miss Jane and Miss Kitty, but not Miss Elizabeth or Miss Mary. I hoped I might pay my respects to all of them.”
“Oh?” Collins glanced about the room vaguely, as if he had only now realized that two members of his party were absent. “I suppose Lizzy and Mary were not interested in attending.” Darcy did not believe this for a minute. Elizabeth always delighted in society.
“They are not unwell?”
“I do not believe so….” He waved his hand dismissively.
“But I understood they reside at Longbourn with you?”
Only then did Collins realize he appeared to care nothing for his own family members. “I…er…have not seen them since yesterday’s dinner. Mrs. Bennet might give you a fuller report.”
Darcy was not quite desperate enough to volunteer for a conversation with Mrs. Bennet. Unfortunately, it was not easy to rid himself of Collins, who always regarded Darcy as eager to share the singing of Catherine de Bourgh’s praises. “Your aunt was of tremendous assistance when this estate was so unexpectedly transferred to me. She condescended to bestow extensive advice upon me.”
“I would imagine,” Darcy murmured.
Collins had his eyes closed and his mouth curved in ecstasy at the memory. “‘The house is disgracefully overstaffed,’ she said. ‘And never allow the tenants to take advantage of you.’ I can assure you I have taken her words to heart…”
Darcy managed not to roll his eyes. Knowing how Rosings was operated, Darcy would not have taken his aunt’s advice on anything. Ten minutes later the man was still talking, and Darcy had given up any pretense of listening as he kept an eye on Jane Bennet. “And she gave Charlotte excellent counsel about the carpet in the breakfast room, although my dear wife has not yet had an opportunity to make those improvements. We were blessed with a little boy last year.”
“Congratulations,” Darcy managed.
“Yes, Lady Catherine personally chose a wet nurse for him and sent her all the way from Kent—”
“I beg your pardon,” Darcy interrupted the monologue. “The set is finished, and I must speak with Miss Bennet on a most urgent matter.”
“Jane?” Collins said dubiously. “Er…of course.”
Miss Bennet had just parted from her dancing partner, who was, now that Darcy saw him up close, quite a bit older than she and walking with a pronounced limp. She had smiled sweetly at the man, but Darcy did not detect any signs of great regard. Perhaps he was simply an old friend of her parents’.
I should have told Bingley what I learned about the Bennets. Darcy’s conscience gave a guilty twinge. But how could he account for hiring someone to visit Meryton and essentially spy on the Bennets? And he did not know if Jane Bennet would welcome renewed attentions from Bingley.
But now the woman in question stood before him, perhaps giving him a chance to guess the answer. “Miss Bennet.” He gave her a little bow.
Her eyes grew large. “Mr. Darcy! I did not know you were in Hertfordshire.” She curtsied.
“I arrived only yesterday.”
“Oh, I see.”
Miss Bennet had aged. Worry had carved lines around her mouth and created dark shadows beneath her eyes. She had lost weight so that her gown fit rather loosely. The dress itself was a bit shabby with pulled threads in the skirt and a frayed hem. Darcy realized with a shock that it was the same dress he had admired on Elizabeth when he first encountered her at the Meryton assembly. He experienced sudden nausea. Could the Bennet sisters indeed not afford new gowns? That hardly seemed likely if Collins and his wife could avail themselves of the latest fashions.
What had happened during the past two years? Darcy was wild to know and yet feared the answer.
Miss Bennet blushed at his perusal of her gown. If only he could somehow reassure her that he did not judge her appearance but instead worried about her family’s well-being.
“I noticed Miss Kitty and your mother with you. Are Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary here as well?” he asked, although he knew the response.
Jane bit her lip. “Uh, no. Mary does not care for balls, and Lizzy is…watching over the Collins’s baby, Robert.”
“Surely they have a nurse?”
Jane stared at the tips of her dancing slippers. “Er…not at the moment. The child is weaned, so the wet nurse has departed, and Mr. Collins has not hired someone new…” Darcy was shocked. They did not have a nurse or a nanny of any sort? “Ordinarily…Kitty watches the child,” Miss Bennet hastened to add, “but she wanted to attend the dance…”
“I see.” Darcy did indeed see. Kitty had been pressed into service as the child’s unpaid nurse, and Elizabeth had take
n her sister’s place so she might attend the assembly. Obviously such an arrangement benefitted Mr. Collins. He was already supporting Kitty; from his perspective he probably saw her as making herself useful. But it came perilously close to turning his cousin into a servant. And the nurse’s wages were obviously not now invested in new gowns for the Bennet sisters. Instead they became Collins’s badly embroidered waistcoats.
Darcy started to regret every civil word he had uttered to the man.
“Perhaps I will call on her tomorrow,” he said absently.
Jane’s eyes widened. “Er…I am sure Mr. Collins would be pleased if you would call upon the family.”
Of course. If Collins perceived Darcy giving preference to his dependent cousin, he might be displeased with her. “Yes, yes. I will be pleased to see everyone at Longbourn.” If only he could learn how Elizabeth was truly faring! But he could think of no polite way to embark on such a frank discussion.
Perhaps there was another way. “And how fares your—”
Collins appeared suddenly, looming over his cousin. “My dear, perhaps you should obtain some of the delicious punch?” He raised a cup with a smile, but his tone of voice made the suggestion into an order. Was he attempting to separate Miss Bennet from Darcy? Surely he did not suspect any attachment there?
But just as the woman turned to leave, Collins grabbed her elbow and spoke in an undertone. “Stand there.” He pointed. “Mr. Shaw might request another dance.”
Ah, now Darcy understood. The older man was speaking with Mr. Long near the punch table, and Collins wanted his cousin to situate herself nearby. But the man was quite old; surely even Collins would not think of marrying her to— A wave of nausea swept over Darcy again.
Miss Bennet flushed bright red, no doubt suspecting that Darcy had overheard her cousin’s mercenary words. She gave Darcy a brief curtsey. “I beg you to excuse me, Mr. Darcy. Hopefully, we will see you at Longbourn before long.”
Rebellion at Longbourn Page 7