Or, Mary considered, perhaps it was she herself who was the small thing, and thus easily disregarded. No matter how distracted she might be, Elizabeth always had sympathy and consideration enough to lavish upon Jane. When a letter had arrived that morning from Miss Bingley, regretting that she, Mr. Bingley, and indeed all their party had been urgently called away to London, no-one could have been more attentive to her bereft sister than Lizzy was to Jane.
Mary blew on the window and wrote her initials in the little patch of condensation. As she did so, she saw Mr. Collins appear in the garden, cross the lawn, and approach Charlotte and Lizzy. He bowed stiffly. Even from a distance, his discomfort at meeting Elizabeth was clear. But in an instant, with the smallest dip of a curtsy, Lizzy excused herself and walked away, quite slowly at first, her steps growing faster and faster, until she was running towards the gate, flying out onto the path into Meryton. Once she had gone, Mary watched as Mr. Collins offered Charlotte his arm. Charlotte graciously accepted, and at a steady, unhurried pace, they made their way into the beech grove until they were quite out of Mary’s sight.
Chapter 29
The following night, the Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases. There had been some debate whether Mr. Collins would attend; but when applied to, he very pointedly declared himself more than willing to spend an evening where he was so sure of being pleased.
When the family arrived that evening at Lucas Lodge, Mary was struck by how smart the rooms appeared. They were not lit and decorated with such attention when it was only the Bennets for supper; and Charlotte herself had taken equal trouble, dressed in an elegant white gown with green ornaments.
“Is that a new dress, Charlotte?” asked Mary. “It looks very smart.”
“Yes, I decided a while ago to lay waste to my allowance and spend it entirely on fripperies. I don’t suppose Dr. Fordyce would approve, but it does raise the spirits not to be the worst-dressed woman in the room for once.”
“That’s most unfair. You are always very well turned out.”
“Thank you. But for once, I feel rather better than that—and I must admit, it’s a very pleasing sensation.”
As Mary surveyed her, she thought there was indeed something different about Charlotte tonight. It was not only her new gown; there was an animation about her, a suggestion of excitement in her features which Mary had not seen before.
When they went in to dine, Mary saw she was placed at the end of the table with Elizabeth and Lydia. Mr. Collins occupied the place of honour, and Charlotte was situated close by him. Mrs. Bennet was seated as far away from the two of them as politeness allowed.
“Charlotte could not have been more obliging,” whispered Lizzy, as the first course was served. “There is almost no chance of our being required to talk to Mr. Collins from here, unless he were to spend the evening shouting at us, which I think even he would hesitate to do.”
Mary nodded, but as the meal went on, she watched Charlotte with increasing curiosity. Her attentiveness to Mr. Collins was really very marked. She helped him to the best dishes, made sure his glass was filled, listened to his conversation with every appearance of interest, and laughed winningly when some active sign of amusement was called for.
“Lizzy,” Mary asked, as the dessert was brought in, two delicate tarts and an ice decorated with spun sugar, quite unlike the homely puddings usually to be found on the Lucases’ table. “Do you think it possible that Charlotte is fond of Mr. Collins?”
Elizabeth looked at her, amazed.
“Of course not! She’s far too sensible for that! She is all generosity, and I am more grateful to her than I can possibly express.”
But whenever Mary looked up, there was Charlotte, deferential and smiling; and there was Mr. Collins, his self-possession restored, looking as pleased and as satisfied as she had ever seen him.
Mr. Collins was not at breakfast the following morning. He left word he should be out and that he was not sure when he should have the pleasure of seeing them again. As she buttered her bread, Mrs. Bennet looked uneasy. His absence unsettled her and made her cross; and soon, the lengthy reiteration of her familiar grievances drove everyone from the table except Mary.
“I am glad to have the opportunity to talk to you alone,” began her mother. “Please attend, as I have something important to say to you.”
Mary put down her cup.
“I have been thinking about Mr. Collins. Since Lizzy was so selfish as to refuse him, it has not been easy to know what to do next. Jane we may consider as already spoken for. Kitty and Lydia are very young to be thinking of marriage and are far too lively for him. So I have turned my mind towards you.”
“Towards me?”
“Yes, I think you understand me. Do not trifle with me this morning, Mary, my nerves are not equal to the strain.”
“I am sorry, Mama. But when I asked you, only a week ago, to consider if I was not perhaps best placed of all my sisters to suit him, you were adamant I was not.”
“Please don’t be more vexing than you need to be. A great deal has changed since then, as even you must see.”
“Yes, indeed. But I’m afraid we may have left it too late. I might have stood a chance at the beginning, especially if you had worked as hard on my behalf as you did for Lizzy. But I don’t think he would have me now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Why on earth not? Who else can he ask? Let us hear no more of he will not. But I need to be sure that you will accept him when he does offer. We cannot have a second refusal on our hands.”
Mary looked down at the table, as she felt herself flush with shame.
“It really doesn’t matter whether I will or will not take him. I promise you it is too late now. He won’t choose me.”
Mrs. Bennet flung down her napkin and stood up, infuriated.
“You are a very silly, ungrateful girl, and there is no talking to you. But I am not finished with you yet. We will speak about this again when I am feeling better.”
She slammed the door as she left the room. Mary sighed and stared out of the window. She was surprised to see Charlotte Lucas walking down the drive to the house. She had not been expected this morning, but Mary thought her presence would be very welcome. Her steady manner was always beneficial when feelings ran high in the Bennet household. And if Mary was able to speak to her alone, she might discover more about her inclinations towards Mr. Collins. Perhaps her mother was right and Mary had been mistaken? She supposed it would be useful to know.
But although Mary waited for Charlotte to arrive, she did not appear. When Kitty passed the door, Mary asked if she had seen her, and was told Charlotte had gone straight to find Lizzy. It seemed they had been closeted together in the drawing room ever since. It was nearly half an hour before Mary heard the door open and close. Still there was no sign of Charlotte. It was only when Mary looked out of the window that she saw her, walking briskly down the drive, clearly eager to be gone.
Mary ran to the hallway, seized her coat, and ran after her. She was sure something was amiss and was determined to discover what it was. She caught up with Charlotte just as the drive opened up onto the lane. Out of view of the house, there she stood, breathing hard and flinging her gloves from hand to hand. Mary rushed towards her.
“Didn’t you hear me calling you, Charlotte? Why didn’t you stop?”
Charlotte looked up. Mary had never seen her so distressed.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to smile and failing. “I was so taken up in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear you.”
“Something has happened, I can see that it has. Won’t you tell me what it is?”
Charlotte seemed unsure how to reply. She paced up and down the dusty path, kicking at the stones with her boots. Finally, she made her way to a low wall and settled herself upon it. She seemed a little calmer now.
“I suppose I may as well explain. Everyone will know about it soon enough. And you might understand better than most people why I have acted as
I have.”
She pulled a few weeds from the wall and began to twist them in her hands.
“Mr. Collins made me an offer of marriage earlier this morning, and I have accepted him. The wedding is to take place within the month.”
Mary sat down heavily beside her. So her suspicions had been right.
“I felt it my duty to tell Lizzy before it was generally announced. I didn’t think my decision would please her—we have always had such very different ideas on the subject of matrimony—but I did not expect…”
Her voice trembled for a moment, and Mary saw her hands were shaking. “I confess, Mary, I did not expect her to greet my news with such horror and contempt!”
“Those are very harsh words, Charlotte.”
“She cried out when I told her. She declared the engagement ‘impossible!’ I tried to explain my motives—that I asked only a comfortable home—that, given his character and connections, I was as likely to achieve that with Mr. Collins as with any other man of my acquaintance—I reminded her I was not romantic—but she was not to be moved. The look on her face as I tried to justify myself was very painful to me.”
“It must have been a great shock to her. Once she is used to the idea, I’m sure all will be well again.”
“She soon recollected herself, and then she was polite enough, offering congratulations and wishing me all possible joy. But, oh, Mary, I can tell I have fallen very far in her estimation!”
She covered her face with her hands, and a sob escaped her. Mary knew only too well how it felt to have Lizzy’s goodwill withdrawn from you. She searched for some words of comfort or reassurance, but found none. She took Charlotte’s arm in hers and they sat in silence until Charlotte cried no more.
“I’m glad you followed me,” she said haltingly. “I was afraid I might have forfeited your friendship, as it seems I have Lizzy’s. I thought you might feel that I have, as they say, cut you out. That in securing my own future, I have denied you a similar chance of escape.”
A strong breeze blew, and Mary realised she had rushed out without her hat. If anyone were to see them, it would seem a very strange situation, two young women perched on a wall, the wind whipping at their skirts, one of them hatless. But, thought Mary, if that person had heard their conversation, they would have found it even more extraordinary. She hesitated before replying, unsure how candid she should be. But she had nothing to lose now—why should she not tell Charlotte the truth?
“It is true I wondered whether it was not my duty—to my family as well as to myself—to try to persuade Mr. Collins to marry me. But I couldn’t manage it. No matter what I did, he was quite indifferent.”
“You’re very hard on yourself. You might have done better, given more time,” Charlotte said, almost herself once more. “But I couldn’t afford to be overnice on this occasion. An opportunity of this kind might never offer itself to me again. I am too old to be generous, even to you.”
Charlotte slid off the wall, and resumed her pacing, crossing and recrossing the path as she spoke.
“I cannot pretend I love him. As you have said yourself, he can hardly be considered a sensible man. But if I had any doubts I had done the right thing, they vanished when I told my family about his offer. I’ve never seen my parents more overjoyed; and my brothers were almost speechless with relief. I won’t be a dead weight on their hands now. They all thought I was destined to be an old maid; but now I will have a husband and can look forward to a home of my own.”
“One day, of course, that home will be Longbourn.”
Charlotte had the grace to look self-conscious.
“But not for many years, I hope.”
In the wood just beyond the path, a great crowd of rooks flew into the air, shouting and cawing angrily as they rose above the trees. Longbourn will belong to Charlotte, thought Mary. It might have been mine if I had succeeded with Mr. Collins. But I failed and instead, he has chosen Charlotte. She stared at the birds as they wheeled in the sky, quite indifferent to her pain. That Mr. Collins should want to marry Jane or Elizabeth was only to be expected; one only had to look at them to understand. But what had Charlotte to recommend her? Why, Mary asked herself, was she his choice and not me?
“You have been so honest with me, Charlotte, that I hope you won’t object to my being equally direct with you. Please do not spare my feelings in your answer. I should like to know why you believe Mr. Collins preferred you to me?”
Charlotte stopped her pacing, and joined Mary once more on the wall. She was not at all offended at the question.
“I suppose you could say that my flattery was more determined, my eagerness to please more insistent. I’m sure Lizzy would argue I was readier than you to surrender my pride and conquer my feelings in pursuit of worldly advantage.”
She picked up a stone from the path, and threw it as far as she could into the field beyond, as if dismissing Lizzy’s opinion with the same vehemence.
“But I think there is another difference between you and me. I have never hidden from you that I am unhappy in my circumstances and planned to do all I could to change them. But it is my situation I dislike, not myself. I’m not sure the same is true of you. It’s hard to persuade anyone, especially a man, that your regard is worth having if you have none for yourself.”
The breeze was a proper wind now, and Charlotte shivered. She pulled her coat tighter around her and stood up, ready to go.
“And that, I promise, is the last piece of advice I shall ever offer you. Please try to think of me as generously as you can. I should warn you that my father intends to call upon your family later today and inform them of the coming happy event. I don’t imagine what he has to say will be much to Mrs. Bennet’s taste.”
Chapter 30
When Sir William Lucas appeared at Longbourn that afternoon, his announcement that his eldest daughter was shortly to be united with Mr. Collins was met at first with astonished disbelief. As Mr. Collins himself had taken pains to ensure, with a combination of tact and apprehension, that he was away from home at this critical moment, he could not be applied to, either to confirm or contradict the report; but at first it seemed impossible to credit.
“Good Lord, Sir William, how can you tell such a story!” exclaimed Lydia. “Do not you know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?”
Sir William admitted he understood this had indeed been so—but that it was no longer the case. Mr. Collins’s affections were now fixed upon a different object, and there could be no doubt of his intending to marry his daughter as soon as was convenient. Elizabeth, who could no longer bear to see him so obviously disbelieved, raised her voice above the confusion to agree that all Sir William said was true, for she had heard it from Charlotte’s own mouth just a few hours before. At the same time, she sought to put a stop to the exclamations of incredulity of her mother and her sisters by offering Sir William congratulations as fulsome as could be justified on such an occasion. Jane joined in with great good nature, and even Mary managed to wish them well. But Mrs. Bennet said almost nothing at all until Sir William took his leave.
Then her anger was quite as terrible as Mary had feared. At first, she refused to believe the story at all; then gradually, her mood shifted from doubting its veracity to abusing those at its heart. Mr. Collins had been taken in, and by what means she did not like to consider. Who knew what methods Charlotte Lucas might have employed to ensnare him? She had always thought her a sly, untrustworthy girl. She hoped the match might still be broken off, and if it was not, then she wished they might never be happy. If Elizabeth had done as she ought and accepted him, now it would be she and not Lady Lucas who was planning a daughter’s wedding. But no-one attended to a word she said; her wishes were always disregarded.
When Mr. Collins eventually returned, an atmosphere of superficial politeness was, for a few painful hours, restored. Over the dinner table, Mrs. Bennet even managed to offer him a few chilly congratulations; but it could not be said to have been an enjoyable e
vening. Everyone except the future bridegroom was subdued. Only he seemed unconcerned, referring with no discernible embarrassment to his dearest Charlotte, and observing how often it was that an initial setback was eventually revealed to be a blessing in disguise, heralding as it did a prize of even greater value.
“In your case,” observed Mr. Bennet, “the time between the two events was mercifully short, was it not?”
Mr. Collins agreed, quite unembarrassed, that this was indeed so, and he did not count it as the least of his blessings that he had not been obliged to wait too long for his good fortune. Perhaps more to his listeners’ liking was the information that he did not intend to trouble them much longer with his presence at Longbourn, but would return as soon as possible to Kent and arrange his affairs there. He hoped, however, that they would not object to his visiting them again in a few weeks’ time? As he and his amiable Charlotte were to be joined in matrimony at Meryton, it would be of incalculable convenience if he could persuade them to accept him once more as their guest.
It was impossible to say whether gratitude at his going so quickly or disappointment at the speediness of his return was uppermost in the minds of those around the table; but when the meal was over, only Mr. Collins seemed entirely happy with the way events had unfolded, laying down his napkin with every appearance of complete satisfaction.
The Other Bennet Sister Page 17
