The Other Bennet Sister

by Janice Hadlow

  “I am very touched, Mr. Collins, by your words. You speak so warmly that I cannot fail to be moved. Like you, I have not been used to much affection and, for those reasons, will always think fondly of what you have said. But I think you understand as well as I do that nothing can come of it.”

  She picked up the little Greek dictionary and held it in her hand as she spoke.

  “I too have greatly enjoyed our lessons and have found much pleasure in your company. But I beg you, sir, not to let that enjoyment run away with you. I think you see me in far too rosy a light. I fear my main attraction is one of variety. I am like a twist of salt and pepper, a new flavour in a habit of life that has become very familiar to you. I’m sure that once you grew accustomed to me, my shortcomings and irritations would become only too apparent.”

  Mr. Collins tried to interrupt, but Mary did not allow it.

  “It makes me very miserable to see you so sad. But in truth I think you have the prospect of happiness within your grasp if you choose to reach for it. I have no doubt Charlotte has the capacity to become the wife you want, the companion you say you long for. She is steady and generous and good-hearted and I’m sure she yearns for affection just as you do. May I suggest you talk to her as you have talked to me over the last few weeks? And then I am sure you will not fail in what you hope for.”

  Suddenly her voice shook.

  “I have said all I can say—I am sorry, but now I really must go.”

  She left the room hurriedly, and Mr. Collins did not attempt to stop her. Once she had gone, he sat for a while at the window, before closing the shutters against the darkening evening.

  * * *

  On the far side of the garden, Charlotte sat on a small bench which offered a clear view into the library. From there, she had watched her husband and Mary engage in such animated conversation that neither noticed her dim presence as dusk enveloped her. For a while, she stared at the ground, motionless, until it grew too cold to remain. Only then did she return to the house, gathering her shawl round her shoulders, her step as determined as the expression on her face.

  Chapter 42

  For the next few days, Mary took great pains to avoid Mr. Collins after their conversation, hoping it would not be apparent to anyone but herself that she was doing so. She sensed he was doing the same; when they passed on the stairs, he could not meet her eye, but bowed his head and turned away. At the dinner table, he was cordial but distant, confining his conversation to polite enquiries about how Miss Bennet had spent her day. To Mary’s surprise, it was Charlotte who was now most vocal, chatting away about young William’s doings, filling the silences that might otherwise have loomed with embarrassing significance between them. She never referred to the sudden discontinuance of the lessons in the library; indeed, she seemed to have recovered all the affability and warmth with which she had greeted Mary at her arrival. At first, Mary was puzzled—she did not entirely understand the change in Charlotte’s manner—but she decided to follow her lead and respond with equal cheerfulness. Perhaps, she thought, the storm had passed, and things could return to the way they were. She ardently wished this might be so; and sometimes, as she watched the Collinses together, she allowed herself to believe her hopes were justified. Certainly, Charlotte seemed far more engaged with her husband. She smiled at him more often, listened to his conversation with more interest, and even touched his hand occasionally as they sat at the table. From beneath lowered eyelids, Mary watched Mr. Collins’s expression change from surprise to gratitude, tentative feelings of pleasure visible on his face whenever Charlotte offered him some mark of affection. Some of the anxiety which had tormented Mary since Mrs. Hill’s warning began to disperse, and she allowed herself to hope the worst was over.

  One afternoon soon after, she met Charlotte in the hall tying on her apron, a pair of gardening gloves in her basket and a large notebook in her hand.

  “I’m afraid, Mary, you will be left to your own devices until supper. Mr. Collins and I will be in the garden for as long as the weather holds. I have been considering the new arbour and am resolved to make it as elegant and inviting as possible. I have even drawn up some plans. What do you think?”

  She opened the notebook and passed it to Mary, who turned over the pages gravely.

  “I think it looks charming. It will be a great addition to Longbourn.”

  “Yes, we think so. I have always felt the want of one before. Fortunately, Mr. Collins finds my ideas exactly to his taste. He says they have given him a new enthusiasm for the work, which I must say does not surprise me. I never think it is a good idea to leave important matters entirely in the hands of husbands. Even the best of them can be led astray. Sometimes they need guidance to see clearly what is the best solution to any little difficulties they may have encountered.”

  She put on her hat and tied it under her chin.

  “But then, which of us can say we haven’t sometimes lost sight of what is required of us? I’m sure I have been as guilty of it as Mr. Collins.”

  She pulled on the gardening gloves, brisk and workmanlike.

  “The arbour might be considered a standing affront in that respect, a monument to our dilatoriness, if you like. But all that’s behind us now. In future, we shall combine our forces, work together to make it a thing of beauty. The fresh air will do us both good. If you choose, please feel free to spend your time in the library. I think you will have it to yourself from now on.”

  With a final bright smile, Charlotte walked into the sunlit garden. Mary stood in the hall, watching her go, before making her way to the library. There, she took up her Aristotle, but could not settle. The silence, which had once seemed a natural accompaniment to study, now made her feel lonely and restless. She missed the easy exchange of opinions, the sound of another voice. With no like-minded companion to encourage her, the Greek alphabet no longer brought her the pleasure it had once done. It gave no satisfaction to pronounce it when there was no-one to correct her. She struggled on for an hour or so, and then wandered over to the window. In the distance, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Collins at work on the arbour. He leant on his spade, whilst she marked out on the ground the plans she had drawn up. They seemed happy. Mary sat there for some time, staring at them as the library clock ticked away.

  Chapter 43

  A few nights later at dinner, Mr. Collins announced that they were soon to expect a visitor.

  “We are to be honoured with the presence of my erstwhile patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She is travelling to Derbyshire next week and has expressed a desire to break her journey here for a few hours, to see for herself how my dear Charlotte and I get on in our new home.”

  “We are delighted at her condescension,” murmured Charlotte, not catching her husband’s eye.

  “Indeed we are. The only misfortune—a very grave one, in my opinion—is that I cannot be here myself to greet her. The bishop has called a meeting of his clergy on that day, and though I have begged him to release me from the obligation, his lordship is implacable. But I have written to her ladyship, explaining the unfortunate circumstance, and she has graciously indicated her willingness to be entertained by Mrs. Collins alone on this occasion.”

  He smiled at Charlotte, who reached across the cloth and took his hand.

  “I have no doubt that you will acquit yourself admirably, my dear. As, I am sure, will you, Miss Bennet. Lady Catherine does not stand on ceremony and you can expect the privilege of being introduced to her.”

  Mary smiled politely, with a confidence she did not feel. She had heard a great deal from Lizzy about Lady Catherine and suspected her famous condescension would not be extended to plain, unmarried girls like herself. It would be best, she thought, to attract as little attention as possible, to do or say nothing at all that might provoke either Lady Catherine’s interest or disdain, for the first, she was sure, must in her case invariably lead to the latter. Next morning, as the house was readied to receive its grand visitor, Mary had ample opportunity
to practise the art of disappearance. Charlotte did not invite her to assist in the preparations, and Mary did not force her presence upon her. She was uncertain what to make of Charlotte’s shifting mood, sometimes cheerful, sometimes chilly and correct. It seemed easier simply to absent herself whenever she could, and she spent much of her time seeking out places where she should not be in the way. She was walking through the garden towards the orchard when she came upon Mr. Collins approaching from the other direction, to the discomfiture of them both.

  “Miss Bennet, I do beg your pardon. Believe me, it was not my intention to come upon you unawares.”

  “Oh, no, sir, it is my fault entirely. It is your garden, after all.”

  His face softened. She sought to walk on as quickly as she could, but before she could do so, he addressed her.

  “I do not wish to add to your embarrassment, but please allow me to say a word to you. I am conscious my behaviour in the library last week was not as it should have been, and I have long hoped to find a moment when I might seek your forgiveness. I am sorry if I caused you pain—although I cannot apologise for telling you how much I have enjoyed your company, for that was the truth.”

  “That is kind of you to say, sir, but—”

  “No, please don’t think I intend to repeat any other observations which escaped me that afternoon. All I wish is to thank you for the advice you so wisely offered me as you left. It was of inestimable benefit. I have already begun to act upon it, with, I venture to hope, encouraging results. I will always be grateful to you, for both your delicacy and your perception. I shall not trouble you further.”

  With that, he bowed and walked quickly away. Mary did not see him again until she watched from her bedroom window as his horse was brought round, and he rode off to his appointment with the bishop. Shortly afterwards, a grand and well-appointed carriage rolled up the drive. Mary straightened her dress and went downstairs, as prepared as she supposed she would ever be to meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  She waited in the drawing room, keen not to usurp Charlotte’s privilege of standing on the steps to greet her guest. Soon Lady Catherine swept into the room, tall, imperious, clad in the most beautiful silks Mary had ever seen. She seated herself in the best chair, from which she surveyed everything around her with an unblinking stare.

  “I must congratulate you, Mrs. Collins, on the improvements you have made to this room since I saw it last. It has elegance without presumption, comfort without any unsuitable pretensions to fashion. You may tell Mr. Collins it has my entire approval, with the exception, I am afraid, of the curtains at those south-facing windows. The sun will fade the chintz. You must replace them with something lighter.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, for such sound advice. Before I bring in some refreshments, may I be permitted to introduce to you Miss Mary Bennet, who is staying with us here? She lived here at Longbourn with her family before Mr. Collins and I arrived.”

  Lady Catherine looked long and hard at Mary.

  “You are a sister of the present Mrs. Darcy? You do not much resemble her.”

  “No, ma’am, I have heard that said before. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. Elizabeth has often spoken to me of you.”

  Lady Catherine frowned.

  “Has she indeed! I should be glad to hear it was in polite and respectful terms. She has a most particular way of expressing herself. As you clearly do not share her looks, it is to be hoped you have also failed to inherit the pertness of her manners.”

  “I have never heard Mrs. Darcy speak of you with anything but the greatest consideration.”

  Lady Catherine declined to say more upon the vexed subject of Mrs. Darcy. Tea was brought in, and she was persuaded to accept a small slice of cake. When both had been compared to their disadvantage with what was to be had at Rosings, and Charlotte duly instructed to find both a better grocer and a more skilled cook, Lady Catherine turned her attention back to Mary.

  “What is the purpose of your visit, Miss Bennet? How long do you intend to stay?”

  “Miss Bennet is welcome to stay with us for as long as she wishes,” said Charlotte smoothly. “There will always be a place for her in what was once her home.”

  “And I suppose it might still be so now, if it had not been for that unfortunate entail. I wonder your father did not find a way to have it broken. A clever lawyer can manage anything, if given the right encouragement. It is a very hard fate for your mother and sisters to be left so sadly unprovided for.”

  “It is not quite as bleak as that, ma’am. All my sisters are married now, and both Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy have offered my mother a comfortable home.”

  “Yes, your two eldest sisters married very advantageously. And that despite the scandal of the youngest one’s elopement. That was cleverly hushed up, was it not? Where does she live now?”

  “Mrs. Wickham is at Newcastle with her husband’s regiment. My other sister, Catherine, married a clergyman in Derbyshire.”

  “How very convenient for her to be so near the others. So that just leaves you?”

  Charlotte reached out to fill Lady Catherine’s teacup.

  “Indeed, Lady Catherine. Mary is the only Bennet daughter as yet unmarried.”

  “And what do you propose to do about that, Miss Bennet? Your looks are against you, and I understand your father had almost nothing to leave you. No portion and no beauty will not make you a very enticing prospect for most young men.”

  “Forgive me, ma’am, but I think you underestimate Miss Bennet,” declared Charlotte in her sweetest tone. “She has many excellent qualities of which your ladyship may not be aware. She is too modest to say so herself, but she is without doubt the most accomplished young lady in the neighbourhood. She plays the piano very well and is an excellent scholar. She is well read in every subject, from history to philosophy to theology. She has lately begun to study Greek.”

  “Greek!” exclaimed Lady Catherine. “Surely not! That is a most unsuitable pursuit for a young lady. Had I been consulted, I should certainly have advised against it. The classics are rightly considered the exclusive preserve of gentlemen.”

  At last, Mary found her voice, and sought to rescue herself from the forbidding impression created by Charlotte’s unstinting praise.

  “Mrs. Collins is far too generous in her estimation of my abilities. It is true I am of a bookish turn of mind, and I enjoy the time I spend at the piano, but I fear my enjoyment of both far outruns what I am capable of achieving.”

  “Your lack of pride does you great credit, Miss Bennet, and marks you out as a very different character to your elder sister.”

  “Indeed,” continued Charlotte, “Mary has been a most accommodating guest, always willing to fall in with the wishes of others and never putting herself forward. It only makes it more unfortunate that she has as yet no permanent home where she could be appreciated as she deserves.”

  Shocked, Mary turned towards Charlotte, who, busy with the tea things, did not return her look. Lady Catherine, taking another slice of the despised cake, noticed nothing at all.

  “Yes, I cannot imagine you would be welcomed into the household at Pemberley. I doubt they have any desire to admit another into the tight little circle they have established there. And I don’t imagine you wish to settle in too close a proximity to your mother. Your two younger sisters, for different reasons, offer no solution. You find yourself in difficult circumstances, Miss Bennet.”

  “I am grateful to your ladyship for your consideration, but I have not decided what I will do next. I do not as yet feel as concerned for my prospects as you do.”

  “You are not overburdened with choices,” continued Lady Catherine, as if Mary had not spoken; “but there is one situation for which you seem to me admirably suited. Mrs. Collins may not have told you that I am particularly interested in assisting young ladies with the talents and capacity to become governesses.”

  Charlotte inclined her head slightly but said nothing. Mary felt fear
rise in her.

  “I always say,” continued Lady Catherine, “that nothing is to be done in education without steady and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can supply it. It is wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that way.”

  “But I don’t want to become a governess,” protested Mary weakly. “I do not think I am at all suited to it. I know I would dislike it extremely.”

  “I have just placed four nieces of Mrs. Jenkinson, all unmarried and likely to stay so, in the most delightful situations. Only the other day I recommended another young person, who was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite delighted with her.”

  “Really, ma’am, I do beg you not to think of me in that way. My inclination does not lie in that direction at all.”

  “Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalfe’s calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. ‘Lady Catherine,’ she said, ‘you have given me such a treasure.’ I think, Miss Bennet, that you have it within yourself to become exactly such a treasure as Miss Pope.”

  “Forgive me for contradicting you, ma’am, but I fear that is not the case. I cannot say too often it is not a life I should want for myself.”

  For a moment, Lady Catherine regarded Mary with incomprehension.

  “But come, Miss Bennet, what do you propose instead? You are a plain woman with no money, inclined to be clever. We have already established marriage is unlikely for you. Do you wish to remain a burden on your friends and family for the rest of your life? No, depend upon it, governessing is the answer. Once you have considered it, you will see I am right. Mrs. Collins, I am most grateful to you for introducing Miss Bennet to me. It will be my pleasure to find her a place and to do so with the utmost despatch. Once a decision has been made in these matters, it does not do to delay.”

  For the rest of her stay, Lady Catherine was almost gracious, wholly satisfied by the prospect of meddling in the life of a woman powerless to resist her. She was in the highest of spirits as she took her leave.