by Zoë Burton
Indeed, Bingley was far from put off. In fact, he was delighted to hear her say the words, for it confirmed his belief that she shared his feelings. He looked down briefly, gathering his thoughts, and then began speaking.
“Miss Bennet, it has been wonderful to see you in my home. I have enjoyed getting to know you and spending time with you. You are everything lovely and gracious, and I find myself deeply in love with you. My desire is to have you in my home every day for the rest of my life. Will you marry me, and make that wish come true?”
Jane’s smile had grown as Bingley’s speech had continued. She adored him, and had hoped for a proposal for weeks. When he finally stopped speaking, she was almost too full of emotion for words; but not wanting to cause him pain by delaying her response, she forced out a simple but emphatic, “Yes!”
At first, Bingley was not sure he heard her correctly, so great was his case of nerves. The wide smile on her face assured him that he had, indeed, received a positive answer. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you!” Bingley laughed, then threw his arms around her, pulling her in for a kiss.
Jane was surprised at her betrothed’s actions, but the touch of his lips sent her pulse soaring, and she immediately responded. She did not know who broke the heart-stopping caress, nor how long it had lasted. However, when her breathing caught up with her senses, their foreheads were pressed together and his arms were a tight band around her.
“I love you, Jane.”
“I love you, too. Thank you for the honor of your proposal.” Jane brushed his lips with hers, a feather-light touch that still had the power to send her senses reeling.
“I must speak to your father. I hate to let you go, though.”
Jane’s gentle smile was made brighter by the sparkle in her eyes. “I know; I feel the same. Perhaps I might go to Longbourn with you?”
“I would like that.” Letting her go, he grasped her hand and turned toward the door, revelling in the joy in his heart
~~~***~~~
Bingley returned alone. Jane had remained at Longbourn at her mother’s insistence. Mrs. Bennet was overjoyed at their betrothal, and nothing would do but for Jane to dine at home and make plans. Bingley was left to announce his happy news to his friends by himself.
Their reaction was everything he could have wished for. Congratulations abounded, and Elizabeth spoke to the cook, asking for a special dessert to celebrate.
At dinner, Bingley answered everyone’s questions about his sister’s wedding.
“I feel so badly,” Elizabeth began, “that she had no breakfast.”
“She did not wish one. I think she is truly humiliated. I was very hard on her yesterday.”
Darcy, who had been so surprised as to be speechless when informed of Bingley’s angry outburst, commented that perhaps a little humiliation was not such a bad thing.
“No, it is not, not really,” Bingley agreed. “I have held in my frustration with her for far too long, and once everything began to come out, I could not stop it if I had wanted to. My sister needed to hear everything I said. I cannot regret it.”
“I would imagine not.” Darcy was thoughtful as he watched his friends slice his boiled potato. “The wedding went off as planned, then?”
“It did. Caroline and Meade both repeated their vows perfectly, signed the register, and that was that. I think the rector was shocked that I was the only witness, but once we explained to him that Caroline wanted no one to attend her, he subsided.”
“Do you think she will be happy?” Georgiana liked Bingley as much as she disliked his sister. She was glad he had stood up to Caroline. She did not wish to be concerned about the new Mrs. Meade, but Georgiana’s soft heart and gentle spirit could not abide the idea that someone else was unhappy.
“She will, I am certain. Meade loves her to distraction, or so he says. He provided generously for her in the settlement; Caroline will never be without the fripperies and shopping she enjoys so much. And, he has taken her to London when he hates the town. Told me he plans to do whatever he can to help her recover from her upset.” Bingley shrugged. “I wish him well. I certainly hope my sister learns from this situation, but I guess I have been through enough disputes with her to be wary.”
Elizabeth recognized in his demeanor the pain she felt in regards to her mother. She felt compelled to reassure him. “I am sure she has learned and will continue to learn as she goes over it in her mind. She is an intelligent woman. All will be well.”
Bingley smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Darcy. You are a treasure.”
Chapter 9
One morning near the end of the Darcys’ visit, Elizabeth and Georgiana were seated in one of the smaller parlors on the ground floor, discussing their plans for the upcoming season to be spent at Pemberley, when Jane was announced by the footman. They rose, happy to greet her, but were suddenly arrested by her agitated appearance.
Though she tried to conceal it, Jane was more upset than she had ever been. At Elizabeth’s urging, she sat, accepting a cup of tea though refusing a cake. Grateful for the few minutes’ reprieve afforded by her sister’s attention to the teapot, Jane clasped her hands in her lap and attempted to calm her rampaging thoughts. When finally, a restorative cup of tea was placed in her hands and she had partaken of it, she began to relate the reasons for her agitation.
“There has been a terrible row,” she began. “Lydia began to speak, in Mama’s presence, about seeing you in Meryton two days ago, and how you are soon to leave for Derbyshire, and expressing a desire for you to take her with you. Though I tried to hush her, she would not be silenced.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look of alarm with Georgiana, who had been apprised of the situation with Mrs. Bennet early in her residence at Netherfield. The ladies turned their attention back to Jane, who had not paused in her narrative except for another sip of tea, to give her courage.
“Mama remained quiet for the first part of the exchange; unusually so. It was only when Lydia exclaimed that she cared not what problems there were between her mother and sister, she would not stop talking about you, Lizzy, and that Mama could hug herself if she objected.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth leaned back a little, eyes widening, imagining her mother’s reaction to that.
“Mama has been rather quiet since I gave her that set-down at the Assembly. She has still refused to hear anything of you or to allow us to discuss you, but she has expressed her displeasure calmly. Today, however…” Another sip. Jane wondered idly if she could, perhaps, request something stronger be added to it, for even in the retelling, the story was traumatic to such a peace-loving lady as she. She sighed. “Today, Mama became decidedly angry. I have seen her in the throes of emotion, and I can say that this was one of the worst times. She scowled and turned so red, I feared for her health. She always uses a loud voice, as you know,” Jane blushed at the harsh words she had spoken, but her knowing look at Elizabeth was met with a nod. “But this time, they heard her all the way in the kitchen! Cook came running out with a rolling pin in her hand, looking for an intruder! It was a surprise that Mama became enraged so at Lydia, who you know is much indulged by her mother. You know our youngest sister; she is not one to demurely turn away. Instead, she became quite as angry as Mama, declaring that she would not pretend that her sister did not exist and that Mama would have to learn to live with hearing your name. Lydia brought up the chastisement I gave her, as well. None of the rest of us have ever mentioned it.” Jane blushed at the memory.
Elizabeth prompted her sister to continue the tale, asking, “What did Mama do?”
Setting her teacup on the table beside her, folding her hands in her lap, and looking down at them as she clasped them tightly for strength, Jane relayed this last piece of information. “She became very ill. She swooned across the sofa and then called very loudly for her salts. Lydia raised her voice, saying I know not what, and flounced out of the room. Kitty stood there for the longest time; I think she did not know what to do. Eventually, I sent her
to her room. Mary was at the pianoforte and did not hear the argument, but she did come to see what the matter was when Mama called for Hill.”
“I assume you and Mary sat with Mama, then?”
“Oh, no.” Jane’s countenance was flush with emotion as she vigorously assured her sister that no such indulgence was given or received. “No, Mama sent me away, not that it mattered. I was not going to give in to her fit, anyway. Every time something unpleasant is brought up in conversation, she swoons like that.” The longer Jane spoke, the more emphatic her tone. “You all think my perfect serenity keeps me from seeing what really happens, but I assure you, I do. I choose to see them the way I do, but I am not insensible. Even had she not refused my assistance, I would not have offered it. I am done with being the peacemaker. Mama is wrong, terribly wrong, and I cannot in good conscience coddle her in the matter.” Jane looked up, her expression fierce. “I will no longer allow her to think I have given up the connection to my favorite sister, and I daresay Lydia feels the same. Mama must be brought to sense about this.”
“Bravo, Sister! I have never heard you speak so strongly about something in your life.”
“Do not congratulate me yet, Lizzy. We do not know what will come of it all.”
Meanwhile, at Longbourn …
Fanny Bennet lay on her bed with no one to attend her. Her mind was in distress, and that anxiety was manifesting itself in flutters and spasms all over her body. She had one arm laid over her eyes, while the other, holding a lace handkerchief, stretched out toward the other side of the bed, occasionally rising to flutter the piece of cloth. Wails and moans filled the room, echoing out into the empty hallway beyond the chamber door.
Mrs. Hill had brought the mistress her salts, and had disappeared with some excuse about Cook and the fish for tonight’s meal. Neither Mary nor Kitty, the two daughters who had not yet disappointed and rejected her, had chosen to sit with their mother, which added to Mrs. Bennet’s unhappiness. She had asked Hill to send for them, and the housekeeper was always faithful to perform whatever duties were assigned to her. I would ring for my maid and ask her to fetch the girls if I were not so terribly indisposed. Unexpectedly, there came a brisk knock on the door.
“Enter.”
The door opened, and the two currently favored children entered. Curtseying, they greeted their mother but did not come closer to her bed.
“Kitty, be a good girl and fetch me a cup of water. People who suffer as I do with nervous complaints cannot do for themselves.” Mrs. Bennet waited, but no glass of water was placed into her hand, no comforting voice soothed her spirit. “Kitty, what is taking so long?” She lifted the arm that lay over her face to see what was happening.
Across the room, with Mary’s silent encouragement and support, Kitty spoke to her mother. “I will not assist you, Mama. I cannot.”
“What do you mean, you cannot? Why ever not? I am your mother; you will attend me. Now!”
“Mama,” Mary began, “Kitty and I are decided on a course of action, and we came to tell you about it.”
Waving her arm impatiently, Mrs. Bennet acquiesced to listen.
Taking a deep breath and looking to her sister for a brief moment before beginning, Mary explained, “Jane has travelled to Netherfield. At least, we think that is where she went. She was very upset. Lydia is, at this moment, packing her trunks. She has told Papa that she will not live in a house for one more day where the entire family is not wanted. She plans to also go to Netherfield and ask Lizzy to allow her to live with her and Darcy, and to convince Jane to do the same, until such time as Jane and Mr. Bingley marry. Kitty and I have decided to follow. We have just come from Papa’s book room, where we informed him of our decision. We have come to say goodbye.”
“We have, Mama. We do not want to continue in such an unhappy place, nor do we want to live without all our sisters. I know that we shall all marry someday and that separation then is inevitable, but until it happens, we want to be a family.” The effort it took Kitty to speak so to her mother was evident in her strained features. Seeing this, Mary continued their explanation.
“We hope it is not permanent. We should like you to reconcile with Jane and Lydia, and Lizzy. I, none of us, really, understand why you have always been so cruel to her, to Lizzy. We hope that your time apart from us will allow you to look into your heart and find the reasons for it. The Holy Scriptures tell fathers not to provoke their children to wrath, but I do not think that means fathers only. I think it means mothers, too. But you have; you have provoked Lizzy to marry suddenly, and provoked both Jane and Lydia, your two favorite daughters, to raise their voices to you. Our leaving will give you plenty of time to think about it all, and to come to a resolution. We hope you will reconcile with us, all of us, but that is your decision. Until then, know that we love you.” Mary curtseyed at the end of her speech and turned to go.
Kitty was a heartbeat slower to follow; she longed to hear her mother apologize right then and make everything right. Alas, it was not to be. Kitty mimicked her sister’s actions, and with shoulders bowed, left her mother’s bedchamber.
Mrs. Bennet was struck dumb. What could this be that they were talking about? Provoke her children? Did Mary say she provoked her children to speak to her the way they did? She did not have long to ponder. Not more than a quarter hour after the girls left, her husband entered her room.
“Well, Mrs. Bennet, this is quite a to-do you have set into motion. What have you to say about it?”
“I set into motion? What do you mean? What have I set into motion?”
“Your daughters, madam. First, your words to your second eldest provoke her and her betrothed to move their wedding up by weeks. Then, your eldest and second-most favored child gives you a public set-down, and now your youngest and most favored daughter rebukes you in your own home. None of the five are in the house. One is married, without her mother to see her say her vows, and the four remaining have removed themselves to their married sister’s care. All this, because for a reason none of us can fathom, you dislike Lizzy to the point of hatred.”
Mrs. Bennet had nothing to say for a very long time. She knew it was true; all of it was, but it was not in her nature to accept responsibility for anything.
“Think on it longer, Mrs. Bennet. You are quite at your leisure now. Take your time and consider what has happened in this family in the recent months and why. Perhaps one day, the girls might come back.” With those parting words, Mr. Bennet left his wife to contemplate what her life was going to be like in a quiet house with no daughters at her beck and call.
Chapter 10
At Netherfield, the quiet that had descended upon Caroline Bingley Meade’s marriage and return to town had been replaced by the liveliness of the Bennet sisters. Bingley, amiable chap that he was, revelled in the noise and chatter. Darcy strove, for Elizabeth’s sake, to endure, though he often required long rides in silence to calm his stretched nerves.
There had been some consternation at first as to Jane and Bingley’s wedding, both the planning of it and the date. However, Mr. Bennet, on one of his daily visits, had urged his eldest and her betrothed to get on with it. The date had been set upon receiving that gentleman’s approval of the marriage, and that highly anticipated day was quickly approaching. Jane reluctantly agreed with her father: the wedding would go on, even if Mrs. Bennet did not participate.
Everyone in the house threw themselves into preparation. Even Darcy, who intimidated most of his new sisters, was called upon to give an opinion or be of assistance to one or another of them. The servants from both Netherfield and Longbourn ran to and fro from one estate to the other, or into Meryton delivering things and picking them up, or searching for other items that were considered essential to a wedding and breakfast.
~~~***~~~
Mr. and Mrs. Collins arrived at Longbourn a se’ennight before the wedding. Mr. Collins, being Mr. Collins, fell all over himself fawning over Mr. Bennet. Mrs. Bennet remained above-stairs; her
injured vanity was still in such a precarious state that she could not bear to listen to her husband’s heir and his sly comments about becoming master.
The newly arrived couple borrowed Mr. Bennet’s carriage the next day to go visiting, first to Netherfield and then to Haye Park, so Mrs. Collins could visit her parents. Mr. Collins insisted on the visit to his cousins. His purpose was twofold: to discover why the young ladies were not at home, and to make certain they each understood how happy he was and how unfortunate it was for them that he had not proposed to them. He had no reason for his vengeful thoughts. Indeed, he was not really aware that he felt the anger that fueled them. He simply had the thoughts and let them have free reign in his mind.
For all his previous thoughts, before his marriage, of ruining Miss Elizabeth and hurting her, and for all his propensity towards violence, Mr. Collins was much less inclined nowadays to using force to get what he wanted. For, as it turned out, Mrs. Collins was not about to let pain go unrewarded.
The first time her husband slapped her, Mrs. Collins struck back. The second and final time, she had taken after him with one of the skillets from the kitchen. Made of cast iron and at least a foot in diameter, the pan, when applied to his head with force, had knocked Mr. Collins unconscious. He had awakened a short while later to that self-same pan waving at him. In no uncertain terms, Mrs. Collins informed her husband that further abuse would not be tolerated and that if he chose to disbelieve her, she would do more than knock him unconscious. Seeing the glint in her eye and the ease with which she hefted her weapon, combined with the splitting headache they had left him with, Mr. Collins chose to believe his wife.
Now, as the footman announced them to the party at Netherfield, Mr. Collins was eager to display his felicity to those within. No one need know that he was just a little afraid of his wife.
