Elizabeth, watching Jane deal the cards, reflected that Miss Bingley was too angry to realize that the information for which she had made such a point of triumphing before, had, in fact, been faulty. But Elizabeth, deciding that Miss Bingley’s humor was already sufficiently sour, refrained from gloating.
The next day was Sunday, and a measure of normality was restored to the inmates of Netherfield Park. Bingley’s temper was improved, as he had promised. They went to church, which gave them a glimpse of the new grave on its north side – Mr. Selby and Maria Lucas stood beside it – and the opportunity to exchange words with many members of the community. Afterwards they all, including Miss Bingley, went to a family dinner at Longbourn House. Mrs. Bennet spent much of the time advising Jane, and telling her to be patient – advice that Jane, of all people, hardly needed – and speaking on other matters concerning the coming child. Elizabeth suggested that she might want to keep some of the more intimate details to themselves, but Mrs. Bennet pointed out that they were all family, so what did it matter? Mr. Bennet rescued his son-in-law by inviting him into his library for a drink, but Miss Bingley was unable to escape with the men and instead was trapped between Mrs. Bennet and Mary.
Spending the day at Longbourn should have made the comparative sense and tranquility of Netherfield more appealing, but it did not have the desired effect. Jane retired early, while Mr. Bingley, apparently cross again, withdrew once more to his library. That left Miss Bingley and Elizabeth to each other’s company, but they avoided conversation. Miss Bingley wrote a letter to her sister, while Elizabeth leafed through a book.
After some time, Miss Bingley put down her pen and excused herself, carrying her finished letter with her. Elizabeth turned the last page of the book she was reading and decided she might as well determine if the second volume was in the library. She was also, she realized, curious about Mr. Bingley and whatever distressed him. If he would not confide in Jane, it was unlikely that he would confide in her, but she might find a way to suggest that he consult either with Mr. Bennet or Mr. Darcy. Or even with Mr. Philips, if there were a legal matter.
But when Elizabeth approached the library, she discovered that Miss Bingley had preceded her; the voices of the brother and sister carried.
“Charles, Jane is a sweet wife and I am sure that she will be a devoted mother. But her relations! The afternoon at Longbourn was intolerable.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn and paused outside the door. Even though she was sensible of her mother’s faults, and she should not, in fairness, object to others having the same opinion, it still pained her to listen to the effect that they had on others. She reminded herself that the conversation she was overhearing was private – in fact she really ought to depart.
But then Miss Bingley continued, on a topic more neutral and yet of interest to Elizabeth. “You must purchase an estate, Charles. If Rushburn is impossible, then choose another.”
“My dear Caroline, I assure you that it is not practicable at this moment.”
“Why did you go to London? If you do not tell me, then I will ask Louisa.”
Elizabeth now understood the reason for Miss Bingley’s letter to Mrs. Hurst.
“It was a matter of business that concerns neither you nor Louisa,” said Charles. “And as for the purchase of an estate: my wife is about to bear a child. This is not the time for a removal. And as much as you may not care for some of Jane’s relations, they will be a support to her during the coming months.”
“When would the time be better, Charles? When you have an infant and another on the way?”
“If you do not like it here, Caroline, you can always go live with Louisa and Hurst.”
Elizabeth, shocked by Bingley’s cold words, slipped noiselessly down the hall, and stepped into the unlit breakfast-parlor, where she was unlikely to be discovered. How could Mr. Bingley speak so harshly to his sister? Sisters depended on their brothers, especially sisters without husbands or fathers. Elizabeth had always admired how protective and considerate Darcy was of his sister.
But Miss Bingley, if she wished it, could go to stay with the Hursts in Grosvenor Street, while Jane, as his wife, could not flee Mr. Bingley’s bad temper. Was something particular distressing him, and it was yet unresolved? Elizabeth could not imagine what it was; the only clue was the purchase, or rather the non-purchase, of Rushburn Manor. Was that something on which he had set his heart? It did not speak well for his temper, if he could be so discomposed by such a disappointment, for, as Jane had said, other eligible estates would come on the market.
Or had Bingley always been of an uncertain temper, and they had misjudged him? First impressions could be wrong; Bingley’s temper could have been softened by the euphoria of his initial love for Jane. Elizabeth was still convinced that Bingley loved Jane, but perhaps that love was not enough.
She finally felt as if enough time had passed so that she could leave the shadows of the breakfast-parlor without causing suspicions. Still carrying the book, she first went to the library, intending to speak to Bingley and to ask him what was wrong – but although candles burned, he was not there, and so conversation was impossible. She waited a few minutes, but Bingley did not return, and so Elizabeth, after locating the second volume, exchanged the books and went to her room.
CHAPTER XII
Elizabeth resolved, during the night, that during the following day she would write to Darcy to ask his advice, but while at breakfast she herself received a letter from her husband. He informed her that the local vicar had been in a carriage accident and was not expected to survive. Mr. Darcy had been planning to join her at Netherfield soon but now he had to remain where he was for the others in the parish.
“Dr. P— from Lambton has examined Wallace and said that all we can do is to make him comfortable and wait. The reverend is a dear friend and too young to die,” Mr. Darcy wrote, “but alas, we are all mortal, and it seems as if he will not last long. You are attending life, Elizabeth, while your husband is preoccupied with death. So I must stay here to take care of the situation, to comfort my friend in his last days and to prepare, as I expect, to seek a new vicar for the living.”
Elizabeth shared this dreadful news with her friends, who all expressed how shocked and grieved they were at this information. However, Mr. Bingley and his sister barely knew the man, whereas Jane had never met him at all, so the expressions of sympathy did not last long, and they turned to wondering who Darcy would find as a replacement.
“What about your esteemed cousin, Mr. Collins?” suggested Miss Bingley. “Mr. and Mrs. Collins will be visiting soon, will they not? You could mention the living to him.”
Elizabeth knew that Miss Bingley meant to remind her of yet another embarrassing relation in her large collection of them.
Jane, however, responded as if Miss Bingley were serious. “Mr. Collins is a respectable man, and I am certain you it would be pleasant to have Charlotte near you, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth followed Jane’s lead. “Yes, Mr. Collins is eminently respectable, and he is assiduous in his duties. But much as I would love to have Charlotte near me, I do not think that either Mr. Darcy or I would care to deprive Lady Catherine de Bourgh of her clergyman.”
“You can mention the living to Mr. Collins if you like, Caroline, as I am sure he will call on us soon,” said Mr. Bingley. “Unless you decide to have another headache.”
And with that Mr. Bingley excused himself, saying that he had an errand to run in Meryton but that it would not take long. He gave orders for his horse to be readied, and although Miss Bingley petitioned to go with him, saying that she would appreciate some exercise on horseback, he adamantly refused her company.
CHAPTER XIII
Miss Bingley refreshed her spirits by sketching a faithful representation of a yew tree, which Jane and Elizabeth dutifully admired. Mr. Bingley was in a better temper after his errand into town. He still vanished into his library for an hour, but he did not remain there, and he came out and
played piquet with his sister. The four of them were sitting companionably when a chaise approached the entrance; they were being honored by an early visit from Mr. and Mrs. Collins and their little son, accompanied by a nursery maid, who had all arrived at Lucas Lodge just around noon.
“Mr. Collins, there was no need to call at Netherfield Park,” said Jane after all the ladies and Mr. Bingley had admired the serenely sleeping baby. “We know how limited your time is in Hertfordshire.”
“Mrs. Bingley, far be it from me to neglect to pay the attention due to any of my fair cousins. Especially when I was informed that Mrs. Darcy was also here, I felt compelled to make the effort.”
“Also, Lewis likes riding in the carriage,” added Mrs. Collins. “The motion puts him to sleep.”
Elizabeth inquired after the ladies of Rosings Park: Lady Catherine, her daughter Miss Anne de Bourgh, and Mrs. Jenkinson, Miss de Bourgh’s companion. Mr. Collins assured her Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Miss de Bourgh were in good health but rather distressed, because Mrs. Jenkinson was seriously ill.
“I am sorry to hear it,” said Elizabeth.
Mr. Bingley demonstrated his general good nature by taking the pompous bore away. As Mr. Collins would be confined to a carriage again very soon, perhaps he would like to take some exercise?
“I thank you, Mr. Bingley; that is most attentive of you. Most attentive indeed; walking is the best exercise. Yes, I am certain that Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Collins have much that they wish to discuss.” Mr. Collins accompanied Mr. Bingley out of the room, and could be heard holding forth, with as much eloquence as he possessed, on the subjects of motherhood and fatherhood and the difficulties and delights that awaited the Bingleys.
As soon as the gentleman departed, Lewis Collins awoke, an act which necessitated another round of admiration. Now that his eyes were open, the ladies discussed whether or not he resembled Mr. or Mrs. Collins most. Miss Bingley thought he looked like Mr. Collins; Elizabeth thought he resembled Mrs. Collins, while Jane was of the opinion that he took after both parents but the salient point was that he was a complete darling. After this praise, this darling, the future heir of Longbourn, first fussed and then wailed at the top of his lungs. Joan, a young woman from Hunsford hired by Mrs. Collins, entered the room to take care of the baby, and removed him discreetly to another room.
“I have been seeking a nursery maid,” said Jane. “How did you find yours, Charlotte?”
“Oh! There has never been any experience so vexing!” cried Mrs. Collins. And she explained how they had originally hired a woman called Mrs. Ford. Mrs. Ford was a widow, and had seemed a plain sensible woman. She was a little older than many nursery maids, but not so old so that Mrs. Collins would be worrying about the health of her nursery maid as opposed to her infant, and Mrs. Collins had been of the opinion that an older woman with some experience might be useful.
“Perfectly reasonable,” remarked Jane.
“You mean Lady Catherine has not been willing to share her experience?” asked Elizabeth.
“Lady Catherine has been most attentive,” said Mrs. Collins, “but even though she has shown great interest in and generosity towards Lewis, she can hardly assist with feeding, changing and washing my son on a daily basis.”
“Tell us more about Mrs. Ford,” pressed Jane.
Miss Bingley suppressed a yawn and said, “Yes, Mrs. Collins, do tell us.”
Mrs. Collins did so. She assured them that Mrs. Ford had come with good rates and excellent references. She had been capable in her duties but she had only remained a few weeks and then had abruptly given notice.
“Why did she leave?” inquired Jane
“At first Mrs. Ford said the work was too much for her. We offered her higher wages – which she really deserved – and less onerous duties, but nothing would induce her to remain, even though at the time we needed her desperately. Mr. Collins and I both had colds, and Lewis seemed to stay awake half each night. These may seem like trivialities, but at the time my fatigue was severe.”
“Perhaps she was exhausted too,” said Elizabeth. “And if, as you say, she was a little older, she may not have had the stamina to care for an infant.”
“Yes, that I could understand, and that is why we offered to reduce her work. But Mrs. Ford told me, just before she departed, that she had no problem with Lewis – her difficulty was with Mr. Collins!”
This time Miss Bingley struggled to suppress a laugh instead of a yawn, while both Elizabeth and Jane politely said they were sorry that Charlotte had been forced to listen to anything unpleasant about her husband.
“But Eliza, her accusation made no sense! Mrs. Ford hardly ever saw Mr. Collins! I run the household, not he. And then he told me that Mrs. Ford had explained to him that she was leaving because of me.”
This contradiction on the part of Mrs. Ford caught the attention of all of Mrs. Collins’s audience. The ladies all agreed that her words had been most peculiar.
“I agree,” said Mrs. Collins. “Mr. Collins and I nearly had an argument about the matter. You can imagine that we were especially cross and out of sorts. Then we realized that for some reason she was trying to provoke discord between us.”
“She sounds like a most suspicious character,” said Elizabeth, although she was trying to keep from laughing. “At least she did not blame the baby.”
“No, she did not. Perhaps she realized that that would be too much!” Mrs. Collins shook her head. “Seriously, looking back on her short time with us, I cannot understand why she came in the first place, or why she left when she did. We wondered if she might have taken something, but no money was missing, nor any jewels nor any silver. At one point Mr. Collins thought some correspondence had vanished – he even asked her if she had seen it – but he discovered it several days later.”
“Where was it?” Jane asked.
“Just where it should have been, under a few other papers in his desk in his study. I asked him if it were possible that he had simply overlooked them before, but he said that it was impossible. They were two notes from Lady Catherine de Bourgh, about some improvements that she was recommending to the gardens around the church, and he said he could not have just misplaced them. Yet why would anyone else, especially Mrs. Ford, borrow them? It is not as if she or anyone else is particularly interested in whether we plant marguerites or lavender.”
“Every male I have ever met has misplaced one possession or another and then blamed the women in his family,” said Miss Bingley. “Charles never knew where his books were when it was time for him return to school, but even though he accused Louisa and me of moving them, we never did.”
The other ladies, all married, did not agree aloud with Miss Bingley – but neither did they disagree. They all believed that Mr. Collins had overlooked the correspondence, or had perhaps moved the pages without realizing it. Jane suggested that a new father could easily fall prey to a moment of disorder and distractedness.
“So, Mrs. Ford did not take the papers,” mused Elizabeth. “Perhaps she was unwell, or simply cross about being a nursery maid. It does appear that many people these days are out of sorts.”
Mrs. Collins did not press for examples, for which Elizabeth was grateful, for Jane appeared unhappy at this allusion to Mr. Bingley’s bad moods – although Elizabeth could have offered another instance in another person if required. Instead Mrs. Collins nodded, as if she was remembering some episode of ill-temper herself, but then she smiled and said with her usual calmness: “Who knows? Why should not nursery maids be just as capricious as the rest of us? Now we have Joan, who costs a little more and who is less experienced, but so far she has shown no inclination to abandon her position.”
“The other woman sounded too perfect to be real,” remarked Miss Bingley.
“Yes, perhaps she was. Now, Jane, I hope you are already interviewing possible nursery maids. From my experience, one cannot start soon enough, even though if you do believe you have found one you may still encount
er vexations.”
“I am, but I have not decided on anyone yet. Kitty has offered to assist, and so has Caroline. I will make certain, Charlotte, not to hire anyone named Mrs. Ford!” Jane assured her. “Even if she does come with excellent references.”
The men, returning from their walk, overheard the last part the conversation. “Oh! That Mrs. Ford!” exclaimed Mr. Collins. “I have just been warning Mr. Bingley about her, and explaining how she upset everyone at the Parsonage. Even though she had every appearance of goodness, she was truly malicious, like a snake in the garden, deliberately spreading ill will. She even removed and then returned some papers in my study. I do believe she was attempting to damage my relationship with Lady Catherine, but it is difficult to fathom why. Perhaps she has a son or a nephew who hopes to insinuate himself and to take my place. That would explain her behavior. My position is so advantageous, I can imagine that others may scheme to oust me from it and to acquire it for themselves.”
The ladies repressed smiles at Mr. Collins’s fantastical reasoning. Jane offered refreshment to the men, but Mr. Collins, after many thanks and apologies, declined. “My time here is so brief, that we really should not stay. I hope that you will have the opportunity to see much more of Mrs. Collins, however, during her visit with her family. I wish you all the very best, especially you, my fair cousins.”
The Collinses departed as quickly as Mr. Collins’s long speeches would permit, collecting their son and their nursery maid and climbing back into the chaise in order to return to Lucas Lodge.
CHAPTER XIV
The inhabitants at Netherfield Park played cards that evening; then Miss Bingley and Elizabeth each sat down to the pianoforte in turn. “We should invite the Lucases for dinner,” Jane suggested to her husband, “or perhaps the Gouldings. You could use an opponent at billiards.”
The Meryton Murders Page 8
