Unexpected Miss Bennet (9781101552780)

by Sarath, Patrice

  At the bidding of his wife, but still uncertain and unspeak-ing, Mr Collins stepped aside and let Mary in. She bowed and hurried past him. The footman followed and she could hear Mr Collins give orders to bring the trunk upstairs with at least ten words to every one he needed to get his point across. Gratefully Mary left him behind and entered the parlour where the rest of her party were gathered.

  Charlotte waited on the stairs, her hair dishevelled. ‘Oh good, Mary, there you are. I am all undone, and will be down in a moment. Please forgive – well, all the uproar. Mary, I am so glad you are to stay.’ She whisked herself back upstairs.

  Mary could have kissed Charlotte for her kindness, but she was slightly alarmed at her appearance. She was not even in half-dress but looked as if she were still wearing her morning wrap. Her entire party had the same uneasy expressions, as if they too were not quite sure of what had just happened. Awkwardly, she looked around her. The comfortable house reminded Mary of Longbourn. Charlotte’s touches were everywhere, although the house itself was somewhat untidy, with clothes scattered here and there and dust in the corners.

  A baby’s wail could be heard at the back of the house. Mr Collins started.

  ‘Please sit and make yourselves at home in my humble abode,’ he said. ‘Such good fortune that brings you here for our blessed event – a blessed event it is! Though loud, and we haven’t been able to sleep. But I hope for you to be equally blessed, for marriage and children are God’s natural order of things, and I cannot conceive of marriage without the blessing of children.’

  ‘Perhaps we may be forgiven for starting out childless,’ Lizzy said, ‘if we take care not to continue in that state.’

  She twined her fingers with Darcy’s and gave him such a smile that Mr Collins’s mouth dropped and he merely gasped like a fish a few times. Mary turned on her heel and pretended interest in a pretty plate over the mantel, trying to control her expression. Lizzy was most impertinent! How could she say such things? That was something Lydia would say or do, not a proper married woman. What had come over Lizzy? For once almost wordless, Mr Collins bowed again and muttered a few words about Charlotte. He rushed off with such speed that he almost bumped into the door.

  They all sat in silence. Charlotte’s parlour was bright and cheerful, with the sun from the garden coming in, but there were still tea things and crumbs on the small table and the pillows were askew. There were more clothes in the corner, some half-finished knitting, and other small unfinished tasks lying about. They all looked around awkwardly.

  The baby’s crying got louder, then stopped abruptly. The door opened. They all stood, but only Mr Collins appeared. He looked at them, still as flustered as before. Then he bowed awkwardly to Lizzy. ‘Dear cousin, my wife asks for you at the moment. Ah, you see, the blessed event, the blessed – well, he is taking the nourishment that is natural to him and Charlotte – er, Mrs Collins, er, that is, she asks for you, cousin.’

  Lizzy looked confused but obediently she followed Mr Collins upstairs. They all sat again. No one knew what to say. Georgiana swung her foot, looked around, and bit her lip. Mary found herself thinking only of the dirty tea things. She could not imagine Charlotte leaving the house so untidy. She must be very busy, she thought, trying to remember everything she had ever heard about lying-in and childbirth. The mamas spoke about such things in hushed tones and didn’t let the young girls hear anything. But it seemed as if babies left one with very little time to take care of one’s house.

  Mary began to gather the tea things, half-expecting Mr Collins to pop out and cry, ‘Don’t touch them!’ She carried on, cleaning up the crumbs and using a small napkin to dust. The table gleamed under her ministrations. She left the tea things on the tray and began to tidy the small parlour. Georgiana and Darcy looked at her.

  ‘Mary, what—’ Georgiana began.

  ‘Charlotte would never leave her house untidy,’ Mary said, gaining more confidence as she neatened things. ‘So she must be very busy with the baby and has no time for visitors. The least I can do is help to make things nice. Though I thought they had at least one maid.’

  Georgiana looked at her brother and then stood up. She gathered up the tea tray. ‘We should at least bring this to the kitchen,’ she declared.

  ‘Georgiana,’ Darcy began. He said no more, but his tone of voice indicated that he expected that was all he needed to say, and that she would obey. Georgiana wavered, but held firm.

  ‘Mary will help,’ she said. ‘I can’t just sit by, Darcy.’

  ‘You don’t have to help,’ Mary hurried to say. ‘I can, only because old intimacy forgives impertinence. Not that it would be impertinent of you, Georgiana, but for poor Charlotte.’

  ‘Mary is wise, my dear,’ Darcy said. ‘She knows what is due an old friend, but you are a guest.’

  Mary took the tray from Georgiana’s unwilling hands and went to the kitchen. Poor Georgiana, she thought. She had a generous nature but was forced by her station to remain aloof. Perhaps she should learn how to keep a house anyway. A girl had no control over her fortune or her fate. If Lizzy Bennet could marry a rich man there was very little to bar grand Georgiana Darcy from marrying a poor one, or one who became poor.

  It was not a mean thought but it was a curious one. Mary was reminded of the old song that she had sometimes heard the housekeeper at her parents’ house, Mrs Hill, sing.

  I know where I’m going & I know who’s going with me,

  I know who I love, but the dear knows who I’ll marry.

  None of us knows, she thought. Well, she supposed that she would remain an old maid her whole life. She could count on one hand the young men that she knew – Charlotte’s brothers, some of the young men in Meryton who gave her not a glance. The curious Mr Aikens. Mary felt an unaccustomed flush, remembering the way he had whispered in her ear, and their friendly intimacy on the grass at Pemberley. The curious Mr Aikens had not thought much of her at all, though. He had danced with Georgiana and all the other girls, his good humour and high spirits equal to them all. So why did her nerves turn cartwheels whenever she thought of him?

  It turned out that Charlotte did have a cook. The woman was tending to the kitchen range and when she saw Mary she gave a relieved sigh and took the tray.

  ‘The house has been at sixes and sevens these past few months, and poor Mrs Collins still not fully recovered from the birth of her great big boy. The girl who comes from the village to help has been ill and I’ve just had my hands full. Mrs Collins has been looking forward to your visit, I must say, for all that her own mother has just been here, but you know how young mothers and their mothers are, for they cannot agree on anything, and Lady Lucas was fair determined that Charlotte tend her baby her way. Mrs Collins couldn’t be more relieved when Lady Lucas went. But you mustn’t put yourself out any more, my dear. I will just take those things and be out in a moment with your tea. Then I’ll help Mrs Collins down with her baby boy. He sleeps better in the parlour, poor thing.’

  Charlotte did come down eventually, followed by Lizzy and the cook with the baby. Charlotte’s cap was askew and her shawl had a stain. But her eyes were lively and she looked upon her visitors with a pleased smile. Mr Collins fussed at her and admonished her with every other breath, and settled her into a chair by the fire. The cook placed the baby in her arms.

  ‘So you’ve heard my fine Robert’s cry,’ Charlotte said, looking fondly at her baby boy. Charlotte had never been a pretty girl, but she had a pleasing plumpness now and the bloom of love that lit her face lent beauty to her countenance.

  The parlour was a cheerful place now, a warm fire on the hearth, a simple tea on the table for them to enjoy, and the baby to admire. They spoke of all manner of things, but mostly oohed and ahhed over the little baby boy, who slept through it all. Mr Collins spoke in his most solemn tones and platitudes but even he would lose his train of thought as he gazed at his son.

  Charlotte looked around at her clean parlour and smiled at Mary.


  ‘Well, Mary,’ she said. ‘Cook said I have you to thank. A poor hostess I am, putting my guests to work.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Mary said. ‘Idle hands are a devil’s playground, as they say.’ There was an awkward pause, as she reflected that she had just called Mr Darcy and his sister idle. ‘I meant, only, that it was a pleasure to be able to help,’ she added awkwardly. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, and she could scarcely look up.

  ‘Your impulse, dear cousin, was an admirable one,’ Mr Collins said. ‘A thrifty, industrious woman is a jewel, but perhaps one that shines all the more brightly for not calling attention to itself.’

  Mary froze. She was hard put to keep from showing her disgust. Georgiana looked shocked, and Lizzy was angered. Mr Darcy had no qualms – he rolled his eyes. Charlotte looked ashamed. She hastened to fill the awkward pause. She held out the baby.

  ‘Would you like to hold him?’ she said. Mary opened her mouth but had no words, as startled as when Mr Aikens had asked her to dance. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Yes. I – I think so. Would it be all right?’

  Mr Collins almost yelped. ‘Mrs Collins, do you think that is wise? For Miss Mary Bennet is hardly, that is, would it be wise to set a small infant, perhaps it would not be decent . . .’ He trailed off.

  ‘Mr Collins,’ Charlotte said, ‘I have known Mary Bennet since we were small, and she is perfectly capable of holding an infant without corrupting herself or it.’

  Lizzy coughed behind her hand. Following Charlotte’s urging, Mary sat next to her and Charlotte passed her the small bundle. The infant in his blankets felt warm and slightly damp. His few curls were plastered on his head and his little rosebud mouth quivered in his sleep. He nestled in her arms and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

  She looked down at little Robert Collins’s sleeping face. She felt nothing, other than a sense of disquiet. Her lack of maternal emotion was disturbing and suddenly frightening. Mary wondered when they would take the baby back. Not soon enough, she thought, panic suddenly rising.

  ‘There! That is quite enough,’ Mr Collins said, after the baby had been in Mary’s arms for a few brief moments. ‘Surely that’s enough. Mrs Collins? Enough?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to upset my cousin,’ Mary said, trying to hide her eagerness to be rid of the infant. She lifted him to Charlotte. ‘Perhaps Lizzy? Or Georgiana?’

  ‘Oh! Not I!’ Georgiana said impulsively. ‘I am so frightened of babies. They seem so easy to break.’

  Lizzy, laughing, reached out her arms. ‘I would love to hold him again, now that he sleeps,’ she said. ‘I fear I gave some cause for his outburst upstairs.’

  Grateful but trying not to be hasty, Mary transferred the baby to her sister. Little Robert whimpered and wiggled but lapsed into sleep in Lizzy’s arms. Instinctively she rocked and crooned to the infant as Darcy looked stoically fond of his wife. Charlotte watched her friend with a smile that held a hint of sadness.

  ‘You next, Lizzy,’ she said softly. Lizzy looked up at her with a bright smile.

  ‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘Mr Collins is right – it is a blessing.’

  Mr Collins, hearing himself praised, gaped faintly at his cousin, to whom he had once declared a wholehearted avowal of love.

  Unaware that he was the centre of all manner of feeling and admiration, not to mention the cause of a great undercurrent of sensibility of all kinds of meaning and portent, the baby boy slept on. Everyone kept their voices low out of respect for the infant and he would have slept for many an hour, giving Charlotte some blessed peace, had not a loud bang on the door caused him to awaken with a start and then cry.

  Lady Catherine, her discontent with her visitors notwithstanding, had discovered that she could not be without them after all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE BABY, ONCE woken, could not be consoled.

  ‘Well,’ the grand lady said as she settled herself in the parlour with the others, looking around with a suspicious eye, ‘I see the boy has already set the household on its ear. I wonder at you, Mrs Collins, in not providing a more ordered household for your issue.’

  Perhaps in sympathy for his poor discomfited mother, the infant bawled on. Lizzy hastily passed him to Charlotte, and Charlotte rocked him and cajoled but to no avail. The peace of a few moments ago was dispelled as everyone tried to think of ways to settle the infant down. Lady Catherine banged her stick on the floor and demanded that the infant should cease. Mr Collins raised his voice but could be heard mouthing only incomplete sentences as his wife tried in vain to calm both him and their son. At last Charlotte snapped.

  ‘Mr Collins, call Cook!’

  For a moment everything fell silent, even the baby, at her sharp tones. Then the baby broke into an even louder wail. Mary sat with her hands folded in front of her, the baby’s crying setting every nerve on edge. Georgiana looked as if she wanted to run away. Mr Darcy held his wife’s hand, his mouth tight. Lizzy looked discomfited but also on the verge of laughter. Mary was careful not to look at her more than once – she knew that if she did she would start to laugh herself.

  Cook, whether she had been summoned or not, popped her head around the door. ‘Mrs Collins, let me help you upstairs with the baby. Poor thing, he needs a change, doesn’t he?’ She caught sight of Lady Catherine and bobbed a curtsy. ‘Your pardon, your ladyship, if I had known you were visiting I would have brought that cordial you like.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as though Charlotte could not hear her. ‘Let me just bring poor Mrs Collins and her baby boy upstairs and then I will have time to treat your ladyship as you deserve.’ She raised her voice again. ‘Come, Mrs Collins, let me help you up. There you go . . .’ She escorted her charges back up the stairs, the baby crying, Charlotte calling out her goodbyes and hopes that they would return when things were in less of an upheaval. Lizzy added to the chorus, assuring her that she would be back. Mary, Georgiana and Darcy, prudently saying nothing, only waved and nodded. Through it all the baby cried unceasingly.

  As the door closed behind them, Mr Collins stood as a man torn between his duty to his wife and family and to his patroness. Mary could not think which was worse – if he stayed to serve Lady Catherine, or if he followed his wife. For she did not think that Charlotte cared for him much. But how much worse is it, she thought, that the man she married is more devoted to a sour old lady who treats him with such contempt and disdain? To be sure, Charlotte married for all the wrong reasons – it was not hard to see it. But so had Mr Collins. They had both done such a terrible, terrible thing, she thought. She thought of the little baby oblivious to it all and Charlotte’s wistful smile as she looked at Lizzy with her husband.

  We are all supposed to find someone to love, Mary thought, but it does not seem as if there’s quite enough to go around. And so we make our bed and must lie on it. Even the marriage bed. And there she left off her shocking thought, for the idea of Charlotte and Mr Collins in their marriage bed was the most alarming thing.

  Mr Collins walked them all to the door, stuttering over his obsequious apologies to Lady Catherine and Mr Darcy and Georgiana. Lizzy and Mary walked behind as Lady Catherine heaped abuse upon her admirer.

  ‘Poor Charlotte,’ Mary muttered as they waited for Lady Catherine to be helped into her carriage and give curt orders to the driver to drive on, leaving all of them to walk back to Rosings.

  Lizzy gave her a look. ‘How so? The baby? I saw you look at it as if you had a live snake in your hands.’

  Mary was startled into a laugh. ‘No, not the baby.’ Her mirth turned into solemnity. ‘Mr Collins is a very foolish man. It’s not that he treats her ill, but . . .’

  Lizzy sighed. ‘I know. But I think she’s made her peace with it. And children will give her further reason to . . . stand it better.’

  Darcy turned to look back at his wife, who smiled gaily and waved at him, so far separated they were on the walk home. Mary suddenly gave a most unladylike snort. Lizzy looked at her with exaggerated alarm. ‘Good
God, Mary, what is it?’

  At that point Mary was crying with laughter. ‘Lady Catherine . . .’ she said between gasps. ‘Banging her stick on the floor to make the baby stop.’

  The Bennet sisters walked the rest of the way up the grand drive, laughing until the tears came.

  THE REST OF the visit went as could be expected. Miss de Bourgh came down to dinner along with her companion, Mrs Jenkinson. Mary found Anne de Bourgh a wan, silent thing. Her complexion was pale and her eyes narrow, and her hair was dry and flat for all that it was curled to the highest fashion. Lady Catherine spent most of the conversation either praising Anne or scolding her, so that her daughter could scarcely say a word. Mrs Jenkinson spent all of her conversation making sure her charge was comfortable. Miss de Bourgh never once looked at any of the party, and Mary could not fathom such gaucheness. To Mary, her lack of attention did not seem to spring from a sense of superiority but rather a lack of wit.

  Nor did Lady Catherine pay much attention to Mary. She lavished her demands and conversation on Darcy and his wife and sister. Georgiana held up as best she could, though she was herself not in the habit of talking much in company she did not know. Mary watched and listened and ate little.

  Mr Collins came but Charlotte did not, sending her regrets that she was still indisposed. Lady Catherine was most displeased and she took it out on Mr Collins, rendering the hapless man into a quivering lump of apology.

  ‘I cannot abide a spoiled child,’ Lady Catherine said. ‘Mr Collins, you must take care that your child does not become a greedy petulant thing with airs of superiority, for you will find that such a manner in the lower orders is a sign of depravity.’

  Mary wondered how an infant could show signs of depravity and tried to compose her expression so that Lady Catherine would not set upon her. As if by her design, Lady Catherine’s eye swept over the table and settled upon shy Georgiana. Mary felt both relief and guilt.