“Sir,” he said in a pompous manner, the angle of the sun causing his scalp to glow pinkly through his prematurely thinning hair, “would you be able to tell me if I am on the correct road to Longbourn?”
Darcy nodded. “If you continue straight on for another half a furlong, the road forks to the right and you will enter the hamlet of Longbourn. Go through it and you will find the entrance to the estate on the far side.”
“Thank you for your assistance. We’ll be on our way now,” said the young man raising his voice and nodding at the coachman who had been listening to their exchange. He knocked commandingly, but quite unnecessarily, on the roof to drive the point home and then withdrew his head as the vehicle departed in a cloud of dust.
Fine sand particles swirled around Darcy and settled on his shoulders as he swung back up into the saddle. He found that he was gritting his teeth. So this self-important young man is the heir to Longbourn. Not quite the effeminate, weak-kneed cleric that I imagined then, he thought, as he leant forward to pat his horse’s neck. He wondered what Elizabeth Bennet would make of the man. He already knew that she didn’t tolerate bossy behaviour. Yes, a definite clash of temperaments there. Well, he thought with a rare flash of humour: she might see me as overbearing too; but at least I still have all of my hair.
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The following Wednesday evening found Bingley and Darcy in their coach and on their way to Lucas Lodge for dinner. Once again, Bingley had been unable to refuse Sir William’s friendly invitation and when Darcy had remonstrated with him, he had shaken his head helplessly.
“I’ve tried. Really, I have. But if he sees that I intend to refuse, he looks at me as if I have shot his favourite dog and I just can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Bingley, I predict that your wife - when you find one - will walk all over you. It should be a simple matter of excusing yourself due to a prior arrangement. I do it all the time.”
“Of course it’s simple for you. You are invited out by everyone and never want to go anywhere, so you’ve had lots of practice. I, on the other hand, am not as fortunate. I don’t have a string of fabricated excuses at the ready just in case I should be asked to dinner.”
“Then how do you protect yourself against unwanted company when you are in London? You surely don’t accept every invitation you are given?”
“You know as well as I that invitations are not usually delivered in person, so you are given time to think. Also, it is much easier to send a written reply with your regrets. Should I be trapped into making an on-the-spot commitment, I send around a servant several days prior to the event to say that I am indisposed or have been called away urgently. However, here in the countryside there is no possibility of that sort of concealment; Sir William would know immediately if I offered him a false excuse. He is such a kind-hearted man, Darcy. I couldn’t insult him like that.”
“But you will allow him to inconvenience you night after night with his boring conversation and indigestible food.”
“Come, come, Darcy. This is only the second invitation in as many weeks. Besides, if I had refused, it would only be another quiet evening with just each other for company and we’ve had a string of those recently.”
To Darcy’s mind, passing another quiet evening seemed an attractive idea, but obviously his friend was suffering from boredom. Both men fell silent. As they passed through the gates to Lucas Lodge, Darcy looked out idly and for the first time saw there an image of a fawning spaniel thrown into relief by the setting sun. It had been carved into the iron centre panel of the gate and was probably an attempt to commemorate a once beloved pet. An amusing idea crossed his mind, so he pointed the carving out to Bingley.
“Other men have wolves, eagles or rampant lions guarding their gates,” he observed as, with a spurt of stones, their carriage pulled up behind the vehicle that was standing at the front door. “But here the threat is far more subtle. Consider yourself warned, Bingley, at Lucas Lodge you will be grovelled to first… and then licked to death.”
At this allusion to the deferential behaviour of their host, Bingley burst out laughing. Both men were still chuckling as they disembarked the carriage and approached the front door.
Chapter 12
“She had lost the art of conversation but not, unfortunately, the power of speech.”
George Bernard Shaw
As a rule of thumb, Darcy was generally happier as part of a small group, so that when he and Bingley were ushered into an upstairs drawing room that seemed filled with people, he immediately tensed. It took a second before he realized that the visitors were all members of the Bennet family and then he was understandably surprised. He had been under the impression that Lady Lucas was intent on limiting the contact between the Bennets, Bingley and himself. So what had changed?
Of course, he thought, as the truth dawned a minute later, Bingley and I no longer pose a threat: Jane Bennet has left the neighbourhood and Elizabeth now has a potential suitor in the form of her parson.
Darcy’s eyes searched the room for Elizabeth and found her sitting on a red brocade sofa, wedged between the young man he had encountered on the road two days before and a rather attractive lady in her middle years. These two persons were speaking across her in a particularly animated fashion. But this was not the Elizabeth Bennet that Darcy knew. This young woman was silent, her dark head slightly lowered, her eyes downcast. In fact her whole posture spoke of submission and, as he looked at her, a cold wave swept over Darcy. She meant to sacrifice herself for her sister and family: nothing less than complete surrender was what it would take to do it. He realized, with surprise, that he felt slightly sick.
Mr. Collins was excusing himself from the conversation with the woman Darcy took to be Elizabeth’s mother and rising from his seat, trod heavily across the room towards where Darcy and Bingley stood. He stopped and made a servile bow.
“Your servant, Mr. Darcy, sir. William Collins. No doubt you have heard of me. I have the honour of serving as vicar to the village of Hunsford which is under the patronage of your aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh.’
“I must thank you most sincerely for your assistance in guiding me towards Longbourn the other day. May I express the hope that any deficiencies in my address on that occasion will be forgiven. I knew not with whom I had the privilege of speaking,” he said ponderously.
“You must allow me to say how much I admire and revere your aunt, Lady Catherine…a great, great lady. Never have I experienced such generosity, such…”
“Yes, yes,” said Darcy, rudely cutting the young man’s effusions short with a nod of his head. He turned to greet Sir William and Mr. Bennet who stood close by, conversing with Bingley. As he did so, it crossed his mind that this scraping creature who now stood before him was the very man who had declared the death of Elizabeth Bennet’s youngest sister to be a blessing to the family. Darcy had never had time for sycophants and even less so now.
Collins, confused at having been so obviously repulsed, wandered slowly back to his seat. Darcy found chairs for himself and Bingley that were as far from the man as they could reasonably be, but it was impossible for the two men not to hear the discussion as it resumed between the parson and Mrs. Bennet. That lady, in order to command the attention that she felt was her due, had set her voice at such a pitch that it carried across all other, quieter conversations. Darcy had not been in a bad mood when he walked into the room, but it wanted just a few minutes of listening to Mrs. Bennet for him to take her in dislike as well.
He would be the first to admit that he did not easily tolerate fools, but never had he seen such selfishness and stupidity united in one person. When she was not batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet seemed to suffer from the delusion that she was the single most important person in the room and that her trivial illnesses and ridiculous opinions were of vital interest to everyone. No one (except Mr. Collins who obviously enjoyed honorary status as a potential son-in-law)
was permitted to change the topic or given more than a minute or two to air their opinion before she dragged the attention back onto herself.
One topic that she returned to with sickening regularity was her dissatisfaction with her family. Loyalty seemed to be a foreign concept to Mrs. Bennet. To Darcy, allegiance to family had always been sacred and, as she loudly voiced her dissatisfaction with one or other of them, his hostile attitude began deepening into dislike. Then too, the resignation with which her criticisms were received by the individuals involved, told him more than anything else that this was a regular occurrence. She is one of those people that suffer a great deal and none of it in silence, Darcy thought contemptuously.
However Mrs. Bennet did have competition. The Reverend Collins was an equally insensitive conversationalist and took any opportunity that came his way to embark on a tedious monologue. A point came during one of his orations where Mrs. Bennet’s patience with him finally snapped: he might be in a position to offer for one of her daughters but he was depriving her of her rightful audience. Enough was enough.
He had latched onto the topic of Lady Catherine’s gardens and was expounding on their beauty and size, when Mrs. Bennet could hold her tongue no longer and began interrupting him. To the amusement of most of their listeners, every aspect of the park that Collins mentioned was remarked on and turned on its head by her, to be linked in some way to an instance in which she had suffered neglect at the hands of her family. Collins soldiered on, but when he mentioned that the shrubs along the main avenue at Rosings had recently been shaped to resemble swans, all onlookers held their breath. Surely Mrs. Bennet’s ingenuity would fail her now?
“How interesting! Swans you say. I have repeatedly asked Mr. Bennet to have the gardener cut back the trees that prevent the sunlight from reaching my bedroom window. I am not asking for them to be trimmed into special shapes, you understand: just to be allowed a little sun. It is not by choice that I spend much of my time up there, Mr. Collins. The Good Lord knows that I am not a well woman,” she said, spreading her hands helplessly.
“Perhaps the gardener has his hands full with tending to the estate lawns and such?” replied Mr. Collins, now uncertain how to continue without giving offence to someone.
“Well, he might do. But do I not count? Are my needs always to be ignored?”
At this, Mr. Bennet finally decided to speak from across the room. “It would be hard to ignore you, my dear. Certainly the trees can be cut back - if and when you decide to have your curtains open during the day. Until then, there is no point to it. You like sitting in the dark and John has better things to do.”
Bingley, who had been observing this exchange as well listening to Mr. Collins’ earlier enthusiasms with a shrewdness that was unusual to him, leant over and commented softly: “I can’t say that I like Mrs. Bennet all that much, especially the way that she airs her dirty laundry in public, but I really tire of this Collins fellow. Far from being a humble pastor – which is how he likes to present himself - the man is in love with the sound of his own voice. He thinks that we are all vitally interested in what he might have to say and he couldn’t be more mistaken.”
As much as Darcy knew that Bingley’s criticism stemmed from seeing Mr. Collins as an erstwhile competitor for Jane Bennet’s hand, he couldn’t help but echo his friend’s opinion. Yet he could see that there were some amongst the company who seemed impressed with Collins. Mr. Bennet’s attitude of mild amusement indicated that he was not one of them, but Sir William, Lady Lucas and Mary Bennet all seemed captivated by the parson’s long-winded and effusive outpourings which (besides revolving around the size and majesty of his benefactor, Lady Catherine’s estate) also dwelled on the diligence with which he, as a clergyman, performed his duties in monitoring and preaching to his sinful ‘flock’ all of whom stood in great awe of him - if his recital was to be believed.
Darcy noticed too that Elizabeth Bennet, who had time and again proved her ability to cut him down to size, had sat motionless as a wax doll all through this embarrassing side-show. She said not one word as her mother and cousin paraded their spite and stupidity before the assembled company. It was only when a particularly foolish or revealing comment caused the colour to rise in her cheeks that Darcy could tell just how much she was mortified by it all.
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At dinner, an irritable Darcy was placed on Lady Lucas’ left. Owing to the preponderance of females at the table, Mrs. Bennet was seated directly at her hostess’ right and so Darcy, when not sharing the odd word with Charlotte Lucas, was able to hear most of the following exchange between the two women:
“My dear Fanny, such a treat to see you! I have missed you on my visits to Longbourn recently. I am pleased to see you up and about again,” said Lady Lucas, patting her friend’s hand indulgently.
“I had heard that you called by. Unfortunately, on both occasions I was laid low with the most dreadful nervous headache and heart palpitations. At one stage, Hill quite feared for my life and wanted to call in Mr. Grey. But in the end I rallied and the idea was abandoned. Indeed, I have no wish to be like Meg Cowper and be a trouble to my family with the apothecary living on my doorstep,” said Mrs. Bennet, taking a healthy mouthful of soup.
“No, indeed. And have you any idea what may have brought it on?”
“I do,” said Mrs. Bennet, lowering her voice so that Darcy had to strain to hear her words. I won’t have it said that I am complaining, but it was the day that Mr. Bennet informed me that he had sent Jane to my brother in London and then thought to console me by saying that Lizzy had undertaken to step into her sister’s shoes and marry Mr. Collins instead.’
“You have no idea what a worry this has been. Jane would have secured Mr. Collins easily, for she is a good obedient girl; unlike Miss Lizzy over there. But she had it put into her head that Mr. Collins would be a difficult husband - and this without even seeing him! So now we are left to struggle along with Lizzy’s half-hearted attempts at attracting him. And all this because the dear man observed in his letter that Lydia’s death had been a blessing. Of course it was Lizzy who took immediate exception to that remark. It was she who pointed it out and frightened Jane off, so she needn’t think that she has become any sort of martyr by offering to replace her sister.”
Lady Lucas was looking at her friend in disbelief. “But my dear Fanny, to refer to dear Lydia’s death as a blessing…” she murmured. “Surely you cannot approve of such a comment!”
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward and patted her hand. “I can see that you think it a shocking remark. Well, I can’t say that I was happy with it at the time, but I am Lydia’s mother and if I am able to forgive the poor man for expressing himself badly, then who should condemn him? I’m sure that he meant to say that having to house and care for Lydia and her illegitimate child here in Meryton would have sunk our family’s reputation forever. And that is quite true, you know… out of sight, out of mind. But it comes down to the fact that I am in no position to be climbing onto my high horse. I am a realist, my dear - the only one in my family, unfortunately. In this backwater, the girls will certainly never get another offer and there are practicalities to consider. Whatever Miss Lizzy’s opinion of Mr. Collins may be, he is our one chance. I have warned her that if she bungles this, I will never forgive her!”
“Yes. I see that she is very subdued tonight.”
“And so she should be. That girl has been indulged by Mr. Bennet beyond what is right or sensible. Of what earthly use is it to know how to translate from the Greek to Latin? Will that help her run a home or raise children? I only pray that Mr. Collins never discovers how badly he has been cheated. Jane would have made him a far better wife.”
“Yes. I agree with you there. I’m afraid that gentlemen frequently shy away from blue-stockings, considering them to be mannish. Luckily for us, Charlotte has shown no such tendencies. Sir William admires your Lizzy’s intellect but has frequently expressed the opinion that a woman who atte
mpts to take on that which belongs naturally to men, makes herself repulsive. But you may rely on me. I will say nothing to alert Mr. Collins to Lizzy’s more scholarly interests,” said Lady Lucas, pressing her lips together disapprovingly as a footman appeared behind her to remove her soup plate.
Just then the wine was served and around the table, guests visibly began to relax. In the background, Sir William kept up a loud, jovial conversation with Bingley while carving the meat. Darcy, who had kept his eyes fixed on his plate, made no attempt to converse with either of his neighbours. Picking up his glass, he threw back its entire contents in a few gulps. As the alcohol burned its way down, he wondered whether he would be able to endure another hour and a half of this without recourse to frequent and plentiful supplies of liquor.
“Mr. Darcy. Has something happened to discompose you, sir?” asked Charlotte Lucas softly, as she beckoned to a footman to refill his glass. A minute before, she had watched him savagely crush his table napkin in one hand and had wondered what he might be thinking.
“Perhaps you have been listening to my mother’s conversation?” she added quietly. “You should pay them no mind, sir.”
In a fierce undertone, Darcy replied, “I find it very difficult to sit by quietly while older women, who should have more compassion, attempt to confine and restrict their own children. I have had a hand in raising my younger sister, Miss Lucas - a girl with so much intelligence and promise that it would be a sin to deny all she is, just to fit her into a mould of society’s making. I know that women must marry and I certainly do not speak for the overthrow of the current order; merely for allowing people a little freedom to be what they are within it.”
“Ah! But you must understand that your attitudes differ precisely because your circumstances are not the same. You speak out of love for your sister but Mrs. Bennet speaks out of fear. Should Elizabeth fail to secure Mr. Collins, she and her daughters will have a bleak future ahead of them. She sees no other way than to force Elizabeth into conforming. Besides, Elizabeth made this decision freely, you know.”
The Golden Apples of the Sun Page 9
