by Sophia Grey
Jane tried to detain her sister, but Elizabeth charged past, heading for Longbourn’s front door. “Lizzy, whatever is the matter?”
“Ask our mother,” Elizabeth snapped. She opened the door and stepped out into the brisk morning air without pausing to take her shawl or think about anything other than getting as far away from the house as possible.
“Lizzy!” Jane called from the doorway, but Elizabeth did not turn and did not slow her steps. The sanctuary of the garden was the only place she could truly be alone and she quickened her pace instinctively as the pale green wooden gate came into view.
Here, among the lavender and sweet smelling herbs, Elizabeth could finally relax. She sat on a smooth stone and ran her hands through the dusty gray-green stalks of lavender and tried to make sense of what had just happened.
As her mind replayed the jumble of words and emotions that had tumbled over her while Mr. Collins was speaking, she laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of it all. She should have known that Mr. Collins was planning something, but to know that her mother had been swept up in it as well was nothing short of ridiculous. It was no secret in Hertfordshire that Mrs. Bennet was eager to have her daughter’s married and settled, but that she had given no thought to Elizabeth’s happiness when it came to making such arrangements was laughable more than anything.
There was an echo of a slamming door and Elizabeth sat up straight, all mirth forgotten. Had someone come to fetch her back to answer for her rudeness to Mr. Collins? Surely, not. She would not apologize, either.
But instead of her name being called, Elizabeth heard something else entirely.
“Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins, I must protest!” Mrs. Bennet’s desperate voice echoed over the garden and Elizabeth rose from her stony seat to see what was happening. She made her way carefully through the garden and paused at the garden gate, secreting herself behind a boxwood hedge that hid her from view but still allowed her to see into the courtyard.
Mr. Collins, with his valise in hand stood staunchly in the gravel, his thin lips set in a hard line and his already small eyes narrowed beneath his broad-brimmed hat against the weak winter sun.
“Will you not change your mind?” Mrs. Bennet cried.
“I cannot, and I will not,” Mr. Collins said shortly. “Just last evening, Lady Lucas very kindly extended an invitation for me to visit, and , though it pains me greatly to leave Longbourn, I fear I shall have to trespass upon that invitation sooner than expected.”
Elizabeth could hear the sound of approaching hooves, and a small carriage appeared in the drive and came to a stop in front of Mr. Collins. He appeared to have wasted no time in sending word to the stables to come and fetch him and Elizabeth wondered what else he had arranged in such a short amount of time.
The carriage bobbed as Mr. Collins clambered up into the seat and the driver snapped his whip to urge the horses forward.
“Oh, Mr. Collins!” Mrs. Bennet wailed mournfully as she waved her handkerchief in farewell. Behind her, Lydia and Kitty giggled together while Jane watched from the doorway. Elizabeth shrank back against the hedge as Mrs. Bennet angrily ordered the girls inside the house, and she could hear her name being called.
Staying in the garden was a preferable to the alternative, and Elizabeth had no intention of facing her mother’s irrational ranting. Especially when it came to Mr. Collins. She retreated to the lavender patch and settled herself upon the same smooth stone she had just abandoned. She would be found eventually. Jane would know where she was, but for now, she would enjoy the solitude and hope that when she did come back to the house that her mother’s temper had cooled somewhat.
9
Mrs. Bennet was too ill to come down to supper that night, and breakfast the morning after. When teatime passed and she had still not appeared, Elizabeth took it upon herself to visit her mother and face whatever ire would be coming her way.
As soon as she entered her mother’s bedchamber, it was clear that forgiveness was not foremost in Mrs. Bennet’s mind. Jane was seated near her bedside reading, and she looked up at her sister briefly as she came through the door.
“Mama,” Elizabeth said softly. “I am come to see how you are. Papa has told me that you are feeling quite ill.”
“I am ill,” Mrs. Bennet said stiffly. “Sick at heart over the selfishness of my daughters!”
“Mama,” Elizabeth chided her as she sat upon the edge of the bed. “I have not been selfish to decline Mr. Collins’ proposal. Surely you must see that we were not well suited to each other!”
“And what does that matter?” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “You would see us turned out into the street upon your dear Papa’s death. Will that leave you satisfied?”
Jane raised an eyebrow and looked back down at the page she was reading and Elizabeth stifled an audible sigh. Their mother was prone to histrionics, at at the heart of this tantrum was a very real fear that they would be destitute and left to fend for themselves… a very real possibility if none of them were to be lucky enough to marry well.
“Mama, it matters very much,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Would you sleep well at night knowing that one of your daughters was married to a gentleman so entirely unsuited for her? Even if it were for the sake of the family, it would not be right. It would be as wrong as marrying Lydia to a lawyer, or Mary to a soldier…”
“Lydia would be very lucky to marry a lawyer,” Mrs. Bennet sniffed, but Elizabeth could see that her mother did understand what was being said. “Your father is being most unhelpful in all of this,” she continued mournfully. “Lady Lucas has sent word that he is staying at Lucas Lodge… she will never allow me to forget this indignity!”
“Mama,’ Elizabeth began, but her mother’s wail drowned out her words.
“She said that he will stay at Lucas Lodge for the remainder of the month! This can be no good thing for our family, you may take note of that, Jane!”
“Yes, Mama,” Jane said softly.
Elizabeth sighed and looked down at her hands. “I am sorry, Mama,” she said.
“And so you should be,” Mrs. Bennet said vehemently. “If Mr. Collins never speaks to us again, I shall be so cross with you!”
“Oh, Mama.”
* * *
When Mrs. Bennet did finally consent to leave her bedchamber and come down to take tea with the rest of the family, Elizabeth had heard quite enough about Mr. Collins and his stay at Lucas Lodge.
The tea had just been poured on a chilly Saturday afternoon when Lydia and Kitty, who had been in town with Jane came running into the house. “Mama! Mama you will never believe it,” the girls shrieked in unison.
“Will you cease your shouting,” Mrs. Bennet begged, “my nerves are still so fragile…”
“I am sorry, Mama, but you would be cross with us if we did not tell you the news straight away,” Lydia said.
“What news?” Elizabeth asked curiously. Lydia was fond of gossip, as any fifteen-year-old girl would be, but she was never so animated about as she was at this moment. It had to be something scandalous, or at the very least shocking.
“It is Mr. Collins.”
“I do not want to hear a word about Mr. Collins!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Oh, Jane… my nerves!”
Kitty stomped her foot upon the hardwood floor. “Mama, it is Charlotte Lucas! She is to marry Mr. Collins!”
Mrs. Bennet stood up from her chair with alarming speed. “Charlotte Lucas! Are you certain?”
“Of course!” Lydia cried. “We heard it in town! Mrs. Vickers has been commissioned to make her dress!” Jane entered the room just as Mrs. Bennet began to wail for their father. The expression on Jane’s face confirmed everything that Kitty and Lydia had said. Elizabeth was dumbfounded. Mr. Collins had only offered his horrendous attempt at a proposal to her only a few days ago… It was difficult for her to accept what had happened, but for the moment, all she could feel was confusion.
Mrs. Bennet pulled her handkerchief from a secret pocket and dabbed at her eyes. �
��Oh, Lizzy, if you had only accepted Mr. Collins’ proposal we would not be in this predicament!”
“Predicament?” Elizabeth stammered the question.
“Charlotte Lucas will be mistress of Longbourn when your father is gone!” Mrs. Bennet wailed.
Lydia made a face. “How could Charlotte agree to marry Mr. Collins,” she said incredulously. “But I suppose if he were to marry anyone Charlotte Lucas is just as boring as he…”
“Lydia,” Elizabeth snapped. “That is quite enough.”
“You should be thankful, Lizzy, that he did not propose to you first,” Kitty said seriously.
Lydia made an unladylike noise. “Could you imagine being married to Mr. Collins…”
“Enough!” Mrs. Bennet shouted and even Lydia closed her mouth and was silent. “Jane, take me to my room, I need to lie down!”
Stunned into silence, Elizabeth stared at her tea as Jane escorted their mother from the room with Lydia and Kitty following behind chattering wildly about the news and speculating about what Charlotte’s dress would look like and what she would do in Hunsford when they were married.
“You should not feel badly for refusing Mr. Collins,” Mary said abruptly. Elizabeth looked up sharply, for she had forgotten that Mary was still in the parlor. She sat at the pianoforte, her quill scratched against the parchment as she copied out the sheet music she had borrowed from her tutor. “You would not have been happy as the wife of a clergyman,” she observed mildly.
“No, indeed,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“I am certain that you will receive another proposal, Lizzy.” Mary seemed fairly certain of this fact, but Elizabeth was not interested in her younger sister’s opinion at that moment in time, and without saying another word, she pushed her tea away and stood up. She walked out of the room quickly and climbed the stairs to the room she shared with Jane.
Elizabeth could her hear mother’s desperate wail from down the hall as she stepped into her bedchamber and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the painted wood and took a long, shuddering breath.
“How is this possible?” she whispered to the empty room. She did not know what she had expected—of course Mr. Collins would continue his search for a suitable bride, but to have made another proposal within a few days… and after the confession of a most violent affection? Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. She did not know whether to laugh, cry, or throw herself upon her bed and hope that it was all just a terrible dream.
She knew she was being ridiculous. She had refused Mr. Collins in no uncertain terms, there was nothing about this news that should upset her. Charlotte Lucas was her very dear friend, and she knew that she should be happy for her… but as Elizabeth stood alone in her room, she could not find any happiness for Charlotte, all she could find was bitterness.
After the news of Charlotte Lucas’ engagement, there was little joy to be found in the Bennet household. Mr. Bennet seemed unaffected by everything, but Elizabeth did not find that surprising. He stayed largely out of the drama that swirled through their house, and now that Mr. Collins was gone he seemed to believe that the question of the entailment had been resolved. It was an unpopular opinion but it was one that he held to firmly, which drove his wife wild with nerves and frustration.
But the news of Charlotte’s engagement was not the only bad news to arrive, and as winter settled over Hertfordshire, Jane became withdrawn. There had been no replies to the letters she had sent to Miss Bingley at Netherfield Park, and Elizabeth’s heart broke for her sister. Adding to the mystery of the silence was the discovery, made by Lydia, of course, that Mr. Wickham had abandoned his commission and was missing from the garrison. Lydia and Kitty were properly shocked, and Elizabeth herself was left in a state of confusion—had Mr. Darcy, indeed, made good upon his threat to write to Colonel Forster and have the poor man stripped of his position within the militia? Surely, there was no other explanation.
* * *
Even with Christmas fast approaching and the promised addition of their dear uncle and aunt at the supper table, it was difficult to find cheer at Longbourn. Jane, so quiet in the last weeks, pulled Elizabeth aside one morning to show her a letter that had arrived from London.
“It is from Miss Caroline Bingley,” she said in hushed tones.
Elizabeth was shocked. She had already expected that Caroline Bingley was a cold, hard woman with no care for her sister, and had not expected any reply at all, but now? After so much time had passed? “Caroline? After so much silence? Whatever can she have to say for herself?”
“She says nothing of the letters I sent to Netherfield Park, and indeed, if I am to believe her words, they have not been at the estate for many weeks.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “To leave so soon after the triumph of their ball? Whatever can that mean?”
Jane shook her head, opened the letter and scanned it quickly. “She does not say specifically, only that they have left Netherfield Park for the winter and mean not to return…”
“Not to return? Not to return this winter, she means, of course.”
“At all, Lizzy, she implies that they will not return at all. And that Mr. Bingley—” Jane’s eyes filled with tears and Elizabeth snatched the letter from her sister’s hand. She scanned the letter carefully, noting the smug manner in which Miss Bingley finished the flourishes on her letters. If a manner of writing could be called smug, then Caroline Bingley had perfected it. She could hear the woman’s lofty tone in her mind as she read her words aloud.
“When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which took him to London, might be concluded in three or four days, but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again.” Elizabeth paused and raised her eyebrow. “Surely, Mr. Bingley is a man of his own mind, Jane. Caroline Bingley cannot pretend to know how he may or may not react to something.nd how is she to know how long his business might take? I daresay that is most presumptuous of her.”
Jane nodded briefly and gestured to the letter again. “That is not the worst of it.”
Elizabeth continued to read and drew in a breath at the language of another passage. “Many of my acquaintance are already in London for the winter; I wish I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one in the crowd, but of that I despair.” Elizabeth clutched the letter furiously. “How dare she be so callous,” she whispered vehemently before continuing. “I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.”
“Whatever can she mean by that?” Jane asked plaintively. “Does she mean to imply that my attentions are elsewhere? That my affections are split between her brother and some other gentleman? I have not given her cause to believe so…”
“No, indeed not,” Elizabeth said bitterly. “Caroline Bingley is a horrid woman, and I am glad that she is gone from Hertfordshire and we do not need to make her acquaintance any longer, but my dear Jane, you cannot take her words to heart… she means nothing but malice with them.”
Jane smiled, but the expression was thin and somewhat strained. “She goes on to imply that Mr. Bingley may soon be engaged to another… to Miss Georgiana Darcy.” Elizabeth read the letter again as Jane wiped at her cheeks. “Is it not clear enough there in her letter? Does it not expressly declare that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister and that she is perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference to me. Can there be any other opinion on the subject?''
“I cannot say,” Elizabeth said quietly. “All I can do is assure you that Mr. Bingley does indeed have affection for you, and that I do not believe that he could not throw it aside so easily. Caroline Bingley has written her own wishes and hopes into this letter, and I hold great confidence that Mr. Bingley will not allow himself
to be so easily lead astray from his true feelings.”
She pulled her sister into a tight embrace and did her best to comfort her. There was no reply that could be written to this letter that would be acceptable. Miss Bingley, though she had asked expressly for Jane’s correspondence, had left no doubt in ELizabeth’s mind that she did not wish to hear from Jane at all. She did not want Jane to take Caroline’s words to heart, but it was almost impossible to believe that Jane would be able to shake off such an insult, and indeed, such a challenge to everything she had believed had existed between herself and Mr. Bingley.
“I suppose there is nothing that I could do,” Jane said tearfully.
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth said. “Miss Bingley says that she does not believe that she will see you in London… I say that you shall see them.”
Jane stepped back and regarded her sister with surprise. “How shall I manage that?”
“Our aunt and uncle are coming for Christmas, we shall ask them if you can come to stay with them in London. Mrs. Gardiner adores you, Jane, it will not be a hardship to persuade them to agree.”
“Oh, Lizzy, do you really believe so?”
“I do,” Elizabeth said with determination. “It is settled. You shall go to London and shall surprise Caroline Bingley there. I daresay that within a fortnight of your arrival that Mr. Bingley’s affections for you will be renewed.”
“I do hope that it will be as you say,” Jane said and Elizabeth was cheered to see a little of Jane’s light return to her blue eyes.
“It will,” Elizabeth replied firmly. “I promise you.”
* * *
Despite Elizabeth’s reassurances, it was not until their aunt and uncle arrived from London for Christmas that Jane was seemed to finally regain some of her cheer. She was resigned to the fact that Mr. Bingley would not return to Hertfordshire that winter, but Elizabeth could only pray that her sister had not given up all the hopes that had been laid upon his affection for her.
