by Sophia Grey
“Do you really think that Mr. Bingley will be pleased to see me in London,” Jane asked one night as they prepared for bed, but all Elizabeth could do was comfort her sister and hope that the sting of the Bingley’s departure from Netherfield was not as permanent as Caroline Bingley had made it seem in her horrid letter.
“Caroline Bingley cannot know her brother’s mind,” Elizabeth replied. “I do believe that all will be well—I can be certain of nothing else. As soon as he sees you, I am certain of that.”
Jane had seemed cheered by their conversation, and did not raise the subject again, but Elizabeth could see that she had become quiet once more, no doubt lost in doubts about what could be, and when the youngest Bennet girls played their matrimonial guessing game, Jane refrained and sat silent and withdrawn during the merriment.
Cajoled by Elizabeth, Jane had written a letter to Caroline Bingley saying that she would be in London for the turn of the year, but as Christmas cheer descended upon Longbourn, there was no word of reply from London. As Elizabeth had suspected, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were delighted to invite Jane to return with them to London after Christmas, and while Jane fretted about arriving on Mrs. Hurst’s doorstep without an invitation, Elizabeth was bolder in her assertion that it was exactly as it should be. “You shall march up their front steps, knock firmly upon the door, and announce yourself—”
Jane slapped at her sister with a roll of parchment and laughed. “Oh, Lizzy I could never do such a thing and you well know it!”
“But could you not imagine the expression upon Caroline Bingley’s pinched face to see you standing there all smiles and sunshine to greet a dear friend whose presence you have missed so deeply since her departure from Hertfordshire!”
“You are horrid,” Jane laughed.
Elizabeth sighed and folded another gown for Jane to place into her valise. “Perhaps, but I would dearly like to see it.” She knew very well that Jane would do no such thing as to place herself in Caroline’s Bingley’s path, but Elizabeth dearly hoped that she would forget such propriety and take charge of her own feelings. If she wanted to prove her affection for Mr. Bingley, then she should be bold, she should be daring—but Jane was different. Jane was sweet and kind and would demand nothing of the sort.
As Elizabeth waved at the departing carriage, she hoped that Jane would dare something with her time in London. Another letter, perhaps two… but whether or not Jane would take such matters into her own hands was doubtful. Elizabeth wondered briefly how she would react to the selfsame situation... If she were set upon being Mrs. Bingley, marching to Mrs. Hurst’s front door and demanding an explanation would be the very thing she would do.
10
January passed as quietly as the snow that blanketed the ground outside Longbourn’s windows. Jane’s letters had become increasingly melancholy and Elizabeth wished that she could do something for her sister. Despite the effusive promised in her first and only letter, Caroline Bingley had responded to none of Jane’s letters of enquiry, and Jane had not visited with them at all since her arrival.
Elizabeth was furious with the snobbish Caroline Bingley and resolved that if she were to ever see her in person, that she would receive the full force of Elizabeth’s anger at the insult she had so blithely given Jane. Someone like Caroline Bingley could never understand how hurtful her flippant words would have been received, and if she had, or had wished for that result, then it made Elizabeth all the more angry.
As spring arrived in Hertfordshire and Jane returned home, Elizabeth received a letter from Charlotte Lucas, now Charlotte Collins, with an invitation to visit her at Hunsford. Elizabeth had not been invited to their wedding, which Charlotte had apologized for, and described it as being a small and practical affair attended only by close relations.
“I shall be pleased to welcome you to the parsonage at Hunsford,” Elizabeth read the letter aloud to Jane while they dressed for bed. “You will be pleased to know that Lady Catherine de Bourgh, herself, has expressed a desire to make your acquaintance and we have been invited to dine at Rosings Park upon your arrival.”
Jane smiled as she brushed out her long honey-gold hair. “Now that sounds like Mr. Collins,” she said.
“I would not be surprised to discover that he was standing over her shoulder while she wrote,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “Dear Mr. Collins does so appreciate her Ladyship’s condescension.”
“Who could not?” Jane laughed. “And now you shall experience it as well.”
Elizabeth sighed wistfully as she braided her dark hair. “I am certain that I shall struggle all my life to find an equal to the honor bestowed upon me by such a meeting.”
“My poor Lizzy,” Jane said solemnly. “To think that you could have been Mrs. Collins.”
Elizabeth dropped the letter into her lap and covered her mouth to smother her laughter. “Indeed, Jane, what a fool I was. To have Lady Catherine de Bourgh condescend to me at every occasion… to tell me how my household should be organized and my kitchen to be run. However could I have made such a mistake.”
Jane sobered for a moment and went back to brushing her long hair. “It is quite something that Charlotte Lucas should be married and set in her life before either of us,” she said quietly. Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped just a little. Jane had hoped to be married by now, but all talk of marriage and engagements had quieted in the household, and even Lydia and Kitty were more subdued in their talk of the garrison officers.
“Quite something, indeed,” Elizabeth agreed. “But Charlotte has always been the most practical of us. And though Mama moans about her being Mistress of Longbourn when Papa is gone, I cannot think that it will be too terrible a thing. Charlotte would not leave us without a home. I am certain that we may count upon her for that kindness.”
“Of course,” Jane said softly. “I suppose we can only hope that when such a time arrives that we are all mistresses of our own houses and need not have such a worry hanging over us.”
“Indeed.”
The spoke no more of it, and Elizabeth retired to bed feeling more sick at heart than she had previously over Jane’s current situation. She had been so convinced that her every happiness lay just within reach, only to have it snatched away without warning. It was most unfair, and Elizabeth could not bear the injustice of it. Nor would she if she happened to see Miss Bingley in any sort of society.
* * *
Charlotte’s invitation to Hunsford included the provision that she travel with Sir William and Charlotte’s sister Maria. The journey was not long, and was punctuated with a visit at Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s house in Cheapside. To Elizabeth’s delight, Mrs. Gardiner told her of plans to travel the Lake Country come the turn of summer and she was pleased to accept. She had not been away from Longbourn for any long stretch of time, and though she knew her father would miss her, it was entirely overdue and, in truth, she longed to see more of the country before the weight of a marriage and a family took the opportunity away from her.
The following day, Elizabeth focused the entirety of her energy upon the scenery that passed by the carriage window. Sir William had been a dear friend of their family for many years, and while his company was pleasant enough, the older gentleman had a habit of relaying the same stories over, and over, again without much change to their events, and Elizabeth had heard every one of them several times. Maria Lucas was no better than Lydia and Kitty and had nothing more to talk about aside from her imaginings of what Rosings Park would look like, another topic which Elizabeth cared very little about.
As the carriage approached Hunsford, Maria began to call out the landmarks that her elder sister had set out in her letters. The garden sloping to the road, the whitewashed house with stone fences surrounding, a pale stand of birch trees barely coming into their leaf, and the thick laurel hedge that blocked the westerly wind.
Mr. Collins appeared first, with his hand clapped atop his head to hold down his wide-brimmed hat while Charlotte followed behind. The carria
ge stopped at a small wooden gate painted a merry shade of green, which led by a short gravel walk to the house.
Elizabeth stepped down out of the carriage and Charlotte welcomed her with a tight embrace and a swift kiss to her flushed cheek. She also noticed instantly that Mr. Collins’ manners had not been altered by marriage; his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his enquiries after all her family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time with ostentatious formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment.
Mr. Collins took great pains to pay particular attention to Elizabeth, as if he wished to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him, but though every aspect of the house and garden seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of repentance; and rather looked with wonder at Charlotte that she could have so cheerful an air, with such a companion.
When Mr. Collins said anything of which she herself might reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she noticed a faint blush upon her cheek; but in general Charlotte seemed very wisely not to react to her husband’s speech and affectations. After sitting long enough to admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself.
Mr. Collins declared that Lady Catherine was encouraging of his work in the garden as a ‘respectable pleasures.’ He also took great pains to describe every aspect of his garden and the surrounding area with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump, but Elizabeth felt herself drained by his effusive descriptions and could take no pleasure in the walk, or the views.
But of all the landscape which his garden, or which the country, or the kingdom could boast, none, he declared, were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings Park. “As you can see here, my dear cousin, you may see the walls of Rosings through this opening in the trees, just there,” he said as he escorted Elizabeth toward the aforementioned spot looking up at the poplar trees that bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground, but it seemed to have been imposed upon its surroundings, and the many, many, windows which Mr. Collins had taken great pains to describe in detail served only to highlight the way the house appeared to loom over the surrounding landscape; dominating rather than complimenting it.
“A very fine aspect, indeed,” Elizabeth said, to which Mr. Collins’ beaming smile of agreement made the very best reply. It was clear that Mr. Collins’ ceaseless praise of his patroness had not ceased since his return to Hunsford, and Elizabeth found her pity for Charlotte growing once more. Surely, she would have had some measure of regret for accepting this man’s proposal… surely, she had imagined a different life for herself… but as she watched Sir William and Mr. Collins set off once more toward a stand of apple trees that were just beginning to flower, she wondered if Charlotte was perhaps relieved that her choice had been made and that she were not still at Lucas Lodge with her mother while the world spun by without her.
Perhaps that was what it would be like… if no other proposal were likely to be presented to her, would she be relegated to a class of women who were too old to marry and begin a family—with no usefulness except as a governess to the children of a luckier woman with more accomplishment and the boast of a healthier inheritance. Elizabeth bit her lip sharply. Perhaps Mr. Collins had been correct when he had made his flippant observations about her prospects.
Perhaps she was not destined for a very great love at all. Perhaps, like Charlotte, she would have to settle for the very next gentleman to offer his suit and let destiny take its course.
“Lizzy, are you quite all right?” Charlotte’s words interrupted Elizabeth’s thoughts and she blinked quickly to chase away her dark thoughts.
“Indeed, I thank you,” Elizabeth said swiftly, though she was not sure that Charlotte believed her.
“We are to walk up to Rosings Park to see the gardens. Mr. Collins is particular friends with the gardener and would like to enquire after some marigolds to line the front walk.”
Elizabeth looked up at the great house beyond the trees and suppressed a shudder. From Mr. Collins’ words of praise, Elizabeth had already cultivated a healthy dislike for Lady Catherine, and she had not desire to meet the woman unless it was entirely necessary. “It has been a long journey,” she said with a sigh. “And I did not expect to be so exhausted. But I fear that if I do not lie down that I shall develop a headache.”
Charlotte nodded quickly and clasped her friend’s hand firmly. “Of course, do, please go back to the parsonage and rest. Not everyone is as eager for walks through the grounds as my husband.”
“Indeed not,” Elizabeth said with a grateful smile. “Perhaps tomorrow you may show me your favorite walks.” Charlotte agreed readily and left Elizabeth to walk back to the parsonage on her own as she and Mr. Collins led the remainder of the party disappeared behind the trees as they walked up the hill toward Rosings Park.
Elizabeth had only just reached the green wooden gate when she heard someone call out. “Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” She turned in surprise and was more stunned to see who it was who had called her name.
None other than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, a gentleman whom she had less interest in seeing than anyone else on this green earth. She would have gladly sat in Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s parlor for hours than to spend five minutes in this gentleman’s company.
“Mr. Darcy,” she managed to choke out. “I did not think to see you here in Kent.”
“Indeed, I should say the same,” he said sharply as he approached. His tone was almost accusatory and Elizabeth looked at him with suspicious eyes.
“I am visiting my friend Charlotte Collins,” she said briskly. “She is newly married to the parson. If you are looking for him, they have gone up to Rosings Park.”
“I am headed that direction myself, he said quickly. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my aunt.”
Finally it made sense as to why Mr. Collins had been so eager to speak to him at the Netherfield Ball. To be able to pay his respects to the noble nephew of his beloved patroness must have been an honor beyond imagining. Elizabeth stifled a chuckle at the memory of Mr. Darcy’s discomfort at being trapped in that conversation and then stopped herself as she felt the gentleman’s dark eyes settle critically upon her.
“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I was about to go inside, I have only just arrived and am exhausted from the journey—”
“Indeed, I shall not keep you any longer,” he replied briskly and made a short bow in her direction. But that simple action reminded her of the terribly uncomfortable dance they had shared at Netherfield Park, and his unfair treatment of Mr. Wickham.
“You will be pleased to know, Mr. Darcy,” she said loudly, “that Mr. Wickham has quit Meryton entirely. He has abandoned his commission and left town. Mr. Denny has not heard from his friend in months. Whatever words you may have said to Colonel Forster must have convinced him that Mr. Wickham was unsuited for the position he had so carefully won.”
Mr. Darcy turned on his heel to face her, his dark eyes blazing and Elizabeth’s bold words caught in her throat.
“My letter to Colonel Forster concerns more than just Mr. Wickham, but his presence among a class of society that he has no business treating in,” he said sharply.
“Indeed, by your estimation he should be destitute!” Elizabeth cried. “You took away his hope of taking his place in the clergy, something promis
ed to him by your father, himself—”
Mr. Darcy looked at her with some surprise. “I should not be as dismayed with you as I am, Miss Bennet” he said somewhat stiffly. “But I see that you have been drawn in by Mr. Wickham’s falsehoods as well. There is some truth to what he has told you, but it is not all to be believed.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth challenged him. Her cheeks blazed with an angry blush and she stared back at him boldly. “Then what is the truth of it?”
“Though it is not your business, you have made it so by your blind defence of him. Mr. Wickham was, indeed, destined for the clergy, a promise that my father made to his before the elder Mr. Wickham passed away. We were only boys, and Mr. Wickham was raised alongside myself and my sister Georgiana. When he came of age, he was given the opportunity to take a parsonage at Kympton and enter the clergy there, but he refused and instead took the money that would have gone to install himself there and spent it gambling and drinking…”
Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy in shock. This was nothing like the Mr. Wickham she had come to know in the short time he had been in Meryton and her image of the luckless officer began to crack at the edges. What reason would Mr. Darcy have to lie about such a thing?
“I have done you, and your family, a service,” he snapped.
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open. “A service? And how shall I thank you for such a thing?”
“By never speaking of it ever again,” he said. “George Wickham is a scoundrel, and he would have wound his way into your family and into the lives of one of your younger sisters and brought your house to ruin.”
“That is a bold statement, Mr. Darcy, how dare you insinuate—”
“Did you truly believe that Mr. Wickham had developed an affection for you? Is that why you defend him so staunchly, Miss Bennet?”
