Darcy knew he had made a mistake in dancing with Miss Elizabeth Bennet as soon as he opened his eyes on the following morn. In his dreams, he had spent all night in congress with her, sometimes with her acquiescence and sometimes not. In all his dreams she wore that damned crimson dress. Fragments of these dreams still revolved in his head.
In one dream, they had been walking near a stream in their ball clothes. The filtered sunlight through the trees gave a glorious yellow-green cast to the light. As they strolled, hand in hand, she smiled up at him while they conversed, her eyes sparkling. He had pushed her gently back against the trunk of a willow and kissed her long and languorously, his lips burning a path down her chest, past the cross on her necklace, until he went down on his knees as he raised her skirts…
Then they'd been arguing on the dance floor about Wickham, spitting words of venom at each other as they revolved at a frenetic speed in the waltz. He had pulled her closer possessively, and she had begun to struggle, whereupon he'd pushed her against the pillar he'd been leaning against at the ball and taken her there while she screamed and hurled abuse at him.
The latter dream truly frightened him because he was not a violent man. Certainly he had never lifted a finger in violence against a woman, and he was perturbed that he had even thought of such a thing.
Arising, he had gone riding to clear his thoughts. He was disturbed by the violence of his feelings for Miss Bennet and a general repugnance for her family: the way Mrs Bennet thrust her daughters at every Tom, Dick and Harry; the hoydenish behaviour of Miss Lydia Bennet; and the lazy indifference of Mr Bennet who did not seem to care provided his comfort was not impaired. Darcy also privately detested the way he called his wife 'Mrs Bennet' as if he were gently chiding her–reminding her that she was his chattel. His parents had addressed each other by their Christian names.
In his foul mood, even the beautiful and decorous Jane Bennet came under his censure as the insipid beauty who had wound Bingley around her little finger. Lurking in the background, there was, of course, the beautiful Delilah who had ensnared him, but by focusing on her family's sins, Darcy kept her at the periphery of his thoughts.
Returning to Netherfield for breakfast at nine, he was surprised to encounter Caroline, who was not in general an early riser, at the breakfast table. She poured forth her worries about her brother's heart. This seemed a welcome change from Darcy's own troubles. Together they determined that some time spent in London cooling his heels (or his heart) was what Charles needed. Fortuitously, a letter had arrived while Darcy was out riding, summoning Charles to London to attend to business, and they determined the entire Netherfield party would follow him.
The dust from Charles's horse had not settled when Caroline summoned the Fletchers and advised them of their imminent departure. The stables were advised, footmen began hauling luggage, and the gargantuan process that was shutting down Netherfield began. Caroline sat down to write a sweet farewell note to Jane Bennet.
At Longbourn, Mr Collins was also considering his night at the ball. He had managed to dance with each of his five cousins during the night. He could not be sanguine about the popularity of the sisters: with the exception of Miss Mary, not one of them had sat down for a single dance. Miss Jane continued to be the focus of Mr Bingley's attentions. Miss Kitty had coughed throughout their dance, while Miss Lydia's eyes roamed elsewhere as she constantly waved to officers. Miss Elizabeth he considered too vivacious. She seemed to be constantly smiling and laughing with her partners, even the estimable Mr Darcy, who deserved to be treated with far greater dignity. That whittled his selection down to a single candidate, and Mr Collins now considered her more thoroughly in the light of his future felicity.
Mr Collins was a clergyman by necessity rather than by choice. He had no interest in theology. He spent his spare time gardening and beekeeping; and he privately thought he would make a much better squire for Longbourn then Mr Bennet, whose erudition seemed strangely at odds with his position as an agriculturist.
At the time Mr Collins had trained as a clergyman fifteen years ago, the chances of his ever inheriting Longbourn had seemed remote; but when Mr Bennet's bevy of daughters had not been succeeded by a son, his hopes had been raised. Of course, he was only twenty years Mr Bennet's junior, and the distinct possibility existed that the man would outlive him, and the entail would pass him by entirely. If that were the case, his only chance of benefiting from the entail would be to have it pass to his son. Unfortunately, his attempts to find a wife among his flock were not bearing fruit. Thus it had been somewhat of a revelation when Lady Catherine had advised him to look for a wife among his cousins, who surely had an interest in their continued existence at Longbourn. In short, Mr Collins was not so much looking for a wife as a womb.
It might have been supposed that in Mary Bennet, Mr Collins had had the happy luck to find much more. His sermons came verbatim from the publications of others, and he only added a choice phrase here and there, echoing the thoughts of his patroness, who expounded at length on every topic, no matter how inconsequential. In short, his mind was not much caught up with theology, and a wife who could fill this ecclesiastical void might have been thought just the ticket.
Unfortunately this was not his view on the matter–the last thing he wanted was a wife who could throw his ignorance in relief. He had no wish to be saddled with a bluestocking whose knowledge of liturgy overshadowed his own, even if she deferred to him. A cleverer man might have realised his luck in acquiring a wife whose brain he could pick for the rest of his life; but Mr Collins' own weak mind demanded that he be first in intelligence under his roof, effectively discounting three quarters of the female population.
Thus, with Miss Mary's affinity for scripture a black mark against her, he had found a more worthy object in the demure Charlotte Lucas, who was standing in the garden at Longbourn the afternoon following the ball. At 27, some considered Charlotte to be on the shelf, but she was young enough to suit Mr Collins' purposes.
Charlotte was, of course, more intelligent than Mary–she would not otherwise have been Lizzy's friend, but she was smart enough not to show it. She could not see anything to be gained from Lizzy's current path in the world, which would undoubtedly leave her a lonely spinster, and repeatedly begged her to be more practical. As noble as Lizzy's aims to help the world were, they were at odds with society's expectations and really more suited to a young man. If she wanted to benefit the general good, she would be better off embroidering an altar cloth for the Longbourn church. Only Dr Gregory's arrival on the scene had given Charlotte some relief. In him, Lizzy might find a worthy mate. He was one of those rare males who did not seem to be daunted by her intelligence. It was generally only the stupidest males, or those who did not know her well, who asked her to dance. Possibly because Dr Gregory was so intelligent himself, he did not feel threatened by Lizzy's wit or her hunger for learning.
Charlotte often accompanied Lizzy home from the infirmary. Lizzy had initially requested Charlotte's escort to support the ruse that she was spending her mornings at the Lucases, but Charlotte had been eager to have a legitimate excuse to spend time at Longbourn. She found the company of the elder Bennet sisters infinitely more interesting than that of her mother and her own siblings. Thus it had become her habit to have lunch at Longbourn and spend several hours there afterwards before returning home.
She therefore had a ringside seat for the spectacle that was Mr Collins' visit. At first, Charlotte felt a little sorry for the man: Lizzy held him in such disdain–she had little tolerance for weak-minded females and even less for nincompoops of the opposite sex.
Lizzy had succinctly summed up her feelings with the following pithy comment:
"To have had the benefit of a university education and ended up like that is unthinkable!"
Charlotte noticed how Mr Collins avoided the older sisters, looked upon the antics of the younger sisters with horror, and, strangely, seemed impervious to Mary's polite overtures. These usua
lly came in the form of declamation of a biblical verse, followed by a polite question on his opinion.
Charlotte herself had done nothing more than smile at Mr Collins' clumsy flattery when it was directed at her. Given his tendency to spew it in all directions, she had thought little of it.
Thus she was taken by surprise when Lizzy departed to search for a second pair of garden shears to find herself alone in the wilderness with Mr Collins; whereupon he went down on bended knee and requested her hand in marriage.
Her initial shock had quickly given way to her practical mind. Here was something she had given up all hope of ever obtaining: the chance to run her own household.
She prevaricated and asked him to dinner. When Lizzy returned, Charlotte cited a need to help her mother with the evening meal and quickly departed. Her excuse had been truthful enough, if somewhat self-fulfilling.
Her walk to Lucas Lodge that afternoon was the most momentous of her life. By the time she had arrived at her parents' house, she had weighed up all the pros and cons. The chief of the latter might have been thought to be that she hardly knew Mr Collins from a bar of soap. Instead, it was the possibility that her acceptance might cause an irrevocable breach with her best friend. Certainly, she would incur Mrs Bennet's displeasure.
Having arrived at the front steps of Lucas Lodge with the decision in his favour, Charlotte quickly informed her mother of their impending dinner guest and the nature of his visit; then sought out her father.
Thus, after giving his apologies to a confused Mary, whom he encountered in the front hall, Mr Collins had departed Longbourn before dinner and returned from Meryton an engaged man. Slipping into the house in the moonlight, he felt every bit the adventurous young lover. Avoiding the ladies in the upstairs sitting room, he had gone straight to bed.
After breakfast in the morning, he departed for Kent in a hired Tilbury, feeling nothing but sanguine at the success of his mission. He graciously thanked his hostess, citing a wish to revisit in the near future.
Charlotte had delivered the news to Lizzy on their walk to Longbourn on the following day. The result had been a heated argument in which Lizzy had questioned Charlotte's sanity in no uncertain terms. Upon arriving at Longbourn, Charlotte had stopped at the front gates, knowing she would not be welcome once Mrs Bennet was apprised. But she begged Lizzy to break the news, in whatever way she deemed the least damaging, before the banns were read for the first time in Meryton on Sunday.
Chapter 19: The fallout
Just before departing for London, Caroline left her missive to Jane on the hall table, and thus it was not delivered to Longbourn 'til the following day. The footman arrived just as Jane was about to accompany Lizzy on her regular morning walk to the infirmary.
As they left the village of Longbourn, Jane broke the seal and scanned the contents.
"It is from Caroline Bingley; she writes that the whole party will have left Netherfield by this time and be on their way to London—and without any intention of ever coming back again."
Jane dropped her hands limply to her sides and continued to march ahead without really seeing anything.
"Is that all it says?" asked Lizzy.
Jane shook her head wordlessly, but did not look at her sister.
Lizzy snatched the letter from her sister's hand.
"…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 we are certain it cannot be so. I am convinced that, when Charles gets to town, he will be in no hurry to leave it again. We have determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd–but of that I despair. 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…"
Finally regaining her voice Jane managed, "It is evident by this that he comes back no more this winter."
"It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean that he should," replied Lizzy.
"Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. He is his own master. But the passage about Mr Darcy's sister particularly hurts me."
Lizzy held up the letter and Jane pointed to the offending paragraph.
"…Mr Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she engenders in Louisa and myself is inspired by the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. My brother admires her greatly already. It is an event which will secure the happiness of so many."
"Is it not clear enough? Does it not expressly declare that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she is perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference; and that if she suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she kindly means to put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?"
"Yes, there can, for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?"
"Most willingly."
"You shall have it in a few words: Miss Bingley sees that her brother is in love with you and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to town in the hope of keeping him there and tries to persuade you that he does not care about you."
Jane shook her head.
"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you together can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot. She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding dress. But the case is this: We are not rich enough nor grand enough for them; and she is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that when there has been one intermarriage, she may have less trouble in achieving a second."
They continued to walk for a moment in silence.
"I wish her luck with the second part of her plan," Lizzy continued, "for Mr Wickham tells me that Mr Darcy is already engaged to Miss de Bourgh, Lady Catherine's daughter. I hear she is a sickly aristocrat and will do him very well!"
"Lizzy, that is unworthy of you," said Jane sadly.
Lizzy saw her opportunity for Charlotte's disclosure at breakfast two days later when Mrs Bennet noticed Charlotte's absence and asked whether she was ill.
The result was all too predictable: Mrs Bennet was loud in her abuse of Charlotte and in lamentations for their future; so loud, that even Mr Bennet's library was not impervious to them. He scowled at Lizzy as he left the house to check a fence that had come down two months ago. For her part, Lizzy was glad to escape to the infirmary.
Fortunately no blame had fallen on Mary, whom Mrs Bennet had deemed to have done her best to engage her unworthy cousin's affections. No, it was all that Jezebel Charlotte Lucas's fault!
Under the circumstances of the earlier revelation, the sisters decided to keep the bulk of Caroline's communication to themselves. As the weeks went by, Mrs Bennet wondered at Mr Bingley's failure to return to Netherfield, and when Lizzy suggested that Jane return to London with the Gardiners after Christmas, she heartily applauded the idea.
After all, thought Lizzy slyly, Caroline has effectively invited her.
Some cheer returned when the Gardiners arrived for Christmas. There were four little Gardiners now, with the youngest in leading strings. Following a family tradition started by their Aunt Gardiner, Lizzy took the older children out with Mr Gardiner to select a tree, which that gentleman dutifully hacked down; and the two of them transported their prize back to the house with the children running circles around them like excited dogs. Mr Bennet toasted them with his glass of port through the library window as they wended their way across the lawn.
After setting the tree in the parlour,
all the sisters helped the little Gardiners dress it. Mary played hymns on the pianoforte while they sang and decorated. Kitty had crocheted some new bird-like decorations that she stuffed with barley. Lydia and Lizzy held the children up to place the decorations on the tree according to Jane's directions. The littlest Gardiner got to place the star on top, held aloft by his father.
Mrs Bennet, despite her low spirits, managed a wonderful Christmas dinner, finished off, of course with Mrs Hill's famous plum pudding, served with custard. Lady Lucas had been trying to get the recipe for that one for years. Every year Mrs Bennet gave her a new variation with something missing.
Mrs Gardiner followed her sister-in-law around, listening patiently to her complaints and trying to offer new hope for the future. Thus when it came time for the Gardiners' departure, Mrs Bennet was sanguine that her eldest might have a chance to meet new beaux in London, outside the confines of their limited society in Hertfordshire.
Lizzy pressed Jane's hands eagerly as they walked out to the carriage. "Give Mr Bingley a kiss for me," she whispered in Jane's ear.
They both managed a giggle.
Then the steps were put up, and the carriage was off, with the young Gardiners yelling boisterous goodbyes from the windows.
Charlotte was married in the New Year. The ceremony involved considerable pomp to satisfy Sir William's notions of his position in the world, but Charlotte's dress was simple. Mr Collins stayed at Longbourn for two days prior to the nuptials, shocking Mrs Bennet with his impudence in requesting lodging after betraying them so signally. Mr Bennet attributed it more to his nephew's lack of sensibility, but he did urge caution in the light of Mr Collins’ future importance to the family.
Charlotte seemed close to tears on her departure to Kent and begged Lizzy to come visit her in the future. Lizzy squeezed her friend's hands tightly and promised to write, as she could not think of leaving Dr Gregory in the lurch.
I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton Page 9
