Chapter 11

Dining Room

Longbourn

Elizabeth kept her eyes on her plate, taking small bites of her ham and enduring the flow of conversation around her. She glanced up once briefly at Jane, who, despite her usual placid expression, nonetheless betrayed a certain air of anguish not unlike Elizabeth's own – a certain tightness in her eyes, a faint pinch about her lips. She, too, did not speak but ate in steady silence. Mary made one attempt to join the discussion and subsided, and Lydia and Kitty both sat resolutely close-mouthed.

It was Mr. Collins who was holding forth at such great length, encouraged with sardonic gravity by Mr. Bennet, who was already on his second glass of wine. Mrs. Bennet, at the far end of the table, listened with a polite smile as Mr. Collins spoke of his parsonage, his patroness, his garden, his patroness, his parish, his patroness, his library, and of course, his patroness.

"She is the very picture of affability and condescension," he gushed, "and ever so wise. Indeed, she was so gracious as to visit the parsonage after I took possession of it and gave me a number of recommendations on how to improve the house and grounds. It was at her behest that I added some shelves to the hallway closet, and I could not be more pleased, for they have been very functional!"

"She sounds entirely delightful. It is a pity that all great women are not more like her," Mr. Bennet remarked, glancing down the table at his wife.

"Very agreeable and proper," Mrs. Bennet interjected. "I think you said she was a widow, sir? Does she have any children?"

Mr. Collins immediately looked mournful. "She has but one daughter. The loveliest bloom of Kent, I have no doubt, but of delicate constitution. She is also, unfortunately, peculiarly ungrateful and disobedient."

"How dreadful," Mr. Bennet said mockingly, glancing about at his own daughters. "It's a terrible thing to have disobedient, ungrateful children."

Elizabeth bit the inside of her lip, maintaining her silence while Mr. Collins forged on, oblivious.

"You must not think it is any reflection on Lady Catherine," he assured his host. "She has always been the most considerate, the most doting of mothers. Indeed, she arranged a most advantageous marriage for Miss de Bourgh, for she was engaged to her cousin, Mr. Darcy, from their cradles. But Miss de Bourgh, well, Lady Catherine fears that perhaps her indifferent health has affected her soundness of mind."

He ended with a delicate, meaningful cough.

"How intriguing," Mr. Bennet said. "I do believe she is staying up at Netherfield with Darcy and Bingley now."

"Is she indeed?" Mr. Collins asked, brightening. "Then perhaps she has realized her error and will accept her cousin's suit after all."

He shook his head sadly and continued, "Surely, she had accepted him, and they were at the altar! And she was taken with a fit and claimed that she did not want to marry him at all!"

"Very foolish," Mr. Bennet pronounced and drank the remainder of his wine.

/

Jane's Bedchamber

Longbourn

Ten O'clock at night

Jane sat on the loveseat pulled close to the crackling fire, tugging absently at the string tying her night bonnet shut as she gazed at the flames. It had been an unsettling sort of day, with first the anticipation of the upcoming ball at Netherfield and then the unexpected advent of their absurd cousin.

She was looking forward to the ball, to dancing with Mr. Bingley and enjoying his conversation. She found herself very taken with him, though her good sense told her that she did not know the man nearly well enough to deduce with any certainty whether he would be a favorable husband or not.

She did, however, feel entirely justified in judging that Mr. Collins would not be a good husband. Jane always did her utmost to judge her fellow-man through a lens of Christian charity, but she could not help but find Mr. Collins's manner and intelligence both lacking. Far from recognizing Mr. Bennet's sly mockery of him, he had eagerly lapped up the encouragement to drone on and on about his patroness. Nor, Jane thought uneasily, did it stand to his credit how easily he had gossiped about Miss de Bourgh, her indifferent health and her failed engagement to Mr. Darcy. It was their business, and that of their family perhaps, but certainly not the concern of her family or other strangers.

It was, perhaps, too early to judge his moral character, but Jane was repulsed by his personality and revolted at the idea of marrying her father's heir. Yet she knew that was precisely her Mr. Bennet's design in inviting him here, and was it not, possibly, her duty as the eldest sister to marry their father's heir and thus ensure that Longbourn remained to her family? But she could not repress a shudder as she contemplated spending the rest of her days married to such a thoughtless buffoon, not to mention the nights!

There was a soft tap at the door, and Jane called, "Come in!"

Mrs. Bennet entered quickly and quietly, and she carefully shut the door behind her before making her way onto a rocking chair across from the loveseat. Jane blew out a breath and relaxed; for many years, her mother had sat in that very seat, and listened to her concerns, and settled her fears. Jane knew how fortunate she was to have such a devoted mother.

"My dear Jane," the lady said, leaning forward, "I know that Mr. Collins is here at Longbourn with the express purpose of marrying one of you girls, but as I told Lizzy a few minutes ago, I will do everything in my power to protect you from him."

"Thank you, Mamma," Jane said gratefully. "I was just thinking about our cousin and wondered whether I owe it to you and my sisters to accept his offer, assuming he actually proposes on such short acquaintance."

"He shows every sign of doing so, and your father is quite determined…" Mrs. Bennet began, and then at the stricken look in Jane's eyes said, "Please do not worry about it, Jane. You have no obligation to affirm an offer from the man, and given Mr. Bingley's attention, I daresay I can convince our cousin to leave you alone."

"I have no expectation that Mr. Bingley will make an offer to me."

"I do not either, my dear. He may be merely flirting, but if Mr. Collins believes he can gain a wife within a week or two, I hope he can be discouraged from offering for a lady obviously being pursued by another man. But Jane, I had further reason to speak with you tonight, and that is regarding Mr. Bingley's friend, Mr. Darcy. Do I understand correctly that you will be dancing the first set with him at the Netherfield Ball?"

"Yes?" Jane responded in a confused tone.

"How did that happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did it happen that Mr. Darcy has the first set with you, when Mr. Bingley has been the one showing you so much attention?"

Jane frowned and tilted her head. "Why, I do not know, precisely. It was the day we journeyed to Netherfield Park to practice dancing for the benefit of Miss de Bourgh. Later in the day, while we had tea, Mr. Darcy asked me for the first set."

Mrs. Bennet blew out a breath and leaned back. "I do not much like that."

"Do not like what?" her eldest asked, genuinely bewildered.

"I do not like that Mr. Darcy put himself forward in such a way. By all rights, Mr. Bingley should have had the opportunity to ask for the first set with you."

"Perhaps Mr. Bingley felt obligated to open the ball with a more highborn lady, like Miss de Bourgh? She is the niece of an earl."

"Yes, perhaps," Mrs. Bennet said in an unsatisfied tone and then turned a piercing look on her eldest. "My dear Jane, you are the most beautiful of my daughters, and I am well aware that there are some men who cannot bear to let even their friends capture the loveliest lady of the area."

Jane, who had been confused, stiffened in sudden awareness. "Like Father."

"Quite," her mother said drily, and grimaced. "I am not at all certain that Mr. Bennet would have offered for me if all the other young men of the area were not clustered about me like so many bees around a daisy. I do not pretend to know Mr. Darcy well…"

"Elizabeth said that he seems a good brother and is also well read."

"Your father is very well read, too. Do take care, my dear Jane. I do not wish your heart to be broken by an arrogant, rich man who cannot bear to let his own friend capture the loveliest lady in the area."

"I will be careful."

/

Mary's Bedchamber

Longbourn

Midnight

Mary tilted her book, the better to let the firelight fall on the pages. Fordyce's Sermons was not her favorite book that she owned, but she thought it behooved her to refresh her memory. Mr. Collins had mentioned his own library over dinner, and his own well-used copy of the Sermons . Considering Mary's nebulous plans, she did not think it would do any harm for her to reread the Sermons , dry though she was finding them.

She was interrupted in her reading by a gentle tap at the door, looked up, and laid aside her book.

"Come in," she called out and was not surprised when Mrs. Bennet entered the room. Mary gazed on her mother with a peculiar combination of love and resentment. Mrs. Bennet was beautiful in the soft light of the candles and fire, and not for the first time, Mary wondered why she, of all the Bennet daughters, had been born plain.

"My dear, I apologize for coming so late at night," the lady said, stepping softly into the room, "but it was a long and busy day."

Mary sighed in agreement and patted the seat beside her. Now that her mother was closer, she could see the shadows under Mrs. Bennet's eyes.

"It was," Mary agreed. "Did you know that Mr. Collins was coming to visit?"

Mrs. Bennet hesitated and then said carefully, "I had discovered that he intended to come, but did not know that your father had urged him to put forward his journey.

"How long does he plan to stay?"

"That I do not know, but Mary, I heard from Kitty that you suggested to your father that you might be an appropriate bride for our cousin. I wished to assure you that I will do everything in my power to keep you from having to marry that man."

Mary took a deep breath and turned to face her mother. "It is possible that I will wish to marry Mr. Collins."

Mrs. Bennet's expression shifted from sympathetic to disbelieving in an instant.

"What?" she whispered.

"It is possible that I will wish to marry Mr. Collins," Mary repeated and turned back toward the fire, unable to meet her mother's shocked gaze.

The mistress of Longbourn was silent for a minute and then said, "While I do not pretend to know him well, it seems to me that our cousin is a very silly man."

Mary kept her gaze fixed forward as she blew out a long breath. "Without a doubt he is quite ridiculous, but I do not think that he is deliberately cruel as our father is, who takes every opportunity to insult all of us, and me in particular, for my plainness."

She heard her mother's intake of breath and a moment later a soft sob, and Mary turned and wrapped her arms around her mother, who was indeed crying.

"Mamma, please do not cry," she murmured awkwardly.

"I am sorry, Mary," Mrs. Bennet replied after a time, pulling back and wiping her face with a handkerchief. "I ... I feel like such a failure as a mother that you would find it necessary to marry a fool of a husband to escape from your father."

"It is not your fault," Mary replied, and she meant it. "Moreover, it is not a definite thing that Mr. Collins will offer for me, of course, nor that I will accept. Indeed, given that most men long for a pretty wife, I am confident he would far prefer any of my sisters."

"I fear that is quite likely. My dear, if you are truly so miserable here, perhaps you could stay with the Gardiners for a time and help them with their children?"

Mary smiled sadly at her mother and said, "I am not certain Father would permit that, and as I am only eighteen, I cannot leave Longbourn without his approval. Besides, there is another aspect to my desire to become Mrs. Collins, and that is Longbourn."

"I do not understand."

"I love Longbourn, Mamma. I love it. Do you think that Mr. Collins is capable of finding a sensible wife who will care well for the tenants? It seems likely to me that if he leaves Hertfordshire unengaged, he will choose a fool of a wife, and the tenants of Longbourn deserve better than that."

Mrs. Bennet was silent for another minute and then smiled sadly. "You have always been very devoted to the estate, more so than any of your sisters."

"Elizabeth and Jane spend a substantial amount of time with the tenants," Mary said defensively.

"Yes, but you have spent more time with Mrs. Hill and in the kitchen and ... well, you know all that you have done. Mary, if you decide you wish to wed Mr. Collins, I fully support that, but I beg you not to make a quick decision. It is a hard thing to be tied to an unpleasant man for the rest of your days."

Mary nodded and leaned forward to embrace her mother. "Please do not worry. I am, I think, a sensible lady, and in any case, Mr. Collins may well not choose me."

"I cannot help but worry, Mary. I love you so much and want you to be happy."

"Thank you, Mamma."