Chapter 16

School Room

Longbourn

The Next Day

30 th October, 1811

Mary reached the top of the creaky stairs and began her march down the narrow hallway toward the door at the far end. Mrs. Bennet had bidden her to come upstairs, and she had seized the chance to come up to the schoolroom. She had spent many, many happy hours there as a child, content under the tutelage and oversight of Mrs. Montgomery. A fanciful notion still gripped her every so often, a wish that she might once again spend hours in this sanctum. It was an absurd notion, of course; she was eighteen now and must spend most of her time downstairs in the sitting room and drawing room with the other adults of the family.

She liked her time downstairs when it was just her mother and sisters present, but there was always the possibility that Mr. Bennet might join them for a time. On rare occasions, he was not unpleasant company. But he was volatile, and the slightest misstep or misspoken word could turn his temper sour in a moment and bring his withering critiques down on the head of the unfortunate party. Other times, there was no hope at all of seeing his less ornery side, and no matter what one said or did, one could not please him. Mary had not yet managed to learn how to tell his mood upon a few seconds' observation, and she found the careful dance of managing his temper wearying. She knew that most of his waspishness arose from the constant pain that wracked his body and that it must be dreadful indeed. But she did not relish the suffering he inflicted on all around him on his worst days, and she looked eagerly forward to the day she might leave Longbourn.

She opened the door into the school room and stepped inside. Mrs. Montgomery, Kitty, and Lydia were clustered about the table, over which Kitty's soft green gown had been spread. Elizabeth and Jane sat closer to the fire, workbaskets with ribbons and bits of lace and finery strewn at their feet, both of them industriously trimming bonnets. Lydia looked up at the creak of the opening door and sprang to her feet, beaming.

"Mary, there you are! Do come over here and try on this gown!"

Mary blinked at the dress in question and shook her head. "I do not understand. That is Kitty's dress."

"It is yours now," Lydia explained. "Mamma said that you look well in green, and given that the ball is only a few days away, there is no time to have a new one made up, so Kitty is giving you hers. You are about the same size."

Mary looked helplessly at Kitty and said, "I do not wish to take your gown, Kitty."

"I never much liked it anyway," her younger sister said carelessly. "Mamma is right; the dress will look far better on you than me, and if you are to capture Mr. Collins, it would be advisable to dress as charmingly as possible."

"Thank you," Mary said uncomfortably.

"Mary," Mrs. Montgomery said, "please put on the gown so we can do any last-minute alterations, though I agree with your sisters; very little will need to be done."

Mary obediently removed her current dress and changed into the green one. There was no mirror in the school room, and thus she could not see her own appearance, but she was heartened by the cries of approval from all four of her sisters. This was followed by a barrage of discussion between the other ladies, and while the hapless Mary stood and moved, the Bennet ladies discussed adding ribbons and lace and the like, along with possible changes to Mary's hairstyle.

When she was finally permitted to change back into her day gown, the ladies had tea and settled into conversation, though it proved as difficult for Mary as the fitting of Kitty's gown.

"Mary," Jane said carefully, "I know that I speak for all of us when I say that we will support you in your endeavors to become Mrs. Collins, but we also wish to say…"

She trailed off and looked at Elizabeth, who said bluntly, "Mr. Collins is blessed with a good income and position as heir of Longbourn, but he is quite stupid. I, for one, am distressed at the thought of you being forced to marry the man for purely financial reasons."

Mary took a sip of her tea, leaned back in her chair, and said composedly, "It is not for purely financial reasons, Lizzy. I may not often show it, but I am very unhappy at Longbourn."

"And you think that being married to a garrulous, obsequious, blithering oaf will be better?" Elizabeth demanded incredulously.

"Yes," Mary said and straightened her back. "Yes, it will be far better than to be here at Longbourn, where Father takes every opportunity to denigrate my looks and my playing and everything that matters to me. At least at this point, I do not greatly respect Mr. Collins, but I can tell that he is not a vicious man, and I esteem his position as heir of Longbourn and rector of Hunsford. Moreover, I would, I believe, be an excellent clergyman's wife."

Silence fell for a minute, and then Mrs. Montgomery, as she so often had before, soothed the Bennet daughters' troubled waters by saying, "Mary is very sensible, ladies. One does not always get everything one wants in marriage. Mr. Collins may seem an absurd man, but even in his reverence for Lady Catherine, there is some reason to be encouraged. I do not wish to cast aspersions on your father, but I believe it obvious that he does not think particularly well of women in general. Mr. Collins, on the other hand, greatly honors at least one woman, and very likely will treat his own wife courteously."

"That is true enough," Elizabeth agreed soberly and then turned to Kitty with a smile. "Kitty, how is your latest sketching going?"

The conversation switched to sketching and painting, and Mary sank back into her chair with relief and gratitude. She understood that Mr. Collins did not seem to be the best possible marital partner, but she had never been a romantic. If she could win an offer from the heir of Longbourn, she would be satisfied.

/

Netherfield

5 th November, 1811

Caroline stood in the midst of her masterpiece. Well, perhaps not a masterpiece, but the ballroom decorations were … adequate. It was all well enough for such country folk as this, and it would possibly be finer than anything any of them had ever seen. Nonetheless, Caroline felt quite proud of her work in decorating for her brother's ball later that day.

The air was heavy with the perfume of the flowers she had ordered – too far to get ones as nice as she might have in London – but there was an acceptable hothouse close enough that had provided flowers. Vases stood elegantly on tables and in niches, along with pale wax candles arranged in silver holders. All the chandeliers had been taken down to be cleaned and polished and now sparkled like diamonds.

Deep maroon cloths were being used to cover the tables, and Caroline watched as two girls – hired from the village for the evening – spread one out. "Pull that left side down a little further, make it even," she ordered and then looked down at the list in her hands. Someone somewhere was polishing the silver punchbowls, and lemonade was being prepared in the kitchen. Two of the male servants were laboring over the dais where the musicians would set up in the evening.

"Miss Bingley," a feminine voice cried out from behind her, "the ball room looks lovely!"

Caroline turned and smiled at Georgiana Darcy, who was accompanied by her cousin, Anne de Bourgh.

"Thank you, Miss Darcy," she replied sedately. "I enjoy preparing for such events."

Georgiana shuddered and gazed at her with open admiration. "I am glad that you do, Miss Bingley. I cannot imagine all the details involved!"

"Oh, it is nothing," the lady replied with a satisfied smile.

"I think it is glorious," Anne de Bourgh remarked. "The flowers are lovely, and the room itself seems an excellent size for a ball."

"Yes, it is quite well," Miss Bingley said, looking around critically. "I suppose it is nothing compared to Rosings, but it is sufficient for a simple country house."

"I confess I would not know much about the ballroom at Rosings," Anne remarked. "My health has always been so poor, or at least my mother said it was, and we have not had a ball at Rosings in my lifetime. I daresay it is more that my mother does not like enough of our neighbors to bother with a ball."

"If Meryton is an example of a typical country town, I understand that completely," Miss Bingley sneered.

"I like the country and its villages," Anne replied. "It is cooler and cleaner, and the people are not so caught up in fashion and etiquette."

Caroline turned a startled look on her guest and said, "Surely you do not mean that! Town is so marvelous, with its parties and museums and balls and endless amusements. The country is so dull!"

"I do not think so," Anne remarked, and Georgiana chimed in, "I do not think so either. There are pleasant aspects to Town, certainly, but as Anne said, the air is cleaner and fresher here, and I like that."

"I am confident that your brother is in agreement, Georgiana," Anne continued, gazing limpidly at her hostess.

"Oh, definitely!" Georgiana said innocently. "Fitzwilliam far prefers the country to Town."

Caroline stared at them, astonished, but before she could pull herself together to retort, a maid dashed through the door and over to the group.

"Oh, miss – oh, miss –" she gasped, and both Anne and Georgiana thought it prudent to retreat and let Caroline deal with the latest minor catastrophe.

Anne smiled to herself as she walked away. Darcy was, of course, perfectly capable of choosing his own bride and discouraging other hopeful women without her help. Nonetheless, Caroline Bingley annoyed her with the way she simpered over and flattered Darcy and hung off his arm at every opportunity. The woman was a mercenary social climber, and Anne intensely disliked the thought of gentle Georgiana being forced to endure Miss Bingley as a sister-in-law for the rest of her life. Not that she believed Darcy would offer for his friend's sister; he had shown no particular regard for Miss Bingley, and Anne thought it unlikely that he would marry any woman whose fortune came from trade. He was wealthy and had no need to resort to marrying an heiress. But Anne found her hostess's constant flattery of Darcy annoying and intended to throw whatever discouragement she could Miss Bingley's way.