2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

November 28, 1811 Meryton Elizabeth

E lizabeth entered the breakfast room with trepidation. After the events of the day before, she did not relish the thought of starting her morning being harangued by her mother. Though she appreciated Charlotte taking Mr. Collins off to Lucas Lodge for the day yesterday, the man’s absence had meant Mrs. Bennet did not hold back in her vexation at her most trying daughter. Elizabeth wondered if she would be forced to flee the house once again to escape her mother’s tirades. A small part of her worried that her father would rescind his support of Elizabeth’s refusal just to calm the storms of his wife’s nervous outbursts.

“She has not risen yet.” Mr. Bennet’s voice came from the dining room. Elizabeth hurried into the room upon his words and took her customary seat next to Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Collins has departed as well, so you need not fear encountering him, either.”

“Where has he gone?”

“Lucas Lodge. Apparently, Sir William has developed a taste for our cousin’s company and invited him to spend the day with them.” Mr. Bennet smiled wryly, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

“Bless Charlotte for taking him away yesterday,” Elizabeth murmured. She filled her plate with her favorite foods, taking up a knife and spreading preserves across a scone.

“He is only here for a few more days,” Mr. Bennet assured her. “I promise I shall not allow him to importune you further.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Elizabeth cast her father a loving look. He was a disinterested parent, to be sure, but he did love his children. Had Elizabeth been unopposed to her cousin’s proposal, he would have supported her decision to marry the man. Then again, if she had been willing to do so, she certainly could not be called her father’s favorite child. No lady of sense would willingly enter into an engagement with such an objectionable man.

Jane wandered into the dining room, seating herself across from Elizabeth and on her father’s other side.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully. Jane’s cheeks were rosy, and her eyes glistened with happiness. Elizabeth knew where her sister’s thoughts were—three miles away at Netherfield Park.

“Is he to come to call today, then?” Elizabeth teased.

“No,” Jane replied, not even trying to deny the nature of her thoughts. “He left for London yesterday and will be gone a sen’night.”

“The Roman poet Sextus Propertius says, ‘Always toward absent lovers love’s tide stronger flows.’ His affections will be at high tide by his return.” Elizabeth nudged Jane’s leg under the table.

“If you are to discuss suitors and poetry, I had best remove myself to my study,” Mr. Bennet cajoled. “Good morning, my dears.” He rose from his seat and took up his newspaper before leaving the room.

Elizabeth finished her meal and left, hoping to escape Mrs. Bennet’s presence. Jane ate more slowly, and in time joined her sister in the parlor. They took up a basket of mending and stitched carefully. Kitty, Lydia, and Mama could be heard in the dining room now. Mary’s playing echoed through the house as well, and the general cacophony masked the sound of the door.

“A letter for you, miss.” Mrs. Hill appeared at the parlor door. She crossed the room and delivered the note to the eldest Miss Bennet.

“Thank you, Hill,” Jane said amiably. The housekeeper departed, and she turned the letter over. “It is from Miss Bingley.” Jane tore open the seal and began to read. Elizabeth watched her sister’s pleased expression fall, hurt and confusion replacing the happiness that had shown from her countenance since the Netherfield Ball.

“Jane?” she asked beseechingly. Her concern was readily apparent in her voice.

“It is nothing.” Jane’s expression smoothed, turning into one of calm and complacency. “I believe I shall retire to my room. I have some… correspondence to see to.”

Elizabeth rose with her sister, stopping when Jane held up a staying hand. “I need a moment, Lizzy,” she said firmly. “Give me that.”

Nodding, Elizabeth watched helplessly as Jane departed. She returned to her workbasket, repairing the tear in one of her father’s shirts and contemplating the peculiar behavior.

“There you are, Miss Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet appeared at the door. “I have been told that Mr. Collins has absented himself from Longbourn again today. I blame you! Perhaps if you had accepted him, he would be more amenable to our company. Now, he is not even present to court Mary!”

Elizabeth fumed silently. It is a shame Mama did not think to throw Mary in his path to begin with. She might have accepted his addresses when he paid them. Mary was far more suited to be a clergyman’s wife than Elizabeth. Her piousness and pomposity were more than a match for the heir to Longbourn.

“I am sorry my refusal disappoints you,” she said to her mother. “I mean only to act in a manner that ensures my future happiness, without regard to others’ expectations.”

“Your choices may very well mean the hedgerows for us,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “Do you think Mr. Collins can be induced to provide for us once your father passes on to his reward? With the insult of your refusal hanging before him, he will gleefully cast us out before Mr. Bennet is cold in his grave.”

“I cannot be expected to sacrifice my life when it would not be necessary had prudence and practicality been your focus these many years!” Elizabeth huffed and tossed her mending back into her work basket.

“And what measures might I have employed that would make marriage to your father’s heir unnecessary? ”

“A little economy never hurt anybody!” Elizabeth rose. Her cheeks burned with anger, and she crossed her arms, glaring at her mother.

“It is expensive to clothe five young ladies! Would you prefer to look shabby next to the likes of Charlotte Lucas and the Misses Long?” Mrs. Bennet’s lip quivered, and she shuddered at the thought.

“It is expensive when you have five daughters out at once!” It was a futile argument, but Elizabeth felt compelled to try. Mama’s desperation to be saved from the hedgerows overturned good sense. If only she could be made to see reason! She calmed her voice before continuing. “Consider how the presence of my younger sisters in society may distract from Jane. Having two sisters out at once is understandable, but more? It implies there is some deficiency, some defect, when younger sisters are paraded about before the elder are married.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed. “Stuff and nonsense. Cease attempting to draw my ire away from you . It is your selfish nature that caused Mr. Collins’s abandonment. It will be on your head and yours alone should he cast us out once your father has met his maker. I shall never forgive you for your callous, cold behavior.”

Elizabeth did not reply. She pushed past her mother and strode out the parlor door, intent on seeking Jane above stairs. Her sister was nowhere to be found. Resigned to her mother’s disfavor, Elizabeth sequestered herself in her chambers, reading her aunt’s most recent letter and longing to be away from the chaos of her home.

Mr. Collins returned sometime after the evening meal. He joined the family in the parlor, regaling one and all with his enjoyable afternoon spent at Lucas Lodge.

“Sir William is the most affable gentleman of my acquaintance,” he said. “A finer man I have never met. And to have been knighted by our king! Such notice rivals even that of my dear patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Our king bestowing a knighthood on a tradesman, elevating him to a higher station, is the purest example of condescension! With our monarch’s example, it is little wonder that my patroness is so inclined.

He rambled on, occasionally casting superior looks in Elizabeth’s direction, which she promptly ignored. Her attention was more focused on her older sister. The cheerfulness of earlier that day had vanished. Jane’s usual air of calm persisted but did not seem wholly sincere. It appeared, rather, to mask some other, deeper emotion. Elizabeth longed to go to her sister, to ask what had so distressed her, but Mr. Collins’s monologue kept everyone prisoner until it was time for bed.

She hurried through her nightly preparations before creeping out of her chamber and to Jane’s door. Elizabeth tapped lightly, but no reply was forthcoming. Cautiously, she turned the handle on the door and pushed it open. A glance revealed Jane’s empty bed, though a lone candle burned on the table beside it. She entered the room fully and shut the door behind her, noting the hunched silhouette just visible in the window seat.

Elizabeth crossed the room carefully, despite knowing the exact location of every stitch of furniture in the room that could cause a tumble. She reached the window and stood just behind her sister. Jane kept her gaze firmly on the view outside, watching as the branches of a bare tree swayed in a gentle breeze.

“Jane?” Elizabeth’s words were soft as she reached out and touched her sister’s shoulder. “Are you well?”

Jane shrugged indifferently before extending her hand to Elizabeth, holding out the letter that arrived earlier. “Read it. I do not mind.”

Elizabeth took the folded paper and moved to the bedside table where the candle still burned.

My Dear Jane,

By the time you receive this letter, we will have quit Netherfield Park for London. Town is wonderful during the festive season, and Louisa and I can scarcely contain our excitement in returning to finer society. We have no intention of returning to Hertfordshire this winter; London’s inducements are far superior to those of the country. My brother, likewise, is hardly less eager to be back in Town.

I do not pretend to regret anything I leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dear friend; but we will hope at some future period to enjoy many returns to the delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may lessen the pain of separation by the very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that.

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, 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 acquaintance are already there for the winter; I wish I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of remaining one in 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 numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.

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 inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the county without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have frequent opportunities now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favor an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?

I wish you the best, dear Jane, and Louisa and I thank you for the diversion your company granted us whilst we dwelt at Netherfield Park.

Yours, etc.,

Caroline Bingley

“And it is this that has discomposed you so?” Elizabeth cried. She chuckled as she folded the missive once more before handing it off to her sister.

“How can you look upon it with such dismissal?” Jane turned from the window to look at her. “Is it not clear? Mr. Bingley has gone to town and will not return. His sister implies that a match with Miss Darcy is certain. Surely, the meaning in her words cannot be misconstrued.”

“I see it quite differently, I assure you,” Elizabeth replied. “Miss Bingley sees her brother’s attachment to you and wishes to prevent the match. She likely followed him to town in an attempt to keep him from coming back to Meryton–to you. Mark my words, Jane; Mr. Bingley will return within a week.”

Jane perked up a little, hope crossing her features before disappearing behind her mask of serenity. “I cannot be certain of his regard. He is everything amiable, and, though he did favor me with his attention whenever we were in company, perhaps I misunderstood his attentions and he was merely being kind.”

“You work rather hard to convince yourself that Mr. Bingley does not care for you,” Elizabeth chided. “Have you so little faith in his love that one missive can dash all your hopes?”

“We have very little to recommend us, Lizzy. Our charms and fifty pounds a year until Mama’s death are not the greatest attraction. Is it so unreasonable that Mr. Bingley will think better of making me an offer? He might have any number of ladies who are wealthier and better placed in society than me. Though his fortune does come from trade, that will only deter the haughtiest of the ton . Even Mr. Darcy, the grandson of an earl, is not put off by Mr. Bingley’s origins.”

Elizabeth frowned. Her sister made a sound point. “Do not mourn yet,” she begged. “Keep Mr. Bingley’s letter from Mama. She will only complain and lament, driving us all to distraction. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are to come for Christmas. If Mr. Bingley has not returned by then, you might go to London with them. Surely, you will encounter him when you call upon the Bingley sisters at Grosvenor Square. That is where the letter said they would be, is it not?”

Jane nodded. “I promise, I will not abandon my heart so readily. Should Mr. Bingley not return, I will do as you say.”

Elizabeth rose from the bed and went to her sister. She hugged Jane around the shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep now. Dream of your happiness. Perhaps that will draw him hither all the faster.”

Jane nodded and offered a faint smile. Elizabeth turned and left the room, making her way back to her own bed. The hallway was chilled, testifying to the coming winter, and she was eager to be comfortably beneath her blankets, which would certainly be warm from the bedpan placed there an hour ago.

Elizabeth pondered her conversation with Jane as she drifted off to sleep. Mr. Bingley could not be so fickle, could he? If he did not return, it would be because his sisters—and likely his friend, Mr. Darcy—convinced him otherwise.

Down the hall in the chamber next to Jane’s, Mr. Collins stewed. Though he had no doubt the sisters attempted to speak quietly, their words had penetrated the shared wall between his chamber and his cousin’s. It was fortuitous that Mrs. Bennet had installed him here in the family wing rather than in the guest chambers in her attempt to curry his favor. Had he been placed across the house, he would have never overheard the conversation between the eldest two Bennet girls. He would have lowered himself to offer for Miss Lucas, revenging himself upon his stubborn, impertinent cousin. There was another more palatable… more attractive way forward now, one that would serve the same purpose. Jane Bennet’s temperament was far more malleable and complying than her wayward younger sister.

Besides, it was only logical that he choose from among his cousins, especially since Mr. Bennet was ill and likely to die at any moment. Yes, Mr. Collins had overheard his cousin’s wracking cough that evening, though he had hidden in his study to avoid being detected. Tomorrow, he would approach his eldest cousin. Jane Bennet would become Jane Collins within a month. Mr. Collins fell asleep with a smile upon his face and anticipation for the following day.