3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

November 29, 1811 Longbourn Jane

J ane sat in the small morning room on the side of the house. Mama used the larger, better placed sitting room for her calls during this time of year. The windows faced full west, making it unbearable during the summer months, especially during the evening. As autumn stretched on, this room became more desirable, for the morning sun warmed it nicely.

Mama entertained callers down the hall. Mrs. Long and her nieces were here for tea. Jane had no wish for company and claimed a megrim, but instead of going to her room, she retired here with her work basket, intent on making some progress on the growing pile of mending. There was fabric to sew clothing for tenant children as well. Those items would be needed during the coming winter months.

As she steadily stitched, Jane thought of her conversation with Elizabeth the night before. Her sister’s voice of reason penetrated all the doubt and discouragement, offering hope where there had been none. Despite Jane’s manifold physical attractions, she struggled to believe that Mr. Bingley could truly care for her. She knew from personal experience that looks were not enough to secure a proposal. Mama certainly thought they were sufficient inducement; but, Jane had tried to attract a man her mother’s way once and failed miserably.

Out at only fifteen, she quickly became the favorite of Meryton’s society. Despite never sitting out a dance, none of her neighbors ever offered her more than friendship. The Lucas heir could not afford to marry a penniless lady. Though he did not need a large dowry, some funds were essential. The same could be said for Mr. Goulding’s son, Arnold, and Mrs. Long’s son, James. None had shown her any notice beyond a few lines of poorly written poetry. Though Mama knew of the verse, Jane had hidden the identity of the sender after he made it clear he could not marry her.

After two years of no success in the marriage mart, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had agreed to host Jane in London. Jane’s looks had attracted many admirers. Most were acquaintances of Uncle Gardiner and tradesmen building their businesses. The well-established men all had wives and could have no interest in Mr. Gardiner’s lovely niece. The other, less well-off men were not in a position to take a bride, though they cast longing looks at the beautiful Miss Bennet whenever they were in her company. Unfortunately, Uncle Gardiner did not inhabit circles where Jane might be courted for her beauty alone.

Yes, something was needed to live on. One could not survive solely on love and loveliness. Money was essential. All these thoughts and doubts cascaded through her mind as she patched yet another hole in one of her papa’s shirts. How did he manage to damage his clothing so, when he spent most of his time in his study?

Elizabeth’s words had provided a thread of hope and Jane struggled to hang on to it. Her sister was right to have faith in Mr. Bingley. A man as good and amiable as he would not toy with a lady’s affections, abandoning her to the derision of her neighbors and disappointed hopes. Yet, Charlotte’s admonitions that she ought to secure Mr. Bingley as soon as may be also resounded in her head. Had she lost her chance at love and happiness?

Jane paused as Mama’s shrill voice carried from the parlor to the small sitting room. The words were not discernable, but she had no doubt Mrs. Bennet was speaking of her ill-use and Elizabeth’s refusal to marry Longbourn’s heir.

The door creaked, and Jane glanced up. Mr. Collins entered the room and pushed the door closed behind him. A tendril of worry shot through her, and Jane stood automatically, dropping the shirt— needle and thread still attached— into her work basket before moving toward the door.

“I beg that you wait, Cousin,” Mr. Collins said. His tone was filled with unnamable emotion. He stepped in front of her, blocking access to the door.

“It is not proper for us to be here alone,” she said. “I must depart, or we must open the door.”

“Can I not be granted a private audience? I hardly wish to declare my tender feelings for you to all in the house.” He smiled ingratiatingly and moved closer.

Jane backed away, suddenly frightened of her unassuming cousin and his intentions. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” she hedged.

He came even closer. She looked around frantically. There was only one door into the room, and Mr. Collins blocked the most direct path out. Chairs, settees, tables, and more made the room a veritable maze. Attempting to escape her cousin’s presence would not be easy.

“It is my understanding that ladies play coy in hopes of fanning the flames of their suitor’s ardor. I assure you, my dear cousin, that no such machinations are necessary. You have drawn me in, and I am completely in your thrall. All that now remains is informing your good parents of our mutual felicity.”

“If you mean to propose marriage, I cannot accept. My affections are engaged elsewhere, and I cannot in good conscience agree to an offer of marriage from another.” Jane’s palms were sweaty. She did not know what to do, and sent up a desperate, silent prayer that someone would come to her rescue.

“I am not ignorant of the attentions paid to you by your neighbor, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Collins said dismissively. “Nor am I ignorant of that party’s departure from the shire. I confirmed their removal this morning. I felt it necessary to ascertain that the house was closed, and that there was no intention to reopen it for the nonce before approaching you. After learning that the Bingleys and their guests were to remain in Town through the winter, I hastened to return to your side. Your sorrows at Mr. Bingley’s departure will not be long, once happiness at our betrothal takes its place.”

“We are not engaged, Mr. Collins, nor are we ever to be. My affections and wishes will not countenance it.” Jane’s voice shook with effort. Forcefulness was Lizzy’s purview–Jane was unaccustomed to it. “I wish to marry only for the deepest of affection. Not to be forgotten is the offer you made my sister but two days ago. Am I to believe your interests have shifted so readily in so short a time?”

“My affection for you has never wavered. Indeed, if not for your mother’s, ahem, well-intentioned interference, my proposals would have been tendered to you after the Netherfield ball, and not to Miss Elizabeth. Such is the constancy of my heart. I knew hope when I overheard your conversation with your sister last evening–your disclosures led me to verify that Mr. Bingley and his party had indeed departed Hertfordshire. I am pleased to know that the accounts are true, for now my greatest desires might be fulfilled. I can heal the breach between our families and fulfill the edict of Lady Catherine. You are a gently bred lady, just as she wished, and your demure, serene demeanor will doubtlessly please her ladyship.” Mr. Collins drew ever closer as he spoke, and Jane glanced around, looking for a way around her lumbering cousin.

“Despite your wishes, I cannot accept your hand,” she said again. “My affection and wishes are unchanged. I cannot transfer them as readily as you.”

“Do prudence and practicality hold no sway with you? Your prospects are dwindling,” he countered. “You are nearly three-and-twenty. Do you expect to be saved from spinsterhood once your looks have faded and you enter genteel poverty on the death of your father? I offer you, and by extension, your mother and three youngest sisters, reprieve. Marry me and save your family. Mr. Bingley could not be induced to offer for you, and he is but the son of a tradesman. If one as lowborn as he will not have you, then who will? I am your only hope. It is not likely that you will be granted another offer.”

Each word sent pain stabbing through Jane’s heart. Had she not voiced the same arguments in her mind many times since receiving Miss Bingley’s letter? Elizabeth’s reasoning pushed through, reminding her to hope.

“I cannot.” Her words sounded strangled to her ears. She moved around the settee to make for the door, but her cousin matched her movements. He reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her.

“Forgive me, cousin,” he said. His hand moved down her arm until it wrapped around her fingers. He held her hand gently, yet firmly, and she did not attempt to free herself. “I did not intend to wound you. My words, honest though they were, have caused you pain. Your welfare and that of your family must be my first concern. Lady Catherine has demanded that I extend an olive branch, and it is essential that I follow her orders to the letter. With your father’s illness, there must be no delay. Only marriage will ensure your security.”

There was noise in the hallway, and the door opened as he sank to one knee. The pain in her heart caused tears to prick at her eyes. Jane’s confusion doubled as his words registered in her mind. Papa is ill?

“Jane?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh! Mr. Collins! Have you proposed to Jane? Did I not tell you she is not for you?” Mama’s voice rang out sharply behind Elizabeth. Jane’s eyes closed slowly. There was no hope of keeping this farce quiet now.

“Mr. Bingley and his sisters have closed up Netherfield Park and departed for London,” Mr. Collins said. His tone sounded gleeful. “My dear cousin, intent on ensuring her family’s future, has consented to be my wife.”

Jane’s eyes shot open and met Elizabeth’s gaze. Too stunned to protest, Jane hoped her sister understood the desperate expression she gave her.

Elizabeth’s protestations were drowned out by Mrs. Bennet’s exclamations. “Gone? Mr. Bingley is gone? No! He was to marry our Jane.” Her protestations turned to excitement almost immediately. “But, oh, we are saved! Jane will be a much better wife than Lizzy, I assure you, Mr. Collins. You will not regret your choice. Mrs. Long! Our Jane is engaged!”

Mrs. Long was almost the most notorious busybody in Meryton. News of her unwanted engagement would be around the small market town by sunset. If she tried to cry off now, her reputation and possibly that of her sisters’ would be ruined. Mr. Bingley—or any other man—would not marry a lady with a soiled reputation. To do so would destroy their sisters’ chances of making a good match.

Did she wish to cry off? Her bruised heart protested against marrying anyone other than Mr. Bingley. She loved him, and she thought he loved her. But he was gone. Her beauty had once again failed to secure her an offer of marriage. She remembered Charlotte’s remarks just days before on practicality and suitability and her panic turned to resignation. No, Jane’s fate was sealed. She would marry Mr. Collins, despite having never accepted his proposals, and would take comfort in saving her mother and sisters from destitution. There would be little else to soothe her. This was love. She would marry for the love of her family, if not for the love of her future husband.

Jane’s fingers, once limp in Mr. Collins’s hand, wrapped around his and squeezed gently. He felt the change and stood, drawing her arm through his and casting a triumphant smile at her. Placing his hand over the one looped through his arm, he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“You will have no cause to repine.” His breath was hot against her neck as he spoke, and she could hear promise mixed with joy in his voice. She struggled not to recoil but nodded docilely. Aloud, Mr. Collins said, “You have made me the happiest of men.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, his lips lingering there for longer than was comfortable. You will become used to his attentions ‘ere long, she told herself.

Her mother, Mrs. Long, and Mrs. Long’s nieces surrounded the pair, offering their well wishes and speaking of wedding dates.

“A spring wedding would be very fine,” Mrs. Bennet said before Mr. Collins interrupted her.

“No, we must marry immediately,” he said. “I cannot be away from my parish overly long, and it is unbearable to be parted from my dear Jane! I will write to Lady Catherine, informing her of my impending nuptials. We will call the first banns on Sunday and be married immediately after the last are called.”

“You forget, sir, that you must have my father’s permission before you marry my sister.” Elizabeth’s voice cut like a knife and Mr. Collins turned to regard her.

“My dear Jane is of age, you know, and need not have his permission to marry. I assure you, my dear cousin, that your father’s blessing will be granted readily when we approach him. How can he refuse when your sister has accepted me?”

Mr. Collins’s grip tightened on Jane’s hand, and she swallowed.

“Of course he will give his blessing!” Mrs. Bennet cried loudly, approaching her daughter and taking her arm. “Jane will do what is right by her family. She is not so unobliging as Lizzy.” Mama’s hand squeezed her arm slightly and Jane glanced at her. The warning in her gaze could not be mistaken. Mama would insist that her eldest comply. If Jane could not have Mr. Bingley, then Mr. Collins would do just as well.

“Let us go now,” Mr. Collins said, pomposity radiating out of him. He looped Jane’s arm back through his and pulled her toward the door. She followed mutely, shock and resignation stealing her voice.

The journey to her father’s study was not long enough for Jane to regain any equilibrium. When Mr. Collins presented their engagement to Mr. Bennet, she offered not a word of protest.

“I will speak with Jane privately before we proceed,” Mr. Bennet replied.

“Very well,” Mr. Collins said. “I shall await you in the hallway, my love.” He smiled, and she nodded, and he departed, pulling the heavy oak door mostly closed behind him.

What have I done? Her thoughts cleared, the clarity inciting panic, and she twisted her hands nervously. Papa will save me , she told herself.

“Jane?” Mr. Bennet’s voice recalled her to where she was. “Have you accepted my cousin’s hand in marriage?”

Jane swallowed, glancing at the partially open door. Was that Mr. Collins’s shadow she saw? Or was it Mama, come to ensure Jane’s compliance? “He asked to marry me, yes,” she said, feeling unwilling to lie to her father.

Mr. Bennet eyed her, his gaze all too knowing. “You need not throw yourself away on my idiotic cousin,” he said. “Why not wait for your Mr. Bingley? He is to return in a few days’ time, is he not?”

Despair consumed her once again. Mr. Bingley… there is no hope in that quarter. “Miss Bingley writes that they will stay in London through the winter.” Jane cast her eyes down, focusing on the tips of her slippers that peeked out from beneath her skirt.

“And so, you have decided that settling for my cousin is preferable to waiting for confirmation of such?”

“Netherfield has been shut up.” Her voice sounded dejected, even to her ears. “Mr. Collins confirmed it this morning.”

Her father eyed her steadily. “If you tell me you wish to marry Mr. Collins, I will not deny my consent. But, you do not need it, for you are of age. Is this what you want?”

Jane prevaricated yet again. “He is your heir and is established in a profession of his own. It is a smart match for a near-penniless daughter of a gentleman.”

“But is it what you want?”

Jane sucked in a breath and raised her eyes to meet her father’s gaze. “It is what will be,” she said. “What I want is no longer relevant.”

Mr. Bennet stood up and crossed the room. He closed the door the rest of the way, the latch clicking loudly. “Mrs. Long has likely taken the news all over Meryton by now,” he said knowingly. Jane winced at her father’s understanding but breathed a sigh of relief upon knowing their conversation was now completely private. “I will not see you forced into a marriage you do not want. If it is concern over the entail, do not despair. My brothers by marriage will not see you destitute. If you wish, I can send you to the Gardiners until the entire matter is put to rest. No one will fault you for running from such a ridiculous man.”

Oh, how Jane wanted to take the path offered by her father! She opened her mouth to accept, but before she could respond, Mr. Bennet doubled over, coughing heavily. Jane gaped as her father’s face went red with the force of each cough. He pulled a handkerchief out and held it to his mouth. Finally, the coughing subsided, and he took a sip from a cup of tea that sat on his desk.

Jane blinked. “You are ill?” she asked. She had not thought Mr. Collins’s report to be accurate.

Mr. Bennet shook his head. “It is nothing. Now, tell me. Shall I grant my blessing or call the carriage?”

Papa’s jest fell flat. He could deny it all he wished to, but the blood on her father’s handkerchief cast doubt on his assertions. Jane knew when Mr. Collins had fabricated her acceptance that her father would put a stop to it, just as he had with Elizabeth, if she wished it. For a moment, she had considered accepting his offer and escaping to London. But now? How could she condemn her family when it was within her power to save them?

Her self-doubt had stilled her tongue initially. Miss Bingley knows her brother better than I. He has gone and he is not coming back. Chasing an unwilling man to London was as foolish as running from a willing suitor. Those thoughts continued to pound in her head. The turmoil, the sadness, every feeling she had entertained since meeting Mr. Bingley settled into firm resolve. She knew what was required. Jane closed her mouth, swallowed, and made her choice.

“Mr. Collins wishes to marry as soon as the banns are read,” she said, standing tall and straightening her shoulders. “If you have no more objections, I shall send him to Longbourn church to see Mr. Simms.”

Her father sighed. He stood and came around his desk, taking her hands in his. “Be happy, my Jane. Search for joy, for I fear it will prove illusive in the coming years.” He kissed her cheek and released her. She turned and left the room before she foolishly begged to be sent away.

She was the eldest child. It was her duty to save her family. Jane met her betrothed outside the library. He offered his arm, and she took it with only a moment’s hesitation. It was best she got used to the feel of him at her side. He would be there often enough.

Later that evening, Mama came to Jane’s room. She entered and closed the door behind her. “I am pleased, dear, that you accepted your cousin. If you had not, well…” Mama walked across the rug and sat on the bed. Jane’s knees were tucked under her chin. Mama reached out and turned Jane’s face toward her.

“Are you having misgivings about accepting Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Bennet spoke quietly, though Jane sensed something more in her mother’s words.

“I am,” she confessed. “I am foolish to enter into an engagement so quickly after Mr. Bingley departed. Mr. Collins told you of Miss Bingley’s letter. Elizabeth thinks she prevaricates—”

“Miss Lizzy had best keep her opinions to herself,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “If you do not marry Mr. Collins, if you jilt him, I shall cast you out. And when your father dies, you will join Lizzy in some other household, for I shall not have you in mine.”

Mrs. Bennet’s tone softened, and she patted Jane’s knee. “There now,” she soothed. “It is far better to have a stupid husband than an intelligent one. I ought to know. You will manage well, my dear, and when you inherit Longbourn, I shall be safe from the hedgerows.”

Mrs. Bennet stood and left the room, leaving Jane to her thoughts. Would Mama really refuse Elizabeth a roof over her head? Mama had ever been silly, not vindictive. But the threat of the hedgerows might be enough to drive her to it.