5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

December 15, 1811 Longbourn Church Elizabeth

“ I publish the banns of marriage between William Harold Collins of the Parish of Hunsford, Kent, and Jane Frances Bennet of this Parish. If any of you know just cause or just impediment why these persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the third time of asking.” Mr. Simms, Longbourn’s parson for the last twenty years, spoke solemnly, his face a mask as he stared out at the congregation.

Elizabeth longed to jump to her feet and declare an impediment, but she did not. Absence of love was not a valid objection to a marriage, at least not by the law. She glanced to her left. Jane stood next to her, rigid, a placid smile plastered on her face. It did not reach her eyes.

They had not been granted the opportunity to speak privately since the day of her proposal. First, it was because of Mr. Collins’s hovering. He did not leave Jane’s side unless it was time for bed. Later, Mama monopolized her eldest daughter’s waking hours planning the wedding.

“We have no time to dither about,” Mama said. “Mr. Collins wishes to marry in haste, so there is not a moment to waste. It is a shame we shall not be able to have a ceremony worthy of your sister. I did think that Mr. Bingley… well, never mind that. He is a fool for losing his chance.”

Mama mentioned Mr. Bingley at least twice a day within Jane’s hearing. Each time, Elizabeth watched her sister pale a little before donning that dreadful mask of serenity and pretend nonchalance. With but two days before the wedding, there was no time to converse privately. Jane had all manner of tasks to accomplish, from the final adjustments to her gown to packing her trunks for departure. Mr. Collins was due to return tomorrow, and Elizabeth knew there would be no chance to speak to Jane once he arrived.

She came back to the present as the Church services concluded, and Elizabeth lingered in the pew until most of the congregants had left the building. It was cold— far too cold to walk— but she found that she did not have the patience for her mother’s conversation in the carriage. Longbourn was not far; she could bear the cold until then.

Cloak wrapped tightly around her, Elizabeth set off for home. The carriage would be forced to take the wide lane that ran from the manor to Meryton. Elizabeth knew a faster route— a footpath through the trees. She walked briskly, her hands buried in a fur muff and the hood of her clock pulled over her bonnet. As she rounded a bend, she collided with a solid, red-coated figure.

“Oof,” she said, stumbling back. Strong hands reached out and grasped her elbows, steadying her before she fell onto the wet ground.

“Steady on, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Wickham’s tone held amusement. Elizabeth did not care to be laughed at. Her mood was dark, and she had no patience for idle soldiers.

She straightened. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Wickham. I best be on my way.”

“That is a cold greeting for an old friend.” He tut-tutted. “Pray, let me escort you back to Longbourn.”

“There is no need. I can find my way without assistance.”

Mr. Wickham frowned. “If this has ought to do with my courtship—”

“Believe it or not, sir, not everything revolves around you. My pique has quite another source.” Elizabeth huffed and made to go around Mr. Wickham.

“May I assist in any way?” He practically begged Elizabeth to satisfy him. She found his manner distasteful, in a way. It was as if he could not tolerate her being in the world and thinking ill of him.

“There is nothing you can do for my present relief,” she said, infusing a little more patience into her voice. She hoped that in placating him, he would allow her to pass, but it was not to be.

“It would not be gentlemanly to allow you to go on whilst you are so distressed. Come, allow me to escort you home.” Mr. Wickham gestured to the path before her. Rather than argue, Elizabeth continued toward Longbourn, the soldier falling into step beside her.

“Your sister is to marry in two days’ time,” he said. Elizabeth scowled.

A poor attempt at conversation, though he cannot know how the topic vexes me, she mused silently. “Jane has the dubious honor of marrying my father’s heir,” she said aloud.

“I thought Mr. Bingley made your sister an offer.” Mr. Wickham sounded genuinely shocked. “Many of my fellow officers said the Netherfield ball was held in her honor. Though I was unable to attend, I assumed that her engagement to Mr. Bingley was finalized that evening.”

“Have you not heard the calling of the banns these last three Sundays?” Elizabeth stared at him incredulously.

“My duties have kept me from church, unfortunately. Given it was my desired profession, it is all the more painful that I am kept from worshiping with the other congregants.”

Elizabeth thought his explanation a little too convenient but attributed her cynical thoughts to her general discontent. She said nothing in reply, waiting instead for him to speak.

“I wonder if Darcy had anything to do with Mr. Bingley’s departure,” Mr. Wickham mused. He spoke quietly, almost as if speaking to himself, but his tell-tale glance at Elizabeth spoke his true purposes. He wished to know her thoughts.

“His involvement is something I have contemplated,” Elizabeth confessed. She was relieved to turn her ire in another direction. Her sister could not be blamed for accepting Mr. Collins. No, it was the two vicious harpies and the proud Mr. Darcy who drew Jane’s love away, leaving her at the mercy of their idiotic cousin.

“Darcy always liked to have his own way,” Mr. Wickham continued. “His disdain for Meryton’s society in general would be enough to convince him to ‘rescue’ his friend.”

“Why is it any concern of Mr. Darcy’s who his friend marries?” Elizabeth kicked a rock in her path. “Surely there is no fault to be found in my sister! Our place in society might not be the same as his, but Jane is a gentleman’s daughter. Marrying her would only improve Mr. Bingley’s prospects.”

“My old friend will not surround himself with those he deems as beneath him. In marrying your sister, Mr. Bingley would irrevocably connect himself to those Darcy sees as inferior. In consequence, he would be forced to sever his friendship.” Wickham paused, turning his gaze to Elizabeth’s. “Darcy gets what Darcy wants.” He shrugged and they continued down the path.

Elizabeth fumed silently. Mr. Wickham had more than a passing acquaintance with the arrogant man from Derbyshire, and therefore had more knowledge of the gentleman’s behavior. While she had only suspected that Mr. Darcy had a hand in Mr. Bingley’s departure, Mr. Wickham’s words seemed to confirm it.

They approached Longbourn just as the carriage could be seen coming down the lane. “I shall leave you now,” Mr. Wickham said. “I am to meet with Miss King and her aunt for tea.”

“Thank you for the escort, sir,” Elizabeth replied. Mr. Wickham stared at her in a strange manner, and she wondered if he expected some other kind of reply. He frowned briefly, then nodded before turning and striding away.

It was not until much later that Elizabeth thought to question just what Mr. Wickham had been doing in Longbourn’s woods that Sunday afternoon.

The morning of Jane’s wedding dawned bright and clear. Mrs. Bennet assisted the bride herself, with the help of her lady’s maid. The footmen carried Jane’s trunks downstairs and strapped them onto the small carriage that Mr. Collins had arrived in the day before. It was one of Lady Catherine’s conveyances, and the family had been subject to Mr. Collins’s effusions about the lady’s condescension for a half an hour before dinner.

Elizabeth dressed in a forest green gown. It was not a fashionable color for young ladies, but upon seeing the fabric in her uncle’s warehouse last year, Elizabeth had fallen in love with it and ordered a winter gown made from it. A matching ribbon twisted through her curls, which were arranged in a delicate fashion atop her head.

The other Bennet sisters stood with her as they awaited the bride. Mrs. Bennet came downstairs a few moments before her eldest daughter, turning to watch Jane’s approach.

The modiste in Meryton had fashioned an elegant new gown for the wedding. The beadwork and embroidery were exquisite, despite the short time she had to make the ensemble. Jane’s blond locks were styled as befitting a bride. She carried her matching bonnet in her gloved hands and her new cloak over her arm.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Out to the carriage, girls!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “We shall travel to the church first. Your father and Jane will follow.”

Kitty and Lydia almost fell over each other in their rush to be first outside. Mary followed demurely after them, her nose in the air and a look of disapproval on her face.

“Can Elizabeth travel with us?”

Jane’s request startled Elizabeth. Her sister had scarcely said a word to her since her engagement almost three weeks ago.

Mrs. Bennet had no objections. One less girl in the carriage meant more room for her. “Do not delay,” she warned. “Mr. Collins is waiting for you.”

With that, she left, and Elizabeth heard the carriage trundle away.

“I think I will have a glass of port before we go,” Mr. Bennet said. “Fetch me when the carriage arrives.”

He departed, leaving Elizabeth and Jane standing awkwardly.

“It is not too late to cry off,” Elizabeth hedged.

Jane pinched her lips together but said nothing. Her eyes showed the pain she refused to voice.

“Jane,” Elizabeth begged. “Speak to me. Tell me why! Why have you accepted him?”

“Do you trust my judgment, Lizzy?” her sister asked.

Elizabeth gaped. How does one respond to that? “I…” she began before stopping.

“You did once,” Jane continued. “It has been three weeks since Mr. Bingley left. If he had returned, perhaps things would be different. But he did not.”

“That is no reason to throw yourself away on Mr. Collins ,” Elizabeth replied. “He is not the last man in the world!”

“I would not throw myself away if I had any other choice!” The bitterness in Jane’s voice stung.

“Surely, Mrs. Long’s gossip could have been contained.” Elizabeth began, but stopped as Jane shook her head violently.

“This is the only way to protect our family,” Jane whispered. “You would not make the sacrifice, so I must.”

“Jane, you are not making any sense.” The confusion Elizabeth felt nearly overcame her. She sensed that her sister was not telling her everything, but she did not know what to do to gain understanding.

The sound of the carriage returning brought Mr. Bennet back to the foyer. “Shall we?” he asked, holding his arms out to his daughters. Elizabeth latched on as if her life depended on it and allowed her father to escort her from the house to the waiting conveyance.

The ride to the church was silent. Jane kept her gaze on the passing scenery while Elizabeth watched her sister. No one spoke, not even Mr. Bennet, who she thought could be counted on to lighten the mood. The carriage pulled to a stop and her father climbed out, handing first Elizabeth down and then Jane.

“There you are!” Mrs. Bennet cried from the church door. “Mr. Bennet, wait here with Jane. Elizabeth, take your place and follow after. ”

The ceremony passed in a blur. Elizabeth stood up with her sister, praying that someone or something would intervene and stop this farce of a wedding. But it was not to be. Jane signed her name in the register before exiting the church on Mr. Collins’s arm. The couple were quickly surrounded by friends and family, everyone wanting to wish them well. Elizabeth watched from the stairs in front of the building. Charlotte joined her there in solidarity, both watching their beloved Jane from a distance.

“Go to her,” Charlotte whispered. “They are making ready to depart.”

Her words reawakened Elizabeth and she hurried down the stairs. Mr. Collins climbed aboard the carriage before his wife, and Elizabeth seized Jane in a fierce hug before she followed her husband.

“Write to me,” she begged.

“Yes,” Jane agreed. “You will come to Hunsford, will you not? In March—Mr. Collins says it is lovely in the spring.”

“I will,” Elizabeth promised.

“Mrs. Collins!” Mr. Collins cried from within the carriage. “We must be off if we are to reach Hunsford by dark.”

“Goodbye, Lizzy,” Jane said. “I will explain everything one day. I promise.”

She kissed Elizabeth’s cheek and climbed aboard the carriage. A word to the driver set the coach on its way. Elizabeth stood in the lane, watching it go until it was out of sight.