“She shouldn’t spend her money on repairs,” Lizzie said. “She should spend it on what she needs, what she wants.”
“Mary will never tell you what she wants. Ever,” Jane said. “And now, Dad has gotten sick.”
“He’ll be fine,” Lizzie assured her.
“You’re always positive.”
“And you worry too much,” Lizzie said. “He has to take better care of himself.”
“Mary is the one to make sure he will,” Jane admitted.
“Are you gossiping about me?” Mary smiled from the pocket doors.
“We were just talking about how beautifully you take care of Mama and Pa.”
“I am happy to do it.” Mary didn’t believe her sisters were chatting about her largesse. She knew something was up.
A VISIT FROM CHARLOTTE AND MR. COLLINS
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters were dressed, putting on their coats and grabbing their purses, about to depart from Number 10Jane Street, when the doorbell rang. They looked at one another as the bell rang again, and Mary opened the door.
“Cousins!” Mary said a bit too cheerily. William Collins, fiftyish, bald, and short, beamed while his wife, Charlotte, taller than he and ten years younger, searched the eyes of her cousins. Charlotte’s empathy lived in every feature of her face, from her warm smile to the eyebrows that acted as arrows for her emotion.
Lydia groaned, and Mrs. Bennet shot her a look. Lizzie looked at Jane, who plastered a smile on her face. Kitty buttoned her jacket. She didn’t care who stopped by; she wanted to be with her father.
“I’m so sorry, Charlotte”—Mary turned to Mr. Collins—“William. We’d love to visit, but we’re on our way to the hospital,” Mary said.
“That’s why we came early.” William smiled pleasantly and brushed Mary aside, entering the foyer. It was fascinating how high the chandeliers seemed when a man of slight stature stood under one. Mary wanted to remember the moment to write about it later.
“William, this is a bad time,” Charlotte said. “The Bennet women are on their way out.”
“I’ll say,” Mary laughed.
Lizzie embraced Charlotte. “It’s never a bad time for a visit with you.”
“See? What did I tell you?” William said. “I appreciated the text, Mary. I want you to contact us whether it’s good news or bad.”
“You’re welcome.” Now Mary was sorry she’d sent it.
“Shall we join you at the hospital?”
“No!” the all-girl Bennet Greek chorus rang out.
“Oh, all right then.” William shrugged. “We can talk later. How is my cousin?”
“We hope he’s even better this morning,” Mary explained. “He took a little spill—”
“A great doctor once said if you want to make it to ninety… don’t ever fall.” William laughed at his own joke alone.
“Pa is not ninety.”
“He’s on his way. Ten years after eighty is like three. This is not meant as a slur; it’s an achievement to grow old,” William insisted. “An honor.”
“Indeed,” Lizzie said. “And knowing Pa, he will bounce back better than ever.”
“Regardless of his chronological age.” Kitty crossed her arms over her chest.
“I hope so—and I also hope that you ladies are making plans for your future. With your parents reaching elderly status—”
