“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 beenyourfocus 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 heirunnecessary?”
“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.
“Itisexpensive 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 presenceof 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 fromyou. It isyourselfish 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, toask 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 delightfulintercourse 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 dearestJane, 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 theton. Even Mr. Darcy, the grandson of an earl, is not put off by Mr. Bingley’s origins.”
