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… moreattractiveway 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.
Chapter Three
November 29, 1811
Longbourn
Jane
Jane 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 fortenant 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 thesethoughts 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-intentionedinterference, my proposals would have been tendered toyouafter 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 partyhadindeed 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.
