Jane spoke again. “I-I am the eldest, so it does make a kind of sense. It is only fair.”
Elizabeth had not expected that particular argument. But then, she had not expected any argument at all. “Of course, Jane,” she made herself answer, and if her voice was a little choked, she could not help it. “I shall marry Mr Ashwood, and you shall wed Mr Collins, and Papa will be relieved and happy, for what time he has left.”
Jane practically skipped to her sister, embracing her. “Oh, I knew you would see it the same way! You are always so sensible, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth returned the embrace, but said little, while Jane planned her own wedding aloud until late into the night.
1
The Meryton Assembly, October 1811
It was with a sense of unreality that Elizabeth sat watching the gathering of her neighbours; it had been so long since she had joined any such events—much longer than her requisite year of mourning for her dead husband.
The assembly, a subscription event, was exceptionally well-attended in this little corner of Hertfordshire, especially by the unmarried female portion of the populace. A Mr Charles Bingley, having recently let the large nearby property of Netherfield Park, was expected to attend tonight—and Mary had said she heard from Mrs Long who had it from Lady Lucas that he would be bringing several eligible male friends along with him.
Not that Elizabeth cared much for eligible bachelors; she was done with that part of her life, and could henceforth disregard the worries and woes of the unattached maidens ofthe countryside. It was a great relief, truly. She was far more interested in meeting Mr Bingley’s sisters, hoping that they would provide lively, much needed society to the neighbourhood; she was determined to make her own good impression upon them instead of allowing unkind gossip to do it for her. Since Mr Ashwood’s death, she was very much in want of friends. Especially since Jane had nearly ceased to be one.
Do not think of that, she cautioned herself. But it was difficult, when Mrs John Ashwood—Fanny—the current mistress of Stoke, entered and immediately approached Jane, the two of them greeting each other as enthusiastically as though they had not seen each other in weeks.
Determinedly, she fixed upon more pleasant thoughts, determined to count her blessings. Itwasnice to wear colours again; she had refused ‘second mourning’, feeling that she had given up more than enough of her life for Mr Henry Ashwood, and would not regret it. Her finances, thanks to her uncle Gardiner’s help, were steadily improving; she had paid the subscription fee with only a little hesitation. With any luck, another year perhaps, she could leave the falling-down dower cottage to which she had been relegated and take up residence where she liked.Italy might be nice, she thought, dreaming of distant shores.
Lydia’s voice sounded loudly over the noise of musicians tuning their instruments. Elizabeth turned in her direction and saw not only her youngest sister, but their mother as well. It was all she could do to restrain a loud sigh.
Anxious to blame Elizabeth’s failure to produce progeny upon her daughter’s stubbornness and not upon any physical flaw which might be applied to her remaining daughters, bitter at the loss of the social capital of Stoke, Mrs Bennet seldom missed a chance to criticise. Fanny Ashwoodalwaysused those grievances to her own advantage. It would be a miracle if the two ladies of Netherfield, a Miss Caroline Bingley and a Mrs Louisa Hurst, did not gain an earful from Fanny, and have all the negatives confirmed by Elizabeth’s own mother.
In the beginning of her marriage, Elizabeth had visited Longbourn often; after her father’s death, it had become more difficult, but she had persisted. Yet, with every single call, Mrs Bennet worried aloud that she was spending too much time away from Stoke and not enough time pleasing her husband. While she had mostly acceded her role as mistress of Longbourn to Jane, Mama had never grown overfond of Jane’s husband. Elizabeth supposed that she had entertained hopes of obtaining the riches of Stoke for their family; the estate was more on the scale of Netherfield, nearly twice the size of Longbourn, and very prosperous. Whatever her fancies, they had all required an heir to accomplish. When she had begun hearing of Mr Ashwood’s various illnesses, Mama had only increased her badgering. Three days before Mr Ashwood’s death, Elizabeth’s envelope from her mother had contained a single large advertisement cut from a London newspaper, promising a remedy for ‘flexuous flesh’.Rapid revival from flaccid festering to firming fervour, it had said.
A sudden commotion at the hall’s entrance captured everyone’s attention. The party from Netherfield had arrived.
She watched as her brother-in-law hastily approached them. Mr Collins was no longer so slender as he had been four years before; the fruits of Longbourn’s fine table had settled roundly upon his large frame, and his hair was thinning at his temples. Regardless, he was just as eager to meet a stranger as he always had been, vigorously shaking thehand of the man whomustbe Mr Bingley—a jovial-appearing young fellow with reddish curls and a wide smile. Mr Bingley had not, as rumours had suggested, dragged along a dozen of his closest friends to grace their little ball. The one hehadmanaged, a tall man in expensive tailoring, looked as if he were sniffing the air for dreadful odours. He might have been handsome, but he was too busy presenting a cold aloofness to the gathering crowds, making it clear he felt himself much too wonderful for this gathering.Mr Snubs, she nicknamed him.
Elizabeth gave the sight a little shrug, much more interested in the females of the party. Unfortunately, the one appearing to be closest in age to herself—Miss Bingley, it was to be presumed—immediately adopted the posture of Mr Snubs. Occasionally she leant over and whispered something to him behind her fan, a snide remark, judging from her expression. Perhaps, even, they were engaged to be married—her attitude wasthatfamiliar. Doubtless, they deserved each other. The other, older woman, who must be Mrs Hurst, entered on the arm of a pudgy man of indeterminate age. Sir William and Lady Lucas immediately approached, exchanging greetings. The moment they turned away, Mrs Hurst glanced at her husband and rolled her eyes. She was, plainly, impatient and jaded and not at all prepared to enjoy the evening, unlike Mr Bingley, who appeared happily surrounded by those eager to be introduced.
With a sigh, Elizabeth surrendered the hope of making new friends, and sought out her sisters.
Mary was standing near an instrument, clearly waiting for the musicians to break so that she could pounce onto it; she loved nothing better than to perform. Elizabeth had a better idea in mind, and in pursuit of it, she had already had a verygood conversation with Mrs Palmer, the vicar’s wife, who was similarly inclined.
Mary turned towards her sister, a happy smile on her face. “Lizzy, you came!”
“I told you I would.”
“I thought perhapsthat womanmight prevent you somehow.” Mary was clear-eyed and felt the same about the new mistress of Stoke as did Elizabeth—one could hear the disapproving italics in her references to the other Mrs Ashwood. It was unfortunate that so few would listen to her.
“Not at all. Have you heard that Milton Palmer has returned? He will be here tonight.”
Mary’s expression conveyed both anxiety and hope at news of the arrival of the vicar’s nephew. “Will he? But he will not notice me, I am certain.”
“None of that now! I recall quite clearly hearing of his attentions towards you during his last visit. How marvellous that you have taken my suggestion on your hair—you look so pretty with those curls framing your face, just as I knew you would.”
“Mrs Hill helped me with it. She followed your sketch exactly.”
“What a good idea, to ask her help! You are so sensible. Look, there are the Palmers. Shall we go speak to them? You need not be nervous. You know that you are a great favourite with Mr Palmer, and that Mrs Palmer almost considers you another daughter.”
“Milton’s parents wish him to marry someone better off. That is no secret.”
“But they deeply respect the opinions of the Palmers. Mrs Palmer told me she would like nothing better than for Miltonto settle down with someone of whom she approves, and in her next breath, asked if you would be here tonight.”
Mary smiled prettily, a faint blush adding just the right amount of colour to her cheeks, and willingly allowed Elizabeth to lead her towards the vicar’s family.
