“You may be mistaken about the depth of Jane’s feelings,” Elizabeth remarked. “Jane did not journey to London to forget Mr Bingley. Quite the opposite—she nurtured great hopes of meeting him there. At this very moment, she is likely penning a message to Miss Bingley, announcing her safe arrival in town. And I am certain her message will centre upon one question: When do you think we might meet?”
“But if she does not see him, she will forget him in no time,” Lydia said with conviction.
“We must be patient, Lydia dear,” her father replied with a faint smile, recognising both her confidence and her naïvety.
“Patient? Mr Bingley left the country at the end of November. Nearly six weeks have passed, and Jane’s grief remains unabated. In your estimation, how long does it take to recover from such an attachment?” Lydia asked.
“There is no set duration,” Mr Bennet responded. “It is not influenza, and even in the case of such an ailment, it is difficult to know the precise period it takes to recover. Nevertheless, I hope that nothing untoward happens in London and that she will return to better spirits. We may witness a joyful Jane when the spring finally arrives.”
“Spring?” Elizabeth asked, genuinely surprised. “You agree, after all, that Jane’s sentiments are not a mere passing fancy?”
“All I agree on is that Jane had higher expectations than reality could offer, and it is your mother’s fault for encouraging her to entertain hopes beyond what the gentleman had expressed. When combined with her eagerness to experience love and her somewhat innocent nature, it led to the grief we all observed. But, as I told your aunt, young ladies should experience affection at least once before finding a husband. It is a valuable experience when one reaches the point of choosing a spouse.”
“Must I remind you, dear Papa, that we young ladies do not choose our husbands?” Lydia said defensively. “It is the gentlemen who make their selections while we simply wait. It is akin to what occurs when you journey to St Albans to negotiate a horse sale!”
“Lydia! How can you utter such offensive words about ladies?” her father exclaimed, feigning indignation yet secretly admiring his youngest daughter’s grip on reality.
“You do not have to pretend you are shocked by Lydia’s words,” Elizabeth intervened, for once agreeing with her youngest sister’s point of view. “Rather than indignation, I perceive admiration in your eyes for Lydia’s courage in confronting reality.”
They watched as her father burst into laughter—a rare occurrence since he generally responded to their jests with merely a smile. But this time, Mr Bennet appeared in high spirits, thanks partly to their conversation.
“If memory serves me correctly, young ladies, when Mr Collins came here, two Bennet ladies rejected his proposal to ‘purchase’ them.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. “It was a rare instance where the horse dug in his heels, refusing to follow a new master. But what can I say? I am grateful you did not force us to marry that man. Such leniency is seldom encountered, even in our time. Consider Charlotte, who had no alternative but to accept Mr Collins.”
“Are you sure that Charlotte did not accept him of her own will?” Mr Bennet asked.
“What do you mean? Did not Sir William intervene in her decision?” Mary spoke for the first time, and they all looked at her as she rarely expressed her inner thoughts or dilemmas in a family conversation.
“Indeed! I am suggesting that he did not need to exert the power he possesses within his family.”
“Are you saying that Charlotte accepted Mr Collins’s proposal because she genuinely wanted to?” Elizabeth continued, pondering a possibility that had not even crossed her mind. “From first hearing of their betrothment, I assumedSir William forced her to marry Mr Collins. However, if you are right, how did Charlotte reconcile her aspirations for a marriage of love with her acceptance of someone like our cousin?” Elizabeth wanted to know, while Mary nodded, placing the book back on her father’s desk, suddenly interested in the conversation.
“Did Charlotte hold a genuine desire to find love, or was it more a reflection of what she heard inourhousehold?” Mr Bennet asked.
“Is it not every woman’s aspiration?” Elizabeth asked her father, puzzled.
To her surprise, Lydia shook her head. “Love may be a wish but not an aspiration.” Her somewhat cynical words made Mr Bennet nod, while Elizabeth looked from one to the other in pure astonishment.
“Listen to your sister, my dear,” Mr Bennet said, emphasising his unexpected support for Lydia’s position.
“So you agree with her?” cried Elizabeth, her face covered with a delicate redness that showed her distress.
“I partially do,” came his answer. “Suchaspirationsare reserved for young ladies like you or Jane or Mary who read tales of love and adventures, and who dream, at liberty to voice their sentiments. However, I assure you that most women simply wish tomarry,and they ultimately do so if the gentleman in question meets certain conditions, irrespective of their affection for him.”
“Conditions? Such as?” Elizabeth continued to ask, still not believing that her father was inclined to accept that perspective on marriage when she remembered him talking about the importance of love.
“Social standing, wealth, family background, occupation… Or if the lady has reached a certain age, any suitor will do!”
“Oh, how unkind of you to say such a thing,” Elizabeth murmured. However, she reluctantly admitted that Charlotte might indeed fall into that last category. “It implies never experiencing that feeling called love,” she mused.
“You can experience love, yet taking into account all that Papa said,” Lydia spoke again, “I want to love a man, but the feeling alone is not enough.”
“What more can there be?” Elizabeth asked, and she saw Lydia blush. At the same time, their father tried to avoid looking at her, as he had also understood Lydia’s meaning, which certainly could not be discussed in that library.
Fortunately, Mary did not observe the awkward moment and asked in all naïvety, “Jane has fallen in love. The love Lizzy was talking about. Do you believe she is any happier for it, Papa?”
“Obviously not now,” Mr Bennet answered.
