“Except when it coincides with his patroness’s decrees,” said Elizabeth, though knowing she should have kept her temper. Knowing there was no going back, she added: “Mr. Collins’s wife will not even be the mistress of her own home so long as he is under the thumb of such a meddling woman.”
“I can see there is no reasoning with you,” replied Charlotte.
She rose and addressed the room. “Thank you all for your hospitality, but I shall take my leave of you. It is high time that I return home.”
And with that, Charlotte departed, leaving Elizabeth to wonder if she had just ended her friendship with her closest companion.
“Lizzy, what happened between you and Charlotte today?”
After dinner, Elizabeth had retired to her room to think, which was where Jane had found her. Elizabeth supposed she should not be surprised that Jane had seen something—Jane was quiet and self-effacing, but she was not unobservant.
Sighing, Elizabeth motioned her sister to join her on the bed where they had exchanged countless evening conversations. When settled, she explained what had happened to her patient sister, noting as Jane listened without judgment.
“That was not well done, Lizzy,” said Jane at length when Elizabeth had explained all.
“Well do I know it,” replied Elizabeth.
Jane regarded her. “Why did you let it become an argument?”
“I suppose it started when Charlotte commented about Mr. Bingley’s return.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Though I cannot recall exactly, I remember thinking that someone who agreed to marry our cousin should not cast a shade at our mother’s excited response to Mr. Bingley’s return.”
“Lizzy,” reproached Jane, “I doubt Charlotte meant to speak in such a way.”
Elizabeth turned away, more at her own folly than anything her sister said. “No, I do not suppose she did. If I am honest, I was more vexed with her decision to marry the silliest man of our acquaintance.”
Jane’s gaze was direct, betraying not a hint of hesitation. “Charlotte is not like we are, Lizzy; she is not romantic. You cannot judge her as if she were.”
“No, I cannot.” Elizabeth turned away, frustrated. “It is just... Jane, you know that Charlotte will not be happy in her life—I regret that she has come to this.”
“Lizzy, you cannot know that.”
Elizabeth was not ready to listen to her sister’s optimistic outlook on life. “No, Jane. Please allow me the use of my understanding. Charlotte is not an insensible woman—she is practical, but she is also intelligent. For a time, the benefits of being the mistress of her own home will hold sway, but in time, she will recognize what she has lost by accepting Mr. Collins. When his society becomes irksome, when his patroness’s demands teach her that she does not even control her own home, the years before her will not seem so hopeful.”
Jane did not speak for a moment—Elizabeth suspected she was trying to find the right words.
“Lizzy,” said she, “you have always been close to Charlotte despite the age difference. Charlotte is facing a different reality than we are. She is seven and twenty and has precious little chance of ever marrying if she does not accept Mr. Collins.”
“A life of penury would be preferable to a life of mortification,” muttered Elizabeth.
Jane sighed. “Lizzy, I understand your opinion, and I do not disagree with you. If you wish to keep Charlotte’s friendship, you must accept her choice with whatever grace you can muster.”
With those words, Jane rose and quit the room, leaving Elizabeth to her thoughts. Though she was not yet ready to examine her feelings, she had the nagging feeling that Jane was correct.
WHEN DARCY ARRIVEDat Netherfield, he wondered if Bingley would be at Longbourn. That Bingley was at home was not so much of a surprise as the expression on his face.
Whether it was knowing or sardonic amusement, Darcy could not say, but it unsettled him all the same. Upon alighting from the carriage, Bingley watched him as he approached, leaving Darcy to guess about his state of mind.
“Darcy,” said Bingley, his tone not unfriendly, but suspicious. “I suppose that I should have expected you to come. Caroline would not allow me to flout her ‘authority’ without asking you to intervene to ‘retrieve’ me.”
Nonplused, Darcy stared at his friend. This was not the Bingley he knew—he had never heard his friend speak in such a manner.
“Do not concern yourself, Darcy,” said Bingley, his tone easing a little. “I suspect Caroline has sent you here under false pretenses, at least to a certain extent. Since I half expected you to join me, I asked the housekeeper to keep the same room you used last month ready. When you have refreshed yourself, we can talk.”
“Very well, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “I shall return directly.”
That eventuality came as soon as Darcy changed from his travel clothes. The suggestion that Miss Bingley had not said all was confirmation of what Darcy had thought during their conversation, so he was not at all surprised by it. However, he could own to more than a little curiosity about the path her dishonesty had taken.
“I am listening, Bingley,” said Darcy. “Why are you not surprised that I would come here to ‘retrieve you?’”
