But her aunt’s gaze, full of confidence, reassured her.
Until the gentlemen returned, Elizabeth still allowed herself a moment of expectation for her father. She could still persuade herself that he might appear, smiling, and take his place at the head of the table, from which he had always looked upon them.
But as soon as the gentlemen were seated, the small illusion dissolved. Never again would he be there, and their lives must go on.
“And they shall go on, Papa. This is my promise. Our family shall endure,” she told herself, for each, in her own way, had made the same vow.
∞∞∞
When, at the end of breakfast, Mrs Bennet consented to retire to rest, attended by Jane, everyone breathed more freely. It was precisely what she required—the sad but gentle presence of her eldest daughter, and Jane, in her turn, needed her mother.
After the guests had withdrawn, Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth, almost with a single thought, set out for a walk. It was a fine, warm day, but the wood, now in leaf about Longbourn, sheltered them from the already powerful sun.
“How shall our lives be without Longbourn?” Elizabeth asked, and she allowed the distress that seized her whenever her thoughts turned from Mr Bennet to be plainly seen.
It was a grave question, which Mrs Gardiner avoided answering; there were no words that could ease the void left by the loss of their home.
“It is hard to imagine,” she said at last. “But I do know that we are beside you, and that we shall take care of you all.”
Elizabeth leaned upon her aunt, as though the weight in her heart had spread through her whole being.
“At five o’clock, your uncles will wish to speak with you all.”
“Today?” Elizabeth asked, in surprise, and with some alarm.
“Yes. You must know that, in the days to come, Mr Collins will be here. Sir William has mentioned it to Mr Phillips, with great reluctance. He would have preferred that at least a week should pass, but his son-in-law has been firm. He is determined to come.”
There was no use in attempting to spare her. Mr Collins’s arrival was already known, and nothing good could come of it. However, Sir William might wish to soften matters; it was a misfortune that would, unhappily, arrive too soon after they had scarcely laid Mr Bennet in the ground.
“Lizzy, I know you must summon all your strength to receive him…but it cannot be avoided.”
“What can we do?”
“Sir William has several ideas. He would wish you to remain here another year, but even he has his doubts. Mr Phillips believes that some correspondence has already passed between them. Sir William’s situation is far from enviable; he would do anything for you, but Mr Collins will likely prove as unyielding as is his nature. We must wait and see what he will say. For the present, your uncles will tell you what plan we have formed for you.”
“Oh!” cried Elizabeth, brushing away her tears with something like impatience. “It is my fault. Mine! If I had accepted Mr Darcy.”
“Lizzy, do not speak so and above all, do not think in such terms. Did you not tell me what your father asked of you? Do you imagine he would wish you to be married and unhappy, merely to secure your family’s comfort?”
“With Papa gone, I may judge myself as I please.”
“And to no purpose.”
“Perhaps I should not have been unhappy with him,” Elizabeth murmured, not looking at her aunt, and idly playing with a twig she had broken from a hedge.
“What do you say?” The curiosity in Mrs Gardiner’s voice was the first note of ordinary life since that morning when they had learnt of her father’s illness.
“I scarcely know what I say. Only that, had I now been engaged to Mr Darcy, things would have been simpler—clearer.”
Mrs Gardiner refrained from remark. It might have been simpler for Elizabeth, but it was by no means certain that Mr Darcy would have been pleased to find himself burdened at once with the very family whose circumstances had made him hesitate.
“You are mistaken,” Elizabeth said, perceiving the meaning of her silence. “He is proud and sometimes pompous, but he is an honourable man, devoted to his family. Had I married him, I should have been part of it…he might not have wished my mother and sisters always about us, but I am certain he would not have hesitated to assist them.”
Again, there was silence, but this time it was Mrs Gardiner who was deeply surprised.
“It is strange to hear you speak so of him. I had believed you disliked him.”
“No!” she cried, and checked herself immediately. “Good heavens, what are we saying? My father has just been buried. How easily we forget. This morning, I thought I should scarcely be able to rise, and now we speak of—”
