Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were away before dawn on Saturday. They were to travel to Flitwick Hall, and before the caravan to London left, they must first convince Wickham to marry Miss Chickering by license, which her father had procured in Ware.
Jane had indeed finished Mrs Bingley’s wrap late in the night.
That morning after breakfast, she wrapped it in brown paper, tied it with a corbeau green ribbon, and left it hidden in her bedroom before returning upstairs to the attics.
She found the leather just where she remembered seeing it, and it was the work of a moment to find a heavy black brocade suitable for her needs.
Elizabeth did not possess a tool sharp enough to pierce the leather in her sewing box, but Mrs Annesley possessed an awl, and so it was not long before Jane settled herself in the drawing room with Mrs Bingley, Elizabeth, and Mrs Hurst.
The younger girls were in the music room, having a group lesson on the harp, taught by Georgiana.
Mr Bingley and Mr Hurst had gone out to check the work on packing down the snow on the lanes, and ensure that the routes to Lucas Lodge, Longbourn, and the village were acceptable for travel.
The weather was not dangerously cold, but it was unseasonably cold enough that this snow would not melt quickly.
Mr Rupert Hurst was out on his own somewhere, though the household did not know where he went when he went out alone.
He did not leave the house the day before, after the snow, except when he went about the estate with the other men.
Otherwise, he had been leaving Netherfield at least once daily since the day of the younger ladies’ visit to Amwell.
Elizabeth and Mrs Bingley were, as usual, discussing the ball, and Mrs Hurst was ignoring them as she played with her bracelets and looked out the window listlessly.
“The Matlocks and Viscount Heatherden shall arrive the day after Christmas, and the rest of the guests will be here on the twenty-seventh.” Mrs Bingley consulted her list. “The Matlocks will take the Belgravia Suite and Viscount Heatherden will have the Albany Apartment in the bachelor’s wing.
We will reserve the Piccadilly Room for Mr Darcy’s godfather, Sir Hugh Taplow.
And Mr Darcy’s friend, the physician Sir Alastair Gilchrist, will have the Berkeley Room. ”
“What about the rest of the bachelors?” Elizabeth asked. Jane listened with half an ear while she worked deftly with the awl.
“There are six others, friends of both Mr Darcy and Charles. Mrs Nicholls has assured me that the Haymarket, White Horse, Albemarle, Clifford, Bond, Hamilton, and Burlington rooms are all ready for bachelors,” Mrs Bingley answered.
“The bachelors’ wing sounds as if it will be quite full,” Elizabeth observed.
“I still need to check over the Park Lane, Kensington, Mayfair, St James, and Grosvenor suites in the second floor guest wing for the married couples, and rooms for the three unmarried ladies attending with them.” Mrs Bingley fretted.
“Well let us see to it. Miss Jane, will you mind if we abandon you to the company of Mrs Hurst?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not at all, my friend, but are the pair of you absolutely certain that I cannot help either of you at all?” Jane said in reply.
“Perhaps when we get closer to the ball, Miss Jane, it is possible that a helping hand could be helpful then, but just now there is nothing terribly pressing that I can think of.” Mrs Bingley rose.
“Besides, you appear to be most industriously employed. I do hope you know how much I appreciate your assistance with our poorbox. It would have taken me months of tireless work to have accomplished what you have done in less than a few weeks.”
Jane refused all praise as Elizabeth and Mrs Bingley left, followed soon after by Mrs Hurst, who never had anything to say to her.
An hour later, Jane stowed the unfinished slippers quickly into Elizabeth’s work bag as the men returned from their ride around the estate. Mrs Bingley and Elizabeth joined them in short order, and tea was sent for.
“Cheese toasties would be just the thing, Mrs Bingley,” Mr Hurst begged. “Certainly Miss Jane would not object either.”
“I would certainly not, though I would not for the world put Mrs Bingley to any inconvenience, especially not after she took such pains for my birthday.” Jane said in answer. “Any refreshment will be quite welcome, in my opinion.”
Mrs Hurst groaned as Mrs Bingley gave the order to the footman. “Jane, I wish you would not encourage him. Enjoy it while you can!” she admonished her husband. “That vile concoction shall never be served in my drawing room!”
“I shall die a hen-pecked and half-starved man, married to your sister, Bingley.” Hurst shook his head. “Where has my brother gone off to?”
“He has disappeared for an hour or two nearly every day since the trip my father took with the young ladies to Amwell.” Mrs Bingley sat with her husband on the settee. “He is a man. Perhaps he is visiting the inn to have a drink with other men.”
“He has little other opportunity for conversation since your relations had him reviled from polite society,” Louisa spat. “I really do not know how you can call such people family.”
“It was not the Bennets who had him reviled by the matrons, it was Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Bingley frowned at his sister.
“It is Fitzwilliam’s position that if he, as the second son of an earl, can be civil in Meryton’s society without being offensive, that any man ought to be able to do it, and one who will not even try should not be recognised by decent families. A clergyman, no less.”
“And this is the man you allow to stay as a guest in your home?” Mrs Hurst demanded. “One that casts shame on your family, even your family by marriage?”
“I cannot help but agree with Fitzwilliam. The ladies of Meryton are no hardship to bear in conversation or dancing.” Bingley was firm.
“I will be the first to give Mr Rupert a second chance, and I told him so. Wherever he is spending his afternoons, I do hope he is acting as I advised him, and courting a better opinion with the locals.”
Later that evening, Jane arrived at Lucas Lodge with her hosts. The younger ladies immediately made their way to Maria Lucas and Miss Goulding. Jane followed Elizabeth over to Mr and Mrs Collins.
“Cousin!” Elizabeth exclaimed, bussing Charlotte’s cheeks. “I come bearing Mr Darcy’s regrets. He was obliged to be part of the party to escort Mr Wickham to London, and lamented that he had no opportunity to take his leave of you and dear Charlotte.”
“Why, Cousin Elizabeth, Mr Darcy is far too good! For such a man to worry about taking leave of me and my dear Mrs Collins, why, it demonstrates his infinite superiority! It was just yesterday that I said to Mrs Collins that-”
“Before you are run away with your feelings, Mr Collins, there are two things I must address with you on Mr Darcy’s behalf. First, are you aware of Lady Catherine’s visit to Meryton?” Elizabeth inquired.
“Aware! My dear cousin, it is my understanding that it is only due to the interference of Mr Darcy and the Colonel that my patroness did not turn up at Lucas Lodge before she left the village!” Mr Collins acknowledged.
“I fear Mrs Collins and I must still return home, and brave her ladyship’s displeasure there, but we appreciate the brief reprieve and hope for the best.”
“She cannot take your living unless you are defrocked, you know that, Cousin,” Elizabeth assured him. “And Mr Darcy will write to your bishop, if necessary.”
“I thank you, Cousin Elizabeth, you and your future husband are too good for words.” Mr Collins wiped his brow.
“Cousin Collins, Mr Darcy would have preferred to have this conversation with you himself privately, but considering the importance of his journey, that was not possible.” Elizabeth paused.
“He learned from his aunt yesterday that though you did not write to her of our betrothal yourself, it was due to your indiscretion that she learnt of the matter from another.”
“How could that be, Cousin Elizabeth?” Collins gasped.
“Mr Collins, did you speak of Lady Catherine’s disappointed hopes to Mr Crawford? As we know you did with Miss Jane?” Elizabeth pressed gently.
The colour drained from Collins’s face. “But, how could he? I certainly did not intend… you mean… you mean Mr Crawford wrote to Lady Catherine?” he croaked.
“He was so petulant that he could not steal away Mr Darcy’s intended bride, that he wrote to Lady Catherine out of spite the moment he arrived in Northamptonshire.” Elizabeth tilted her head as she gazed at him.
“Cousin Elizabeth, I can do nothing but apologise for my indiscretion,” Collins begged.
“I fear I mistakenly saw everyone in your mother’s drawing room as a friend.
I promise, I shall take this lesson to heart, and remember Psalm 118:8-9.
‘It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes.’”
“Just so, Cousin.” Elizabeth was struggling with her mirth.
It would not do to laugh at Charlotte’s husband, particularly not when that lady had worked so hard on his improvement, and was standing right in front of them.
“Mr Darcy realises that the consequences of your indiscretion were not your intention, and so–to prove his goodwill–he commissioned me to present to you this bank draft, to help you start your new charitable programme in Hunsford. Mr Darcy was quite impressed by your ideas, and says that he hopes that you will write to him in Derbyshire or at Darcy House in London, to inform him of your progress in the endeavour.”
“Mr Darcy sent a bank draft to assist my charitable programme?” Mr Collins exclaimed. “Oh dear Lord, I cannot look.”
He passed the sealed letter to Charlotte, who opened it. “It is for fifty pounds!” she cried.
“Why that is more than half of what we need to get started!” Mr Collins babbled. “What goodness, what generosity of spirit! Even Lady Catherine has not yet made a contribution!”
“Contribution? Oh, is this about that charitable endeavour you have started?” Mr and Mrs Bingley joined them as Mr Bingley pulled a bank draft out of his pocket.
“Here is an offering from myself and Mrs Bingley. We quite agree with Darcy, it sounds like a fine idea. We wish you every good fortune in your efforts.”
The bank draft Bingley handed over to Charlotte was for another twenty-five pounds.
“With a special collection or two from the parish, we should have the rest by Twelfth Night!” She squeezed her husband’s arm in excitement.
“I told you, my dear, that your scheme was excellent, and if you organised your thoughts carefully and presented them to those who matter, that you would find all of the support you require! And you did it, my dear!”
Mr Collins blushed to his roots. “I fear I lost hope when the idea was not well received by Lady Catherine.”
“Well as you can see, the world does not always agree with Lady Catherine.” Elizabeth advised.
The rest of the evening was spent in farewells and well wishes to Mr and Mrs Collins, and later, the party spent an hour engrossed in the poetry of Mr Lucas, which was soon to be published in Ainsworth’s Magazine.
Jane listened attentively, as her family and friends had done for her readings many times. Mr Lucas’s poetry was vivid, and evoked strong emotions in his audience. Jane thought about the story she was working on, and missed her writing time greatly. She wondered if she would ever return home.