20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
November 28, 1811 Longbourn, Hertfordshire Jane
W hen the day after the ball ended with no sign of a proposal from Mr. Collins for any lady of the household, Jane felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed. He was a very handsome man, though entirely nonsensical. That was one point on which she could agree with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth. Her stepsister’s name brought a pang to her heart. She missed being able to confide in Mary and Elizabeth, but they would not understand her plight. They had delightfully large fortunes to lure men to propose. And though they were not beautiful in the classical sense as she was, Mary and Lizzy were very pretty indeed. Mama’s pronouncements of poor looks were rooted in jealousy and spite, and completely unfounded.
But, despite believing her mother to be unfeeling toward her stepdaughters, Jane had of necessity adopted her mother’s behavior, from her dismissal to her disdain. Why? Because it seemed the next best step in securing her future. After all, Mama had managed to use her beauty and liveliness, her flirtatious behavior to secure her second husband.
Jane remembered the story well. Mama had told it often enough as she tucked her eldest child into bed.
“Your papa loved you very much, my dear Janie,” Mama had whispered. “But he is gone. When he died, I thought I should soon follow him to the grave, such was my sorrow. But I did not. And then I met Papa Bennet. He was such a fine, handsome man, and newly widowed himself. Your grandfather Gardiner was his solicitor. My papa saw that we would be a good fit and introduced us.”
“And then what happened?” nine-year-old Jane asked.
“We danced and flirted and fell in love. He liked a lively woman, for his former wife was a dull, boring creature. He declared he loved me and could not wait for mourning to end, and so we married immediately.”
“And that is how you became a mama to five daughters?” Jane asked innocently.
“I am only the mama of three daughters, Jane.”
Jane had never been a forward lady. Lydia and Kitty were the lively ones in the family. Mary and Jane shared a reserved, quiet temperament, and Elizabeth outshined them all with her zest for life. Never had it occurred to Jane to resent or dislike her adopted sisters. Not until last summer.
Aunt and Uncle Gardiner invited Jane to London as they had every year since her come out. At age fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen, it had not bothered Jane that her uncle’s associates and friends had done no more than call her lovely. No one had asked to court her, and secretly Jane had been relieved. She did not feel ready to marry, despite her mother’s insistence that she do so as quickly as possible.
Her nineteenth summer left her feeling more prepared, and she looked around at gentlemen with more interest. They, too, saw a beautiful, refined young lady. Jane never sat out for a dance. Yet, she returned to Longbourn unattached. Mama’s scolds still resounded in her memory.
The next two years gave more of the same. By that time, Jane felt greatly discouraged. She determined that she would go to her aunt and uncle the next summer and return with a proposal and happy news for her mother. Upon arriving at the Gardiners’ residence, she reviewed her aunt’s invitations and asked that Mrs. Gardiner accept several others. They had events almost every night.
Even if they are not amongst the first circles, Uncle has gentlemen friends along with his tradesmen associates. Not that Jane objected to marrying a man in trade. She simply knew that it would please her mother more if she did not.
That summer, she had met two very amiable and very eligible gentlemen. The first was Mr. Frank Churchill. He had blond hair and blue eyes and looked dashing in a blue coat. His golden hair curled slightly, and he wore it tousled in a roguish way. He flirted with her immediately upon completing the introduction, and he solicited her hand for a set at every ball they attended. He sat by her at functions and called upon her at Gracechurch Street.
She also encountered a man named Mr. John Willoughby. He had dark hair and dark eyes—completely opposite in coloring to Mr. Churchill. Both men began to compete for her affections, and Jane knew it would be very difficult for her to pick which one to accept. Both had handsome prospects. Mr. Churchill was his aunt’s sole heir and would inherit a vast fortune upon her death. His father had an estate in Hartfield.
Mr. Willoughby had already inherited his estate called Willow Hill. He, too, would inherit from his aunt, Lady Allen. She had an estate in Devonshire called Allen Hall.
Both prospects were excellent, and Mama would be proud.
And then everything had changed in an instant. Jane and her aunt attended a ball hosted by one of Uncle Gardiner’s investors. Mr. Churchill had arranged the invitation, as it was not an event where a tradesman would normally be accepted. Jane dressed in her finest ballgown, a lovely ice blue silk with an overlay of delicate lace. Mrs. Gardiner lent her a pearl and sapphire necklace with matching hair pins. She looked stunning.
They arrived a little late, for the carriage had been delayed by an overturned cart. Jane entered and immediately looked around the room for one or both of her admirers. She spotted them across the dance floor, conversing amiably.
Strange, she thought. They had seemed to detest each other whenever they engaged in their competition for her affections. Suddenly cautious, she approached them from an angle where they could not see her. There was a pillar near their position where she could remain hidden. When she had positioned herself, she listened.
“Have you seen Miss Bennet tonight?” Mr. Churchill asked Mr. Willoughby.
“I have not. She is to return to her country backwater in a few days,” came the reply.
Country backwater? He had said he adored the country—preferred it to town, even.
“Our wager stands.” Mr. Churchill sounded frustrated.
“Yes, yes. She will choose me.”
“I would not be so sure. She is so reticent—so proper. There is no guarantee that you will succeed. I may not meet with success, either.”
Mr. Willoughby laughed. “The shy ones have hidden depths, I assure you. Why, that Williams girl was certainly reticent until I had her where I wanted her.”
Jane had a sinking feeling in her chest. She could not quite understand the exact nature of their conversation, but it felt wrong. Maybe that was not quite the word. Whatever they meant, their words made her skin crawl. And who was the Williams girl?
“It is a shame she does not have more of a dowry. Then she might be worth more than just a tumble.” Mr. Churchill sounded regretful. “She has her share of five thousand pounds split between three sisters. That, coupled with her poor connections, makes her unmarriageable, at least for me.”
“I, too, need a lady with a dowry. A very modest one will suffice—five thousand or so.” Mr. Willoughby laughed.
“I thought you had debts.” Mr. Churchill chortled. “At least you have possession of your inheritance. My aunt keeps me on a tight leash. I doubt she would approve of Miss Bennet as a prospective bride anyhow. The old bird wants me to marry her friend’s niece.”
Jane’s thoughts tripped over each other, and she tried to calm her racing heart by breathing slowly and deeply. If she understood correctly, the gentlemen had been wagering against her virtue. They had no intentions of making her an offer at all.
How very humiliating! She covered her cheeks with her hands as a mortified blush bloomed. I must leave, she thought. Woodenly, she found her aunt and claimed to have a headache. Mrs. Gardiner had the carriage called immediately, and they departed forthwith.
Alone in her room and ready for bed, she sat and stared out the window. She felt numb. Had they really courted her good opinion with the purpose of taking that which was most precious to a lady? It seemed altogether incredulous and unfathomable. If this is what London is, I have no interest in staying, she thought. I shall be gone tomorrow if I can manage.
That night, Jane examined her every behavior. Had she behaved wantonly? No, not in the slightest. The fault for the gentlemen’s behavior lay at their feet. After a thorough accounting for her behavior, and absolving herself of guilt, she drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. That might have been the end of it, had she not returned to Longbourn to find that in her absence, Mama had allowed Lydia to come out.
Already there were too few gentlemen in the area. Adding another lady to the crowded local marriage mart meant less attention to ladies of Jane’s age who were desperately wishing to find a man to wed. With five Bennet daughters to marry off, what was Mrs. Bennet thinking?
And then she remembered that Mary and Lizzy were to have a season in town next year…and that they had dowries from their mother. That alone would make them attractive to gentlemen, far more attractive than Jane, Lydia, or Kitty. Resentment sprouted and grew, and Jane, who had never truly disliked another person in her life, suddenly battled negative emotions toward the two sisters she loved best.
Many hours watching gentlemen lavish Lydia with attention fed that resentment, and when Mary and Lizzy came back from Elm Grove, Jane was angry enough that she refused to speak with them. Another idea had come to her, too. Maybe if she acted like Mama and Lydia, she could gain a proposal from a worthy gentleman. It had worked on Mr. Bennet—though she was forced to admit that her stepfather did not seem to hold Mrs. Bennet in much esteem now.
She would try it. Jane put her plan into action at the Meryton assembly and behold! Mr. Bingley had immediately been drawn to her. He had paid her great attention, and Jane thought for sure he would propose at his ball. When he had not, she did not despair. He would return from London eager to make her his wife.
Her behavior pleased Mama, too, and Jane basked in her mother’s love.
Two days after the ball, a letter came from Netherfield Park. It was from Miss Bingley. The pretentious lady liked Jane, which could only improve her chances of marrying Mr. Bingley. Eagerly, she tore the seal and read.
It was not an invitation to tea or the like, as she thought it would be. Instead, Miss Bingley declared that Netherfield would be shut up for the winter, and intimated that Mr. Bingley was soon to be engaged to Miss Georgiana Darcy.
White-hot rage filled her before draining quickly to despair. She crumpled the letter in her fist and then went to her room to calm herself.
Even though she had not behaved in her natural manner and had copied Lydia’s behavior, Jane had grown to love Mr. Bingley. He was her match in every way, from being a foil of exuberance to her more reticent nature, to his general acceptance of anyone around him. She had felt guilty allowing him to believe she was truly a Bennet and had planned to inform him of her real name when he proposed. It would not be necessary now.
I cannot let Mama know about this, she thought. She will be devastated. I need another option.
Mr. Collins. Yes, he would do nicely. Besides being very handsome, he had little sense. He would be easily managed and would happily follow Jane’s lead in all things. And it would not take much to encourage a proposal. The man had come to Longbourn to find a wife, and likely would have pursued her had Mama not deterred his interest.
She hated this mercenary feeling, hated that she had been driven to behave in such a deplorable manner. Standing, she paced the room, sucking in deep breaths to calm the frantic feeling in her heart. At two-and-twenty, she had but a few short years until she was on the shelf. Never, she told herself. Resolve solidified in her mind. Mr. Collins it is. That means I shall be mistress of Longbourn one day.
Elizabeth had more of a right to it, but she had openly expressed her disdain for the man in every action.
Decidedly, she crossed the room and opened the door, determined to locate her cousin and grant him her attentions. Out in the hallway stood Lydia in nothing but her chemise and stays. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders and her cheeks were flushed. Worse still, Mr. Collins stood beside her, clearly ogling.
“Lydia!” Jane shrieked. “Go to your room at once!”
“ You are not Mama, Jane.” Lydia stuck her tongue out. “Besides, Mr. Collins has just proposed, have you not, sir?”
Mr. Collins looked a little dazed. “Hmm?” he said vaguely. “Yes, of course I did.”
“There, you see? I am to be Mrs. Collins and someday mistress of Longbourn. Ha!” Lydia looped her arm through her cousin’s. “I have more right to it than you, anyway. You are not a Bennet!”
This seemed to shock Mr. Collins out of his stupor. “Not a Bennet?” he asked curiously. “Then what—or whom—is she?”
“Her true name is Jane Younge!” Lydia turned and pecked Mr. Collins on the cheek. “Now, darling, I shall just go put on a lovely yellow morning gown whilst you speak to Papa. Shall we meet in the drawing room in fifteen minutes?”
Mr. Collins, still seeming rather dazed, nodded absently. Casting a curious glance at Jane, he straightened his waistcoat and jacket and then fairly glided down the stairs.
Well, that is the end of that, Jane thought dismally. Lydia had gone to dress, thankfully, and Jane stood in the hallway, wondering what she ought to do. Feeling unequal to company, she went back to her room and closed the door, determined to remain there until dinner.
At the table, she wished she had taken a tray in her room. Mama’s exultant exclamations about finally having a daughter married prevailed. Mr. Bennet bore it all without comment, as did Mary and Lizzy. Kitty pouted and declared it was very unfair of Lydia to secure Mr. Collins without giving her a chance, and Lydia responded that those who rested on their laurels were sure to lose the race.
Mr. Collins seemed pleased with his young betrothed. He spoke over the general cacophony, declaring that Miss Lydia perfectly complimented his superior features. He speculated on the appearances of their children and how his dear patroness would visit his wife when they returned to Hunsford.
Their children may be lovely, Jane thought, but they will not have a lick of sense. With two such nonsensical parents, they will most certainly be vapid and dull. This spiteful thought did little to comfort her, especially as her mind wandered once again to Mr. Bingley and his defection.
Perhaps his sister is wrong, she thought hopefully. Perhaps he will return. If—when—he does, I shall show him who I truly am.