Chapter 14 #2
The door had scarcely closed behind them before Mrs. Bennet turned toward Elizabeth in complete bewilderment.
“Well!”
Elizabeth could not suppress a smile. “For once, Mama,” she said quietly, “I believe Mr. Collins knows precisely what he is doing.” Then she added more thoughtfully, “I hope Mary does, too.”
And, though the house had only moments before been full of disappointment, Elizabeth suspected that before long it might contain something very different.
The door of the small parlour remained closed for some minutes.
Mrs. Bennet, who had attempted several times to resume her lamentations over Miss Bingley’s letter, found her attention continually returning to that door. “Well!” she said at last. “What can they possibly have to say to each other for so long?”
Elizabeth did not answer. She suspected very well what might be occurring, though she could not yet determine how the matter would conclude.
At length, the door opened. Mary re-entered the drawing room. Her countenance was flushed, but there was in her expression a composure – even a quiet satisfaction – which Elizabeth had rarely observed in her before.
Mr. Collins did not follow. Instead, he crossed the hall with an air of solemn determination and was seen disappearing toward Mr. Bennet’s library.
Mrs. Bennet stared. “Mary,” she said at once, “what has Mr. Collins been saying to you?”
Mary seated herself before replying. “Mr. Collins has done me the honour of expressing a very serious attachment.”
The announcement produced instant astonishment.
“An attachment!” cried Lydia.
“To you?” added Kitty.
Mrs. Bennet blinked several times. “Well!”
Mary continued with calm dignity. “He has requested that I accept his hand in marriage.”
Elizabeth could not help smiling. “And what answer did you give him?”
Mary lowered her eyes slightly. “I accepted.”
For a moment, Mrs. Bennet seemed entirely unable to speak. Then she exclaimed, “Well! I never heard anything so extraordinary in my life! Oh, we are saved!” She stood and hugged her daughter.
Lydia burst into laughter. “Mary engaged!”
Kitty stared in undisguised amazement.
Jane, however, rose at once and embraced her sister warmly. “My dear Mary, I wish you every happiness.”
Mary received the congratulations with evident satisfaction.
Elizabeth watched her thoughtfully. If Mr. Collins had sought a wife whose mind was inclined toward reflection and improvement, he could scarcely have made a more suitable choice. She was already half inclined to believe that Mary, in time, might manage him more than anyone yet suspected.
At that moment, the door of Mr. Bennet’s library opened, and Mr. Collins emerged with an air of the deepest self-importance. He bowed to the company with great solemnity. “My dear cousins, I have had the honour of informing Mr. Bennet of the happy engagement which has just been concluded.”
Mrs. Bennet was still recovering from her astonishment. “Well!” she repeated faintly.
Mr. Bennet followed a moment later. His expression was one of considerable amusement. “My dear Mary,” he said, “I congratulate you. It appears you have secured a husband who is very much in earnest.”
Mary inclined her head with modest satisfaction.
“And,” Mr. Bennet added dryly, “as Mr. Collins has secured a wife who will listen to him with patience, I believe the arrangement promises mutual content.”
Elizabeth turned away to conceal her smile.
Her mother’s greatest fear – that they might one day be turned from their home after their father’s death – now seemed unlikely to be realised.
The morning, which had begun with disappointment and confusion, had ended with a result which none of them had anticipated.
***
Elizabeth saw at once that Jane was striving – very bravely – to preserve her composure for the sake of the others.
Jane had smiled, congratulated Mary warmly, and even answered Lydia’s noisy remarks with her usual gentleness. Yet Elizabeth knew her sister too well to be deceived. The smile had required an effort.
When Mary began explaining, with great seriousness, Mr. Collins’s reasons for selecting her, Elizabeth quietly crossed the room and touched Jane’s arm. “Come, Jane,” she said softly. “You must be tired after the walk.”
Jane looked at her gratefully and allowed herself to be led from the room.
They ascended the stairs in silence and entered Jane’s chamber. The moment the door closed behind them, the effort that had sustained her gave way.
Jane sank into a chair beside the window and covered her face with her hands.
Elizabeth knelt beside her immediately. “My dear Jane…”
Jane shook her head, trying to master herself, but the tears came despite her efforts.
“I thought… I had begun to hope,” she said at last, her voice trembling. “He had said he would be back.”
Elizabeth took her hand. “The letter was cruelly abrupt. Anyone would feel it.”
Jane tried to smile through her tears. “It is not cruelty,” she said gently. “Miss Bingley has always been very polite to me.”
Elizabeth made no answer.
Jane lowered her hands slowly. “She writes with great kindness. She assures me that their regard for our acquaintance remains unchanged.”
Elizabeth sat very still.
Jane continued, though her voice grew softer. “She also speaks of Miss Darcy. She says that her brother is particularly eager to renew his acquaintance with her… that their families have long wished them to be connected.”
Elizabeth’s expression hardened slightly.
“And Miss Bingley finds this prospect extremely agreeable, I suppose.”
Jane looked down. “She seems very certain it will take place.”
Elizabeth’s indignation rose at once. “How very convenient for her.”
Jane shook her head quickly. “No, Lizzy, do not blame her. It may very well be true.”
Elizabeth studied her sister’s pale face. “And what do you think?”
Jane hesitated. “I think… if Mr. Bingley’s affections were truly engaged, he would not leave without saying goodbye.”
The quiet honesty of the remark made Elizabeth’s heart ache.
Jane drew a steady breath, attempting again to compose herself.
“I must not be foolish. Miss Darcy is said to be very accomplished and amiable. She is also his sister’s particular friend. It would be a most suitable match.”
Elizabeth rose and walked a few steps away before turning back.
“My dear Jane, you are far too generous.”
Jane’s eyes filled again. “I only wish him happy,” she said softly.
Elizabeth returned to her and took both her hands. “And what of your happiness?”
Jane did not answer immediately. At length, she said, “It will pass. Such attachments often do.”
Elizabeth wished she could believe it.
She sat beside her sister and drew her gently into an embrace.
Jane wept quietly for some minutes, and Elizabeth did not attempt to interrupt her. She merely held her hand and allowed the storm to spend itself.
At last, Jane wiped her eyes. “I am ashamed of this,” she said faintly.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” Elizabeth replied firmly. “If anyone ought to feel ashamed, it is Miss Bingley.”
Jane shook her head again, though a small smile appeared through her tears. “You must not quarrel with the entire world on my account.”
Elizabeth returned the smile. “I will attempt restraint.”
Jane drew a deeper breath.
“I only wish,” she said quietly, “that we had seen them once more before they left.”
Elizabeth thought of Netherfield – of Mr. Darcy – and of the silence that had followed the ball. She knew they would have no reason to see Mr. Darcy while his friend remained in London.
She told herself that this could not possibly signify. Mr. Darcy’s movements were no concern of hers. Yet the thought of his departure, without a farewell, left behind a faint and unexpected sense of disappointment – slight, but impossible entirely to dismiss.
She squeezed Jane’s hand gently and said, “Come. You must rest a little. The day has already contained quite enough surprises.”