Chapter 2
“Doomed? Whatever do you mean?” Jane asked the question, but all the Bennet sisters turned to Lydia with consternation on their faces.
Elizabeth knew that her youngest sister adored being the centre of attention, and that the theatrical entrance and announcement was all part and parcel of her usual performances. Still, there was something in her eyes that bespoke seriousness, for all that.
“What has happened, Lydia?”
“I walked to Havensworth—and yes, I took Molly with me, so you need not chafe at me about walking out alone. In any case, I had to see Pamela Harrington about ensuring we can use their tents from last year. She told me that her parents ‘accidentally’ discarded them. I demanded she tell me the truth, and she bawled like a baby and said she could not understand it, but just when I finally had her calm enough to speak, her mother entered, and then Pamela would not say another word. So on the way back, I stopped by the Forsters’ to discover what I could from Harriet. ”
“Whatever it is, Miss Bingley is behind it!” Kitty repeated. “Why else would she have refused our invitation?”
“Mrs Hurst’s note said that she and Miss Bingley suffer from a bad cold and do not expect to be restored to health by the date of the fair,” Jane said, but her tone told Elizabeth she understood the truth.
They had received precisely one communication from Netherfield after her fruitless call—a cold little note with her ‘regrets’ of why they must refuse Jane’s handwritten invitation to attend.
It could not have been clearer that the rift was a wide one.
“What did Harriet say?” Elizabeth asked with dread.
Lydia humphed. “She said that she heard Miss Bingley has vowed to put an end to this year’s fair, and then, if they can, to abolish the tradition entirely.
Not only that, but the colonel is no longer going to allow all the officers leave to attend.
In my opinion, ever since Mr Wickham left the militia, the colonel has been a regular brute.
Harriet said they had a terrible row about it. ”
“Oh no!” Kitty exclaimed. “Did he tell her why he will not let them come?”
“Oh yes,” Lydia confirmed. “He said that he has learnt his lesson about mixing business with pleasure, and that his men have grown entirely too lax, that he is in the process of restoring discipline, and giving them all permission to play silly games and, most likely, place silly wagers, was the opposite of the kind of restraint he means to achieve in the regiment. Just as if Napoleon is expected to march down the high street of Meryton any moment now.”
“That is…that is unfortunate.” It was an understatement.
Lydia nodded. “Lizzy, you will have to talk to Sir William.”
“Me? Why me?”
“You are the likeliest to convince him to speak to everyone and try to undo what the Bingley sisters have done. He has always treated you like another daughter.”
“What if I ask Papa to speak to him, and all the other neighbours?”
“Do you really believe that Papa would bestir himself to visit every one of our neighbours? And even if he did, he would only grow frustrated—you know he has little patience and is more likely to ridicule than to coax and encourage. Sir William is our only hope of persuading the remaining families to participate. After all, the Lucases are practically relations, now that Charlotte is marrying our cousin Collins.”
“Oh, you know Sir William hates conflict and would rather agree with everyone on every pronouncement, no matter how stupid, than ever diverge in his opinions. Depending upon him to rally the troops is, possibly, a forlorn hope!”
“But he loves the annual Christmas charity fair tradition more than anyone! Surely he would be horrified to hear of its possible demise!”
Elizabeth knew Lydia was correct; Sir William was her only hope.
With just a small groan of complaint, she set down her needlework.
“I suppose there is no other way. Well, whatever is to be done, ’tis best done quickly.
I shall take up my umbrella and my sturdiest boots and brave the elements for a worthy campaign. ”
“You will take ill in this miserable weather,” Jane protested.
Mary, who was sitting nearest the window, peered out. “It appears the rain is let up for the nonce. You will only battle excess mud and excess civility, and not the water.”
Charlotte greeted Elizabeth happily, bringing her to warm herself in front of the Lucases’ roaring fire. “How glad I am that you are here! Come, you must see my latest accomplishments!”
Internally, Elizabeth sighed. Not long ago, Charlotte had been an avid reader, who could always discuss current events or historic ones, whichever happened to arise in conversation.
Ever since her engagement to Mr Collins, however, the only subjects about which she wished to converse were the dishes she aspired to own and the embroidery on her linens, all of which now sported an elegant letter ‘C’ stitched upon every possible surface.
They were still quite friendly, but Elizabeth finally understood that she and Charlotte were not nearly as alike as she had once believed.
It was not that the prospect of marriage was such a bad one—Elizabeth wanted a home and family of her own with all her heart, and she was not by any means ashamed of this desire.
It was only that she also wished for her future children’s father to be someone they could admire and emulate.
For the sake of those potential children, she would never subject them to the mixture of foolishness and foible that was her cousin Mr William Collins.
Charlotte, however, had no such worries.
She was a capable creature, and perhaps only intended that her future offspring be exposed to their sire on limited occasion.
While she mentioned Mr Collins often, it was seldom by name—it was ‘my future husband’ and ‘my betrothed’ and even simply ‘my husband’ as if the marriage had already taken place.
Charlotte was deeply, passionately in love—in love with the notion of wifehood itself.
Elizabeth held the impression that Mr Collins was a place-holder for any sufficiently respectable male who would take upon himself the role she required.
After Elizabeth had properly admired the accumulation for Charlotte’s new household, she brought up her reason for calling.
A month ago, Charlotte would have been working side by side with the Bennet sisters to ensure the fair’s success—when Lucas Lodge held the event a couple of years before, Elizabeth had spent untold hours there doing just that.
Since her engagement, Charlotte had barely listened to Elizabeth speak of it, much less participate in any of the preparations.
“Charlotte, you know the date of the Christmas charity fair is rapidly approaching.”
“Is it? I had not realised. I suppose I have been much too busy to even think of it.” She tied off a knot in her silk and snipped the thread with her embroidery scissors.
“Yes, I imagine you have been. Nevertheless, it is less than two weeks away. Perhaps you also have not heard that the inhabitants of Netherfield Park are discouraging attendance.”
“Are they?” Charlotte took up her needle and deftly threaded it, preparing another napkin for adornment.
“Yes.”
Charlotte kept stitching, far more preoccupied with her table linens than with Elizabeth’s news.
Keeping her tone patient, Elizabeth added, “The Harringtons will not allow us to use their tents this year because of it. The weather has been so nasty of late, you do not know how I wish that Longbourn’s rooms were bigger, that we might bring everyone indoors. ”
“Ah, yes. I suppose, someday, we might remove those walls between the largest drawing room and those tiny little receiving parlours at the front—why would anyone need so many? I have always wondered it, when a wide-cased opening could be made between them to create one magnificent drawing room and a majestic entrance hall. Perhaps with a lovely chandelier or two—it would be very grand.”
Elizabeth was, for a moment, dumbfounded.
Mr Collins was her father’s heir, due to the entail upon their property.
While Mama had often grumbled that Charlotte and Mr Collins constantly whispered together over their plans for Longbourn after Mr Bennet’s death, Elizabeth had stoutly defended her friend against such crass behaviour.
Apparently, her mother had been right and Elizabeth wrong.
Charlotte must have realised her faux pas, for a light blush suddenly stained her cheeks.
“Not that it is lacking in any way now,” she put in quickly.
“I have just often noticed that tiny anomaly in an otherwise perfect design.”
While I have never noticed Charlotte’s true character at all, Elizabeth abruptly recognised. I, who have always prided myself upon my perception, have been blind. Utterly blind.