Chapter 22
Parsonage
Hunsford
The carriage came to a halt in front of a tidy brick parsonage, and Elizabeth watched as the front door swung open. Mary, dressed demurely in dark blue with a trim lace cap on her head, ran out of the house with her husband at her heels.
The door to the carriage was opened from the outside, and the footman who had accompanied her from Longbourn handed her out before helping her accompanying maid out as well.
“Mary!” Elizabeth cried out, pulling her sister into a loving embrace.
“Lizzy, oh Lizzy!” Mary returned, her eyes shiny with tears. “It is so good to see you again!”
Elizabeth tightened her grip for a moment, and then released her sister and turned to her cousin. “William, it is good to see you as well.”
“I am very pleased to see you,” William replied, reaching his hands out to take hers, “and I know that Mary has been counting down the days until your arrival.”
Mary sniffed and said, “It is true, I have. I am very happy here, but I missed my family more than I had expected. But come in, please, and I will show you to your room so you can refresh yourself. Then we can have some tea, and you can tell me about everything that is happening at home!”
***
Sitting Room
Hunsford Parsonage
An Hour Later
Elizabeth looked around the sitting room and said, “The house seems snug and well-built. I congratulate you both.”
“It is indeed,” Mary said as she poured tea for her sister and husband. “We are thankful for such a lovely home.”
“Yes,” Mr. Collins agreed. “Lady Catherine has done her duty in keeping the parsonage in condition, and I am well aware that not all rectors are so blessed.”
Mary wrinkled her nose. “There is a parish some fifteen miles away with a dilapidated parsonage, and the curate is paid so little it is hard for him to keep body and soul together. We send him baskets of food regularly.”
Elizabeth smiled at her sister. “That is kind of you.”
“Mary is wonderful,” William declared with obvious sincerity. “I could not ask for a better wife and helpmeet. The parishioners love her, one and all.”
Mary blushed but was obviously pleased, and Elizabeth realized with a start that her next younger sister was genuinely pretty now.
It was amazing and sad that Mary’s years under the roof of an indifferent mother and cynical father had muted her to the point that she had once seemed plain.
Another factor was that Mary’s coloring was better suited to darker hues, but her mother had insisted that her girls largely dress in brighter gowns.
“Tell me about Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she said and then took a sip of excellent tea.
The Collinses exchanged glances, and both looked at the door, which was closed, and Mary said in a low voice, “She is tiresome, but William and I are quite capable of managing her.”
These were blunt words, and Elizabeth could not help but chuckle. “I am glad to hear it.”
“She is not particularly intelligent,” Mary said dispassionately. “She is, however, exceptionally proud, so a little judicious flattery generally allows us to do what we want.”
“And by that,” William said, reaching out to take his wife’s hand, “we mean that in spite of her lack of true Christian charity, we are often able to convince her to give to the poor by tapping into her desire to look generous before the world.”
Elizabeth nodded approvingly and said, “And what of Miss de Bourgh? What is she like?”
Again, the married couple exchanged glances, and Mary said more softly still, “She is quite an interesting person, Lizzy, though sadly her health is indifferent.
We think that is partly because Lady Catherine keeps her daughter wrapped in lamb's wool. I think you will like her, and truthfully, Miss de Bourgh needs friends.”
“Do you consider yourself a friend to her?” Elizabeth asked.
“I try to be,” Mary said, “but I am busy with my duties, and am not able to spend substantial time with Miss de Bourgh. She has called on us several times, though, and I expect she will do so again soon. But enough of what is happening here. How are our parents and younger sisters? How are Jane and Charles Bingley?”
“Jane and Charles are doing very well,” Elizabeth said with a beaming smile. “I believe they are made for one another.”
“I quite agree,” Mary said and then added delicately, “I understand that the Hursts are currently in their home in London but that Caroline has chosen to stay at Netherfield Hall. It must be challenging for her to give up her role as mistress of the house.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I think it was a little difficult, yes, but truthfully, she has changed rather a lot in the last months. She is extremely excited about archery now and spends a surprising amount of time outside with Kitty and Lydia shooting at targets.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “Our younger sisters are regularly practicing with bows and arrows?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, “and it is truly very good for them. Both girls come over several times a week for target practice and then spend time with Jane and Charles and Caroline at Netherfield. It keeps them from chasing officers as much.”
“And that is a good thing,” Mary agreed fervently.
Silence fell for a moment, and then Mary asked in a serious tone, “How is Father doing?”
Elizabeth took another sip of milky tea and then sighed.
“He is about the same, perhaps? Or perhaps a little bit worse? He spends most of his time in the library. I do try to sit with him often, but you were quite right about Mamma. She insists that her unmarried daughters spend substantial time with her every day.”
“Is Father spending more time in the library than he did six months ago?” Mary asked.
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, considered, and then said, “Yes? I think? It is a slow change, but since you pointed out the realities of his health, I notice how often he seems overly tired and breathless.”
She noted the distressed look on Mary’s face and said quickly, “He is cared for very well, Sister. We hired a new maid and a new manservant to assist him. You belong here, without a doubt, and I hope you do not feel guilty about departing Longbourn. On an entirely practical basis, your marriage to William means that Longbourn will remain in our family line.”
She turned to her cousin and said, “I hope you do not mind me saying that.”
Mr. Collins smiled at his wife and said, “Not at all, I assure you. It is a reasonable understanding of the situation.”
“I am grateful that Longbourn will stay in the family, but more importantly, I wanted a good husband, and William is wonderful,” Mary said, returning the smile.
Elizabeth, watching the pair, was aware of a peculiar feeling in her stomach, which took a moment for her to recognize as that ugly emotion, envy.
It was not necessarily easy to be Miss Bennet, unwed, with no prospects in sight…
***
Darcy House
London
Darcy sat at his desk, neat stacks of papers lay across its surface and a pen box was open before him.
The heavy navy drapes had all been pulled back from the windows that lined two walls, letting in the sunlight to illuminate the desk and set the dark polished wood aglow.
The fire crackled in the hearth, and the strains of Georgiana working away at her new piece of Beethoven on the pianoforte trickled through one wall.
Outside, a thin but insistent breeze whistled around the corner and tugged lightly at the shutters.
Darcy put down his pen, stretched his hand, and looked out at the small garden behind the house.
In a few weeks it would be green and lush and colorful with the blooming flowers in their verdant beds.
Now, a fuzzy green mist hung over long, gray, bare twigs; tiny nascent buds not quite visible except as a tint promising warmer days ahead.
A splash of vivid sunshine on the ground drew his eye; daffodils, those bold pioneers of early spring days, were tossing their yellow heads in the breeze.
The flowers were charming, and Darcy admired them a moment before returning to work.
He had already responded to more than half his pile of letters, but nonetheless he had a significant number left waiting for him.
Placing his pen in its holder, he reached for the letter atop the stack.
His shoulders relaxed and a faint smile touched his face as he saw the penmanship, which he recognized as Bingley’s.
He broke open the wax and shifted in position to allow sunlight to fall upon the page.
He knew from long experience that Bingley often thought and wrote with such rapidity, and with so many blots, that it was hard to read his missives.
His brow furrowed in surprise. The words were shockingly well-formed and easy to read!
Netherfield Hall
Tuesday, 3rd March 1812
Darcy,
I was pleased to receive your letter a week ago and am delighted to hear that you and Miss Darcy are well.
We are also well, very well. Truly, I have never been so happy in all my life. Jane is the perfect wife for me, and I can only hope and pray that I am the perfect husband for her.
We have, you will be pleased to hear, talked at length about the future of Netherfield Hall and whether we will continue to live here. I only took a one-year lease, of course, and am free to leave at Michaelmas if we so please.
In some ways, it seems obvious that we ought to stay. Jane, naturally, loves her family dearly, and we are such an easy distance from Longbourn.
On the other hand…
The truth is that it is possible to be too close to family. I respect my father- and mother-in-law a great deal, certainly, but there are times when the house seems rather full of relations and opinions about how we should manage our lives.
But perhaps I am merely being selfish. I love Jane so very much , and my favorite hours are when we are alone together.
I just reread those words and find myself chuckling aloud. I have, for as long as I can remember, been a bonhomous chap, eager to spend time with all and sundry, and now all I want is to be with one person, my very dear wife.