Chapter 7
Escape
Mary approached Elizabeth with a soft smile.
“Lizzy, what say you to walking into Meryton to speak to Uncle Phillips about the marriage contract? We should bring him back and have the contract fully settled as soon as possible. You know our father; he would wait a fortnight, then do a poor job of it—or worse yet, let Lady Catherine write it. If we sneak out, it will give us a chance to speak privately and tell Uncle Phillips what the settlements must say. Papa will sign anything placed before him, so let us make sure that provision is correct. That will allow the gentlemen the illusion of control, while making certain the settlements are drawn properly.”
Elizabeth smiled in return. “Of course, Mary. I very much wanted to speak to you privately anyway.”
Jane was insensible in anticipation of the rapture expected when Mr Bingley returned in a few days, as promised.
The gentleman had danced the first and supper sets with her, and showered her with attention for the rest of the evening.
Nothing was decided, but Elizabeth had never seen a more promising inclination.
Kitty and Lydia were already giggling with Mrs Bennet and planning the details of the boasting campaign they would start as soon as the official blessing was given.
A reasonable person might think a newly engaged bride would stay in the house to converse further with her suitor or her father; but then again, a reasonable person would not be inclined to spend much time in the Bennet household.
Nobody noticed as Elizabeth and Mary slipped away from the maddening throng and donned their wraps for the 1-mile walk into Meryton.
~~~
The day was bright and cold, as expected on 27 November. The roads were still muddy and uncertain after 4 days of unrelenting rain preceding the Netherfield ball, but the sisters were unintimidated by a little mud.
Mary said, “Thank you, Lizzy. That was brilliantly done.”
Elizabeth laughed. “What do you mean? The whole thing was your idea in the first place!”
“Perhaps, but I thought we would have at least another week to redirect Mr Collins in the proper direction with more subtlety. I had no idea he would act so precipitously.”
“Neither did I, unfortunately.” Elizabeth sighed.
“I was thoroughly unprepared, and frankly, a bit terrified. I was in a panic the entire time. I just started making things up. It would never do to decline an eligible man just because one did not aspire to the life he offered. It would crush his spirit, and there would have been no chance to guide him in a more amenable direction. Declining such an eligible proposal would not go well, particularly considering how precarious our position is. I did not want to spend my life with the man, as you do, but I did not wish to be cruel to him either.”
“It was brilliantly done. Even if it was all bluster and panic, you did what was needed when required. I could not have managed it.”
Elizabeth caressed her sister’s cheek. “Perhaps not, but you would have contrived something. I am only glad you told me your inclinations beforehand; else I cannot say what I would have done. I might have declined his proposal, and you can imagine how well that would have been received.”
Mary frowned at the very idea, and they walked along in silence for a few more minutes.
Elizabeth asked, “You seem certain this is what you want, but if I am not too intrusive—”
“You could never be too intrusive.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said with a wistful smile, “but at any rate, what led you to desire this union?”
“It is simple enough. I am not consumed by dreams of high romance; and let us be honest, you and Jane have at least some slim hopes of success, but even if I did want it, what chance would I have in your shadows?”
“I do wish you would listen to us more and our mother less. You are as lovely as Jane or I.”
Mary looked sceptical. “I will put 50 miles of good road between myself and our mother, so I daresay that should reduce her opportunities to snipe at me considerably.”
The sisters laughed gaily.
“Think about it,” Mary observed. “I was always torn between the desire to be a clergyman’s wife and the conflicting ambition to be mistress of a humble estate.
With you and Jane ahead of me in both age and beauty—do not trifle with me by denying it—I thought it unlikely I could do either.
With no dowries or connections to recommend us, and not a single eligible man within 20 miles, I thought my chances slim.
The wife of a clerk or minor tradesman was the best I could hope for. ”
Mary stared into the distance, as if remembering some past despair, but soon brightened.
“Just think. In one day, both my dreams passed from impossibility to reality. I may do both, and all I need do is live with a man of middling sense. He is no sillier than Sir William, no lazier than Papa, no more pompous than Mr Goulding, no more verbose than Mama, and has manners no worse than Kitty, let alone Lydia. I am satisfied, and I think we may find hidden depths. I have nothing to prove it but instinct, but I believe the right woman will make something of him that none of us can presently imagine. I do not even think it will take as long as one might suppose.”
“There is also the added advantage of longevity,” Elizabeth laughed. “I would probably have killed him within a year over some trifle you would not even notice, and then where would the entail go?”
Both sisters laughed for some yards, and Elizabeth finally put her last doubts about the match behind her. Mary was a grown woman who knew what she was about; that was enough.
~~~
A few minutes later, Mary asked, “Lizzy, I well understand your long-standing obsession with mathematics, but I had no idea about the farming and finance. I thought you stuck mostly with science. How did you know all those figures? I doubt Papa taught you, since he can barely be bothered to keep his account books.”
Elizabeth sighed resignedly. “Did you know Uncle Gardiner occasionally takes a bit too much drink, and when he does, he curses like a sailor, and rails at our parents like a madman?”
Mary gasped. “But why?”
“When in his cups, he mostly curses their indolence and neglect. He fears being left responsible for us, as if he had not enough to do with his own children. He has tried for years to make our parents see the light, with nothing to show for it but endless frustration.”
“What do you mean?”
“Knowing my propensity for mathematics, he taught me the rudiments of saving. He wanted to see whether my obsession could be put to use with our parents. One thing he mentioned is compound interest[i]. It is magical! If you put money in an investment, such as the four percents, and just leave it there, it grows faster and faster every year. Over time, the results are astonishing.”
Mary quirked an eyebrow, so Elizabeth continued, since maths were far more appealing than discussing her parents’ failings yet again, and Mary could use the knowledge anyway.
“Suppose you put ￡100 into consols—also known as the four percents or the funds—though the interest varies. The first year, you would earn ￡4. That is just multiplication, correct?”
“I suppose.”
“Do not suppose. Do it. The word percent means divide by 100, so multiply by 4 and divide by 100.”
“I see.”
“If you spend the interest, that is called simple interest. However, if you just leave it there, you roll the interest over. The next year you would earn 4% on ￡104—the original ￡100 plus the ￡4 from last year. You would get, let us see—￡4 3s. Then you roll that over as well, and the next year you make the interest on ￡108 3s. It grows and grows. The longer you leave it, the faster it grows. Look at this.”
Elizabeth pulled out the paper she had used with Mr Collins.
“This is important for you to understand, though I will always be around to assist. I assumed you would save ￡400 per annum. You may or may not contrive it; it may be more one year and less another, but you get the idea. I stretched the number to the limit, but the principle is the same even with a smaller amount.”
She pointed to the relevant line on the paper.
￡400 per annum × 20 years at 4% = ￡12,000
“During these 20 years, you contribute only ￡8,000—simple multiplication—yes?”
Mary seemed to follow well enough, so Elizabeth continued.
“However, you earn ￡4,000 more for doing absolutely nothing but letting the Crown use your money. Think of it, Mary! Your tiny little parsonage, saving a large but manageable amount, would earn as much as Longbourn’s income for 6 years—all by refraining from wasting money.”
Mary stared at the numbers for several yards, and finally asked, “What about with, say, 25 years?”
Elizabeth laughed, pulled out a pencil, turned the paper over, and wrote:
Payment x (((1 + r) ?)—1)
r
She pointed at the formula.
“r is the interest rate as a decimal, so 4% is .04. n is the number of years. Parentheses group quantities, so you start in the centre and work your way out.”
Mary nodded, though she was unlikely to have understood.
“It is difficult to calculate the power without a log table or slide rule[ii], but I already calculated 20 years, I can easily add 5 more by common arithmetic. I calculate the interest each year by multiplication and keep a running sum. It is not in the least elegant, but I can do it here.”
Elizabeth used a fallen log as a table, performed the calculations quickly, and answered, “￡16,500.”
Mary stared at the numbers in consternation and drew the obvious conclusion. “Let us say I had the unbelievably bad luck to bear 5 daughters while my indolent husband blundered along for 25 years. You say I could have a ￡3,000 dowry for each of my daughters on a clergyman’s living.”
Elizabeth nodded sympathetically. “Hence Uncle Gardiner’s cursing, which was admittedly impressive. It gets even worse.”