Chapter 11
Rage
“EEEEENOUGH!”
Even had Jane’s shout not been loud enough to set the hounds barking, the crash of both fists against the dining table hard enough to rattle the plates and spill her wine would have commanded attention. It even stopped Kitty and Lydia from bickering, and left the table in deathly silence.
Mrs Bennet had been blathering alternately about wedding plans and Mr Bingley for the three weeks since the Netherfield ball.
Mary and Mr Collins were fortunately due to escape the madness within the week, their wedding just before Yuletide.
The banns were first read on 1 December, the very first Sunday after the proposal.
Since both were more inclined to begin married life than listen to endless lectures on the absolute necessity of a perfect wedding, they scheduled the ceremony for the 20th, so Mary’s beloved Aunt and Uncle Gardiner could attend.
The three weeks had been filled with wedding preparations, but nowhere near enough to keep Mrs Bennet from fretting about Mr Bingley.
“Do you think Mr Bingley will return?”
“Where do you think he could have gone?”
“Does Miss Bingley not have the finest dresses and lace you have ever seen?”
“He must have been delayed with business, and he will return as soon as it is finished.”
“I cannot wait to see Mr Bingley again. I am certain you shall be mistress by spring.”
“Mr Bingley’s manners must be the finest I ever encountered.”
“Oh, Jane… I cannot wait. You cannot have been so beautiful for nothing.”
Three weeks of gentle dissuasion, strident dissuasion, begging, pleading, and intervention by her sisters could not divert Mrs Bennet for any length of time, until Jane finally reached her absolute limit.
“Enough, I say! Enough, and more than enough; doubly, trebly, quadruply more than enough. Do you understand?”
“Oh, Jane, what are you rattling about. Mr Bingley will—”
“EEEEENOUGH!”
The second shout, and Jane’s fist against the table finally gained the family’s silence and undivided attention.
“There is a new rule in this house. The name Bingley shall never again be spoken in my presence—ever!”
Everyone stared in shock—except Lizzy and Mary, of course. They wondered which point in the ballistic curve they were currently observing. Were they nearing the apex[xi], whence she might soon descend from her madness, or would the cannonball continue to rise until it brought on Ragnarok[xii]?
“That man will not return! Get that through your thick head. He will not return. Not now. Not ever!”
Mrs Bennet recovered her indignation. “How do you know—”
Jane interrupted her by slapping the table, though with the flat of her hand, partly because it was slightly more decorous, but mostly because her two earlier outbursts had hurt. She spoke in a voice so menacing that even her sisters stilled.
“Listen well, madam. Listen without interruption, or so help me, you will regret it. Do you really want to know?”
Mrs Bennet stared at this incarnation of her most compliant daughter in shock; her father took up the office. “Jane, it seems you have been learning from your younger sisters. Good girl. I hoped to see some fire from you. Pray, enlighten us.”
“Very well, I shall, but do not interrupt with prattle. I will entertain intelligent questions only.”
The half-hidden smirk in Bennet’s countenance displeased Jane as much as her mother’s endless prattling. Her father was enjoying his sport at her expense, and she was fed up. It was time to wipe that smirk from his face.
She took a deep breath. “First things first—it has been three weeks without a word, except for the letter from his sister on the day they left.”
Mrs Bennet gasped. “What letter? If they sent you a letter, it means—”
Jane slapped the table again, because it had worked before and nothing else had ever silenced her mother.
“That letter is my business. That man, whose name will not be spoken within my hearing again, will not be back—and if he did return, I would set the dogs on him. That is non-negotiable.”
Mrs Bennet sat up like a snake ready to strike. “I shall not be dictated to in my own home.”
Jane replied icily, “Very well—have it your way, but pray understand the consequences. I will return to town with the Gardiners after Christmas. If, however, I hear that name even once before that, I keep a valise packed. I will leave within the hour, walk to Meryton, and take the next post-chaise, never to return. As I said, this is not negotiable; this is your final warning.”
Mrs Bennet gasped theatrically. “You do not set the rules in this house.”
Jane matched mulish for mulish. “Agreed, but if I hear that name, I will no longer be a resident of this house. If you cannot respect me enough to follow my wishes for a few weeks, I will marry from Gracechurch Street without your involvement, or even your knowledge.”
Bennet weighed the matter with his usual regard for his own ease. “You are of age, Jane, so you may do as you please.”
Elizabeth and Mary exchanged frowns. It was clear their father favoured any plan that reduced his effort or expense—as usual.
“But why?” Mrs Bennet whined plaintively, sounding entirely too much like Lydia.
Jane stood, placed her hands flat on the table, and leaned towards her mother menacingly.
“Do you truly want to know, Mother? Rest assured, you will not like it.”
“You will not talk to me that way!”
Jane sat and shrugged. “Very well, conversation over. Just do not mention that name again. Lizzy, might you pass the wine? I seem to have spilled mine.”
Elizabeth complied, but Mrs Bennet was not finished.
“You will tell me right now, Miss Jane Bennet. I did not raise you to talk to your mother that way.” she said indignantly.
“Actually, you did.”
Jane’s stare remained hard and unyielding.
“Lydia talks that way every day of her life. You have raised us to speak in such a manner. You are merely surprised because your elder daughters usually refrain, but we are quite capable. This subject will be closed forever before the hour. Do you want to know or not?”
“Very well, explain yourself,” Mrs Bennet snapped with ill humour.
“You have roused my curiosity,” Bennet added.
“Very well, though I doubt it will give you much satisfaction.”
Jane turned to a maid cowering in the corner. “Sally, pray fetch me pencil and paper, then retire to your own dinner. Ensure nobody returns until we ring.”
Sally hurried away.
While she was gone, Jane began. “I shall explain it using a method Uncle Gardiner taught me.”
She waited until everyone was paying attention.
“Let us start with the obvious. Mr Bingley paid particular attention to me for 6 weeks, left promising to return in a few days, and disappeared without a word. We can all agree that paints him in a terrible light, and if you wish to gossip about his lack of constancy, or even proper manners, you are welcome to do so outside my hearing. While I am at it, let me extend the embargo to Lizzy and Mary, who also wish to be done with the Netherfield party. Agreed?”
The sharp edge on the last word, more command than suggestion, made everyone nod.
“Now that we agree his manners are very bad, and his constancy worse, let us move to the next topic.”
Sally arrived with pencil and paper, then scurried out.
“Let us turn to the question of why he left. Perhaps some of you have ideas, but I will give my opinion. He left because he is either a spineless worm or a sensible man. We cannot reliably choose between them, but we have evidence enough to document those well.”
Mrs Bennet gasped at the language, mild as it was.
Lydia giggled. “Spineless worm—that is perfect. I vote for that one.”
“I favour it myself, as does Mr Occam,” Mary added.
“Indeed, that is a good explanation,” Elizabeth added, “but they are not mutually exclusive. He may have left and stayed away because of practicality, but he did not take his leave properly or communicate his decision because he is a spineless worm, or something just short of that—perhaps a slug or snail.”
Everyone laughed, though somewhat nervously.
“Jane, show the evidence for him being sensible,” Mary said, “but before you do, allow me one question. Lizzy, purely on the topic of sensibleness, how would you rate Mr Darcy? You know him better than anyone else here.”
The question startled Elizabeth, but she gave it her full attention for a moment while everyone waited.
“I would rate him highly sensible. He is overly proud, punctilious, haughty, overbearing, rude, and awkward—but from what I have seen of his business dealings, his relations with his sister, and several discussions I had with him at Netherfield, I would say he is very level-headed. He may be the second most intelligent man I know.”
“High praise indeed,” Bennet said. “I am happy to know I still top the list.”
“I think not, Papa,” Mary replied. “Uncle Gardiner is the most intelligent man we know.”
Bennet’s face fell, but Elizabeth hopefully added, “You make 3rd or 4th, if that helps.”
“Why this talk of Mr Darcy?” Kitty asked.
“I believe Jane is testing the theory that Mr Bingley might act as a sensible man would,” Mary said. “Since Mr Darcy is his adviser, it may be sufficient if Mr Darcy has the sagacity Mr Bingley lacks.”
“Exactly my thinking,” Jane agreed. “Without delving into the particulars of who does the analysis, let us measure the state of affairs. Uncle Gardiner says to evaluate any proposition with a clear-eyed look at the positives and negatives. Since we treat marriage much like business arrangements, let us see what we have to bargain with.”
Jane took out the paper as if it offended her.
“First we need to make lists of positives and negatives, then try to assign an overall evaluation.”
She made headings and started writing, explaining as she went. “On the positive side, I am gently born, raised on an estate, and according to the current fashion, fairly beautiful. I have an agreeable disposition.”