Chapter II #2
Still, Elizabeth retained enough of her good sense to avoid saying anything she should not for the moment. Instead, she directed the conversation along a different path.
“She is, and Jane is incandescent with happiness.”
Charlotte, noticing nothing untoward, smiled. “I can well imagine it. This time, I hope Jane acts to secure him—remember that happiness in life is not a matter of chance. Jane will be happy, but she must act to ensure Mr. Bingley cannot live without her.”
The words recalled the exchange at Lucas Lodge after the Netherfield party’s arrival. This time, however, Elizabeth was much more secure in Mr. Bingley’s character and Jane’s regard for him to react as she had then.
“There is little chance of Mr. Bingley departing now that he has returned. When he visited yesterday, he all but declared himself to her.”
“That is excellent news, Lizzy,” replied Charlotte. “I cannot be happier for Jane—no one deserves happiness more.”
“With that, I cannot disagree.”
Charlotte regarded her, then she seemed to come to a decision. “Lizzy, it is not yet certain, but I believe my father shall come to Kent in the spring.”
Though she colored, Charlotte forged ahead. “It is still weeks before the wedding, so perhaps I should not speak with such surety, but I should like you to come with my father to visit me, if you are willing.”
“You wish me to come to Kent?” demanded Elizabeth, as if the very notion was foreign. “To Mr. Collins’s house? Do you suppose that he will recover from his affront enough to endure my presence in his home?”
“Mr. Collins is not vindictive, Lizzy.” There was a note of censure in Charlotte’s tone. “Mr. Collins will welcome you on the strength of my wish to have your company.”
“No, I dare say he is not vindictive,” replied Elizabeth. “But he made his displeasure with me very clear when he left with you that day, and every day he stayed at Longbourn after.”
“Perhaps he did. Can you blame him, Lizzy? You had just rejected a proposal of marriage from him.”
“He should have expected it,” said Elizabeth, becoming a little perturbed. “The man proposed to me despite an acquaintance of only a week. If he had any sense at all, he would have understood my disinclination for his company and refrained.”
Charlotte’s expression cooled. “And he proposed to me after only knowing me for four days. Tell me, Lizzy—do you resent me for accepting the position you declined?”
There were any number of responses Elizabeth could have made to defuse the situation.
She could have assured her friend that she meant no such thing, that Charlotte’s decisions were her own, but Elizabeth could not accept a man on so short an acquaintance.
Yet Elizabeth, feeling vexed for needing to defend her decision to reject the proposal of a man she could not respect, said none of those things.
“That is certainly the most sensible thing you have ever done.”
Sarcasm dripped from her words—Charlotte, as an intelligent woman, could not have missed it if she tried.
“To own the truth,” replied Charlotte, “I believe it is the most sensible thing I have ever done, Lizzy. If you will forgive me, your response to Mr. Collins was the foolish one between us. I remember your idealized notions of love and marriage, but I imagine they will be cold comfort on that day when you must leave Longbourn in favor of Mr. Collins.”
“Perhaps I shall be married before then,” replied Elizabeth, heat in her words.
“You need not worry, Charlotte—should I remain at Longbourn until my father passes, I shall remove myself before Mr. Collins arrives. I have no wish to watch while he congratulates himself on his happy situation when he cannot understand the tenth part of it.”
Charlotte was not pleased, but she kept her voice soft.
“I understand your opinion of my future husband, Elizabeth. Yet I would adjure you to recall that Mr. Collins is a good and moral man, not some demon you have decided him to be. No matter how irksome or dull you consider him to be, I shall never regret marrying a man who will put my happiness above his own.”
“Except when it coincides with his patroness’s decrees,” said Elizabeth, though knowing she should have kept her temper. Knowing there was no going back, she added: “Mr. Collins’s wife will not even be the mistress of her own home so long as he is under the thumb of such a meddling woman.”
“I can see there is no reasoning with you,” replied Charlotte.
She rose and addressed the room. “Thank you all for your hospitality, but I shall take my leave of you. It is high time that I return home.”
And with that, Charlotte departed, leaving Elizabeth to wonder if she had just ended her friendship with her closest companion.
“Lizzy, what happened between you and Charlotte today?”
After dinner, Elizabeth had retired to her room to think, which was where Jane had found her. Elizabeth supposed she should not be surprised that Jane had seen something—Jane was quiet and self-effacing, but she was not unobservant.
Sighing, Elizabeth motioned her sister to join her on the bed where they had exchanged countless evening conversations. When settled, she explained what had happened to her patient sister, noting as Jane listened without judgment.
“That was not well done, Lizzy,” said Jane at length when Elizabeth had explained all.
“Well do I know it,” replied Elizabeth.
Jane regarded her. “Why did you let it become an argument?”
“I suppose it started when Charlotte commented about Mr. Bingley’s return.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Though I cannot recall exactly, I remember thinking that someone who agreed to marry our cousin should not cast a shade at our mother’s excited response to Mr. Bingley’s return.”
“Lizzy,” reproached Jane, “I doubt Charlotte meant to speak in such a way.”
Elizabeth turned away, more at her own folly than anything her sister said. “No, I do not suppose she did. If I am honest, I was more vexed with her decision to marry the silliest man of our acquaintance.”
Jane’s gaze was direct, betraying not a hint of hesitation. “Charlotte is not like we are, Lizzy; she is not romantic. You cannot judge her as if she were.”
“No, I cannot.” Elizabeth turned away, frustrated. “It is just . . . Jane, you know that Charlotte will not be happy in her life—I regret that she has come to this.”
“Lizzy, you cannot know that.”
Elizabeth was not ready to listen to her sister’s optimistic outlook on life.
“No, Jane. Please allow me the use of my understanding. Charlotte is not an insensible woman—she is practical, but she is also intelligent. For a time, the benefits of being the mistress of her own home will hold sway, but in time, she will recognize what she has lost by accepting Mr. Collins. When his society becomes irksome, when his patroness’s demands teach her that she does not even control her own home, the years before her will not seem so hopeful. ”
Jane did not speak for a moment—Elizabeth suspected she was trying to find the right words.
“Lizzy,” said she, “you have always been close to Charlotte despite the age difference. Charlotte is facing a different reality than we are. She is seven and twenty and has precious little chance of ever marrying if she does not accept Mr. Collins.”
“A life of penury would be preferable to a life of mortification,” muttered Elizabeth.
Jane sighed. “Lizzy, I understand your opinion, and I do not disagree with you. If you wish to keep Charlotte’s friendship, you must accept her choice with whatever grace you can muster.”
With those words, Jane rose and quit the room, leaving Elizabeth to her thoughts. Though she was not yet ready to examine her feelings, she had the nagging feeling that Jane was correct.
WHEN DARCY ARRIVED at Netherfield, he wondered if Bingley would be at Longbourn. That Bingley was at home was not so much of a surprise as the expression on his face.
Whether it was knowing or sardonic amusement, Darcy could not say, but it unsettled him all the same. Upon alighting from the carriage, Bingley watched him as he approached, leaving Darcy to guess about his state of mind.
“Darcy,” said Bingley, his tone not unfriendly, but suspicious. “I suppose that I should have expected you to come. Caroline would not allow me to flout her ‘authority’ without asking you to intervene to ‘retrieve’ me.”
Nonplused, Darcy stared at his friend. This was not the Bingley he knew—he had never heard his friend speak in such a manner.
“Do not concern yourself, Darcy,” said Bingley, his tone easing a little.
“I suspect Caroline has sent you here under false pretenses, at least to a certain extent. Since I half expected you to join me, I asked the housekeeper to keep the same room you used last month ready. When you have refreshed yourself, we can talk.”
“Very well, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “I shall return directly.”
That eventuality came as soon as Darcy changed from his travel clothes.
The suggestion that Miss Bingley had not said all was confirmation of what Darcy had thought during their conversation, so he was not at all surprised by it.
However, he could own to more than a little curiosity about the path her dishonesty had taken.
“I am listening, Bingley,” said Darcy. “Why are you not surprised that I would come here to ‘retrieve you?’”
Bingley snorted, a response most unlike his jovial friend. “Because I know my sister. The moment I declared my intention to return to Hertfordshire, she would turn to you as the only means by which she might persuade me against following my heart. I am correct, am I not?”
“You are,” agreed Darcy, a little uncomfortable. “I shall note that Miss Bingley did not approach me until the following morning.”
“That was most likely a consequence of the hour. Caroline was desperate to prevent me, given her behavior, but she still tries to present every appearance of propriety.”
“Yes, I suppose she does.”