Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth all but ran from Longbourn. She had some bread and cheese tucked into a napkin, which she would eat once she arrived at her destination. She could not bear to listen to her mother crowing – again – about Elizabeth’s success with Mr. Bingley the night before.
Reaching the top of the hill, she sat on a log.
It was damp, and Sarah would doubtless frown at her again on laundry day, but there was nowhere else to sit except on the ground.
She opened the napkin; the bread was still warm, the cheese a perfect complement.
After her hasty meal, she closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun.
“Am I late?”
Elizabeth opened her eyes. “Not at all. Here, Charlotte, there is room for both of us.”
“It is rather wet.”
“I know, but it is better than sitting on the ground.”
Charlotte sat beside Elizabeth and took her hand. “Tell me, Eliza; what is it?”
Elizabeth took a breath and then it all poured out. The Bennets’ financial situation, her parents’ proposed solution, her own very strong feelings about being pushed into marriage with a man she scarce knew and certainly did not love.
Charlotte listened in silence. When Elizabeth finished, tears now pouring down her cheeks, Charlotte put a comforting arm around her dear friend, but said nothing.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes?”
“Well, what do you think?”
“First, I have already heard rumours about Longbourn being in financial difficulties. It is not as if the merchants and servants do not talk, you know. Second, I understand why you feel as you do,” Charlotte said, quietly.
“But?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course, honestly!”
Charlotte took a deep breath before speaking.
“Eliza, if I had a handsome, wealthy man interested in me, I would do everything in my power to secure him as soon as possible. He would not have to be handsome, come to think of it. Nor particularly wealthy! Just wealthy enough to support a wife and children. I am not romantic; I looked in the mirror years and years ago, and knew that I would be lucky to marry at all. So I am sad that my dearest friend is sad, but I cannot truly sympathize with your situation. I do, however, have a question.”
“I already know what you are about to ask,” Elizabeth said, dully. “You want to know why Jane has not been called home from London.”
“Yes. We have always expected Jane to make the best marriage and save the family, if that became necessary, which it evidently has.”
“Jane has a gentleman in London who is interested in her and she in him. He is the eldest son of a Baron. At least, I think his father is a Baron; Jane was not very specific.”
“Ah; so she is being given her own chance.”
“Precisely; if I cannot marry for affection, perhaps Jane can. Leaving her alone was a condition of my cooperation in this – this situation.”
“Eliza, is there not a world in which you could come to know Mr. Bingley, to appreciate him, and to eventually love him?”
“If that were the case, would I not already feel something, Charlotte? My heart does not beat fast, I do not smile when I hear his voice! There is just nothing there! Oh, he is good-looking enough, and well-mannered, and everything pleasant, but –“
Charlotte interrupted. “Eliza, do you really think that real life is like a novel? Come, come, you are too intelligent for such romantic fancies!”
“Mama says that when she met Papa, she knew at once that she wanted to marry him.“
Charlotte snorted. “And my mother says that your mother set her cap for the only available man who owned an estate.”
Elizabeth stared at Charlotte for a minute. Then she said, quietly, “So you think I should be grateful for this opportunity and do my best to marry the man?”
“I think you should at least be open to that possibility. He wants to take care of his tenants; that speaks to a good heart. His manners are acceptable, his appearance is unobjectionable. I fear, Eliza, that if you do not take this opportunity, you may someday look back on it and wish you had behaved differently.”
“So a bird in the hand…”
“Exactly, as I fear there are very few in the bush.”
Elizabeth sighed. It was a sigh that came from the very bottom of her soul; it pierced her heart like an arrow. Marrying for affection had been one of her guiding principles in life. She and Jane had discussed this at length, looking at their parents as an example of what not to do.
But Mr. Bingley was no Thomas Bennet, prone to hiding away in his study and making sarcastic remarks that no one understood. And Elizabeth was no Frances Bennet neé Gardiner, allowing her nerves to make everyone in the household miserable.
If she must marry Mr. Bingley, then she would make certain that it was the best marriage she could make it.
“Thank you, Charlotte. You have helped me see my situation more clearly.”
“I am glad I could help. And perhaps you will allow me to join you at Netherfield Park, if living with my brother becomes unbearable.”
“Wherever I am, you will always be welcome, dear friend. But I have not given up hope for you to marry, even if you have.”