Chapter Twelve
The day after her arrival, Jane attended church with her father, and she looked forward to meeting Elizabeth’s dearest friend.
She liked Miss Lucas at once, and was obliged to call her by her Christian name, as her sister did.
Charlotte hinted at wishing to speak privately, and Jane cherished some hope that Elizabeth had broken their vow of secrecy to inform Charlotte of their exchanging identities.
However, as they tarried in the churchyard after the service, Charlotte seemed keener to discuss Miss Bingley.
The sensible young woman’s disapproval of Miss Bingley’s manners confirmed Jane’s worst apprehensions; Charlotte declared her to be a grasping fortune hunter of the first order, and found her feathered turban to be especially loathsome.
The Lucases had been invited to dine the following evening, and Jane was already sure of finding an ally in her sister’s friend. “Charlotte, may I ask you a small favor?”
“You have never hesitated before,” Charlotte drawled.
Jane did her best to mask her anxiety. “Would you send an express for me, if I can find some opportunity tomorrow evening to pass along a letter to you?”
Charlotte grinned at the intrigue. “I wonder what sort of letter you are not at liberty to post yourself.”
Jane was convinced Elizabeth would forgive her for guiding Charlotte Lucas to such a conclusion about her old friend. “The sort you may imagine, I daresay,” Jane said with a look of heavy implication.
“You must tell me all about him,” Charlotte cried. “He is a gentleman you met in Weymouth, I presume?”
“He was at Lady Gresham’s house party, yes.” Jane blushed, acting quite naturally as she recounted Frank Churchill’s many charms.
Charlotte listened with relish to every detail, but seemed displeased when Jane spoke of the secret engagement. “Oh, Lizzy, that will not do at all!”
“His aunt might withdraw her support of him, or the shock of it might cause her ill health to carry her off,” Jane said.
“The latter would only serve your purposes,” Charlotte replied with a bold wink. “But why would she not approve of you? You have more than twenty thousand pounds and shall inherit a large estate – well, unless your father has a son, I suppose, as may now be a future possibility.”
As she had so often since her arrival in Hertfordshire, Jane desperately wished her fearless sister was present to send Miss Bingley packing.
“They have not set a date yet; I suppose there is still hope. As to Frank, his aunt wishes him to marry an heiress who possesses connections in London society rather than a country manor, for he will have one of his own someday.”
“Frank? His name is Frank?” Charlotte wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“You astonish me! I may not share your luxury of choice, but I am sure I could never love a man called Frank . An Ernest may be depended upon to inspire absolute devotion, even an August or a Victor might possess such qualities as would arouse tender sentiments – but Frank? ”
Jane blushed, and Charlotte’s teasing turned to concern.
“I do not mean to disparage your attachment – and you may be assured of my assistance – but I cannot like that he would keep you a secret. I am surprised that you would put up with it! However ardently he may admire you, he ought to do so out in the open.”
Summoning her sister’s impudence, Jane gave Charlotte a playful look. “There is much to be said of the thrill in such secrecy.”
“You know I am too pragmatic for that sort of thing myself – but I wish to see you happy. I suppose my brother shall be disappointed.”
“Your brother?” Jane searched her memory for the names of the other Lucases – the only brother she had seen in church was much younger.
“I am sure I told you of it before you went away – but other matters have put it from your mind! Andrew is out of mourning for poor Julia, and means to come down from London tomorrow; you will see him at dinner.”
“I hope you will not tell anybody what I have confided in you,” Jane said nervously.
“Certainly not! Least of all Andrew – it would quite break his heart, and then I would not have the pleasure of seeing him flirt relentlessly with you all evening. Do you still have the poems he wrote to you when you were sixteen? It has been far too long since we have mocked him for it.”
Jane bit back a smirk at the idea of her sister being courted in such a way – it was no wonder that she had once heard Elizabeth declare that there was nothing like poetry for driving away love. She repeated this quip to Charlotte, who chortled appreciatively.
The two friends parted, each looking forward to meeting again the next evening. Jane was apprehensive at the prospect of being flirted with, but she was grateful to be forewarned in time to prepare herself to banter as Elizabeth might do.
Mr. Bennet, as he promised her the day before, dedicated the rest of the afternoon and evening to the sole company of his daughter.
They took tea together in a sunny conservatory that looked out across a small lake, and in the distance Jane recognized Oakham Mount, for she had seen some of sister’s watercolors of the scenery.
Mr. Bennet prompted Jane to speak of her time in Weymouth, and when she spoke first of the attractions of the town and her enjoyment in them, he called for an account of the persons she met with, their oddities and foibles.
Jane found it easier than she expected to speak satirically about the guests of the house party; it was especially gratifying to tell him of Mrs. Churchill’s overbearing behavior. “She may as well have dragged her nephew away by the ear, after seeing him come to our aid.”
“ Our aid?” Mrs. Hill looked up from her work with interest. She had spent an uncommonly long time watering the many plants in that room, though such a duty ought to have fallen to a maid.
“Oh, come and sit with us, Bessie,” Mr. Bennet chided. “I know you are dying to ask Lizzy if there were any handsome young men about Weymouth. She has not mentioned any, which certainly means there must have been one or two.”
Mrs. Hill required no further persuasion, and Jane could only suppose that there was a third chair at the table for this very reason, for Elizabeth spoke of the woman as if she were part of the family. Jane felt a certain affection for her already.
“Mrs. Hill, I hope I have misunderstood Papa. He seems to think his Lizzy could be swept up in as rapid a romance as his own.”
“Mrs. Hill! Pish! I’ve told you, there is no need to be so grand, just because you’ve gone off and seen more of the world! You can still call me Bessie. Oh, but she has certainly seen what you are about, sir!”
Mr. Bennet sputtered into his tea. “And I suppose that when I am dead without an heir, you will be glad to welcome my cousin Collins into the neighborhood.”
“I’m not as averse to it as Lizzy, eh?” Bessie Hill’s short, portly frame shook with laughter. “But I suppose that’s just like you, to get a wicked idea in your head and charge ahead.”
“In between lengthy bouts of indolence,” Mr. Bennet drawled. “Lizzy, do I take it from your tone that I have managed to amaze you?”
“I am speechless,” Jane replied.
Mr. Bennet lowered his head and met Jane’s eye with a trace of guilt. “I confess the, ah… brevity of my courtship was in part inspired by a hunch I had that Lady Gresham meant to make a match for you.”
Bessie grinned. “But there were no gentlemen there you took a fancy to? Not even the one you said rescued you in the rain?”
Jane was struck by the recollection of her conversation with Charlotte.
“His aunt was nearly pushing him into the lap of a titled young lady of middling allure,” she said bitterly.
She gave a scathing account of the rest of the gentlemen present, which vastly amused her father and Bessie; Jane fairly glowed with pride at how well she could affect her sister’s clever levity.
The subject of Miss Bingley still hung in the air between them. Jane took heart from Mr. Bennet’s admission that he was motivated by a wish to thwart Mr. Collins, and a fear that Elizabeth would marry. Such reasons as these might be put to rest when he was reunited with Fanny Bates.
Miss Bingley soon presented herself unannounced in the conservatory. She offered them a syrupy smile and raised her brow as if waiting for the housekeeper to vacate her seat at the table. Instead Bessie poured herself some tea and said, “Shall I call for a footman to bring a fourth chair?”
“That is not necessary,” Miss Bingley sniffed, preening as if she did not wish to subject her fine attire to the indignity of sitting down. “I am surprised to find you all so idle; I do not intend to be. I came to speak with the cook about tomorrow evening’s dinner party.”
Bessie looked skeptically at Jane. “Miss Lizzy will see to that; she’s mistress of the house.”
Mr. Bennet suddenly became very interested in examining the tea cakes.
Jane shifted uneasily in her seat. She had no experience in running a home like Netherfield, or even in standing up for herself as Elizabeth surely would.
“I confess I am confused,” she said cautiously.
“I had supposed that you were planning a dinner at Longbourn, where you are currently staying with the Hursts.”
“Oh, no – the dining room there is far too small,” Miss Bingley said with a forced laugh.
“We must dine here at Netherfield, which shall be my home ere long. I believe it is high time I begin preparing the staff for my expectations of how things will run. You will surely be glad to be relieved of the burden, Eliza – until you are married yourself, in a home of your own.”
“And when is that to be? If you have set a date, I might inform the staff, in case any of the maids and footmen might want to seek a new position,” Bessie said. Mr. Bennet leveled a wary glance at his old friend, but she merely smiled innocently.