Chapter 15
With no task to work upon, Mary found it difficult to fill the long hours that stretched before her each day.
She read until her eyes ached, but she struggled to summon the enthusiasm that had once driven her excitedly onwards.
She practised at the piano until her fingers grew stiff, and when they would no longer obey her, she went out, walking along the familiar path into Meryton.
No-one offered to accompany her, and she did not seek out a companion.
On her return, she was not asked where she had been or what she had done.
At mealtimes, the conversation ebbed and flowed around the table, rarely requiring a response from her.
She had nothing to add to Lydia’s and Kitty’s breathless reports of the comings and goings of their favourite officers, or to her mother’s confidential account of her sister Phillips’s new housemaid.
She never again attempted to join in any of the conversations between Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth.
Mostly she sat silent, paying little attention to what was being said.
So at first, she barely noticed her mother’s announcement that the neighbouring house of Netherfield had been let at last. But Mrs. Bennet was so excited by the news, and returned to it so often that soon even Mary was aware that a young man of large fortune had arrived from the north of England in a chaise, taken one look at Netherfield, and agreed to terms on the spot.
It appeared the new tenant’s name was Bingley and that he was single—although her mother was determined he should not remain in that state for long.
“You must know,” Mrs. Bennet informed her husband one morning at the breakfast table, “that I am thinking of his marrying one of our girls.”
“Do you really imagine,” he replied evenly, “that his principal intention in settling here was to choose a wife from amongst our daughters? It seems an unlikely inducement for signing a year’s lease, even on the most advantageous terms, especially as he has yet to set eyes upon any of them.”
“That will be quickly remedied if you’ll go and call upon him. Once you have introduced yourself, there’s nothing to stop us making a visit. But we can’t do that until you’ve seen him. It wouldn’t be polite.”
“I’m not sure I agree. Why should we make ourselves the prisoners of custom? I see no reason why you and the girls shouldn’t call whenever you choose. Or perhaps they should go alone? You’re still as handsome as any of them, and Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the party.”
Mrs. Bennet was not to be deflected by compliments, however justified she felt them to be.
“Come, Mr. Bennet. You know we can’t go unless you do. It would seem very odd indeed.”
“You may have a point. Perhaps it would be simpler if I wrote to Mr. Bingley, giving my consent in advance to his marrying whichever of our daughters he preferred. That might save a great deal of time and trouble. He could have any of them he wished, though I must throw in a word for my little Lizzy.”
“I’m sure it’s very unkind of you to tease me in this way. If you won’t call, others will not be so delicate. What if Sir William Lucas gets there before you? Will it make you happy to see Charlotte Lucas established at Netherfield? Every moment you delay might be of consequence.”
Mr. Bennet leant back in his chair, satisfied now that his wife was thoroughly agitated.
“I admit you are faced with a dilemma. What is to take precedence, the claims of proper behaviour or the prospect of losing so promising a son-in-law. I’m not sure I can advise you. What say you, Mary? You are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read great books and make extracts.”
Mary looked up, astonished. Surprise forced every intelligent response from her mind, and she could think of nothing to say. Her father stared at her for a moment, deeply amused, before turning his attention back towards his wife.
“Whilst Mary is adjusting her ideas, let us return to Mr. Bingley.”
As her parents resumed their bickering, Mary sat stupefied.
It was surely not possible Mr. Bennet had been aware of the little book she had intended to present to him?
No, she had shown it to no-one, and it still lay safe in her drawer, his name on the front page, accompanied by a dedication he would never now see.
He had perhaps noticed the hours she spent in his library copying out quotations, but he could know nothing of the purpose towards which her work had been directed.
It was painfully evident from his arch expression that she had been right not to show it to him.
He would not have valued it. Her scholarly ambitions were as ridiculous to him as the hours Kitty and Lydia spent decorating hats or discussing the merits of shoe buckles.
Mary’s spirits were lower than usual at supper and at breakfast the next day.
Her father’s disdain weighed heavily on her, and for as long as Mr. Bingley remained the principal subject of conversation, she had nothing to say.
Then, on the third evening, the mood around the table suddenly lifted.
Her mother beamed; Lydia and Kitty laughed and poked each other.
Even Mr. Bennet looked pleased, entirely satisfied with a tease which had delivered everything he could have wished.
It was soon apparent that whilst strenuously maintaining to his family that he would not call upon Mr. Bingley, Mr. Bennet had in fact made his way to Netherfield that very morning and paid his respects.
He had always intended to go; but he had resolved not to deny himself the pleasure of provoking his wife by telling her so.
Mrs. Bennet did not care. She was delighted that the first obstacle to the marriage of one of her daughters to Mr. Bingley had been surmounted; and she did not doubt any further difficulties would be conquered with equal ease.
A few days later, Mr. Bingley himself arrived at Longbourn to return Mr. Bennet’s visit; but to Mrs. Bennet’s extreme frustration, no-one except her husband was admitted to his presence.
He remained closeted in the library, and the only glimpse to be had of him by the female part of the family was from a first-floor window as he rode away, from which all that could be discerned was that he wore a blue jacket and rode a black horse.
When taxed by his wife with inhuman disregard for her feelings in not introducing Mr. Bingley to her, Mr. Bennet replied that the young man had business in London and had not the time for the pleasure of a meeting.
“But he was most insistent I should pass on his apologies to you and all the young ladies of the household. He added that he hopes to have the pleasure of seeing us all at the next Meryton assembly, which he is determined to attend. And, as two of his sisters will accompany him, alongside some other friends and relations, he looks forward to introducing them into your company, as well as himself. A rather exhaustingly polite young man, in my opinion.”
Kitty and Lydia cheered out loud at this news.
Once they had satisfied themselves that Mr. Bingley was not in the militia and did not wear a uniform, their interest in him had waned somewhat; but the arrival of other young men was a prospect that could only be greeted with enthusiasm, for it was entirely possible that some amongst them might be officers.