Chapter 20
It came as no surprise to Mary when a letter arrived for Jane at Longbourn from Miss Bingley, begging her to come to Netherfield to join the party there.
They were sadly bored and longed for company; perhaps she would drink tea with them?
Could she also be persuaded to dine? Jane read the invitation to the family in her usual measured tones, but Mary saw that, beneath her shyness, she was pleased.
Her mother, however, was almost beside herself with excitement.
“So much for Lady Lucas’s plans! I knew he had no interest in Charlotte, and I was right.
You must go on horseback, Jane, you shan’t have the carriage.
It looks as if it will rain later, and if it does, they will be compelled to offer you a bed.
The longer you stay there, the better. What an opportunity for you! ”
The protests of Jane and Elizabeth on this point went unheard.
Jane was to ride and that was that. The risk of a soaking was well worth the chance of securing another day as Mr. Bingley’s guest. So Jane was dispatched, wearing only a cloak and light shoes.
When the anticipated downpour arrived rather earlier than had been expected, there could be no doubt that Jane must have been caught in the deluge; but Mrs. Bennet was not in the least concerned.
“A little rain never hurt anyone, you know, and they will be obliged to keep her now.”
Elizabeth, however, was far from being so sanguine.
She was not at all confident her sister would survive her drenching unscathed, and when news reached Longbourn the next day that Jane was confined to bed with a chill, Elizabeth was consumed with anxiety.
She begged for the use of the carriage to go immediately to attend her sister; but her mother was implacable.
“I’m not at all afraid of her dying. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, all will be well.”
Elizabeth submitted uneasily to Mrs. Bennet’s will for most of the following day; but when no letter arrived announcing Jane’s full recovery, she could stand it no more and declared her intention to walk the few miles to Netherfield to see for herself how Jane fared.
She paid no attention to her mother’s insistence that Lizzy was not wanted there, that she would merely get in the way, scuppering her carefully contrived plan.
Mary listened as the arguments went back and forth, round and round.
She could not see that Elizabeth’s presence was as necessary as she thought.
If Jane were really ill, surely a message would have been sent to that effect from Netherfield.
And if Jane was indeed so unfortunate as to be seriously unwell, Lizzy’s walking so far through muddy fields and wet roads to reach her did not make sense.
She might become ill herself, and then what help could she be to Jane?
“I admire the activity of your benevolence,” she ventured quietly to Elizabeth, in as dispassionate a tone as she could muster. “But every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and surely, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.”
Elizabeth turned towards her, more angry than Mary could remember seeing her.
“That is a calculation I am happy I have made correctly,” she said coldly, “so you need not trouble yourself further on my behalf. And I must disagree with you on the competing claims of reason and feeling. When not warmed up by feeling, reason is a very chilly, uncomfortable discipline by which to live your life. I am surprised to hear you speak in this way, Mary. It is most unappealing. I will leave as soon as I have put on my boots. I hope to be back for dinner.”
In fact, Elizabeth’s return was by no means immediate.
She found Jane in a condition which convinced her she could not be left until her recovery was more certain; and in this unintended manner, Lizzy found herself quite by chance a guest of the Netherfield house party, where she stayed for the better part of a week.
When Jane was well enough to receive them, Mr. Bingley invited Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters to come to Netherfield and visit Jane themselves, and all but Mary eagerly accepted.
She was still smarting from Elizabeth’s rebuke and preferred to hide away at home.
It had been painful enough to feel herself the object of her favourite sister’s scorn.
It was worse to realise that Elizabeth had been quite right to scold her, for Jane had indeed been as ill as she feared.
Lizzy’s heart had been a better guide to what was best for Jane than Mary’s cool reasoning.
Mary was ashamed of what she had said, and did not feel ready yet to find herself in Lizzy’s company.
Instead, she stayed behind at Longbourn, walking alone in the garden and blaming herself for having made yet another wrong judgement, for having spoken when she had far better have said nothing at all.
It was here Charlotte Lucas found her when she called to find out how Jane did.
“I hope,” she said, “that Jane has not allowed her illness to prevent her making the most of her time at Netherfield. It would be a pity if it has distracted her from achieving the main purpose of her visit.”
“I believe Miss Bingley asked her principally as company for herself and her sister. I think they felt the need of a new face at the card table.”
“That may have been how the invitation was worded,” replied Charlotte knowingly, “but depend upon it, that was not their only motive in summoning Jane to them. They would never have asked her if they were not convinced of their brother’s partiality for her.
I suspect they wished to see for themselves what manner of woman she is. ”
They had arrived at a little bench situated under a quince tree. Charlotte sat down and motioned for Mary to join her.
“So you believe it was Jane’s task to do all she could to win his sisters’ friendship and seek their approval?”
“Undoubtedly, that can do no harm and may indeed do a great deal of good.” Charlotte loosened the ribbon on her hat and let it rest on the back of her head.
“But,” she continued, “the liking of a man’s sisters cannot compare with his own feelings on the matter.
Jane has been given an extraordinary opportunity to make Mr. Bingley aware of the strength of her regard.
I do hope for her sake that she has taken full advantage of it. ”
“I know your opinions in these matters,” said Mary. “But I’m not sure Jane’s attachment is strong enough to justify such bravery. I could not say what she truly feels for Mr. Bingley. If she is not yet sure that she loves him, she can hardly be expected to persuade him that is the case.”
“On the contrary, I should say that is exactly when such a declaration is most required. Delay may be fatal to her chances. It’s plain to everyone that she likes him and enjoys his company.
What else can she require? She may lose him altogether if she fails to fix him now.
If it’s love that she wants, well, she stands as good a chance of finding it with him as with anyone else. ”
“Do you really think so little of the tender emotions, Charlotte? She hardly knows him—how can she possibly be certain he would make her happy?”
Charlotte bent down and plucked several long blades of grass.
“I sometimes wonder whether you have truly absorbed any of the ideas contained in those books you read with such enthusiasm. As I recall, most of their authors insist it is companionship that forms the basis of a truly happy marriage. Passion, they tell us, is very soon spent, and is anyway a most uncertain foundation for domestic felicity.”
She began to plait the grass together, fixing all her attention upon her task as she spoke.
“You may talk like a rational creature, but beneath that disciplined exterior hides a true romantic nature. You keep it well concealed, but it makes an appearance every now and then, before you rush to snuff it out!”
Mary blushed. “No, not at all—I merely wondered whether a marriage can be embarked upon with any real possibility of happiness if the husband and wife know so little of each other when they begin. And if one or both of them pretends to feelings they do not yet possess, then surely that cannot promise well for their future.”
“I see we will never agree, but I do assure you that happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If Jane were to be studying Mr. Bingley’s character for another year, it would make no difference.
She has as good an opportunity of being happy with him as with any other man she might meet, and for that reason, I hope she has seized as fully as she can the opportunity of these last few days.
I wish her success with all my heart, but if she has failed to build on her advantage, well, she has no-one to blame but herself.
In her position, I would not let such a chance slip through my fingers. ”
“Tell me, Charlotte, are you really so unhappy, situated as you are?”
Charlotte threw her grass plait upon the ground and stood up.
“I cannot pretend my feelings have altered since we last spoke. Come, shall we find Mrs. Hill and see if she can be persuaded to offer us tea?”