Chapter 28
Mary stayed late in bed the following morning.
She did not feel ready to join the others.
She knew the conversation would be all about the ball and was certain her humiliation at the piano would be too compelling a subject to be tactfully ignored.
She could imagine only too well the opportunities that topic would offer Lydia to tease her and resolved to stay where she was until breakfast was over.
Mrs. Hill brought her a dish of tea and offered to comb out her hair, but she would not be persuaded to leave her room.
So it was that she missed the dramatic events that unfolded after the table was cleared.
Even upstairs, she was aware something had happened.
She heard the hurry of footsteps in the hall and her mother’s voice raised in angry exclamation; but these were not unusual occurrences, and it was only when Kitty and Lydia burst into her room that she understood what had caused them.
“Mary, you must get dressed and come downstairs,” exclaimed Lydia. “There’s been such an upset, you won’t believe it!”
“You can’t imagine what’s happened!” cried Kitty. “You’ll never guess in a million years!”
Mary sighed. “That’s probably true. But I really don’t care.”
“Oh, I think you will,” said Lydia. “Even you will enjoy this.”
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Mr. Collins has made Lizzy an offer!” exclaimed Kitty, “and she refused him!”
Mary sat up, her heart beating fast. She was not surprised Mr. Collins had declared himself; she had always thought he would do so. But she had not expected him to move so quickly.
“Mama is furious,” said Lydia, throwing herself down on Mary’s bed, “and says Lizzy will have him, if she has anything to do with it. She carried her off to Papa, so that he could make her see sense. But he told Lizzy her choice was a sad one, for her mother would never see her again if she refused to marry Mr. Collins, and he would never see her again if she did!”
Kitty clapped her hands. “Isn’t it killing?”
“And now everyone is cross.” Lydia leapt off the bed and seated herself at Mary’s dressing table, turning her face from one direction to another, entirely pleased with what she saw.
“Mr. Collins has stormed off. Papa has shut himself in the library. Lizzy won’t say anything at all, whilst Mama is beside herself, and says no-one takes any account of her feelings. ”
“It’s quite the best thing that’s happened this age,” said Kitty, with deep satisfaction. “What do you think, Mary?”
Mary lay back in bed. It was a good question, and one to which she did not have a ready answer.
Her sisters ignored her silence for a while, chattering away between themselves about what might happen next.
But when they saw that Mary did not find the business as amusing as they did, they went away and left her alone.
She got up and began to brush her hair. She did not pose before the mirror as Lydia had done, but looked directly into her reflection, as if asking herself what she should do now.
She washed quickly. Mrs. Hill had brought up the water some time ago, and now it was barely warm; but she did not notice.
She laid out a dress on her bed, and sat down beside it blankly, as if she had forgotten what it was there for.
Her mind was elsewhere. She had never imagined she would be the first sister to whom Mr. Collins proposed; but she had persuaded herself she might merit consideration as his second choice.
If her efforts had succeeded, this should have been her moment.
Once he had been refused by a woman who would never accept him, he might have been ready to listen to one prepared to say yes.
It was now, when he was still smarting from Lizzy’s rejection, that Mary had hoped to turn his thoughts to her, soothing his wounded pride and reminding him of the interests they shared, showing by her every word and gesture that she was the only Bennet sister he should seriously think of as his wife.
But as she pulled her dress over her head, she realised none of these things would happen now.
She would always be invisible to him. Even the public humiliation she had suffered at the piano had not been enough to capture his attention.
She supposed she should be grateful her shame had passed him by—but, oh, to be ignored and dismissed by a man like Mr. Collins!
That was a harsh corrective to any ideas she might cherish about her own worth.
As she struggled to tie her sash, she told herself she really had no right to be bitter.
Her pursuit of him had been prompted solely by rational considerations; she could not claim her heart had been broken.
And yet something within her cried out that it was not fair.
She was the only one who had tried to see the good in him, who thought he had the potential to become a happier, better man, but it had not been enough to win him.
Nobody wanted her, it seemed, not even a man she did not love.
When finally she made her way down to the drawing room, the first wave of the storm had passed; but anger and resentment hung heavy in the air.
Mrs. Bennet lay on the sofa, lamenting her woes to anyone who would listen.
Lizzy stared out of the bay window that faced onto the orchard, her expression set and determined, refusing to respond to her mother’s complaints.
Mary did not know whom to approach, and stood uncertainly in the middle of the drawing room, afraid to speak lest she draw their frustration upon herself.
She could not have been more relieved when she heard the bell and Charlotte Lucas was announced.
Charlotte had been invited to spend the day at Longbourn, but in the drama of that morning’s events, this had been quite forgotten.
Before she had taken off her hat and coat, Lydia and Kitty had gleefully imparted to her every detail of what had occurred, but to their disappointment, Charlotte had betrayed neither shock nor surprise.
Instead, she had acted with characteristic calm self-command.
Once in the drawing room, she had laid a soothing arm on Lizzy’s tense and angry shoulders; and had then approached the prone Mrs. Bennet, asking in a low concerned voice if there was anything she could do to assist her.
“It is kind of you to think of me, my dear Miss Lucas, for no-one is on my side, nobody takes my part.”
Charlotte offered to call for tea, a glass of water, perhaps; but Mrs. Bennet brushed away her suggestions.
“If you really wish to help me, you would talk some sense into your friend over there, insist she run after Mr. Collins as quickly as she can and tell him, with all the charm she can muster, that she has changed her mind.”
Charlotte looked towards Lizzy, who firmly shook her head, which provoked her mother to berate her even more.
“I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take it into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage, you will never get a husband at all—and I am sure I don’t know who is to maintain you when your father is gone—I shall not be able to keep you.”
Mrs. Bennet continued in this vein for some time, dwelling at length on Lizzy’s inability to see a good thing when it was staring her in the face, until she was interrupted by the arrival of the gentleman himself.
Mr. Collins had returned from his exile in the garden and stood at the drawing room door, the very picture of injured dignity, declaring that he should like to speak to Mrs. Bennet, if it was at all convenient.
Mrs. Bennet roused herself reluctantly from her couch, declaring she was at his disposal for anything he wished to ask of her.
Elizabeth immediately left her seat at the window and sailed past Mr. Collins without a word.
Mary and Kitty dutifully followed her; but once she was on the other side of the drawing room door, Mary was surprised to find that both Charlotte and Lydia were still within.
She could only suppose they had contrived to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible and, for that reason, had not been ejected.
It did not surprise her that Lydia should behave in such a manner; but that Charlotte should do so was most unexpected.
It was not long before Mr. Collins emerged, with the self-conscious air of a man who has just delivered himself of a weighty decision.
He nodded towards his waiting cousins with a superior smile, and walked swiftly away.
Once he had disappeared, they crowded into the room, eager to find out what had been said.
Mrs. Bennet had returned to her sofa, her eyes closed, her handkerchief placed over her face.
“I am not equal to describing what has befallen us,” she announced in a low, disappointed moan. “Go away, all of you, and leave me alone. Charlotte and Lydia can tell you what he said.”
Once the door had been closed on Mrs. Bennet’s grief, Charlotte leant heavily against it. Mary noticed that even she was now a little excited, her eyes brighter than usual.
“He has ‘withdrawn his pretensions to Lizzy’s favour,’” she declared.
“Yes,” cried Lydia. “He’s pulled out! You’ve lost your chance, Lizzy! It’s all over for you!”
“His manner was more resentful than his words,” Charlotte continued. “But he says he is resigned, and I think he means it. You need not fear he will renew his pursuit.”
Elizabeth fanned her face with an exaggerated gesture of relief.
“I’m very glad to hear it. I don’t think I could have borne much more of his good opinion.”
“But some other poor girl may not be so lucky,” added Lydia, “for he told Mama he still hopes to find himself ‘an amiable companion.’ I very much hope it won’t be me.”
“You are rather young for that,” said Charlotte. “I think you are safe enough. But it is clear he does still hope to discover some fortunate woman to preside over his parsonage.”
“Well, whoever she is, she must form her own conclusions as to the desirability of an offer from Mr. Collins,” Lizzy said with a laugh, her good humour quite restored. “I am only relieved to be free of him myself!”
With that, she took Charlotte’s arm, and they walked into the garden to continue their conversation in the open air.
With nowhere else to go, Mary made her way to the library, but once there, found she could not settle to her work.
She wandered to the window, where she watched Elizabeth and Charlotte walking on the grass.
Elizabeth was chatting to her friend with all the ease in the world.
It was as if the painful events of last night had not taken place.
She had said nothing to Mary about their bitter exchange.
But then, thought Mary, as this morning demonstrated, Lizzy’s life was so full of incident that perhaps she had already forgotten it.
Mary’s own humiliation must seem a small thing, easily blotted from Lizzy’s mind when she had so many more extraordinary matters to think about.
Or, Mary considered, perhaps it was she herself who was the small thing, and thus easily disregarded.
No matter how distracted she might be, Elizabeth always had sympathy and consideration enough to lavish upon Jane.
When a letter had arrived that morning from Miss Bingley, regretting that she, Mr. Bingley, and indeed all their party had been urgently called away to London, no-one could have been more attentive to her bereft sister than Lizzy was to Jane.
Mary blew on the window and wrote her initials in the little patch of condensation.
As she did so, she saw Mr. Collins appear in the garden, cross the lawn, and approach Charlotte and Lizzy.
He bowed stiffly. Even from a distance, his discomfort at meeting Elizabeth was clear.
But in an instant, with the smallest dip of a curtsy, Lizzy excused herself and walked away, quite slowly at first, her steps growing faster and faster, until she was running towards the gate, flying out onto the path into Meryton.
Once she had gone, Mary watched as Mr. Collins offered Charlotte his arm.
Charlotte graciously accepted, and at a steady, unhurried pace, they made their way into the beech grove until they were quite out of Mary’s sight.