Chapter Twenty
M ama had been loud, of course, when that letter had arrived in the hand of Mr. Bingley. It was to be expected that news such as Lizzy had imparted could not be received sensibly. Mary had been surprised to lift the pineapple from its box, but she had not almost dropped it with a shriek, as Kitty had upon feeling its rough exterior. One must attempt to be filial but it was a trial for Miss Mary Bennet to be so constantly beset, from sunrise to sunset, to unnecessary levels of noise .
The barrage of questions, too, seemed to be unneeded. Was it not logical, when not knowing the reason for there being a pineapple in Mama's drawing room, simply to continue reading the letter that had accompanied it? It made sense to Mary, at any rate, that answers to Mama and Kitty's bewildered wonderment lay within that closely written paper from their sister .
Lydia was no less noisy and to Mary's ears, equally irritating. The youngest of them all, if you please, cried out that she knew something like this would happen and she was not in the least astonished, for it had been plain to her that Jane and Elizabeth would do well in London.
“Only imagine, Mama, what wonderful presents I will be able to send you if I could go to London. I do not see that I am too young — I will be sixteen soon and no one would know it to look at me.”
“Lydia cannot possibly go to London without me,” cried Kitty. “Oh, Mama, does it not feel so odd! Not like an apple at all and that is what I might have expected a pineapple to feel like. Perhaps that is why it has the word pine in it, for it is a little like a pine cone, is it not? Will we eat it? Why is it here? How could Mr. Bingley have come by it?”
“It cannot be from Mr. Bingley. I believe it is from Jane and Lizzy.”
Mrs. Bennet was agog. “A pineapple! I have never seen one, but I read that they sometimes can be found in London drawing rooms. They are so very expensive. I am sure our friends will come from a long way to see one here at Longbourn, but I am so astonished that I cannot think why it should be here, nor why Mr. Bingley can have brought it. He must have seen Jane.” It was plain that Mrs. Bennet considered Mr. Bingley's having seen Jane to be the likely reason behind anything delightful occurring at Longbourn, including the pineapple which she now held in her own two hands .
“Perhaps,” Mary suggested, “if we read the rest of the letter, it may dawn upon us that there is a logical explanation for this ridiculous-looking fruit being here.”
“Yes! Yes, Mary, you must read the rest of it aloud to us. ”
Mary did so, pausing with as much patience as she could manage each time her listeners interrupted with questions she could not possibly know the answer to. She hesitated when she read the words 'fifty thousand pounds' and paused to ascertain that she had not seen them incorrectly.
It was to be expected that both Mrs. Bennet and Kitty should give piercing shrieks at that. Lydia issued a loud and jubilant shout and rose from her chair to dance about the room, waving her arms wildly .
Lydia pulled Kitty into her dance and then, not content with that, reached for Mary .
“Come now, Mary, you shall not sit there sourly at such news as this!”
Miss Mary, attempting to hold the letter securely whilst being whirled about the room in Lydia's expression of joy, could not resist her laughter, but would only say, “I shall dance with you for the rest of the day, Lydia, if you will let me read this letter — I want to know as much as you do what Lizzy has to say. Do let me sit now — you make me feel quite ill, spinning so.”
“You will never waltz, Mary, if you cannot tolerate so few little twirls as that.”
“I do not approve of the waltz,” said Mary, more from habit than sincerity.
Her disapproval became somewhat more sincere when she read Elizabeth's account of how Jane came into a fortune. She did not hold with gambling and she was quick enough to realise that the amount Jane had staked must have been substantial. It did not seem like Jane — perhaps Lizzy had goaded her somehow .
Mrs. Bennet indulged in yet another scream when Jane's status as an engaged woman was mentioned. “I shall go distracted! A daughter married. Mrs. Bingley! It is everything I ever hoped for…and more, for I never in all of my wildest imaginings, thought that my dearest Jane should have any money of her own. And she means to share it! She is the dearest girl.”
“Five hundred pounds a year!” breathed Kitty. “I do not suppose that even Mary King has so much to spend. We can buy as many clothes as we please, and there will never be an unfashionable bonnet on our heads!”
“There will be on Mary's head,” laughed Lydia. “I daresay Mary will say that her own bonnets are perfectly serviceable and she sees no reason to stop wearing them even if we are heiresses.”
“We are not quite heiresses. It is Jane's money, and furthermore, we shall not see a penny of any of it until we attain our majority. It will make no difference to us until our twenty-first birthdays pass.”
“It is too provoking,” said Lydia. “I will speak to Jane and Lizzy myself and make them see reason. I mean to marry the handsomest and most charming man possible. How can I do that soon if I have to wait until I am one and twenty! It is too long! I do not mean to sit around Longbourn as we do now until I am practically an old maid.”
Mary reread the paragraph that suggested a finishing school and Mrs. Bennet looked up quickly from her contemplation of the pineapple .
“A select finishing school; there now." She gave a little crow of delight. "It sounds very well, does it not? The Miss Bennets of Longbourn attending a fine establishment. I daresay that you would be proposed to at your first party in London, Lydia, if you were to say you had been to a place such as Lizzy suggests.”
“A finishing school does sound very grand, does it not, Lydia?” Kitty appeared to be inclined in favour, and smiled. “I suppose we would need some new clothes. Jane would not expect us to go looking shabby, would she? I imagine we might go somewhere as fine as Mr. Bingley's sisters went. ”
Mary shook her head and continued reading. At the mention of the paisley shawls, Lydia pounced once again on the box, and it was the work of a moment for her to pull them forth and distribute them .
Mrs. Bennet immediately unfolded hers, exclaiming as she did so, “It is just what suits me, do you see, girls? And so finely made. I do not think that even Lady Lucas has one finer — but how pretty the pattern is, do you not think? Such thoughtful daughters I have. I do not believe there was ever a mother more blessed than I. I can hardly believe it, but I must or else we would not have such expensive gifts. Paisley shawls and Mr. Bingley in with your father now. I did not believe it could turn out so well. I had been quite out of spirits, thinking of dearest Jane's disappointment and that artful Charlotte Lucas taking Mr. Collins from Lizzy.”
“Lizzy did not want him, Mama,” said Kitty, as she unfolded her own shawl and held it up before her to see it better.
Mrs. Bennet was accepting. “Well, she is a clever girl, I suppose, and she must have known that she would be able to do better — which I daresay she will now, with such an income as she will have. Her birthday is in May, so she will not need to wait long. She must return to London for the next season and we will see what may be done for her. I should think a great many gentlemen would court Mrs. Bingley's sister.”
Mary quickly peeked beneath the tissue that was wrapped about her shawl. She hoped it would not be pink, peach, or blue like the others. She smiled when she saw that her shawl was neither. Greens and greys were just what suited her — she would wear it often .
“Shall I call for Hill, Mama? If you will indeed invite Mr. Bingley to eat with us tonight?” Mary rose from her chair, the shawl still folded in her arms. It was thick and would be very warm.
“Yes, my love, ring the bell — Lizzy's suggestion for the partridges is a good one, I will send a servant into town to see if there are any to be had. Perhaps a nice fat duck may be got also. Your father cannot possibly object, given it is a day for celebration.” The import of it all seemed to strike Mrs. Bennet with great force just then, and she looked about her at her three daughters. “Secure! For your whole lives, my loves. It is beyond anything!”
Mary obeyed and listened quietly to the others excitedly discuss their news. They were too noisy, to be sure, but she ought not blame them, she supposed .
Kitty evidently felt that any number of officers would now be at her feet, as they had been around that plain-faced Mary King, and that by her twenty-second birthday at least she would be a married woman on account of this new great wealth .
Mary pondered before adding to the conversation. “We might even,” she said, “not marry at all and it would not mean destitution.”
Three heads turned sharply in her direction .
“Mary! How can you?”
“But we must marry — we all must.”
“I cannot think, my dear, why you would say something so unfeminine. All young ladies want to be married.”
“I did not say I did not want to be married, I said that the money will mean I need not. We might travel, for example.”
Kitty's eyes lit up. “Yes, I suppose if we were to travel there would be a far greater likelihood of finding a good husband. Do you suppose we might go to Italy, Mama? I am sure there are very rich men in Italy. I read a novel about an Italian soldier who was a nobleman in disguise and he met a young lady who looked like a milkmaid but she was, in fact, the only daughter of the Duke of Naples. It was very romantic.”
Mary was unimpressed. “We might also be able to afford a better class of literature for you to read, Kitty. I daresay that will be a great improvement. ”
Mr. Bennet entered the room with Mr. Bingley, the latter quite unable to contain his pleasure. He bowed over Mrs. Bennet's hand .
“Madam, it is a delight to see you again.”
“Mr. Bingley, you are very welcome, and such a gift you have brought from my daughters — a pineapple, sir! Have you ever seen one so close?”
“I see also that you are wearing the shawl Miss Bennet selected for you. I shall enjoy reporting to her that she chose exceptionally well, for it suits you indeed, Mrs. Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet looked about him at the scattered tissue paper. “I see I was not the only one to receive a fine gift.”
“Did Lizzy send you a shawl also, Papa? ”
He ignored Lydia's frivolity, as he often did, and withdrew from his pocket a slim box, opening the lid. “It is a pen. Perhaps my first use for it will be in signing marriage articles for Jane and Mr. Bingley, my dear. I have given my permission, and we may proceed to announce their betrothal. I suppose,” he said in his usual way, “that you will now like me to order the carriage for your inevitable trip into town.”
His wife's joy was everything he could have hoped for, even if Mary wished the tone of it might be better modulated. Mr. Bingley was too gentlemanly to demonstrate any disgust when his future mother-in-law insisted upon bestowing a kiss on his cheek, even thanking her with all sincerity for the welcome .
“And you must stay for dinner with us, Mr. Bingley. You have had too long a journey to deny us, sir.”
“I would stay with the greatest pleasure on earth, madam, for I remember how excellent your hospitality is. I am prevented by my promise to your daughter that I should stand up with her at Lady Matlock's ball this evening. I knew that I should not return in time to escort her, as I should have liked, but I must give myself the pleasure of dancing with her.”
He was immediately forgiven and urged to dine at a more convenient date, perhaps when his affianced bride was to return to her home .
He was seen to the door by his future family, and he left them with the promise that he would carry each and every message to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth as accurately as he was able .
Mr. Bennet had often found himself missing the company of his second daughter in particular, as the other ladies in his household did not seem to comprehend properly the occasional quip he indulged in. He now turned to Mary, who, to her credit, was silently watching her mother and younger sisters .
“Well now, Mary, I do not think that Mr. Bingley's smile will fade until he reaches Hertford at least.”
There was the faintest suggestion of surprise on Mary's face at being so addressed. It was clear that she was thinking hard at how best to respond. “The traffic in Hertford is such that his joy might dim to more reasonable levels by the time he has travelled through it. I am, however, pleased that his engagement to Jane is something he plainly relishes.”
Mr. Bennet quirked an eyebrow but did not laugh. She had not truly expected him to .
“Father, did Mr. Bingley relate to you any of the happenings in London other than his meeting Jane again?”
“What happenings do you suppose he ought to have related?”
“He did not have a letter to pass on to you from Jane or Lizzy?”
Mr. Bennet made an expansive gesture with his hands, demonstrating their emptiness .
“Then you have no explanation for having received a pen, nor for us having had very expensive paisley shawls each — not to mention the pineapple.”
“Ah, Mrs. Bennet mentioned a pineapple, did she not?” He frowned now. “A pineapple is worth a good deal of money — far more than Jane or Lizzy had with them, I believe. Very well, Mary, you have piqued my curiosity and I should like an explanation.”
“It will be better if I bring you Lizzy's letter, sir. ”
Mr. Bennet turned and went towards his bookroom. “You may bring it in with some tea for me, Mary. Do not linger in fetching it. I have a feeling that there is far more in this than Mr. Bingley related to me.”
At least, thought Mary, Papa's bookroom would be quiet. She tugged on the bell and waited for a servant to come. A second reading of the letter would undoubtedly be wise. If Papa wished to invite her to read it aloud to him, she might herself gain in her grasp of the whole situation .
Retrieving the letter, she made her way into Papa's sanctuary. She did not go in there often — it was not a room to which he generally invited his younger daughters. Their appearance before him tended to be for less cordial reasons than conversation. She wondered if her father might permit her to borrow his atlas, once he had been properly informed of his daughter's good fortune .
Five hundred pounds! Mary wondered, as she knocked, just how far across the globe that might take her .