Chapter 3
By the time the Gardiners, Mrs. Bennet’s brother and his wife, arrived from London for Christmas, the household was in a smooth routine.
The girls had been practicing with their masters for more than two weeks, and the results were already beginning to show.
The meals were much simpler, per the master’s request, and while tired, the girls were proud of their progress and satisfied in the way only a hard day’s work can provide.
They were a very merry party and there was significantly less cringing than there had been before.
The officers continued to call, but Mrs. Bennet planned no parties for them, and without Kitty and Lydia running into town and dragging home soldiers for tea, fewer of them ventured out of Meryton.
Once it was made clear that Lydia would not be coming down at all and that Kitty was not formally out, the visits tapered down considerably.
There had been one officer, a Mr. Wickham, who had had a particular interest in Miss Elizabeth.
He had shown her great attention and flirted and smiled with ease.
She had received him with joy and had taken a certain feminine pleasure in being the object of such a man’s attention.
He was a great favorite among many in the area, especially among the Bennet women.
He had favored Elizabeth enough to tell her about his past and about a particularly difficult experience with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley’s friend who had visited the area in the autumn.
Mr. Wickham told Elizabeth that he had been the son of the previous Mr. Darcy’s steward and had grown up with Darcy, and that he was Mr. Darcy Sr.’s godson and had been that man’s favorite.
He and the younger Darcy had been friends, but Darcy had grown jealous of his father’s affection for another and when his father passed and left a living for Mr. Wickham, Darcy had prevented the disbursement of it on some sort of technicality, and poor Mr. Wickham was reduced to poverty and forced to eke out an existence in the militia.
Elizabeth was greatly touched by his tale of woe, being of tender heart and vain spirit.
Mr. Darcy had insulted her before they were even introduced, and in a very humiliating way, though there may not be another way to be insulted.
At the first assembly he and his party had attended in the neighborhood, Mr. Darcy’s friend Mr. Bingley, an amiable and cheerful man, had suggested he dance with Elizabeth who was currently without a partner.
Looking her over disdainfully, Mr. Darcy declared that she was not handsome enough to tempt him to dance.
She! Elizabeth Bennet! Second of the Bennet sisters, famed as the most beautiful family in the county.
Elizabeth liked to think she was a fair lady, with good judgment and a kind disposition, but, oh, how she hated Mr. Darcy!
She had laughed and told her friends the ridiculous story, for really she did not think he could have looked at her very closely, or perhaps there was something wrong with his eyes, or maybe he was accustomed to done-up women and did not appreciate simple beauty, and of course, she was not so vain, but it did sting.
Yes, it did. She had decided then and there that though he may be rich, in her eyes, Mr. Darcy was most assuredly lacking.
Her subsequent encounters had been much of the same.
He had not overtly insulted her, but he had been proud, arrogant, and dismissive.
When Mr. Wickham told her of his mistreatment at the hands of the horrid Mr. Darcy, she readily believed him, for had she not been witness to his disdain herself, and in quite a personal matter?
No, Mr. Darcy was not a good man—that, she was sure of.
He was pompous and difficult and thought he was above everyone else. She disliked him heartily.
Mr. Wickham’s constant attentions were a balm to her wounded pride and went some way to rebuilding her image of herself in her own mind. She was not undesirable; Mr. Wickham was clearly quite tempted by her beauty.
Alas, Mr. Wickham was poor and Elizabeth was not much better, having only a small dowry and not even receiving that until her mother passed on.
There was no future for the two of them and she found that she did not really mind.
He was charming, to be sure, and she was greatly flattered and appreciated his attention, but she knew her heart was not touched.
Mr. Wickham was, well, she did not like to admit it because it made her sound terribly mean, but he was, quite simply, not enough.
She was not sure what it was that he was lacking, or who would be enough, but she thought she would know it when she encountered it.
She discussed all of this in great detail with her Aunt Gardiner, a kind and understanding woman, and her aunt helped her to make sense of her convoluted feelings and congratulated her on not feeling anything very deep for Mr. Wickham, for he could not afford to marry her, and his prospects were severely lacking.
In any case, by the next month he had moved on to another lady, a Miss Mary King who had recently inherited ten thousand pounds.
She had not felt his defection keenly at all, confirming the untouched state of her heart, but Elizabeth did not like the words and looks of her neighbors who teased her for it.
She reminded them that a man must have something to live on and that she and Wickham were only friends, no more.
One evening, after they had attended a party at Lucas Lodge, Jane and Elizabeth sat on Jane’s bed, brushing out their hair and discussing the evening.
“What do you think will become of us, Jane?” Elizabeth asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you think we will ever marry? Or will we live with uncle after father passes? Or worse, will we have to take employment?”
“Oh, surely not! We will not be as poor as that. And Papa is young still. He might live many more years. Surely we do not need to worry about that now,” Jane soothed.
Elizabeth could not be so easily comforted.
Her father was acting strangely, not just with his recent edicts about their comportment and education, but with his own activities as well.
He no longer went for solitary rides—he had asked Jane to accompany him the last three times he’d ridden out.
And he drank less wine at dinner, not that he had ever drunk much, and he often looked at her in a way that made her feel eerie, as if someone had stepped over her grave.
Jane was not the person to discuss this with—she was determined to see the bright side on every matter and whatever evidence Elizabeth produced, Jane would find a way to explain it away.
It was a maddening and endearing quality.
She wished she had someone to talk to, but Jane would not do and Charlotte would usually be her next choice, but she was marrying the ridiculous Mr. Collins soon and busy with preparations for the wedding and leaving her home.
Besides that, she had changed, at least in Elizabeth’s eyes.
She had made a strange decision, to marry a man she neither respected nor held in any affection.
Elizabeth supposed she must be looking at it as a sort of business arrangement—he would provide her a home and she would keep it for him, but she could not approve of so worthy a woman as Charlotte being wasted on so silly a man as Mr. Collins.
For now she would keep her thoughts to herself and hope that all was well with her father.
January brought with it a return of Mr. Collins, the heir apparent to Longbourn, for his wedding to Charlotte Lucas.
Mrs. Bennet wanted to lament the loss of an eligible suitor, for after all, Mr. Collins had desired to marry a daughter of Longbourn to heal the breach in the family, and her home along with it, but did not.
Her husband had commanded a peaceful house and as he was being so kind and attentive and taking such good care of their girls, she wanted to give him what he’d asked for.
The three eldest Bennet daughters and their parents attended the very awkward wedding of their dear, sensible friend Charlotte and their annoying, but thankfully distant, bore of a cousin.
At the breakfast afterward, Charlotte asked Elizabeth, her particular friend, if she would come visit her at her new home in Hunsford Village in Kent when Charlotte’s family made the journey in the spring.
Elizabeth couldn’t help but imagine how awkward such a visit would be.
After all, Mr. Collins had proposed to her a mere three days before proposing to, and being accepted by, her friend.
Could there be a more awkward situation?
She thought not. However, Charlotte was her very dear friend and had been for many years now and she didn’t feel quite right saying no just because she didn’t like her friend’s husband—or her motives for marrying him.
So Elizabeth said she would ask her father and promised to write.
By early February, Mr. Bennet had secured a house on the seaside for the summer.
It was in a quiet section of Margate, a seaside town in Kent not too popular with tourists.
He agreed that Elizabeth could go visit her friend Charlotte at Easter, largely to keep peace with Mr. Collins They would collect her on their way to the seaside.
Jane had been invited to London after Christmas to stay with the Gardiners with the hope that she would see Mr. Bingley, the young man who’d stolen her heart and callously left the area last November. In the end, Mr. Bennet said no to the journey.