Chapter 8
The following day was rainy and muddy and Elizabeth stayed in the parsonage, much to Mr. Darcy’s disappointment and his valet’s displeasure when he cleaned his employer’s boots.
Friday, Mr. Darcy spent the morning riding over the estate with his aunt’s steward and was so late getting back that Elizabeth had come and gone from her regular music practice.
He sighed and was disappointed, but told himself there was still tomorrow.
Her family was arriving, so he planned to meet her in the grove on her morning walk if he could, or perhaps her family would arrive late in the day and she would come to practice her music at her usual time.
He had spent the morning thinking of her as he rode across the Kent countryside.
He was decided. He would offer for her. He really had no other choice, as he had come to love her so dearly he was sure he would go mad without her.
He had surprised himself when, several days ago, his cousin Fitzwilliam had commented on how well Miss Bennet had looked at dinner.
Something in Fitzwilliam’s expression, in the way he waggled his eyebrows and smiled at Miss Bennet when they rejoined the ladies, had set Darcy on edge.
He was jealous! He, Fitzwilliam Alexander Darcy, was jealous of his verbose cousin and the many smiles he cajoled from his beloved.
He was decided to ask, and now had only to find the right words to say and an opportune time.
It was great luck that her father was visiting Hunsford on his way to Margate.
It would save him a trip to Hertfordshire, which would have been impossible anyway since the family was not in residence, and allow him to avoid visiting Margate and spending time with Elizabeth’s family, an exercise he would like to avoid if possible.
The following morning, Darcy was disappointed not to find Elizabeth in the grove. She had walked into the village on an errand for Charlotte and hurried home to prepare for her family’s arrival, but of course Darcy did not know that, and he returned to Rosings disappointed.
The Bennets arrived midday at Hunsford with all the fanfare that could be expected of a carriage filled with five ladies and one man.
There were hugs and kisses all around and a proud Charlotte showed them to their rooms. Jane was sharing with Elizabeth, Kitty with Maria, and Lydia with Mary.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were given the grandest guest room (the younger girls’ rooms were family apartments not yet taken with tiny Collinses), and Mr. Collins happily droned on about the changes and improvements Lady Catherine had made to the house when he accepted the living.
Dinner was a lively affair and Mrs. Bennet complimented Charlotte on her table, which made Charlotte beam and Mrs. Bennet say marriage became her so much so that she was almost pretty.
Elizabeth apologized quietly to her friend while Jane hung her head in mortification.
Everyone retired early after such a full day, and Jane and Elizabeth eagerly curled up in their bed to share their experiences of the last week.
“Do you think Mr. Bingley will return to Netherfield?” Elizabeth asked after Jane told her that she had seen Mr. Bingley and that he had called on her after the ball and had been present at several other dinners and events. He had even invited her to dine with his family.
“I do not know.” Jane twisted her hands and looked uncharacteristically conflicted.
“Has your heart healed, then?” Elizabeth asked gently.
“Yes and no. I still ache from the way he left so unexpectedly, and I will always think him the most amiable man of my acquaintance, but I have come to wonder if that is the best kind of husband.”
“What do you mean, Jane?”
“My friend in London, Mrs. Caldwell, I wrote you about her, is recently married to a friend of uncle’s. He runs a business and manages his income, and yet he had time to court his wife and he courts her still. He is attentive and thoughtful and very kind.”
“But is he handsome?” Elizabeth teased.
Jane laughed and tried to glare at her sister.
“Actually, no, but that is not the point! Mr. Bingley, who has no business to run and no family to look after, or even a home or estate to take care of, could not be bothered to say goodbye to the neighborhood, not even his closest acquaintance.” Jane looked down and fiddled with a thread on the bedclothes. “Not even me.”
“Oh, Janie!” Elizabeth put her arm round her sister and hugged her close.
“I simply wonder if a man who is so easily swayed and convinced is the best sort of husband. Mr. Pearson, Mr. Bingley’s friend, came with his wife to see me off. They were all so considerate and kind. It was a stark contrast to Mr. and Miss Bingley’s behavior.”
“Yes, it would be,” agreed Elizabeth.
“Lizzy, I have never felt myself as confused as I am now. My heart wants Mr. Bingley still, but my reason tells me that life with a sister who dislikes and disdains me as much as Miss Bingley clearly does would be unpleasant at best. And would I really like being married to a man who cannot even maintain his own schedule? Does that not sound like folly to you?”
Elizabeth had never heard her sister speak in such a way before.
Jane was usually so docile, so serene and peaceful.
But Elizabeth could remember a few occasions when Jane had been stubborn when she felt she was right.
Those who did not know her well would be surprised to believe Jane Bennet could ever disagree with anyone, but they did not know Jane.
“Did Mr. Bingley give any reason for not returning to Hertfordshire?”
“No, he did not. He merely said something had come up in town that prevented his return and vaguely mentioned his sisters. He said Miss Bingley had written to inform us of his plans.”
“Did you tell him you’d received naught but the first letter from Netherfield?”
“No. I did not want to be petty. Miss Bingley has made it clear she does not want me matched with her brother. And again, that makes me think perhaps encouraging Mr. Bingley is not a good idea if it will bring disharmony to the family.”
“Do you believe he wants you to encourage him?” asked Elizabeth.
“Perhaps,” replied Jane.
“Is he behaving as he did in Hertfordshire?”
“In some ways. He is as charming and as amiable, but he seems both more sure and more frightened than before.”
“Perhaps he is sure that he wants you and frightened he has lost you,” suggested Elizabeth.
Jane tilted her head as she thought about the prospect.
“Did he meet Mr. Walker in London?” Elizabeth asked eagerly.
Jane had written often of Mr. Walker, Mrs. Pearson’s older brother, and she had been much in company with him in London.
“Yes, they met. They were cordial to each other, but I do not believe they are friends,” said Jane.
“Do you have romantic feelings for Mr. Walker? Do you think he has those feelings for you?”
“I don’t think so. Mr. Walker is a kind and intelligent man.
I enjoy conversing with him and benefiting from his greater information, but my heart is not touched as yet.
I do esteem him and respect him as a friend, and given time, perhaps I could feel more, but I’m afraid I am not capable of it at the moment.
” She sighed and laid her head on the pillow.
“As for Mr. Walker’s feelings for me, I hardly know.
He has said nothing and neither has his sister.
I believe he likes me and he frequently asks me to dance, but beyond that, I know nothing. ”
“Oh, dear Jane!” Elizabeth stroked her sister’s hair and lay down beside her. “I am so sorry your heart is going through this. It could not happen to a less deserving person. You have always been so good. It is not fair!”
“Would you wish heartache on someone else then? No, I will manage. As Papa says, it is the way of the world and unfortunately, cannot be avoided. I will be fine.”
Elizabeth nodded and kissed her sister’s cheek, then blew out the candle and went to sleep.
While the women were preparing for bed above stairs, Mr. Bennet asked Mr. Collins to speak with him in the study. After listening to Mr. Collins drone on for a quarter hour, Bennet finally interrupted.
“Mr. Collins, I’d like to go over some estate papers with you, since you are to inherit.”
“Oh! Of course!” Collins put his brandy glass on the side table and leaned forward. “I would be only too happy to discuss the great estate of Longbourn with you, though it can be nothing to Rosings Park. Lady Catherine says that a gentleman must have an estate and a proud one, of which I am sure —”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Mr. Bennet interrupted.
“Now, here is the map of the home farm. You see in these fields we plant barley, and this is where the cows graze.” He continued on in a quiet voice, pointing to the diagram he’d brought and explaining what went where and who was responsible for what.
He was describing the fifth tenant family when he noticed Mr. Collins’s eyes glazing over and his head beginning to tip.
“These are the entail documents, and this describes what is left with the estate and what is my wife’s personal property.
Of course she has a year to leave Longbourn for Dunley Cottage.
You remember that one—it is the land at the back of the property nearest to Netherfield.
It is currently let by the Jones family, but they will be given ample time to remove themselves, and I imagine Mr. Carter’s cottage will be empty by then and would be an ideal location.
” Mr. Bennet tapped Collins’ boot with his own and the younger man jolted upright.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Carter, the um, the one in, hmm.”
“The man in Mulberry Farm. You must remember, Mr. Collins! I was just speaking of him. He is getting on in years and his wife died last spring. His three daughters have all married and he is working the land alone with a hired boy.” Mr. Bennet had in fact not told Mr. Collins that, but that was a technicality.
“Oh, yes! The widower Mr. Carter. I remember, of course.”
Bennet nodded. “Now, as I was saying, Mrs. Bennet and our daughters will remove to Dunley, the Jones family will go to Mulberry Farm, and Mr. Carter will likely move to one of his daughters. Sign here, please.”
“Oh, right, yes. Mr. Carter will be most happy with his daughters.” Mr. Collins scratched his name next to Mr. Bennet’s on the paper.
“Yes, I’m sure he will.” Bennet quickly folded the paper and placed it in the packet he’d brought with him, then poured Collins another glass of the ill-tasting brandy.
By the end of the conversation, Bennet was able to secure Mr. Collins’ signature on documents stating that all the Bennet family jewels would stay with the Bennet daughters, on account of Mr. Collins not really being a Bennet.
He’d convinced his younger cousin that it would be the perfect olive branch and would right any wrongs perceived in the entailment and ensure his welcome in the community.
Mrs. Bennet and any unmarried daughters had lifetime rights to live in Dunley Cottage rent free, and Mrs. Bennet herself would receive four-hundred pounds per annum from the estate, plus an additional fifty pounds for any unmarried daughters.
He knew it was a lot, and if his daughters were not to marry it would deprive Collins of over a quarter of the estate’s annual income, but his first loyalty was to his wife and children, not to his buffoon of a cousin.
Besides, the daughters were nearly all of a marriageable age.
Surely some of them would marry soon, hopefully at least one (though preferably two) before he died.
He could not, would not, feel guilty about providing for his family.