Chapter 11 #2
With Jane betrothed to an earl, however, Elizabeth destined for a man with five thousand pounds a year (at least in Mrs Bennet’s imagination), and Lydia and Kitty both finding favour with the highly eligible Lord Keeble, their mother was more relaxed about a lesser prospect like Mr Collins.
He might take or leave Mary, as long as Mrs Bennet could marry off some of her other daughters so richly.
Now, their mother smiled and nodded as Jane began to read the letter, Lydia and Kitty too ceasing their dancing and coming over to listen.
Mr Bennet had slipped out of the room unnoticed at some point, likely escaping into his own library, and Mr Collins shifted awkwardly on the sofa, unsure what part he ought to be playing in the scene.
After an amusing account of an overcrowded ball where one of the chaperones singed her wig on a chandelier, Lord Grantchester went on to describe the morning walk of the great and good in Hyde Park. Then he turned to more domestic affairs.
My mother longs to meet you and your family, Jane, and hopes it will not be long before some gathering can be arranged in London. She intends to write directly to your mother to express her happiness and make clear how much you will be welcomed into our family.
Jane read these lines in a light and unemotional tone.
It seemed to Elizabeth that she might have been reading an article from a newspaper about government investment bonds or new roads for all the personal feeling communicated by either the writer or the reader.
The same had been true of two earlier letters, both of which had been read aloud at the breakfast table.
Lord Grantchester wrote engagingly, and Elizabeth enjoyed listening to his accounts of life in London as much as the rest of the family.
Still, it seemed odd to her that he wrote to his betrothed in the same tone that Elizabeth would write to any friend, and that Jane was willing to share her lover’s letters so easily with the rest of the family.
Elizabeth had always imagined that love letters would be more emotional, intimate, or even passionate.
These were certainly none of those things.
Their absence of any emotion beyond mere friendly civility seemed just as odd to Elizabeth as Jane admitting that she barely thought of Lord Grantchester at all, except when she received his letters.
Weren’t lovers supposed to think of one another constantly and long to be in one another’s presence?
Weren’t their letters supposed to be full of declarations of such sentiments?
Nothing in Jane’s situation seemed quite right to Elizabeth, yet it was equally impossible to say what, if anything, was wrong.
Anyway, what did Elizabeth know? She had never been in love. The thought sent her back yet again to her clash with Mr Darcy at the garden party. Elizabeth would warrant that ill-mannered, unreasonable, and unfairly handsome man had no more experience or understanding of love than she did.
If he had, surely he would better understand that character and liking were at least as important for a happy marriage as rank and fortune.
“What a lovely letter,” Mrs Bennet commented as Jane came to the end, finishing with a cordial sign-off that included best wishes to every member of the Bennet family. “I only wish that Lord Grantchester had confirmed the date of his next visit.”
Jane folded and put away the letter with the same apparent equanimity with which she had produced it.
“Oh, I cannot wait for Lord Grantchester to come back again!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “Do be sure to tell him that when you write back, Jane dear. For Lizzy’s sake, tell him that Mr Bingley must come to Netherfield Park again soon too.”
How forlorn Jane’s face looked for a brief moment in response to these impulsive urgings from her mother!
Yet if she neither missed Lord Grantchester nor even thought often of him, why should she be sad?
It came to Elizabeth that Jane might be hiding her true feelings from all of them, and maybe even from herself.
Did Jane pine for Lord Grantchester in spite of her assurances to Elizabeth?
“It is not our place to order Mr Bingley’s comings and goings,” Elizabeth told her mother, “nor even Lord Grantchester’s, although Jane might express a wish in that direction.”
“Miss Elizabeth speaks wisely,” Mr Collins took the opportunity to assert. “A young lady should seek to influence rather than order the man she loves, if she wishes to retain his love and respect. One of Fordyce’s Sermons is most elucidating on this matter…”
“Yes, Mr Collins,” agreed Mary fervently. “I have read that sermon many times.”
Lydia and Kitty both pulled faces as Mary and Mr Collins went on to quote relevant passages at length, ostensibly for Jane’s benefit, although Elizabeth suspected the speakers themselves enjoyed the sound of their own voices more than any listener.
Jane listened politely for a few minutes, but then rose and excused herself.
Elizabeth watched her go, wishing she could dismiss the concern she felt as purely irrational.
“Miss Bennet is a model of patience and forbearance, as well as beauty, Mrs Bennet,” Mr Collins complimented Jane to her mother. “Long engagements can be very trying, but they might also develop the soul to its highest state of…”
“Jane is missing Lord Grantchester,” Lydia cut in bluntly, unable to take more of the sermonising. “I don’t see that Fordyce can have anything useful to say about that. Jane ought to go back to London and stay with Aunt Gardiner. Then she could go to balls and parties and see him all the time.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Jane told me she had had enough of London,” she pointed out. “She wanted to come home to Longbourn. It would be better for Lord Grantchester to come here, especially since he has taken a house with the express intention of spending time here during their betrothal.”
Mrs Bennet sniffed, having briefly been taken with Lydia’s London suggestion until Elizabeth poured such cold water upon it.
“Well, when Lord Grantchester’s mother writes to me, I shall tell her that we wish to see more of him.
Even you cannot object to that, Lizzy. Poor Jane — how low her spirits are growing!
She does not even wish to join Mrs Philips’ open house tomorrow, when all the officers will be there, and much fun to be had, I’ll warrant. ”
“I shall persuade Jane to come with us tomorrow,” Elizabeth assured her mother. “Company will do her good.”
∞∞∞
“You look concerned, Miss Elizabeth,” said a polite voice at Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Is there any way in which I might be of assistance?”
Turning, Elizabeth saw the smartly dressed figure of George Wickham, the officer whom Lydia believed to be the handsomest in the regiment, and maybe in the entire district.
Her sister’s partiality was not without some cause. He was indeed of pleasing aspect, with waves of chestnut hair, amiable brown eyes, and an open, engaging smile.
The Bennet sisters had met Mr Wickham several times in Meryton, and they were already on friendly terms. His manners contrasted distinctly with those of Mr Darcy, whom Elizabeth had encountered just as often without approaching anything like friendliness.
Irked at finding herself thinking yet again of that ill-mannered gentleman with so very little cause, Elizabeth smiled to Mr Wickham and shook her head in response to his question.
“I am only thinking of Jane,” she explained, looking across the room to where her sister was presently caught in some convoluted conversation between Mrs Philips and Mr Collins.
“Does she require rescue?” Mr Wickham enquired, managing not to make the question into any slight on Elizabeth’s two garrulous relatives. “If so, I would be glad to retrieve her and bring her to your side.”
“No, not at all,” Elizabeth assured him. “In fact, I am glad that Jane should be well-occupied here this afternoon. You might know that she is betrothed to Lord Grantchester, whose business presently keeps him in London.”
“Ah yes, I had heard that Lord Grantchester had taken Belton Manor, but only for occasional visits.”
“Yes. While Jane does not complain, I believe she misses him.”
“A very natural state of affairs,” Mr Wickham put in agreeably. “Very sensible, too, for you to bring her here to your aunt’s party. It is better to be distracted by company than to pine alone, I have always thought.”
“My view exactly,” Elizabeth agreed. “I am glad to hear that the regiment will be at Meryton for some months for that very reason. There is little society in the district otherwise, beyond the Assembly Rooms, especially since Mr Bingley has taken his party back to London from Netherfield Park.”
Mr Wickham’s eyes glimmered with interest. He offered Elizabeth his arm for escort to the tea table, and she took it.
“Do you know when Mr Bingley and his party will return?” he asked lightly.
Again, Elizabeth shook her head. “Do you know Mr Bingley?” she enquired. “His friend Mr Darcy, who accompanied him here, is also a very old friend of Lord Grantchester, but I cannot claim long acquaintance with either Mr Bingley nor Mr Darcy.”
“I had heard that Mr Darcy had been in the neighbourhood before the regiment arrived,” Mr Wickham told Elizabeth. “Although I do not yet know Mr Bingley, I am well acquainted with Mr Darcy.”
There was something in his tone and the slight lifting of his eyebrows that invited questions.
“I am sorry that you missed seeing Mr Darcy, if he is an old friend of yours too,” Elizabeth remarked politely.
“I am not,” Mr Wickham said at once, dropping his voice low, so that only Elizabeth might hear it. “We were close once, and I was even raised by Mr Darcy’s father after my own parents died. We are not friends, however.”