Chapter Eleven
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Although Julia Harding had, in the short time she spent in Hertfordshire, become one of Elizabeth's dearest friends, she was not Elizabeth's only intimate.
Charlotte Lucas, the eldest daughter of their neighbour Sir William Lucas, had been her friend for many years.
Though Charlotte was several years older, the difference had never diminished their affection or the ease of their understanding.
Charlotte had come to Longbourn that afternoon ostensibly to return a book Mary had lent her some weeks before, though Elizabeth suspected the book had very little to do with the visit.
There had been a tea party at the Longs' the previous evening, and it was Charlotte's habit, after any gathering of consequence, to call at Longbourn so that she and Elizabeth might compare what they had observed.
With Mary, Kitty, and Lydia gone to visit their aunt Phillips, they might even have enjoyed the discussion uninterrupted.
They had scarcely settled themselves with their tea, however, when Mrs. Bennet entered the room with an eagerness which immediately warned Elizabeth that the conversation was not to remain their own.
"Lizzy, you will never guess who asked after you at the Longs' last evening.
" Mrs. Bennet did not wait for a guess before supplying the answer herself.
"Mr. Sotherton! The young gentleman who is staying with his uncle at Claverton Park.
Charlotte, was he not exceedingly particular in his enquiries? "
Elizabeth lowered her cup. Her mother had already introduced some portion of this intelligence upon returning home the previous night, and Elizabeth, who knew Mrs. Bennet's enthusiasm upon any subject remotely connected with the marriage of one of her daughters, had hoped sleep might have moderated it.
Charlotte appeared to have hoped to remain outside the discussion altogether. Finding herself directly appealed to, however, she could hardly refuse an answer. "He did ask after Elizabeth, yes. Twice, I believe, though I confess I did not think it so very remarkable at the time."
"Not remarkable!" Mrs. Bennet stared at her. "My dear Charlotte, he asked whether Lizzy meant to attend the next assembly and whether she was fond of dancing. What can be plainer? And this after having met her only twice! Depend upon it, he has been thinking of her."
“Mama.” Elizabeth shook her head, little pleased with the turn the conversation had taken.
“If Mr. Sotherton were so anxious to know whether I am fond of dancing, he might simply have asked me.
He had two opportunities to do so and chose instead to enquire of you at somebody else's table. It seems a remarkably circuitous method of discovering my opinion.”
Mrs. Bennet waved this objection away. "You will make a jest of everything, Lizzy."
“Not everything. Only what deserves to be laughed at.” Elizabeth took another sip of tea.
"In any case, I cannot return Mr. Sotherton's supposed interest. I found him rather dry on both occasions we spoke.
He has a way of delivering an opinion as though the matter must naturally be settled by his having expressed it, and very little curiosity about whether anyone else might disagree. "
Mrs. Bennet gave an impatient toss of her head. "Dry! What nonsense. A steady, sensible manner is no fault in a gentleman."
"It may be, when there is some warmth beneath the steadiness.
I did not discover much." Elizabeth turned the cup lightly between her fingers.
"The second time we spoke, he told me how pleased he was to find that I did not trouble myself with the sort of books upon which young ladies commonly waste their time.
I could not determine whether I was meant to be flattered by his good opinion of my understanding or by his satisfaction at discovering I should require so little conversation from him. "
Charlotte's brows rose. "He said that to you?"
"With every appearance of believing himself exceedingly civil."
Charlotte's mouth twitched.
"I am persuaded," Elizabeth continued, "that Mr. Sotherton would find very little to distinguish me from any other woman willing to agree with him. Unfortunately, I have never possessed sufficient talent for agreement to make such a match comfortable for either of us."
Mrs. Bennet threw up her hands in exasperation.
“There! That is exactly the sort of talk I mean. You laugh at everything, Lizzy, but one day you will discover there is nothing amusing in being an old maid. Mr. Sotherton is said to have two thousand a year and excellent connections in Cheltenham. Two thousand a year! But I suppose even that is not enough to satisfy you.”
“Two thousand a year is a very respectable sum, Mama, and I am sure it recommends him to a great many people. It does not, however, recommend him to me, since I have no notion of marrying a man merely because his income is agreeable and his opinion of my understanding requires so little of me to satisfy.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at her daughter in vexation. “There! You see how she talks, Charlotte. You may advise her, for she will hear nothing from me. But she will think differently when she has laughed away every respectable man who might have had her.”
With this prediction, she quitted the room, muttering something about daughters who seemed determined to remain unmarried merely to torment their mothers.
“You are not quite so indifferent to the subject as you would have your mother believe,” Charlotte observed when the door had closed behind Mrs. Bennet.
“To the subject, perhaps not. To Mr. Sotherton, entirely.” Elizabeth smiled. “It is Mama's certainty which amuses me. Two questions from him and two thousand a year have been sufficient for her to arrange the whole of my future.”
Her amusement lingered for a moment before softening. “I wish Julia were here. She would have known precisely what to say of Mr. Sotherton's opinion of ladies who read, and I suspect it would not have been charitable.”
“Julia was not always charitable when there was amusement to be had.”
“No, indeed. It was one of her more dependable qualities.”
Charlotte regarded her for a moment. “You continue to write to her, I suppose?”
“Every week.”
Elizabeth said no more, and Charlotte did not ask whether any answer had come. Five months had passed without one. There was little left to be said upon that subject which had not already been said, and Charlotte possessed too much sense to offer assurances merely because silence was uncomfortable.
“By Sunday I generally discover that I have collected a week's worth of nonsense which cannot possibly be permitted to go unreported,” Elizabeth continued, recovering her smile. “Today has been particularly generous.”
“Then I am glad to have contributed.”
“You contribute very regularly, Charlotte. I assure you, your usefulness is not confined to this afternoon.”
They spoke of other things after that include their opinions on matrimony, Sir William's latest plans for the garden, some alteration proposed to the church roof, and the various occurrences of the neighbourhood which could be made interesting between two friends even when they possessed very little importance in themselves.
As often happened in Charlotte's steady company, the afternoon passed more pleasantly than Elizabeth had expected while her mother's matrimonial schemes were in such vigorous operation.
Yet Mr. Sotherton's unfortunate observation returned to her more than once.
Not because the gentleman himself deserved another thought, but because Elizabeth could already imagine the expression Julia would have worn upon hearing that he was pleased to find her sensible enough not to trouble her head with some sort of books.
She could almost hear what Julia would have said of it.
There was comfort in that, though of a peculiar sort. Elizabeth had long since ceased expecting an answer each time she sent a letter to Somerset. She had not ceased, however, to encounter some absurdity, some piece of news, or some private thought and immediately wish to tell Julia of it.
That evening, after Charlotte had returned to Lucas Lodge and Longbourn had grown quiet, Elizabeth sat at her desk and drew the candle nearer. For once, she did not have to search for something cheerful with which to fill the page. The afternoon had supplied her too abundantly.
She dipped her pen, and began.