Chapter 25 With Child
Mr. Collins sat beside Lady Catherine’s bed, reading from the Psalms. She gave no sign that she heard him, yet he continued, offering prayers of confession and absolution in the hope that, somewhere deep within her mind, his words might still reach her.
Taking her frail hand in his own, he recited the prayers, but she remained motionless and unresponsive.
Even so, he had continued to return each day. He read aloud from the Book of Common Prayer and from the Scriptures on salvation and the resurrection. On this day, he had remained at her bedside for nearly two hours. At last, he closed the prayer book and rose to take his leave.
He excused himself to his patroness, assuming she could still hear him. Then he gathered his books into his satchel, nodded politely to the servant who sat silently plying her needle in the corner, and departed in search of his wife.
He proceeded to the opposite end of the hall and tapped upon the door of the chamber where his sister-in-law resided. The door opened, and his wife stood before him.
“Mrs. Collins, I have finished reading to Lady Catherine. Have you a few moments to spare for your husband?”
Mary turned to excuse herself from Jane and Georgiana. She took up her wrap and stepped into the corridor to join her husband. As she looked into his face, she observed that his gaze lingered upon Elizabeth. She closed the door firmly behind her and followed him down the hall.
Neither spoke until they reached the rose gardens, where they had made a habit of spending time together each day during the past week.
Mr. Collins set his satchel upon a stone bench, and together they wandered beneath the arbored paths, admiring the last blooms that still clung to the fading season.
“Mrs. Collins, how fares your sister? Shall you soon be able to return to the parsonage?”
“Elizabeth remains very weak. Dr. Miller attributes it to the deprivation of air caused by the inflammation she has suffered. She still sleeps many hours during the day, though her color has improved, as has her strength.”
“If she sleeps so many hours of the day, why can Miss Bennet not attend to her while you return home?”
“We continue to apply hot compresses and onion poultices, sir, which requires much labor. Besides that, she remains unsteady upon her feet owing to the deprivation of air she suffered. She describes the sensation as lightheadedness whenever she rises too quickly.”
“And ought you to spend so much time in her company? What if you should contract this inflammation yourself?”
“Sir, she fell ill because she was caught in the storm and suffered greatly from exposure to the cold and the elements. Dr. Miller assures us there is no danger that any of us shall contract the illness from her. It is neither a complication of the influenza nor any other contagion.”
“I see.” He was silent for a moment before speaking again. “Mrs. Collins, I asked you once before. Do you yet know whether you are with child?”
Mary lowered her eyes as she replied softly, “Sir, it is still early, and I suffer no symptoms, but I missed my courses this month. I believe that I am with child. We shall know more in the weeks to come.”
She raised her eyes to meet his when he did not immediately answer. He had stopped walking and was looking down at her thoughtfully.
“I am gratified by this news, ma’am. I need not fear for the continuance of the line.”
Then he resumed walking. “Well, well. This is excellent news indeed, Mrs. Collins.”
After a moment, he added, “Pray ask Dr. Miller whether there is any danger to the child from the illness that has struck down your sister.”
“Yes, sir, I shall.”
After Mr. Collins had taken his leave, Mary hurried up the back stair to her sister’s room. Jane was fastening the buttons of her pelisse while Elizabeth sat in a chair near the fire.
“Jane, does Sir Gareth visit this morning?”
“Yes. He is down below.” Jane was smiling.
“He is a lost man, sister dear. He has been to visit bright and early every day since first laying eyes upon you.”
“Yes. Yes, he has,” Jane said, laughing. “And he has no older sister to look down upon me. He is amiable and handsome, which Mr. Bingley also was, but Sir Gareth has only one sister, and she is but ten years old and far too young to rail against his chosen bride.”
Elizabeth straightened in her chair. “His chosen? Has he offered for you, Jane?”
“Not yet, though his hints have been exceedingly pointed.”
“And did you encourage him?”
“I did. You would have been proud of me, Lizzy. I was too reserved and guarded with Mr. Bingley, and I am determined not to repeat that mistake with Sir Gareth.”
“I am very happy for you, Jane. Do you believe he will make an offer soon?”
“He told me he is eight and twenty and says he knows his own mind. His father suffers from a condition of the heart and is anxious for him to marry and establish his nursery. There is no reason for him to prolong the courtship, Lizzy. He said he has merely been waiting to find the woman who suited him.”
“And he has decided that you are that woman?”
Jane laughed. “Yes. Is it not astonishing?”
Mary handed Jane her bonnet and gloves. “Make haste, sister. Do not keep the poor man waiting overlong.”
Jane stood before the mirror and tied the ribbons of her bonnet. “I am truly blessed.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Perhaps he shall offer for you today, Jane dear.”
Mary closed the door behind her sister and then leaned back against it, her eyes upon Elizabeth.
“Was Mr. Collins a brute to you?”
“No, Lizzy. He is never disrespectful or harsh. He wishes for me to return to the parsonage, yet I dread going back there.”
“Why, Mary? What is he doing that has caused you to shrink from him so?”
“I do not know why I dread his company. His presence feels so heavy. Even the air seems too oppressive to breathe, and the day itself appears to darken whenever he is near. It is as though something within me is slowly dying.”
Mary settled beside Elizabeth, covered her face with her hands, and began to weep.
“Lizzy, I believe I am carrying his child.”
Elizabeth reached over at once and drew her sister into her arms.
“Not his child, Mary. Your child. If you are increasing, the babe is as much a Bennet as a Collins. The child is yours, and you may raise it to resemble you rather than him.”
Mary lifted tear-filled eyes to her sister. “Do you truly believe so? What if it is a little boy and he favors his father?”
“What of it? His father is not vicious, and he is an attractive man.”
“But he is devious, Lizzy. I have caught him watching you. I am always careful to close the door behind me, yet he has watched you ever since you first arrived.”
“But it does not follow that he is vicious. Perhaps he has formed a fascination for me, but he does not behave so toward every woman, does he? Do his eyes wander habitually? Is it a practice with him?”
Mary paused to consider. “No, they do not. He is respectful toward others. It is only you whom he watches.”
“I do not claim it is proper for him to have developed a fascination with his sister-in-law, but if it is not a propensity he displays toward all women, then there is less cause for alarm. Your child need not inherit his faults.”
Mary appeared somewhat easier in her mind as she considered Elizabeth’s words. “Of course, you are right. It is no character defect to feel an attraction toward another person. Only look at Jane and Sir Gareth. They are entirely besotted with one another, and we think no less of them for it.”
“It is merely human nature to feel drawn toward the opposite sex. Mr. Collins has not behaved improperly, and I shall soon return to Longbourn and will no longer serve as either a temptation to him or a source of unease to you. Is that all you fear for your child? Is there anything else you dread the babe may inherit?”
Mary gave a weak smile. “I pray my child shall not become an arrogant prig, Lizzy.”
“That will depend greatly upon how you raise him. Merely ensure he spends rather more time with you than with your husband, and all shall be well.”
Mary laughed softly. “Of course you are right, sister. I think too much and construct mountains of distress within my own mind.”
“Mary, setting aside your fears for the child, are you happy that you are expecting?”
“I am.” Her expression softened. “I informed him, and he is very pleased.”
“You need not receive him into your bed while you are in a delicate condition.”
Mary laughed softly. “That is true, but however shall I tell him he is not welcome?”
“Perhaps you shall not have to. If he is so eager to become a father, he may restrain himself lest he endanger his unborn child in any way.”
“Yes, perhaps I may drop a hint and see whether he takes it.”