Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Three weeks had passed. Plans were created, purchases made, letters exchanged, and invitations sent.
At last, the day of Mary’s wedding was upon them.
Mrs Bennet had been less critical of Mary since the engagement, and though Papa never took to Mr Collins, he did not attempt to stop the marriage.
Instead, he avoided the man, which meant Papa had spent most of his time in his library.
Elizabeth missed her father’s turn of phrase and the warmth she felt when he was around, though not the negative comments he seemed unable to refrain from making in regard to Mr Collins.
“Lizzy?” Mary was at her door in her nightdress. “Would you help me get into my gown?”
Elizabeth rose. “Of course, but where is Sarah?” Elizabeth assumed their maid would have been readying Mary this morning.
“There is so much to prepare today. I told her to attend to other duties, for I wanted you to assist me.”
Elizabeth was flattered and followed Mary into her small room. “You will have much more space at Mr Collins’s parsonage—rooms of your own to decorate and to while away the hours in far more peace than you have here.”
Mary sat at her dressing table, then burst into tears, dropping her head onto her arms.
Elizabeth hurried to her. “What is the matter? Are you having doubts? He is a fine match for you. All this month you have built an understanding of one another’s characters, and—”
“It is not that,” she said, lifting her head and wiping at her face. “I—I am afraid of . . . of what being a wife means.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth was not sure how to answer to this.
She did not know if Mary meant the difficulties of running one’s own home or more private matters, but either way, she had no advice.
She squatted at her sister’s side and reached for her hands, squeezing them.
“Have you asked Mama?” Their mother had marital knowledge, so it seemed a reasonable suggestion.
Mary scoffed. “She was of no help. She told me to speak with Mr Collins after the wedding, and that he would know what to do. But Mr Collins is a man!”
Elizabeth laughed at this. Even if the gentleman had some experience with women, which she somehow doubted, she could not imagine Mr Collins explaining anything to Mary that was not filled with so many metaphors and euphemisms that the meaning would be lost.
“Mary, I suspect he will be patient. You will both be new to marriage. He is kind and reasonable, and a gentle soul.” This was true. Elizabeth found him insufferable, but he was all of the things she had listed, and Mary somehow enjoyed his company.
What a thing to send girls into marriage knowing nothing of what occurred between men and women.
She had so many questions but no one to ask.
None of her sisters were married yet, and even once Mary was, she could not imagine her private sister sharing any details.
Elizabeth had no close friends who were married.
When her time came to wed, who would she ask?
Or would she go forth as blindly as Mary and so many others before them?
“Now Mary, let us put you in your gown, and if I cannot fix your hair securely enough, we shall ask Sarah. She can certainly spare a few moments to make the bride appear at her best.”
Mary desired a simple hairdo, one that Elizabeth was able to create, and did not object when Elizabeth suggested a white ribbon be fastened in her hair.
“Lizzy, do you think Mr Collins will notice it is the same ribbon in which he wrapped the Bible he gave to me?”
As Elizabeth noted the book resting on Mary’s dressing table, she thought how kind it was of Mr Collins to have given this particular gift.
Her sister was not one to be won with jewels or perfumes, but knowing that someone cared for and understood her must be encouraging.
Elizabeth hoped that Mr Collins’s attentions and kindnesses would extend beyond today’s ceremony, and truly believed they would.
“Do you think this colour of green is becoming?” Mary asked looking at her skirt. “I thought it too pale for me, but Mother said it was sweet and soothing.”
Elizabeth stepped back to look. “I think it is perfect.”
What a thing to see Mary out of browns and deep blues.
She would have occasion to wear this fine gown when supping with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, as Mr Collins received occasional invitations to the grand manor in which she lived with a sickly daughter.
It would comfort Mary to know she would not need to secure new clothes when first invited.
“I must ready myself, Mary, but come to my room if you are feeling in need of more reassurance.”
Mary smiled. “I am much restored. Thank you.”
Elizabeth went to join Jane in their room, and as she put on her own light-yellow gown, she recalled her shock at learning that Mr Darcy was Lady Catherine’s nephew. Even more surprising was the news that he would be attending the wedding as an ambassador for his family.
Elizabeth was unsure how she felt about Mr Darcy’s imminent arrival.
The last time they had seen one another, he had insulted her, but prior to that, they had conversed pleasantly.
What had she done to offend him? Part of her dreaded seeing him, but might he be amusing company once again?
No, his words were pointed and cruel. She would not pretend he was other than he was: proud and unkind.
Jane finished with Elizabeth’s buttons, and then pinned Elizabeth’s hair.
Sarah rushed in with apologies, but the girls told her not to fret and to see who else needed assistance.
They went to collect Mary from her room, and Mary appeared serene and ladylike, nothing like the sobbing child she had been not half an hour earlier.
The three strode down the stairs together and found Mama in a frenzy shouting for Mrs Hill to re-stack the teacups, to add more rolls to the trays, to check that Mrs Beckerson had used brandy and not rum in the bridecake as requested, and to bring Lydia and Kitty downstairs.
At last, Mrs Hill stood still and folded her arms. “Mrs Bennet, I promise all will be well with the breakfast. Mrs Beckerson has followed all commands, and you know she is as talented a baker as she is a cook. All will be set and beautiful when you return from the church, for we have discussed every detail, and you have impeccable taste.”
Mama smiled at this compliment, and took in a visible breath. “Oh Mrs Hill, I would be lost without you.”
“As for the girls—”
“I shall fetch them,” offered Jane, and she floated up the stairs. It was best this way, for Elizabeth might have grabbed them roughly for delaying on a day meant to celebrate Mary, and started a row that would likely end in tears. Theirs, she assumed.
Papa strolled out of his study. “Mary, shall we get you married off?” He smiled warmly, and, once all were in their coats and pelisses, he stretched out his arms, and she rushed into them for an uncommon moment of affection.
Soon enough they were all in the carriage making their way to the church.
As they neared, she spotted their aunt and uncle Philips who lived in Meryton, and the Gardiners, Elizabeth’s favourite relations, newly arrived from town.
Charlotte Lucas and her family had arrived, as well as a few other neighbours.
She noticed Mr Bingley at Mr Goulding’s side, and looked to Jane, who studied her lap. Elizabeth reached for her sister, but Jane whispered, “I am fine. I knew he would be here.”
Knowing and reality were separate matters.
She did not see Mr Darcy, though she knew he must be about. Forcing herself not to appear too eager, she turned to Kitty and Lydia. “Girls, please remember to behave.”
“We always behave,” said Lydia, and this made Elizabeth chuckle, freeing her from the tightness she had not realised was in her shoulders.
The carriage stopped and they descended, greeting the guests.
Charlotte hugged her and whispered, “Mary married before us? Makes one lose hope, does it not, Eliza?”
Elizabeth kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “No, Charlotte. We are like delicate fruit awaiting the right moment to be plucked from the vine.”
Charlotte giggled, then complimented Elizabeth on her new gown.
Elizabeth saw Mr Darcy approach Mr Bingley, and her stomach squeezed. Then she reminded herself that this day was about her sister’s happiness, and it was best to set aside thoughts of slights and petty hurts.
A call went up to move inside. Seats were taken and the vicar took his place.
In mere minutes Mary was Mrs Collins, and they were all travelling back to the house for a breakfast. What a thing to note how a few words and a signature on a piece of paper altered the course of one’s life irreversibly. One had to take care to choose wisely when searching for a mate.