Chapter 12 #2
Christmas was always a lovely time to visit with friends, as if a curtain had been drawn back to allow some light in.
That year, Jane had thought often of Mr Bingley, and though she did not confess it, Elizabeth knew she had feared, until the letter arrived, that he might never return.
Elizabeth had similar fears regarding Mr Darcy and less reassurance.
Mr Bingley did not mention his friend at all in the missive, and Elizabeth worried there might be a hidden meaning in that.
She could not speak of it to anyone since no one knew what had transpired between them, which left her deeper in confusion and concern.
She had confessed her interest in Mr Darcy to Charlotte, and much of his character, so different than what they had seen at the assembly, but she had not dared share with Charlotte or anyone else their stolen kisses or her truest feelings.
She told Charlotte it had been a lovely flirtation that had come to an end.
It seemed probable that this was the truth.
The Bennets offered little advantage by way of fortune, so there was no reason for him to consider her, and she knew he found her family’s behaviour distasteful. Even so, she held out hope.
When Mr Bingley had signalled a return to Netherfield, that house had been in an uproar readying for his visit, and Longbourn was in an equal frenzy, for he would call upon his arrival, as suggested in a letter to Papa.
All were excited by the prospect of what his return meant.
In practical terms, it meant nothing more than that he desired to be in a house he had let.
Of course, more was inferred and hoped for.
When Mr Bingley had arrived at Longbourn back in January with smiles and his unmarried sister on his arm, all welcomed them warmly.
Elizabeth, however, had been disappointed that Mr Darcy had not accompanied him, and was more distressed when the forbidding Miss Bingley mentioned more than once her joy at having spent time in town with Mr Darcy, and her hopes of more such visits in the future.
No one said whether there was an agreement between them, and Elizabeth was certain that, had there been one, Miss Bingley would have clearly stated it. Even so, was this woman a rival?
A rival to what? Mr Darcy could have made an offer, but not only had he not, he had explicitly stated that their kisses should not be mistaken for one.
Even so, when she had touched his hand at Netherfield, he had not pulled away.
He had helped her on with her shawl and she could still feel his fingers on the back on her neck.
Would she see him now at Rosings? It would be an unlikely, but happy, coincidence. No, it would be more than happy. She would be filled with bliss for all eternity if she could see him again.
About the middle of the next day, having bid Uncle Gardiner farewell, she was in her room readying herself for a walk.
A sudden noise below caught her attention, and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running upstairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her.
She opened the door, and met Mary in the landing-place, who cried out, “Hurry downstairs!”
Elizabeth rushed after her sister, filled with concern.
Mr Collins was standing at the gate in conversation with a footman, and just as they exited the house, the carriage pulled away.
How odd to have been called out only to have the person who she was supposed to meet, or at least see, drive away!
Mr Collins, his face suffused with an ecstasy Elizabeth had only seen in paintings of saints being met by a holy spirit, said, “Ladies, I must congratulate us all on our good fortune. Our whole party has been asked to dine at Rosings on the morrow.”
Mary clasped her hands in thanks.
“I confess,” he said, “that I should not have been at all surprised by her Ladyship’s asking us on Sunday to spend the evening at Rosings.
We had reason to suspect such an invitation might be forthcoming, but to receive one that includes the whole party so immediately after your arrival is a gift beyond believing. ”
Elizabeth was not sure what to say, especially since Mary had mentioned it as a possibility and that they had dined at Rosings in the past, so she smiled and attempted to appear as thankful and surprised as she was meant to be.
The next evening, while they were dressing, Mr Collins came two or three times to their different doors, to remind them that Lady Catherine very much objected to be kept waiting for her dinner.
The way he spoke of her did not scare Elizabeth, but made her wary of the sort of evening that awaited them.
They walked about half a mile through the park before reaching Rosings’s door.
Elizabeth had enjoyed the trees and the ponds and even the pathways, carefully laid out to allow for clean shoes as one enjoyed the different views.
Mr Collins shared tales about every item, including the windows on the front of the house.
Elizabeth thought them fine windows, but could not conjure the same enthusiasm for their glazing and the cost that must have followed.
In the entrance hall, Mr. Collins pointed out, with a rapturous air, the fine paintings and finishings.
They were escorted to the room where Lady Catherine and her daughter were sitting.
Her Ladyship, with great condescension, arose to receive them.
Mary had settled it with her husband that the office of introduction should be hers.
Elizabeth was relieved, for Mary dispensed with those apologies and thanks which were his custom and which Elizabeth found tiresome.
She wondered how Lady Catherine felt about his obsequious manners.
Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome.
She sat and stood with her nose held up so she might look down upon her guests, and spoke in an authoritative tone even on matters of little importance.
Elizabeth noted the resemblance to Mr Darcy.
It had been explained that his mother had been Lady Catherine’s sister.
While their eyes and the shape of their faces were similar, it was her air of superiority that reminded her, most disappointingly, of his behaviour at the ball.
Lady Catherine’s daughter, Miss de Bourgh, was pale and sickly. She spoke very little, except in a low voice, and tired quickly, returning to her seat soon after greeting them.
Mr Collins said, “Do look at the view, Miss Bennet. Is it not fine?”
She was obliged to peer out of the window, and it was a lovely pastoral scene. She might have said as much had Lady Catherine not cut in with, “It is much better worth looking at in the summer.”
Elizabeth thought to make a reply, but a servant entered to escort them to the dining room.
Dinner was exceedingly handsome, and the room was filled with more servants than she had ever seen serving one meal.
Every dish was commended first by Mr Collins, and then by Mary, whom Elizabeth had not known to appreciate the fare at Longbourn, and was uncertain whether the food at Rosings was more to her taste or if she had been prompted by her husband to pay compliments at every turn.
Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and smiled graciously.
When they returned to the drawing-room, her Ladyship spoke without any intermission until coffee came in. Elizabeth marvelled at her comfort with delivering her opinion on every subject so decisively, and Elizabeth had cause to wonder if she had ever been contradicted.
She gave Mary a great deal of advice as to the management of her household affairs, speaking on every subject from the types of seeds to order for their garden to the best way to raise chickens.
Elizabeth was unsure how she had come by such expertise, but she was also certain that even if Lady Catherine had no knowledge of a subject, she would still attempt to impart knowledge about it to her sister.
Lady Catherine asked Elizabeth how many sisters she had, and though Elizabeth wondered if Mary had not already answered these questions, she replied.
Lady Catherine asked whether those other than Mary were older or younger than herself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome.
These questions were impertinent, but Elizabeth, thinking of her sister, answered each query, though when Lady Catherine went on to ask about their fathers’ lands and the girls’ accomplishments, Elizabeth began to bridle.
“Your father’s estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think?
For your sake,” Lady Catherine said, turning to Mary, “I am glad of it, for the land will remain in the family. It was not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s family.
” Elizabeth’s skin began to prickle with irritation, but before she could consider the entail further, Lady Catherine asked, “Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?”
She shared the truth about her paltry musical accomplishments, and attempted not to take offence at the great lady’s commentary regarding her upbringing and the failures of her parents to raise their children properly.
“Do you draw?”
“No, not at all.”
“What a pity.”
“Why is that?” Elizabeth asked, impatience at last cutting her words short. “Men care not a whit for sketches except that it gives their wives something to occupy themselves in their otherwise dull days.”
Why did she not remain quiet?
Lady Catherine said, “You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person.”
Mary’s small gasp was reprimand enough, and she swore not to share more of her thoughts.
“Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth asked, “what weather do you suppose we are to have on the morrow? I do so like to walk out of doors.”
This set Lady Catherine to an agonizing monologue about weather, and Elizabeth was relieved for it.