Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The approach to Hunsford was welcome. The ride from Longbourn had not seemed long, for Mr Bingley and Papa had been delightful company, but Elizabeth was anxious to see her sister and to begin this process of burying Lady Catherine.
She was unsure of how the week would run, and was at the mercy of the men to tell her how and where to be.
Mr Bingley had written to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and was confident he would arrive soon.
He was also certain that Mr Darcy would arrive with his sister the following day, and thought the funeral on the third day would be best. They discussed suggesting that lilacs and hyacinths be mixed in with the lilies and roses.
None said aloud that the fragrant blooms were to mask the smell of decomposition, likely to have begun on the journey.
Elizabeth asked to pause at the Parsonage so she might disembark while the men went on to Rosings. She had no desire to be in that forbidding house, or to face more questions about Lady Catherine’s final moments.
She was handed down, and her father and Mr Bingley followed, all greeting Mary warmly.
“Heavens! Look at you!” exclaimed Elizabeth when close enough to see how Mary’s form had changed.
Mary pressed her hands to her belly and blushed. “It is a remarkable transformation.”
“You look wonderful, my dear,” said their father.
Mary had written to the family a month after Mr Collins’s death to announce that she was expecting.
Jane and Elizabeth feigned surprise. The news had elicited shrieks of joy and a mood of celebration, but then talk turned to the entailment and a male heir and what that might mean for them all.
To Elizabeth’s sadness, when the topics of Mary or the child were broached thereafter, her mother or younger sisters seemed unable to avoid mentioning Mr Collins’s peculiarities or Mary’s stubbornness in staying away, and inevitably Mary’s other faults.
Jane and Elizabeth would exchange glances and either change the subject or excuse themselves, Elizabeth more readily than Jane, as Jane was always better at enduring foolish chatter and insults.
Elizabeth hoped Mary never lived permanently at Longbourn, but did desire that she would come to Longbourn for her confinement or at least Jane’s wedding.
While pleasantries outside the Parsonage continued, the coachman and footman handled the baggage, the footman following the maid into the house with the designated items.
“We shall return later,” said Papa. “It is uncertain how long arrangements shall take.”
“There will be food and wine whenever you arrive,” said Mary, and Papa hugged her. Mary looked pleased by the warmth of his embrace.
Once alone, Mary suggested tea outside. It was an uncommonly beautiful day, and it seemed that, despite her condition, Mary had maintained the garden.
When Elizabeth mentioned the latter, Mary said, “It has been my greatest joy to continue its improvement, a tribute to Mr Collins, may he rest in peace. Though soon I shall be leaving, and, as the garden at my new home was not shaped by Mr Collins’s dedicated hands, I am not certain whether my passion for it will continue.
” She sighed and Elizabeth reached out to squeeze her hand.
“New home? Where are you going?”
“I know you will tell me I ought to return to Longbourn, but I assure you that is not my plan. There are people in Hunsford whom I enjoy and who find me pleasant company, and I never experienced that at Longbourn.” When Elizabeth made to argue, Mary pulled her hand back and said, “You know this to be true. I will return with you for Jane’s wedding, another proposal I am sure you came to make, and one that makes perfect sense, but once the festivities have ended, I will depart. I have secured a small cottage nearby.”
“How will you pay for it?”
Mary looked down and gently rubbed her protruding belly.
“I…I am not certain. Mr Collins had saved a small sum, as he was not one to spend extravagantly, so for the next months, perhaps a year…” Elizabeth thought to say something in the silence that followed, but Mary looked up, straightened her back, and said, “I shall find a way.”
Elizabeth did not find this answer satisfactory, but did not wish to upset her sister by prying.
Their father had an income from the tenants on their land, but it was likely not enough to support an additional household.
Mary’s needs were few, but rent on a cottage and food and clothing for a growing child and at least one servant and candles and shoes and— The costs of living even in moderate comfort were not nothing.
What a precarious thing to have to rely on others now that her husband had passed. Elizabeth hoped never to be in such a position. Of course, she would need to find a husband first.
A husband.
When would Mr Darcy arrive? What would she say to him when she saw him? Would she tell him of her argument with his aunt? Of the rumour that he planned to marry her? She had run from his proposal, so why would he still want her. Did he? Did she want him?
“How are you feeling?” Elizabeth asked, determined not to continue filling her thoughts with Mr Darcy.
“Better. To tell the truth, I was worried that my deep mourning might harm the baby.” With this she rested her hand on her stomach.
“I decided to cease my crying and see to my health. I would act as if Mr Collins were here and recommending methods to care for myself. Caring for me is something he did so well.”
Elizabeth noted the tremble of Mary’s lip as she said the last bit. “That is good, Mary. So you are eating well and gardening.”
“Yes, and considering how to decorate my new cottage, and making clothes for the baby.”
“Making clothes? Mama did not teach us practical needlework.”
“No, but Mrs Herdman, my friend here in town, is teaching me, and I find it quite soothing.”
Elizabeth was pleased for her sister, and happy to see she was settled in and thriving despite the recent tragedy.
Then, to Elizabeth’s surprise, Mary declared, “If I have a boy, Longbourn will be passed to him, but I still do not wish to return. I have few happy memories there. Should Papa pass first, Mama or one of our sisters could stay on. If everyone marries then perhaps it can be let until the child comes of age, much as Netherfield had been before Mr Bingley purchased it.”
“You have considered everything.”
Mary nodded. “I have ample time to think.” She looked about the garden, not quite sad but not quite happy, either.
The sisters sat in silence for a few minutes, birds chirping madly in the nearby orchard. Then Mary said, taking hold of her black skirt, “Another funeral. At least I have the correct colour gowns at the ready.”
Elizabeth looked to Mary and noticed her sister was holding back a smile, so she allowed herself to laugh at the comment.