Chapter 6
Elizabeth entered her father’s library after her conversation with Mrs Gardiner, with a faint hope that her sorrow might be softened.
But it was enough to see her father’s chair, left empty with reverence by her uncles, for her grief and her loss to fall upon her like a storm, a hundred times greater than before.
It seemed impossible to her that she should never see him again, that the chair should remain forever empty. But then the full horror of their situation seized her—he was gone, and in a short time, their beloved home must be left behind.
What was to become of her father’s books, of the beautiful bookcase in dark mahogany, perhaps the most elegant piece of furniture in Longbourn, over which time had not passed as it had upon the furnishings of every other room?
Her mother’s voice roused her from that dreadful vision, yet reality was no gentler.
“Could we not defer this discussion?” asked Mrs Bennet, but her tone was far removed from that which she was wont to employ when she governed her household.
“No, my dear,” replied Mrs Phillips, exchanging a brief glance with Mrs Gardiner, who was ready to speak to calm her; but, to the surprise of all, Mrs Bennet inclined her head and seated down in silence, accepting the state of things.
Chairs had been brought from the dining parlour, since there were not enough in the room.
Elizabeth took the chair she usually occupied, near her father’s empty seat, without looking about her. It was her right, earned through the many hours she had spent with him.
Her grief became almost insupportable; the pallor of Mr Phillips increased her agitation, until it bordered upon physical illness.
“My dear ladies, I shall be brief and perhaps somewhat severe. Mr Bennet was…” He paused. “Unfortunately, this discussion can neither be deferred nor altered in its nature.
“I must tell you at once that the terms of this unhappy entail are not defined with any precision. Neither the time allowed to the family nor the manner in which the property is transferred is strictly determined. Everything rests upon an agreement signed by Mr Bennet.
“The solicitor, that is, myself in this instance, writes to the new proprietor within a few days of the…
melancholy event. I shall do so tomorrow, and the letter will be sent to Kent.
He must then receive it and write in return to announce his intention to come.
His visit is merely formal and bears no legal consequence; he becomes proprietor after three months, as is stipulated in the agreement of which I have spoken.
“Sir William has been so obliging as to acquaint me with the correspondence between himself and Mr Collins in the last days. It appears that Mr Collins will come into Hertfordshire tomorrow, as soon as he receives my letter. At least, such is his father-in-law’s expectation.”
“Oh!” cried Mrs Bennet, rising from her chair, as her voice recovered something of its former inflections. “He does not even allow us to breathe.”
“Mama, pray sit,” said Elizabeth with infinite gentleness, and she obeyed, though her countenance was animated again, even as the tears still fell.
“No, my dears, he is exactly as we imagined him, and we must be prepared,” returned Mr Phillips, simply.
“He will come upon a visit, when Mrs Bennet writes to signify her consent.”
“Never!” cried Mrs Bennet again, twisting her handkerchief; but Mrs Phillips, who sat beside her, stilled her hands and made a sign to her husband to proceed.
“I might request that he extend the term of those three months, but you must know that such a proposal was already made by Mr Bennet and myself, and that he refused it.”
“What are we to do?” asked Lydia, and all looked towards her as it was the question upon every lip.
“We have three months in which to determine. You must know that I have discussed the matter with Mr Bennet and Mr Gardiner, and we have formed a plan which, I hope, comes as near as possible to what you yourselves would wish.”
“We should wish to remain here,” murmured Jane.
“But that is not possible, evidently, my dear,” said Elizabeth, with a firmness she did not feel, yet which she must display for her family. With her mother still overcome by grief, it was she who remained to answer and to see any plan of her uncles carried into effect.
“This discussion of what is to follow after the three months, we may yet defer,” said Mr Gardiner; and his brother-in-law assented with a slight inclination of the head.
“No,” said Mrs Bennet unexpectedly. At first, she had hoped for more time—had even asked to defer the discussion; but, seeing her husband’s empty place, she began to accept the truth that they had not much time left. “We must know what is to become of us after three months.”
“It is simple,” continued Mr Gardiner. “We are a family, and each of you has a home to which she may go, where she will be kindly received and cared for; but we have also considered, in some detail, a more distant future. For the present, Lydia has been invited, with great civility, by Colonel Forster and his wife to stay with them, at least for the summer, and she will depart immediately. I see no reason to delay it.”
“And I?” cried Kitty in distress, because she could not conceive of being separated from Lydia.
“Unfortunately, the invitation is only for your sister,” replied Mrs Gardiner. “But you will come to London, where we have many friends, all desirous of making your stay agreeable.”
For how long? Elizabeth thought with deep distress. She did not doubt her family’s kindness or their wish to assist them, but they could not remain a burden forever. And, in truth, for herself and her sisters, there was only one thing left, and unfortunately, that was marriage at any cost.
“We shall seek a house to rent for you, in Meryton,” said Mr Phillips; “but until then you will stay with us, or in London, with the Gardiners.”
“I will stay here in Meryton,” said Mrs Bennet, still holding her sister’s hand.
“That is decided, my dear. Our house is so large, and we are quite alone, Mr Phillips and I.”
“I wish so much to stay with Mama,” Mary murmured hesitantly, looking at her aunt, who nodded with a bright smile, answering her without a word. It was well known that Mrs Phillips was particularly fond of her.
“So do I,” said Jane, making Elizabeth look at her in some surprise. She had not wished to return to London—that was new. Perhaps the search for Mr Bingley was finally over, and that was not bad after all.
“What will become of our things?” asked Elizabeth, unwilling for the present to determine anything. She still had three months in which to reflect.
“Well,” replied Mr Gardiner with composure, “that gentleman receives the land and the walls. Nothing more.”
“Then everything else is ours?” said Mrs Bennet, looking about her at that dear place where her husband had lived.
“My dear Mr Bennet, we shall take everything with us, wherever we go! We shall keep you in our hearts, but everything else shall be preserved exactly as you left it, and that is a promise!”
Elizabeth had not wept before her family in the days since her father’s death, but at these words the tears rose all at once, since she felt, more strongly than ever, how much she had loved him—and, quite unexpectedly, how much she loved her mother too.