Chapter Eighteen
Aletter from Lizzy! Jane smiled in anticipation.
Dearest Jane,
Of all the odd things, our cousin Mr. Collins is to visit us tomorrow!
Yes, the very one who will inherit Longbourn when Papa dies and may throw us all out into the street!
Mama is in a bit of a fret because Papa did not tell us of this until today, giving Mama just one day to get the best guest room aired out and a proper dinner ordered.
But that is not the oddest thing; no, the odd thing is that his letter of introduction, proposing his visit, indicated that he hopes to marry one of his cousins!
He is a rector with a parish in Kent so, as you may imagine, both Kitty and Lydia have turned up their noses at the very idea of marrying a rector. Mary seems not unwilling, but she will of course reserve judgement until she actually meets the man.
Tell me your news! Are you enjoying your introduction to the world of art? Is the relationship advancing at all?
Your loving sister,
Lizzy
Jane could just imagine her mother rushing about, ordering the servants here and there, all in a panic! She was glad she was not there, as she would doubtless be subjected to a good deal of pressure to marry this Mr. Collins in order to secure the estate.
“Mr. Stanford is taking us to another art museum today?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
“I suppose so,” Jane replied. “Aunt, I have to tell you that I am still not nearly as enthused as he is about these pictures. Is it wrong of me to pretend to enjoy these outings as much as he does?”
“I do not think it is wrong,” Mrs. Gardiner said, slowly. “He will not be free to spend all his time in museums when he inherits, after all.”
“But that could be years away,” Jane said. “Also…” she trailed off.
“What is worrying you, Jane?”
“He does not know that I have no dowry, does he.” It was not a question.
“I imagine not.”
“Can you please tell his parents? For I can hardly raise the subject myself, and he should know that pertinent fact before the relationship progresses to a point where he cannot back out without looking like a cad!” Jane said, words tumbling out in a rush.
“I have been thinking about this myself,” Mrs. Gardiner admitted. “You know what your mother would say.”
“She would say to make him fall in love with me so that my lack of dowry does not deter him.”
“Yes; do you think this good advice?”
“If my only object were to marry as well as possible, it would be excellent advice.”
“But that is not your object,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
“No; I prefer to marry for affection, for love, if truth be known.”
“And you do not love Mr. Stanford.”
“No, I do not. He is certainly a pleasant gentleman, everything worthy, but – oh, Aunt, my heart does not beat faster when he is near, I do not blush upon hearing his name, my fingers do not tingle when he hands me out of the carriage!”
“In short, none of the expected reactions one expects from a true attachment,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
“Exactly. And then I wonder if such romantic fancies are just the ideas one picks up from novels, and not real, not to be expected!”
“They are real enough.” Mrs. Gardiner looked down at the table and felt her cheeks grow warm.
“Are you blushing, Aunt? You are! You have experienced these things yourself! Oh, I am so sorry; this is certainly none of my business.” Jane was delighted to have this confirmation of her deeply held beliefs about romance, but did not wish to discompose her aunt.
“It is your business, Jane. You deserve to know. Yes, I have experienced them with your uncle, when we were courting. They fade away with time, of course, which is just as well, or one’s fingers would be tingling far too often!
But I must add that successful marriages have been made without such things.
Often, couples learn to love one another after the marriage takes place. ”
“But there is no guarantee that this would happen.”
“No, of course not.”
“So what do I do?” Jane looked at her aunt, trustingly.
“In this particular case, I would suggest that you spend a bit more time with him before he learns about your lack of dowry. This will give both of you a chance to know one another better.”
“One more week, and that is all,” Jane said, firmly.
“Very well; one more week.”