Chapter Twenty-One
After breakfast, Lydia and Kitty ran up to their room, giggling, while Mary and Mr. Collins walked into the parlour together, heads bent in conversation. Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth followed them. Once everyone was settled near the fire, Elizabeth finally had a chance to read Jane’s letter.
Dear Lizzy,
Of all the odd things, I met a friend of your Mr. Bingley’s yesterday! His name is Mr. Darcy; he is quite handsome, with classic features, dark hair and dark eyes. His manner is quite serious. Very different from Mr. Stanford, who is fair-haired and openly friendly.
In any case, Mr. Darcy told me that he is to visit Mr. Bingley at Netherfield Park very soon, so you will have the opportunity to meet him.
I confess that he stared at me a good deal and even offered to escort me back to Meryton, should the need arise, an offer which upset Mr. Stanford quite a bit. It was all rather awkward.
As for Mr. Stanford, we may be at a bit of a crossroads.
I am not in love with him. He may or may not be in love with me, and it is for him to speak first, of course.
But, Lizzy, he does not yet know that I have no dowry.
Is it fair for me to continue to spend time with him, given this situation?
Should he not be told that I have no dowry before he develops feelings for me?
And if he does develop feelings for me and wishes to marry me despite my lack of dowry, is it right for me to accept him if I do not feel the same?
Aunt Madeleine tells me to be patient and just see what happens, but it is so very difficult! How I wish I had my Lizzy here to advise me! Do write to me, dearest, and tell me what you think I should do!
Your always loving sister,
Jane
Elizabeth stared at the letter for a long time.
Oh, how she wished, how very desperately she wished that she could confide in Jane!
But was it not odd that they were both facing similar situations, thirty miles apart?
The two of them, who had always sworn to marry for love, were now in situations where they might be forsworn.
Though Jane had the choice to say “no” to Mr. Stanford, while Elizabeth had no such option.
“What does Jane say?” Mrs. Bennet asked, putting her needlework aside.
“Just that she is still seeing a good many art exhibits.” Elizabeth folded the letter and put it in her pocket, just in time for Mr. Bingley to be announced.
Mrs. Bennet still did not know about the Honourable Michael Stanford, and Elizabeth would not be the one to tell her.
She pasted a smile on her face and rose to her feet as Mr. Bingley walked into the parlour.
“Miss Bennet! How lovely to see you today!” he said, enthusiastically.
“And you as well, Mr. Bingley,” she replied.
“May I present our cousin, Mr. William Collins? Mr. Collins, this is Mr. Bingley, who is the new tenant of Netherfield Park, the estate closest to Longbourn.” Should she mention that Mr. Collins was the heir to the estate?
Did Mr. Bingley even know that Longbourn was entailed?
It was common knowledge in the neighbourhood, so it would not surprise her in the least if Mr. Bingley knew of it.
She glanced at her mother, who caught her eye and shook her head, ever so slightly. Well, that answered that question; it was not to be mentioned.
“Good morning, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bingley said, politely. He sat beside Elizabeth, while keeping his eyes fixed upon Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth felt nothing but irritation at this; was Mr. Bingley trying to show Mr. Collins that Elizabeth was spoken for?
Could he not see that Mr. Collins’ attention was engaged by Mary?
And what right did Mr. Bingley have to – Elizabeth stopped herself.
There was no point in going any further down this path.
Her mother was speaking. “…Mr. Collins has a parish in Kent, and his patroness has kindly spared him for a fortnight so that he might meet us at last.”
Mr. Bingley nodded, solemnly. “Family is important. I wish I had more of it.”
Mr. Collins replied, equally solemnly, “As do I. My parents have passed on, and I have no siblings. The Bennets are the closest relatives I have.”
“I have two sisters, and I would happily give one of them to you, Mr. Collins! No, no, I am not serious, of course.”
Elizabeth smiled at this; she had not been at all certain that Mr. Bingley had a sense of humour, but evidently he did.
This was encouraging. She had always found it interesting that some of the most jovial people in the world actually had no sense of humour.
Sir William came to mind. He was always smiling, but she had never heard him say anything the least bit amusing.
“May I guess which sister came to mind, Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth said, teasingly.
“Not in company, Miss Bennet!” he said, laughing.
“How do you find living at – is it called Netherfield?” Mr. Collins asked, politely.
“Oh, I like it prodigiously! I know little about estate management, if I am honest; my good friend, Mr. Darcy, is to come and help me. He should have come weeks ago, but there was some sort of illness among the tenants that prevented his arrival.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say that her sister in London had actually met this gentleman, but Mr. Collins spoke first. “Is that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley?”
“Why, yes, it is! Do you know him?” Mr. Bingley said.
Mr. Collins suddenly looked rather absent-minded. “I have heard the name, I think, but I know nothing of him.”