Chapter 15 #3
Kent offered distance from Longbourn, from Mrs Bennet’s endless complaints, and from the dreadful sameness of winter days spent waiting for news which never came. Even Mr Collins began seeming almost survivable when balanced against enduring her mother’s anger at Longbourn.
Elizabeth folded the letter slowly and sat back in her chair.
“You look thoughtful.” Jane’s voice startled her from the doorway.
Elizabeth held up the letter. “Charlotte wishes me to visit her in Kent.”
Jane brightened. “Oh, Lizzy, that would be excellent.”
“Would it?” Elizabeth laughed. “You forget one important detail.”
“Mr Collins?”
“The very one.”
Jane crossed fully into the room, smiling despite herself. “I confess that part may require patience.”
“Yes, and a great deal of it.”
Jane sat beside her on the sofa. “But Charlotte wrote that she wishes you to come?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth glanced down again at the letter. “And very earnestly, too.”
Jane looked pleased. “Then I think you ought to go,” she said gently.
Elizabeth hesitated. Only a few months earlier, the idea would have seemed absurd beyond consideration.
Now she found herself imagining spring roads, new surroundings, escape from the heavy atmosphere which had settled over Longbourn all winter.
Even Rosings and Lady Catherine de Bourgh began appearing preferable to endless complaints regarding sacrificed prosperity and ungrateful daughters.
“I believe,” Elizabeth said slowly, “that remaining here through the spring may destroy what little patience I still possess.”
Jane laughed softly. “Then Kent may preserve both your temper and Mama’s.”
Elizabeth smiled.
Outside, winter rain tapped steadily against the windows, while Longbourn settled once more into another long, grey evening. Elizabeth found herself looking toward the coming months with something almost resembling anticipation.
A reply with her acceptance was dispatched to Kent two days later.
Mrs Bennet had approved the arrangement almost immediately.
Elizabeth thought wryly that perhaps her mother was as eager for some relief from the necessity of taking her daughter to task as she herself was of hearing the resulting harangues.
Then, too, she appeared to think that Lady Catherine de Bourgh, as a baron’s widow, might be a useful acquaintance.
Any connection, however distant, to rank and consequence softened her resentment at least temporarily.
“Charlotte Collins is exceedingly fortunate,” she declared during supper that evening. “And if Lady Catherine has taken notice of her, she must certainly have behaved very properly indeed.”
Elizabeth exchanged a brief glance with Jane across the table. This, at least, represented a welcome change from hearing daily lamentations regarding Mr Collins’s lost affections.
Mrs Bennet continued loftily, “And perhaps, Lizzy, spending time among more sensible married people may improve some of your romantic notions.”
Elizabeth stirred her tea with as much composure as she could summon. “Nothing forms character like a visit to Hunsford Parsonage, I am sure.”
Jane lowered her eyes quickly to hide a smile.
Even Mary appeared interested in the prospect of Rosings, though chiefly because Lady Catherine’s extensive opinions on moral conduct had reached Hertfordshire long before Charlotte herself did.
“She is said to possess excellent judgment,” Mary observed gravely. “Perhaps there may be much to be learned from so estimable a lady.”
As the source for reports on Lady Catherine’s excellent judgment was none other than Mr Collins, the reliability of such reports must be placed under considerable doubt. Particularly when Elizabeth thought of Charlotte’s descriptions regarding chimney placement and poultry management.
“I do not doubt she possesses opinions on nearly everything beneath Heaven,” Elizabeth said wryly. “And likely Heaven as well, come to think of it.”
Mrs Bennet ignored this entirely. The matter settled surprisingly easily after that.
Perhaps because Charlotte’s invitation provided Mrs Bennet an opportunity to speak proudly of family connections instead of dwelling constantly upon disappointment.
Or perhaps because even she recognised that Elizabeth’s continued confinement at Longbourn had gradually become unpleasant for everyone involved.
Whatever the reason, the household atmosphere improved slightly once spring travel entered the conversation.
Mr Bennet’s absence still hung over everything like a shadow no amount of company or wedding speculation could entirely dispel.
Months had now passed without so much as a single letter.
Elizabeth sometimes caught Jane looking toward the front drive with unconscious hope whenever visitors approached the house unexpectedly.
Each time, disappointment had followed.
Elizabeth found herself counting the weeks until Kent with growing gratitude. Not because she longed particularly for Rosings. Certainly not because she wished to spend extended time with Mr Collins. But because movement itself had become appealing again.
Longbourn no longer felt like home, but like something to be endured.