Chapter 3
THREE
Elizabeth followed her elder sister, concerned that a return of her illness was at hand. Her worry increased when she found her sister in the room they shared, lying on her side, her back to the doorway and hugging a pillow tightly, almost as if she were trying to hold herself together.
She sat down on the bed, placing a hand upon Jane’s back. “Dear Jane, please tell me what is the matter.”
For a long while, Jane said nothing. Absently, Elizabeth smoothed her sister’s hair, which had become disordered.
The skin of her neck was cool; she had no fever.
Jane was the least dramatic, most even-tempered of them all, but her mood must have been caused by the letter Papa had shared from Mr Darcy.
To lose her spirits over the advent of this stranger was unusual for her gracious sister.
“If you are worried about the vicar proposing marriage, you need not,” Elizabeth assured.
“If he believes he can simply saunter into Longbourn and say, ‘I will take that one’ as if he is shopping for a leg of mutton, Papa will soon straighten his thinking. It is plain to me that our father despises our cousin already.”
At her words, Jane rolled over onto her back, her expression bleak. “That is just it, Lizzy,” she said in hopeless tones. “Papa despises him, and yet, he invited him, regardless.”
“Well, he probably felt he had to—after all, the man does hold the entail on this property. It is only sensible to attempt to establish a relationship.”
“It is only sensible to attempt to establish more than that,” Jane said.
“Mr Darcy has made himself very clear—he is looking for a wife. He has come here to look first, it sounds to me, out of sheer duty. Certainly, once he inherits, he must be the one to say what is to become of us. If he is truly a man of God, this duty could be accomplished most easily if he makes a bride of one.”
“He is a fool to think anything about this would be easy. Papa would never force one of his daughters to marry a fool.”
“But what if Mr Darcy is not? What if this duty which guides him is one not much more pleasant to him than to us? That entail has been hanging over our heads all of our lives. If he were an idiot, Papa would have laughed at him. For some reason, Papa does not laugh—he will not tease Mr Darcy.”
This was all true. Elizabeth felt her first shiver of alarm. “If Mr Bingley proposes—” she began, but Jane interrupted.
“Not you, too, Lizzy. Mr Bingley is the furthest thing from proposing. I will be honest with you—I have hopes. At this point, though, it is a mere friendship. It is but a possibility. It is clear that his sisters believe he can do better.”
“He cannot! He would be fortunate if you were to accept him, and Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst would have the greatest gift of their lives, to gain you as a sister.”
Jane reached over and squeezed Elizabeth’s hand.
“Thank you. However, we both know that he is very eligible, and that I come with almost nothing. Papa does not like to consider it, I know, and Mama likes to pretend that we are just as eligible as Miss Harrington and Miss King. But we are not. We simply…are not.”
Elizabeth knew Jane was correct. She also knew that for Jane, even admitting this much, that she had ‘hopes’, was a loss of her usual strict control. She must not be ‘in love’, but desperately in love with Mr Bingley.
“I know that, Jane. Nevertheless, can you imagine marrying such a man as, say, Mr Collins? His wealth and consequence would be the answer to all our problems. Yet, for all his upbringing, no dancing master could ever teach him not ruin his partner’s shoe roses.
He will embarrass any lady of sense for the rest of her life.
I am not boasting when I say that I saw his…
his liking for me. Had I given him the least encouragement, I, too, could have…
hopes. By your logic, Jane, I should give that encouragement. Is that what you are saying?”
Jane sighed. “No, of course not. It would be a horrible fate, to be tied for life to Mr Collins.”
Since Jane was the kindest of women, this was a criticism of the first order.
“But Lizzy, what if Mr Darcy is no Mr Collins? I feel it would be wrong, in that case, to discourage him. He may not be handsome, or even…amiable. But if he is a respectable, God-fearing man of sense and discretion, how can we simply dismiss him out of hand? Do you believe that he meant for Papa to read that letter to us?”
Elizabeth bit her lip. She did not like to contemplate Papa’s faults, but this was true—it was very likely that Mr Darcy would be appalled to know that his private correspondence had been used in such a fashion—to make his daughters feel as though they were mere objects to be chosen or discarded at will.
Jane, dear, responsible Jane, was preparing to do her duty. She would not ‘dismiss’ Mr Darcy. No. She will encourage him.
“What you say is true, Jane, and I see the wisdom in it. I, too, am not immune to a sense of duty. I shall try to…to see him as he is and not reject him at the outset, simply for his lack of charm in correspondence. But in return, you must promise me that you will not be the one to encourage Mr Darcy.”
Jane looked at Elizabeth with dawning hope in her eyes, even as Elizabeth felt nothing but dread. “Truly? You would do this?”
“Yes, of course. However, I promise you this: unless I can see myself loving him, I shall not marry him. I do not require that I be ‘in love’—you need not worry that I expect him to fall at my feet with grand romantic attentions, as a hero in a novel. But only if I can respect him, and like him, and entrust my future children to his care, shall I accept a proposal of marriage. If I cannot, I do not want to have to worry that you will throw away your future upon an indisputable nincompoop, entail or no entail.”
Jane smiled at this, as Elizabeth had meant her to do. “Very well. I promise.”
Very shortly after, they returned downstairs together, Jane in her former good spirits. But Elizabeth felt all the weight of the future of her family upon her slim shoulders, her fate arriving at her home in less than two short hours.