Page 14 of The Bennet Heir
Chapter Thirteen
T o say that Miss Bingley had been upset upon learning of Darcy’s departure from Netherfield would be an understatement. Her fury only escalated when she learned that he had not returned to London immediately but was instead at Longbourn where he intended to remain for several days before departing.
Therefore, when Mrs. Frances Bennet called on her on Saturday morning, ahead of regular visiting hours, she was not inclined to see the lady. However, the widow indicated on the card she sent up that she had news about Mr. Darcy, and Miss Bingley was sufficiently curious that she deigned to grant the woman a few minutes of her time. She had learned, in the few days she had resided at Netherfield, that this Bennet was disliked by the other Bennet family, and she hoped to learn something negative about the family that she could somehow pass on to Darcy, should she ever be in his company again. Given how he departed, she was uncertain if that would be the case, but perhaps this would be enough to force him to see her.
When she finally descended to meet her guest—having made Mrs. Bennet wait until a more “suitable” hour—Miss Bingley exuded an air of gracious superiority.
“Mrs. Bennet, how thoughtful of you to call,” she began, her smile thin and insincere. “It is rather a shame that your daughter, Miss Jane, did not accompany you. I believe I have heard she is older than the Miss Bennet currently at Longbourn? Forgive me, but with so many Bennets in the area, one does tend to lose track of who is who.” Her voice, laced with honeyed disdain, carried just enough of a pause to imply her distaste with the entire family.
“I have come to speak about the Longbourn Bennets,” Mrs. Bennet said, her tone sharp as she lifted her chin, fully aware of Miss Bingley’s distaste for the conversation. “It is clear to me that you are interested in Mr. Darcy and equally clear that you do not approve of the attention he has paid my stepdaughter since the assembly. We are of one mind on that even if our reasons differ. Neither of us, I believe, wishes to see him make Lizzy his bride.”
She paused, gauging Miss Bingley’s reaction before continuing. “There is another suitor—a man far more… suitable for her—and I am determined to see her married to him. You, Miss Bingley, could assist me in this matter. If we succeed, I daresay we will both be far happier for it.”
Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes as she considered the proposal. “What did you have in mind?” she asked after a long pause.
“My husband’s distant cousin, Mr. Collins, is a rector in Kent,” Mrs. Bennet began, her voice heavy with self-satisfaction. “I understand he owes his position to Mr. Darcy’s aunt’s advowson, no less. Regardless, he has expressed a desire to marry Lizzy so that he might secure Longbourn for himself, should anything happen to my stepson.
“Jonathan, of course, refused to allow him to stay at the house—quite right, too, considering the man arrived without so much as an invitation, expecting hospitality to be given freely. The nerve!” She shook her head, though her grin betrayed no real disapproval. “Admittedly, he lacks polish and a certain degree of... cleanliness, but I daresay Lizzy deserves no better than a husband like Mr. Collins. They would make a most fitting pair.”
Her smile widened, the satisfaction in her voice making it clear that she relished the idea of the match for her stepdaughter.
“Hmm,” Miss Bingley murmured, tapping a finger against her lips as if lost in thought. A slow, calculating smile curved her mouth. “If Miss Eliza marries the rector, she will, of course, find herself in Darcy’s company whenever he visits his aunt. That would certainly add to her discomfort.”
Turning sharply, she fixed Mrs. Bennet with a keen, expectant gaze. “Tell me, madam—what would you have me do to ensure that Miss Bennet accepts the man and stays well away from Mr. Darcy?”
“He needs a place to stay since he cannot afford many days at the inn. Perhaps you can give him a small room here—not a guest room, but perhaps a servants’ chamber that is a little better than the rest. He could not expect to stay as a guest in a manor like this and on so short an acquaintance,” Mrs. Bennet suggested.
Scowling at the thought, Miss Bingley could not help but agree to the lady’s request. It would serve her well, and she would aid this Mr. Collins in claiming Miss Bennet as a bride. Perhaps she could be the one to carry the knowledge of the engagement to Mr. Darcy somehow. “Send him here, and let me know how I might assist either of you in making this engagement happen.”
“What of your brother, Miss Bingley? He has paid considerable attention to my daughter, and I must know if he intends anything by it,” Mrs. Bennet asked bluntly, entirely unaware of the sting her words delivered to her hostess.
Miss Bingley’s lips tightened, but her tone remained icy. “My brother is always attentive to pretty women, Mrs. Bennet, but he rarely means anything by it. Miss Jane would do well not to set her hopes on him, for he is certain to disappoint. If he calls on her, I advise you to turn him away. He is practically engaged to a young heiress in London and awaits only her guardian’s approval once she is of an age to marry.”
“Practically engaged is not engaged,” Mrs. Bennet countered, her tone dismissive. “However, if your brother is not serious about my daughter, perhaps he has friends in London he might invite here. My Jane is a very pretty girl and might suit one of them admirably.”
Miss Bingley barely concealed her disdain as she replied, “I will see what I can do. However, I cannot promise we will remain at Netherfield much longer. I have received numerous invitations for events in town, and Charles will not wish to miss them. Your cousin, therefore, will need to conclude his business here within the next fortnight, as we shall be gone by then.”
Her smile was brittle as she finished, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension. Theirs was an uneasy alliance—each wanted much from the other yet was unwilling to give anything in return.
A few hours after coming to an agreement, Mr. Collins arrived at Netherfield, his self-importance evident as he stepped from the carriage that had been sent for him. Miss Bingley’s disdain was immediate, though carefully masked behind a brittle smile. She summoned a servant with a quick flick of her fingers.
“See Mr. Collins to the room we prepared for him,” she instructed, her voice cool and imperious. “Ensure that he is made...presentable. A bath is to be drawn, and his garments are to be thoroughly cleaned. I will not have the scent of neglect permeating my home, no matter where he is residing.”
The servant nodded and led Mr. Collins upstairs. Once the arrangements had been made, Miss Bingley had her guest shown to the mistress’s study, her displeasure with the man and the interview apparent.
“Surely, as a guest of the family,” Collins began, puffing up his chest, “I am entitled to accommodations more befitting my station as rector of Hunsford. The room you have assigned me is small and clearly meant for a servant.” He spoke with pride, deliberately mimicking the lofty tone his patroness so often used when addressing him.
Miss Bingley clasped her hands in front of her, her expression carefully neutral. “You must understand, Mr. Collins, that the room I assigned to you was the most suitable available at short notice. As for meals, I believe it will be most convenient for you to take them in your quarters at present, for we are preparing to depart the area soon. I am sure you will find the arrangements agreeable.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley, but I cannot accept this treatment!” he replied, his face flushed. “To dine alone would be most improper, and I must insist on sharing meals with the family. My presence will surely be an asset to your gatherings.”
Miss Bingley’s lips curved into a tight smile. “Very well, Mr. Collins. Perhaps I can accommodate your request on occasion. I shall let you know when it is convenient for you to join the family.”
She dismissed the man soon after. Despite her words, she had no intention of honouring the request. Instead, she turned her attention to more pressing matters of business. Over the next several hours, she interrogated the servants for any useful information about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Their accounts, though scattered and often contradictory, painted a picture of a spirited and independent young woman with a habit of wandering the countryside.
Armed with this knowledge, Miss Bingley summoned Mr. Collins once more.
“Mr. Collins,” she began smoothly, “it has come to my attention that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is quite the walker. She frequently roams the estate, visiting various locations. If you are to win her favour, I suggest you avail yourself of these opportunities to encounter her...unexpectedly.”
“Oh, Miss Bingley,” he exclaimed, his expression lighting up with eager anticipation, “you are most insightful! Pray, where might I discover her during her rambles?”
“There are several possibilities,” she replied, feigning helpfulness. “To the east lies Oakham Mount, a popular destination, while to the west, there are the ruins of an old manor, quite picturesque. She is known to favour both, though there are, of course, other paths she may take.”
Mr. Collins nodded fervently. “I shall seek her out without delay. Rest assured, I shall secure her agreement to my suit. My success will reflect most favourably on you, Miss Bingley.”
Miss Bingley inclined her head with a calculated smile though she had little faith in his abilities. Still, she resolved to write to Mrs. Bennet for further insights into Miss Elizabeth’s habits, determined to orchestrate a meeting that would ensure a scandal if the girl dared to refuse the match.
Her satisfaction grew as she watched Mr. Collins leave the room, his pompous stride full of purpose. She smirked. “Let him try his luck. If Miss Bennet cannot be brought to reason, there are other ways to force her compliance,” she murmured to herself, already planning her next move and looking forward to being in Darcy’s company once more to tell him what had befallen the lady in whom he had shown an interest during his brief stay in the area.
The Bennets of Longbourn remained unaware of these events unfolding in the surrounding area. At dinner Friday evening, Sir William Lucas did mention seeing a visitor at Mrs. Fanny Bennet’s house on the previous night, and Bennet suspected it might have been Mr. Collins, but he made no effort to confirm his suspicions. In truth, after the dinner party that night, he gave Mr. Collins no further thought.
That evening, after their guests had departed, Charlotte shared news that overshadowed all other concerns. Taking Jon’s hand, she gently placed it over her abdomen and murmured, “I felt the quickening today. I am with child.”
For a rare moment, Bennet was struck speechless. He looked at his wife, his normally amused gaze turning serious as joy spread across his features. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.
She nodded, her eyes bright. “Quite.”
A broad grin broke across his face. “That is the best news I have heard in an age! I daresay we must celebrate.”
And celebrate they did, both privately and publicly.
The next morning at breakfast, they shared the joyful news with the family at Longbourn, including Mr. Darcy. On Sunday, at church in Longbourn village, they invited Charlotte’s family to join them for an impromptu gathering that afternoon where the entire Bennet and Lucas families raised their glasses to the coming arrival.
Since Charlotte’s marriage to Bennet, the Lucases had begun attending services in Longbourn rather than Meryton. As a result, they neither encountered the Bingleys nor had any reason to cross paths with Mrs. Frances Bennet that morning.
Meanwhile, those attending the church in Meryton that morning found themselves intrigued by the presence of a rather large, peculiar gentleman who arrived in the company of the Bingleys’ servants.
“Who is that man?” murmured Mrs. Long to her niece as they settled into their pew.
“I have no idea,” the young woman whispered back. “But did you see how Miss Bingley greeted him? She clearly knows him.”
Their speculation gained further fuel when Mrs. Bennet, speaking just loud enough for nearby congregants to overhear, remarked, “Mr. Collins, my dear cousin, is the rightful heir to Longbourn.”
A few listeners scoffed at the claim. The late Mr. Bennet had declared years ago that his son’s birth had broken the entail. Still, doubt was a insidious thing, and the suggestion planted seeds of curiosity in some of those who still felt some loyalty to Mrs. Frances Bennet on behalf of her father. Some resolved to observe Mr. Collins closely for the length of his stay, hoping to discern the truth of his connection to the Bennets. None, however, could decipher why he appeared to be staying in the servant quarters at Netherfield.
Mr. Philips, suffering from a slight cold, remained home that morning with his wife tending to him. As a result, neither of them heard the whispers that rippled through town. A few acquaintances considered calling upon the Bennets or the Philipses that afternoon to enquire further, but propriety held them back—it was, after all, the Sabbath.
On Monday morning, Darcy reluctantly took his leave of Longbourn, though not before securing Jonathan Bennet’s permission to correspond with Elizabeth. Rather than sending their letters through the somewhat unreliable post, Darcy had proposed using one of his footmen to discreetly carry messages between them. Elizabeth’s replies would still be enclosed within an outer letter from Jonathan, preserving propriety, but beyond that, Bennet was content to allow the two to communicate freely.
“I trust you will act honourably,” Bennet said as they stood by Darcy’s horse.
Darcy inclined his head. “You have my word.”
Bennet smirked. “That is fortunate, as I would prefer not to read romantic nonsense between the pair of you.” His expression softened slightly. “I have not forgotten what those first days of falling in love are like.”
Darcy mounted his horse, his lips curving in a rare, genuine smile. “Then I shall be sure to spare you the details.”
Bennet chuckled as he watched his friend depart, already suspecting that whatever Darcy and Elizabeth wrote to one another would be anything but the ordinary drivel between lovers.