8. All the Comforts
Jane was difficult to drag out of bed at dawn at the best of times, and doubly so when she still had a frightful cold, but Elizabeth’s stubbornness prevailed. She could have easily waited until a more propitious time or even waited for misters Darcy or Bingley to act against the reprobate; but once she set her course, she liked to stick with it. One had to be prepared to adapt to conditions on the ground at a moment’s notice, but second-guessing every move when nothing had changed was the route to madness.
The ladies had actually only moved four doors down the corridor, but that was sufficient to ensure comfort and security. Jane had been mystified by both the abrupt move and the early departure, but Elizabeth decided to wait until her illness was over before she enlightened her. She loved Jane dearly, but her sister would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here collected in one individual.
Elizabeth had always thought the practise of keeping young ladies ignorant of the evils of the world to be counterproductive and exceedingly stupid; especially given what she learnt at her uncle’s house in London. When general societal foolishness was combined with parents, with Mr Gardiner as a relative, the Bennet parents’ lax attitude became thoroughly inexplicable.
She had long since given up trying to comprehend it. She had come to an uneasy accommodation with her father some years earlier. She spent more than half her time in London. In exchange for her father allowing her to mostly take control of her own life at an early age, she agreed to mostly keep her nose out of raising her sisters. The bargain meant she had to bite her tongue dozens of times each day. She was, however, not at all convinced her father was keeping his end of the deal. It had been an uneasy truce for some time, but she was starting to think she might have to break it. Jane’s complete and utter ignorance of the evils of the world, combined with the shocking lack of propriety in her two younger sisters was likely to cause a crisis eventually, and Elizabeth thought she would just as soon avoid it.
She did not know if and when she would enlighten Jane about the viscount, let alone what she had heard about Mr Bingley and his many ‘angels’ or just let the scene play out. Jane was the eldest, so presumably she could think for herself, though Elizabeth found her na?veté disturbing.
Elizabeth had heard about Mr Bingley’s propensity to fall in and out of love with some regularity from her Uncle Gardiner and the results were ambiguous. They could not quite tag him as a rake, and none of his former angels seemed overly distressed about losing his attentions, nor was there any real indication he acted dishonourably (though imprudently perhaps).
In at least a couple of cases, the lady dissuaded the relationship. Perhaps they learnt about his connexions to trade, or more likely they became acquainted with his sisters. Elizabeth thought that any lady who abandoned the man over his sisters showed good sense, but that did not mean she advocated the same for Jane. They were not exactly fishing in a well-stocked stream in Meryton, and if Mr Bingley’s sisters did not bother Jane, what business was it of Elizabeth’s? After all, replacing Mrs Bennet with Miss Bingley would hardly be any change at all for Jane.
All in all, Elizabeth trod a narrow path. She knew far more than most about the evils of the world and felt duty-bound to intervene, if necessary, but she did not wish to take up the occupation of nursemaid or governess for her own siblings—particularly against her parents’ vigorous objections. It was all most vexing.
~~~~~
Fortunately for Elizabeth, Jane fell asleep on her shoulder almost instantly when they started moving, and remained so throughout the journey, exactly in accordance with her plans.
Elizabeth had not chosen to leave Netherfield at first light due to any real concern about her safety with the viscount in the house. She could easily have kept her sister away from the man for a few more hours, or days if it came right down to it. She was hardly a babe in the woods.
She did not choose the time based on misters Darcy and Bingley’s comfort, since she had little concern on that front. They were grown men. She would not say she was testing Mr Bingley per se, but knowing how he behaved in uncomfortable situations could be useful, and to be honest, if he was to be frightened off by the Bennet family (including the most forceful sister), it was best done soon.
She did not even organise herself so the viscount would know his game was up and he had been bested—though she had a certain satisfaction about his broken nose and missing teeth.
Any or all of those could have affected her plans, but they did not. She actually chose that time so Jane would be home, in bed, and plied with broth and willow bark tea before Mrs Bennet became aware of their presence. She would not ordinarily have protected Jane from her mother’s wrath, partly because most of said wrath would be directed at Elizabeth regardless of Jane’s presence or absence. She mostly wanted to spare her because she was still quite ill with the cold acquired through Mrs Bennet’s matchmaking stupidity. She was ill enough that, absent the viscount’s presence, she probably would have left her at Netherfield for a few more days.
Elizabeth ruminated on those thoughts as they travelled by Meryton. She almost woke up Jane when she laughed heartily at one thought that came to mind. It seemed she and Mr Darcy were entirely even, both monetarily after the return of his shilling, but also in their general situations. She was still an ordinary tradesman’s niece, and he was still a typical first-circle dandy.
~~~~~
Elizabeth’s arrival at Longbourn went about as predicted. The long-suffering Mrs Hill helped her get Jane into bed and arranged to have everything required for her care before anyone else was awake in the house (except for all the servants, of course).
Once Jane had been plied with the curatives of dubious efficacy, Elizabeth still had time for a walk in the garden, but she kept it short. She even managed to have a cup of tea and plate of ham and eggs half consumed before the inevitable reckoning commenced.
“Lizzy, what are you doing here?” Mrs Bennet asked in a loud and peevish voice. “I just knew allowing you to walk to Netherfield would turn out badly. You have no compassion for my poor nerves, and I really do not know who will keep you when your father is gone. If you have no concern for your own future, you could at least consider your poor mother and sisters!”
“I repeat, for perhaps the thousandth time mother,” Elizabeth replied in thinly disguised annoyance. “Your future is perfectly secure. Your brother has ensured you would not starve in the hedgerows if our father fell over dead as a herring five minutes from now. We are not desperate.”
“Not desperate? NOT DESPERATE! When you have five daughters to marry off, then you will be entitled to an opinion about the appropriate levels of desperation. You had three eligible men at your disposal—one a viscount—and you conceded the field with nary a backward glance. I do not understand you.”
“As hard as it is for you to believe, our presence was doing more harm than good. I will agree that Mr Bingley seems as promising as any new suitor can be, but imposing on his hospitality on such a weak excuse as a cold that was an obvious matchmaking ploy is hardly the way to bring him to the point. I know how these men think, and I can assure you that leaving was the right thing to do. Mr Bingley’s pursuit of Jane, insofar as it even exists, was helped, not harmed by our exit. I can assure you of that!”
“I have no idea what your father and uncle have been teaching you, Elizabeth. Simple arithmetic says that with three eligible men in the house, you want more exposure—not less. Even if you disdain all men, how are we to visit if you abandon the house?”
Elizabeth’s exasperation increased apace. Nothing could induce her to tell the biggest gossip in Meryton exactly why she left, for a number of reasons. First and foremost, there were a hundred ways gossiping about the viscount’s proclivities could recoil on them. Her lecture about unbalanced risks was in full force. The viscount could do almost as much damage to their reputations by claiming compromise as he could with an actual one. Even all that aside, what was the point of baiting the bull? Mr Bingley seemed a nice, malleable sort of man. His sisters and Mr Darcy were not! Why hand them a rope to hang us with?
“Uncle Gardiner has been teaching me about how the world works, Mama. I can assure you, in no uncertain terms, that neither Mr Darcy nor the viscount will even consider taking a wife from this neighbourhood. We are chalk and cheese. It is beyond the realm of possibility.”
“Oh, what do you know?” Mrs Bennet lamented angrily.
“Pray, allow me to finish, and I would hope you find yourself in greater charity with my decisions.”
She stared hard at her mother, something she rarely did, but she wanted to get this particular tirade over with if at all possible.
When Mrs Bennet finally nodded resignedly, she continued.
“As I said, Mr Darcy and Viscount Fitzwilliam cannot help your cause, but they can most certainly hurt it . I will agree that Mr Bingley looks somewhat promising… certainly as promising as any eligible man we are likely to find in this neighbourhood. I can confidently assert that Jane’s leaving at this time helped her cause far more than it hurt. Trust me on this one.”
“I disagree, Lizzy. You know not of what you speak.”
“I know exactly of what I speak, Mama,” she replied vaguely, once again frustrated that she could not explained why she was so confident.
To be honest, she would give Jane about even odds of getting Mr Bingley to the point at best. He did not seem all that stalwart, and it was obvious his sisters disdained the match and would oppose it with great vigour. Jane might think they were her friends, but Elizabeth knew better. Just getting her and Jane out of the sisters’ sight early probably did more for their cause than anything else.
Mrs Bennet grunted and finally turned to her breakfast, not because she had said all she had to say, but because the deed was done. She well knew Lizzy did what she wanted and never listened to her mother; and to be honest, she was hungry.
After that, the day passed relatively peacefully for Longbourn. Mrs Bennet continued to lament the failure of her brilliant plan through the malfeasance of her recalcitrant daughter on an hourly basis.
Elizabeth would have found the whole thing tedious beyond belief, had not some relief appeared around midafternoon in the form of their Aunt Philips, who carried the news that a militia company had arrived to quarter in Meryton. That set the cat among the pigeons, and for the next four days, almost nothing was spoken of except officers.
Between the two youngest sisters’ raptures, Mrs Bennet’s wholehearted concurrence, including fond remembrances of Colonel Miller’s time in her youth, her aunt’s inclination to join in vigorously, and Mary’s hearty (though often nonsensical) objections—hardly any other subject was spoken of, aside from the obvious attractions of Netherfield.
Elizabeth thought the only good things about the situation were that it allowed her mother to cease browbeating her about abandoning Netherfield, and having more dancing partners would be helpful. On the other hand, she knew any militia company would have any number of rogues, and she worried about the safety of her sillier sisters.
Lydia and Kitty just had to walk into Meryton every day to canvass everything they could learn about the officers, where they stayed, where and when they worshipped (if at all), who their wives were (for the few who had them), and a seemingly endless catalogue of on dits , rumours, and suppositions.
After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr Bennet coolly observed: “From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it for some time, but I am now convinced.”
Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London.
“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs Bennet, “that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own, however.”
“If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.”
Elizabeth listened to this discussion for several minutes with growing horror. She had been away from Longbourn for more than six months before the Netherfield party arrived, and she was alarmed by what she was seeing.
That exchange encapsulated all that was wrong with her family. Her two sisters were in fact two of the silliest girls in the country. Elizabeth’s ever-present concern turned to alarm. With the advent of the militia, Lydia was well on her way to bringing shame upon her family. Elizabeth could clearly see the path they were on, especially when Lydia expounded on the ridiculous idea of being the first married, and Kitty followed wherever she led.
The conversation clearly demonstrated that her father, as usual, knew they were silly, and was not willing to do anything about it; while her mother did not actually see anything wrong with their behaviour, though she would obviously pitch a fit if Lizzy or Jane acted that way.
It was frustrating no end. Lydia and Kitty: silly, vain, and idle; working their way toward disaster. Mr Bennet: worldly, educated, aware ; but wholly unwilling to do anything to correct the matter. Mrs Bennet: not much better than Lydia, if at all. Jane and Mary: painfully oblivious and na?ve.
~~~~~
The Bingley party, with the obvious exceptions of Mr Darcy and the viscount, called three days after their return to check on Jane. The resulting calamity made Elizabeth wonder that they did not pack their bags for London straightaway.
Lydia, in a manner vulgar even by her standards, after a furious and impolite bout of giggling and whispering, browbeat the poor man into holding a ball. It was slightly amusing watching Miss Bingley’s countenance become severe even by her standards, while Mr Bingley, bless his heart, did not even seem to notice the shocking improprieties. He agreed to hold the ball as soon as Jane was up to it with good cheer. Of course, given how his sisters behaved, the man probably did not find the Longbourn parlour all that unusual.
Elizabeth wondered if she had been dropped into the family by fairies, since she did not fit in at all. All she saw was one disaster after another, and she was the only Bennet that was even aware, let alone concerned.
~~~~~
By the next day, things had finally settled down to the usual level of chaos, so naturally the patriarch decided to stir things up by way of a visit from the dreaded heir, to commence at four o’clock that very day. Of course, he softened the blow with the absolutely polite and calming observation: “ It is from my cousin, Mr Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”
Elizabeth just shook her head in bewilderment at the ridiculousness of her parents. By his own admission, her father kept the secret for a fortnight just to increase his own amusement. As expected, her mother threw a fit, as if preparing the house for one guest over the course of a day should be a challenge. She remembered her example of Jane happily accommodating a dozen with nary a raised eyebrow, and whilst it was a slight exaggeration, it was not as bad as one might expect. A half-dozen certainly would not be a strain, so why was her mother fussing about one?
She sighed, listened to the ridiculous man’s letter, and her parents’ reaction.
Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Lady Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying his parishioners whenever it were required. Why he boasted that a clergyman did the usual work for that profession was a mystery, and she was struck by the inconsistencies she heard.
“He must be an oddity, I think,” said she. “I cannot make him out.–There is something very pompous in his.–And what can he mean by apologising for being next in the entail?–We cannot suppose he would help it if he could.–Could he be a sensible man, sir?”
“No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him.”
There was the rub. Her father was anxious to sharpen his wit at her cousin’s expense, while her mother found just one more thing to excite her nerves. She hated to admit it, but Mrs Bennet, for all her silliness, was actually interested in securing her daughters’ futures—though, in this case, Elizabeth suspected she was more concerned with her own. Mr Bennet, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly unconcerned with anything save his own comfort and amusement.
It seemed they were due for some weeks of utter mayhem. She began to wonder how soon she could return to London and lamented that it could not be before four so she could avoid Mr Collins’ visit entirely. She was mildly curious about the heir but had a premonition he would be more trouble than his amusement was worth.
She was slightly curious to see Jane’s courtship proceed (if it did). She thought she might enjoy Mr Bingley’s ball (if it happened). She was mildly curious about whether Mr Darcy would return (and how many new lumps he might have on his head). She felt duty bound to see how badly her sisters behaved with the soldiers (with inordinately low expectations). She was mildly curious about her cousin’s olive branch (if he extended it).
As much as she might like to leave, she thought she should delay until after the ball—but was of the firm opinion that wild horses could not hold her back afterward.