Chapter 26
Mary Bennet huddled under her bedclothes, her pillow over her head, but it was to no avail. The sound of her youngest sister pounding and shrieking in the bedchamber next door still penetrated through the layers of fabric and goose feathers, making it quite impossible to sleep.
She did not know why Lydia was having the tantrum of the ages; when Mrs. Bennet and her eldest three daughters arrived from Netherfield hours earlier, Lydia was in her room, screaming loudly. The rest of the evening had been something of a nightmare, with Mrs. Bennet crying and berating Mr. Bennet in defense of her favorite daughter, and Mr. Bennet, uncharacteristically firm, refusing to release Lydia from her comfortable prison.
"Mary?" a familiar voice said.
Mary sat up and stared wildly at the figure standing nearby, dimly illuminated by the candles still alight in the corridor. "Lizzy?"
"Yes, I do apologize for startling you. I knocked on the door but you did not hear me."
"It is hard to hear anything but our youngest sister yelling," Mary said irritably.
"I know. Do come with me to my room, Mary; it is far quieter. My bed is big enough for both of us."
Mary stared in amazement at her elder sister; she knew that Elizabeth and Jane had often shared a bed in their younger years, and possibly still did on occasion, but she had never been invited to do so.
"Please do come," Elizabeth repeated. "You will get no sleep tonight with Lydia caterwauling so close."
"I daresay you are right," Mary said, crawling out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown, donning it, and following Elizabeth out of the door into the main corridor. She noted, with relief, that the sounds of Lydia's howling diminished in volume with every pace, and by the time they had attained Elizabeth's bedchamber at the end of the hall, it was not terribly noticeable, at least not with the door closed.
"One must confess that our youngest sister has great stamina," Elizabeth declared ruefully.
Mary frowned in disapproval and said, "She is entirely out of control. Father must do something!"
"Well, he is, is he not? That is why she is kicking up such a fuss; Father told Kitty and Lydia that he is curtailing their activities out of the house as long as the militia is in residence in Meryton."
Mary, who was shivering in the cool air of the bedchamber, hopped into Elizabeth's bed and burrowed under the covers before saying, "I did not know that, though I can only be glad. Given that Wickham tried to murder Mr. Darcy, it is obvious that we cannot trust the officers to be gentlemen."
"That is exactly why Father took the stand he did, Mary," Elizabeth said, crawling into bed next to her sister. "Brrr, it is cold in here! I think since my chamber is at the end of the house, it is colder than some of the other rooms."
"But it is blessedly quiet," Mary said gratefully.
"Indeed it is. I warn you, sometimes I accidentally put my cold feet on Jane's legs when we are sharing a bed; I might do the same, quite by chance, you understand."
"I do not mind in the least," Mary assured her.
Silence fell for a few minutes as Mary felt her entire body relax in the blessed absence of screaming.
"Mary?"
"Yes, Lizzy?"
Silence fell for another minute, and Mary turned toward her sister, repeating, "Yes, Lizzy?"
"Mary, do you truly wish to wed Mr. Collins?"
Mary blinked in the near darkness toward the hump that was her elder sister.
"Yes, Lizzy, I wish to marry Mr. Collins," she said finally. "I know you think him silly and foolish, but yes, I wish to marry him."
"I do think him silly, yes, but if you will be happy with him, then it matters not what I think. I just wished to say that ... well, Jane is to wed Charles, and Charles has promised to care for us if our father dies and we need financial assistance. So if you are marrying Mr. Collins because of the entail..."
"I am not marrying Mr. Collins because of the entail," Mary interrupted, rolling on her back and staring up at the dark ceiling. "I am marrying Mr. Collins because I wish for a home of my own, and children. I am marrying Mr. Collins because I am tired of being the only plain daughter amongst a crowd of beauties. Do you know how awful it is to have everyone look on me with pity when I am standing near the rest of you? In Kent, no one will compare me to you and Jane and Kitty and Lydia. I will be Mrs. Mary Collins, respected and respectable."
To her surprise and distress, this provoked a soft sob from Elizabeth and when Mary peered blindly toward her bedmate, it was obvious that her sister was crying.
"Lizzy, do not cry..."
"Oh, I cannot help it. I am so sorry, Mary! I have been a terrible sister not to see how much you have been suffering all these years!"
"There was nothing you could do," Mary said stoutly. "It is not your fault that you are handsome and not my fault that I am plain. Mrs. Allen has always been most encouraging on that subject, and now that I am to be mistress of a parsonage, I have a new purpose in life. I visited her yesterday, and she gave me such wonderful insight on how to truly help the people of Hunsford."
"Mrs. Allen is marvelous," Elizabeth agreed, then added in a subdued tone, "I do hope that you will be able to assist the parishioners effectively with Lady Catherine nearby. She seems to be quite an autocratic sort of lady."
"Mrs. Allen quoted from the third chapter of Ecclesiastes to me today," Mary murmured. "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…"
"A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted," Elizabeth continued from memory and then added, "That is true, but why is it apropos of the current situation?"
"She encouraged me to realize that life changes and that we cannot always do what we wish. She was terribly ill with her pregnancies; did you know that?"
"I did not," Elizabeth confessed. "Of course, her children are about our ages, so I was but a small child at the time."
"She said that during those times of childbearing and caring for her infants, she was not able to serve outside the home as she wished. She had to embrace that during that season, she was restricted in her ministry to the women of the parish. When her children grew older and more independent, she was able to visit the sick, sew clothing for the poor, and bring food to the hungry."
"That makes sense. Our mother, of course, had numerous servants who did the hard work of caring for her babies, but the Allens are not nearly as wealthy as we are."
"Yes, and as I said, she felt very poorly when she was increasing. Mrs. Allen suggested that I spend time with her these next weeks learning how to be a good clergyman's wife, while also accepting that Lady Catherine, or Mr. Collins, or pregnancy, or sickness, might prevent me from doing what I wish in serving the womenfolk of the Hunsford church."
Elizabeth considered this for a minute and then nodded, though of course Mary could not see her head moving. "That is remarkably wise, Mary, though it is no surprise. Mrs. Allen is a sensible and insightful woman."
"She is. Do not worry about me, Lizzy. I am not in love with Mr. Collins, and he is not in love with me. But he is not cruel, and he will treat me well enough. I will be a wife and, I hope, a mother, and I look forward to being of service to the women around me. I am very happy with the new path I am taking."
"I am glad," Elizabeth responded immediately, and closed her eyes. Silence fell and within a few minutes, Mary's breathing was regular; her sister was asleep.
As for Elizabeth, she found she could not find slumber just yet. When she thought of Mr. Collins, plump, obsequious, loquacious, and foolish, she could only cringe in horror at the thought of marriage to such a man. But Mary was not Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was not Mary. Her sister's reasoning was cogent enough.
As for Elizabeth, well, when she imagined whom she wished to marry, there was but one face and figure that immediately appeared in her mind; Mr. Darcy, tall, handsome, brave, kind, and intelligent ... and now available. He seemed to like her well enough – was there hope for her?
She rather thought there was, and with that happy thought in mind, she too drifted off into sleep.
/
"Charles!" Caroline Bingley exclaimed in astonishment.
"Good morning, Caroline," Bingley said from the breakfast table of his London house. It was eleven o'clock, and from a country perspective, quite late in the day, but Caroline loved town hours. It was no surprise that his sister had only just left her bedchamber.
"Whatever are you doing here?" his sister demanded and then, her eyes brightening, she demanded, "Is Mr. Darcy here as well?"
Bingley carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin and shook his head. "No, Caroline, he is still at Netherfield."
"Why on earth is he still lingering in the country, Charles?"
"He is still recovering from being stabbed a little more than a week ago, or have you forgotten about that?"
Miss Bingley reddened a little but retained her angry expression. "I had not forgotten, but I assume that since you are here in London, he is not gravely ill. He is healing well, I hope?"
"Yes, he is recovering and will be returning to London in a little more than a week."
"Excellent. But why are you here then?"
"I am meeting with Mr. Stokes in a few hours."
"Mr. Stokes? Our solicitor? Why?"
Bingley produced his blandest smile and said, "I need him to draw up settlements for my marriage to Miss Jane Bennet."
/
"I will do my best to keep everyone else engaged so that you can speak with Miss Elizabeth," Richard said softly.
"Thank you," Darcy responded gratefully, his mind focused on Bingley's recommendations from the previous night on how to court a lady. Firstly, he must school his expression to one of friendliness. Secondly, he must draw the lady out by asking her questions about her interests and joys. Thirdly – what was Bingley's third recommendation? In the anxiety of this moment, he could not remember, but perhaps he should focus on the first two suggestions during today's visit.
"Brother, are you quite certain you are dressed warmly enough?" Georgiana demanded, bustling into the front vestibule of Netherfield.
"It is only a three mile journey, my dear," Darcy returned with a smile. Georgiana fussily adjusted his scarf around his neck and said, "It would not do for you to catch cold, dear Brother."
"I am ready!" Anne de Bourgh said breathlessly, arriving well clad in a thick woolen pelisse.
"Onward to Longbourn!" Richard declared.