Chapter 8

The days following the gentlemen's departure from Netherfield were grim indeed. Miss Bingley, free from the restraint imposed by her brother's and favourite's presence let loose her ire on one and all. She had heard whisperings of an improper attachment between Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet and, after haranguing the collected staff below stairs for rumour mongering, she still had rage to spare. Neither servants nor family were safe, but she saved her most cutting remarks for the Bennet sisters. She had learned that Elizabeth had claws of her own and, without the need to impress Darcy, she was less eager to harass such a capable opponent. Though Elizabeth still received her fair share of attention from the harridan, Jane's mild temperament was the proxy object of Caroline's hectoring.

It was to the relief of all that a note from Mrs. Bennet was received at the end of the week. That lady had heard through her usual channels that Mr. Bingley had departed Netherfield. As she now saw no pressing reason to keep the girls there without him, the considerable need she felt to bring them home led her to demand, in unnecessarily urgent language, that they return post haste.

One might wonder what had become of the scarlet fever epidemic in Longbourn village, which had necessitated their staying so long. Mrs. Bennet, after over a month of her daughters' absence, felt her need was so great that she was willing to take the (admittedly small) risk of her daughters contracting the illness at this stage and, as she so sympathetically remarked, ' it's only the Gordons who still have it now, and we never visit them anyway.' The reason for her impetuosity was the forthcoming visit of one Mr. William Collins Esq. heir of Longbourn estate. Mrs. Bennet's ambitions towards him were so eager as to be perfectly intelligible from only the short note the ladies had received and, though grateful to be going home, the sisters did so with not unalloyed enthusiasm.

So eager was Ms. Bingley to see them gone that she offered the service of any in the house who might ready the ladies more swiftly. So it was that they were whisked upstairs and appointed a maid each to pack their things, while Ms. Bingley herself wrote a short missive to confirm that she would reluctantly release the ladies and to beg for the Bennets' carriage to be sent within the hour. While her trunks were being carried down to the carriage, Elizabeth found herself- on her meandering route out of the house- in the secret room on the second floor. What she hoped to achieve by being there, she hardly knew, but found that there was little comfort to be had in staring for ten minutes at a stain in the upholstery.

When they arrived home a short while later, the uproar that greeted them was such that the absence now-permanently- of two of the household was not immediately obvious, itself a cause of deep sadness to Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet had found additional energy in her widowhood, and relinquished none of her absurdity with her removal into mourning apparel. She was bustling from room to room complaining about the preparations that needed to be made for Mr. Collins' arrival but was in such a state of agitation, and her orders, so scattered and contradictory that Mrs. Hill had long since resigned herself to listen and nod and then get on with it under her own guidance. The younger girls had been worked up into a frenzy by their mother's fretfulness and Kitty, particularly, seemed to be under the apprehension that the family's very survival was dependent on the removal of dust from the top of the cabinets.

On seeing her daughters returned after several weeks Mrs Bennet's greeting was warm, but surprisingly brusque. She addressed their father's and sister's deaths in a passing way and immediately enlisted the two, allowing them only enough time to remove their spencers, to help in the confused preparations. They ended the day feeling that it was entirely wasted, but exhausting all the same.

The following morning Lizzy left the house early before the family awoke and, instead of her usual route into the countryside, she turned into the churchyard near the house. She made her way through the settled graves of decades' and even centuries' occupancy, picturesque in their overgrown decay, to those of her father and sister. They were an open wound in the landscape, a heap of raw earth, without headstones or grave edging and the only indication of their presence was a rough crosses that would be left there until the ground had settled. In this they were lucky. Other mounds could be seen- many of them tiny to fit undersized occupants- and Elizabeth knew that some of the dead here would never receive an epitaph.

When she got home, the family were just sitting down to breakfast- her father's chair empty- and she felt out of step with them all as they chattered. If she had not thought of it before, Elizabeth now realised that life here would never go back to what it had been and her home was not the one she had left; without her father's scepticism to balance her mother's anxieties, their home was mired in simpleminded frivolity. Elizabeth herself had changed also. Now removed from Netherfield, she could look back dispassionately on her actions there. It was not just an isolated period that would be forgotten now that it was over and she had left that house: it had altered her view of the world immeasurably. She also had to admit that she missed it. It- she could never say him. That stay, and her liaison with Darcy, though she could not look back on them with any degree of complacency, had at least been full of life: even at his worst, he had never bored her. Now, she was in a house that reminded her only of death and her life as it stretched out before her felt stagnant and hopeless.

A number of days after their arrival at Longbourn, Jane received a letter from Miss Bingley which was as distressing to Elizabeth as to herself. Miss Bingley, now restored to her former affection for Jane with the latter's absence, bemoaned the lack of her company, but informed Jane that she and the remaining party at Netherfield had determined to quit the neighbourhood and follow the gentlemen to London. She did intimate that she believed they would stay for quite some time and made enough thinly veiled allusions to suggest that her brother was close to an understanding with Mr. Darcy's sister, Georgiana. Jane was careful not to give voice to her anguish, but felt it keenly. Elizabeth was scarcely less upset, but considerably less surprised. She had thought that Darcy would work on Mr. Bingley once they reached London and present to him all the evils which he felt would make the match an inferior one. Ms. Bingley clearly had a similar scheme. Jane was fearful- and Elizabeth had no doubt- that they had seen the last of the party at Netherfield. Only Mrs. Bennet remained ebullient in her certainty of Mr. Bingley's imminent return.


Mr. Collins' arrival the next week was handled with all the dignity of which Mrs. Bennet was capable. He was less concerned with ceremony than a quick entry to the house. Despite Mrs. Bennet's assurances that the danger from the fever was minimal, and his eagerness to inspect his inheritance before any unfortunate misappropriation could take place, he would take no chances: for the duration of his visit Mr. Collins avoided leaving the house unless absolutely necessary and, when outside the gates of Longbourn, took to covering his face with a handkerchief and cowering into the carriage seats when passing the Gordons' cottage on the Meryton road.

They were duly acquainted, through his exalting report, with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mr. Collins' patroness, whom he brought up in almost every conversation. She had been very displeased to learn of Mr. Bennet's demise, lest she lose her parson so soon after appointing him. Mr. Collins had, on her insistence, decided to lessen her inconvenience by staying on in Hunsford for at least a twelvemonth, before Lady Catherine need renew a search to fill the position. This was also cause for relief to the Bennets and Mrs. Bennet sought to recommend to Mr. Collins the benefits of an occupied house for the preservation of furnishings and prevention of structural decay.

Mr. Collins' primary purpose in coming to Longbourn was to inspect his inheritance and he did so with supercilious vulgarity. For Elizabeth's part, the man was insufferable and inescapable, as he saw it as being within his rights to dog the family in their daily business and question them indelicately as to the state of the accounts and the sort of living the estate could afford. The sight of him playing at landlord in her father's library and overseeing every meal from her father's chair was hard for her to stomach.

His other purpose in arriving quickly revealed itself in his frequent compliments to his 'fair cousins' and clumsy allusions to what he felt certain would be his future marital felicity in this house. After an initial interest with Jane was discouraged by Mrs. Bennet with painful tactlessness, Elizabeth came to know the full force of his charm. He cleaved to her side like a whelk and even during such feminine activities as the distillation of lavender water she could not detach him. There was not even the dubious consolation of irony to be had in his company. Jane had not the heart to ridicule the man, the others, not the wit and, without a partner in her exploits, exposing this man's ridiculousness was a lonely and unsatisfying business.

On becoming aware of Mr. Collins' intentions, which she did immediately for they were not very subtly conveyed, Elizabeth forced herself to consider the possibility of marriage to the man. Previously, she would not have even entertained the notion, but times had changed. She had always thought of her mother as a silly woman and disregarded most of what she said, thanks in part, she was displeased to realise, to her father's influence; but she now comprehended that her mother's fears, if not her articulation of them, were reasonable and justified. A marriage to Mr. Collins would solve many of their problems, problems that were urgent and dire- there would be neither dignity nor contentment to be had, languishing in genteel poverty with a house full of spinsters. However, had she been more of an innocent, she may have been able to delude herself as to the realities of life as Mrs. Collins, but as it was she could not consider taking that post, without thinking of him imitating Mr. Darcy's actions, or going even further, as a husband would, and images of such sweaty breathlessness invaded her mind that she felt physically ill.

Given her violent aversion for every aspect of the man and dread of being forced into intimacy with him, even the distress of the family's situation could not possibly coax her to accept any offer that might come. She began to actively discourage his attentions, with the secondary motive being her hope that, as long as he did not declare himself and his disappointment was not generally known, he would not feel the need to avenge his wounded pride on the family as a whole.

Mrs. Bennet's machinations to throw the two together did not help this, but Elizabeth found that, when she allowed her wit to run free with more regard for truth than politesse, Mr. Collins soon discovered of his own accord that perhaps Miss Elizabeth would not make the most suitable bride; by which he meant that she would offend Her Ladyship. He came to this realisation once and for all when Elizabeth informed him icily that no, she did not in fact believe that Mrs. Wollstonecraft Godwin had been a promiscuous harlot, whose tragic life was God's retribution for her unnatural pretensions (1). If only he knew, she thought. If only I could tell him of my own conduct- it would be the most effective way to be rid of him.

This was unnecessary, it turned out as an unexpected and unwelcome consequence of their disagreement was the immediate and unseemly transference of his affections to the next sister in line, which now was Kitty- for he had his orders to marry and would follow them resolutely. Kitty, ostensibly out in society, but never having received genuine interest from any gentleman, was at once bewildered and terrified by the clammy courtesies that were bestowed upon her. Had Elizabeth been pressed to predict Kitty's reaction to this adoration, she would have thought it would involve her giggled exclamations of horror with Lydia under the covers of their shared bed. She had not taken account, however, of the alarm Kitty was feeling in a house that she knew was no longer their own and without the presence of her father and protector, who had ever been a constant, if disapproving, presence in her life. Mrs. Bennet's prophecies of doom had preyed on her in her fragile state of mind and caused her to pause before issuing the reflexive rejection of his interest that she would otherwise have given.

Mrs. Bennet soon came to see which way the wind was blowing, and turned the might of her cajoling and bullying on Kitty, a more satisfyingly pliable target than Elizabeth had ever been. It was under this pressure from both her mother and prospective husband that Kitty met Mr. Collins in the morning room after breakfast one morning and was persuaded to accept his application, which was neither gratifying nor brief. The gentleman even had the daring to seal their agreement with an embrace and it was a pale and feeble Kitty that exited the room fifteen minutes later.

Not all her elder sisters' pleading and persuading could change her mind. Even Lydia exerted herself to present the evils of her decision to her favourite sister, but to no avail, and Kitty was determined to sacrifice her happiness for safety. She would marry Mr. Collins, a man almost ten years her senior and of twice her girth, whose endearment of 'Fair Catherine' made her skin crawl. If she did waver in her decision, her affectionate mother was always on hand to reinforce the fears which made the basis for her choice.

Though, ordinarily, six month's deep mourning would need to be observed before even a proposal was broached, Lady Catherine's expectations for Collins to be settled and Mrs. Bennet's desire for him to be caught were strong enough that a raised eyebrow or two could not prevent the parties involved in having the business concluded within a month. Mr. Collins had returned to Rosings during this time and received Lady Catherine's approval, who favoured the description of the weak and pliant girl he had described and fancied that she could mould her according to her own considerable talents in areas as diverse as household management and animal husbandry.

Kitty dealt with the change in her circumstances better than expected. Her engagement was so short that she had little time to contemplate her future and her mother's gleeful approval of her was satisfying, though unfamiliar. She had not entirely given up her girlish fantasies and was desperately disappointed not to have even the customary small country wedding; some concessions must be made to the family's mourning and it was a rather drab affair. After a private wedding breakfast, the couple departed for Hunsford and a distraught Kitty, finally hit by the implications of her decision, could be seen gazing out of the carriage window like a trapped animal as it trundled out of the gate. The scene was distressing to all but Mrs. Bennet, who vocally congratulated herself on her good luck and clever manoeuvring to bring the match about. Elizabeth, who knew some of what was in store for Kitty that night, could only imagine her shivering in her nightdress as chubby fingers groped her delicate flesh. She was inconsolable, angry and wretched in equal measure, but managed to contain her sobs until she was alone in her room.


(1) Mary Wollstonecraft was a prominent 'feminine philosopher', or feminist as we would call it, in the late nineteenth century. She died of infection after childbirth in 1797. Her husband published her memoirs, which revealed her illegitimate children, affairs and suicide attempts. She was predictably castigated for her views on gender equality as well as her unconventional lifestyle and was famously called a 'hyena in petticoats'. Her reputation was posthumously ruined by this and her prominence ended up doing harm to the feminist cause.

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