A Duel in Meryton Read online

  “Please know you are always welcome at Longbourn,” Elizabeth added, to emphasize Miss Bingley’s lack of warmth.

  Miss Bingley grimaced. Mrs. Hurst coughed. Miss Darcy offered a smile, which Mr. Darcy observed with a frown. Elizabeth worked to check her mirth. Such a stodgy lot. It was no wonder Miss Darcy sought out Elizabeth and Jane.

  “I am sure we shall all meet again soon,” Mr. Fitzwilliam temporized.

  Elizabeth offered him another amused look, dipped her head, and turned to follow Jane and Mr. Bingley.

  Mr. Darcy’s carriage did prove amazingly comfortable and offered a ride so smooth, Elizabeth couldn’t imagine Jane suffered in any way. Though she hid her worry, Jane’s paleness troubled Elizabeth. She’d never known her elder sister to be this ill. She truly was grateful she’d been permitted to remain to tend Jane. Elizabeth wouldn’t have entrusted her sister’s care to anyone else.

  “It’s a lovely carriage, but I should have preferred Mr. Bingley’s,” Jane said softly, turning from the window, where she’d watched until Netherfield, and Mr. Bingley, dwindled from sight.

  “Oh?” Elizabeth had yet to wring a confession from Jane but felt very sure her sister was in love.

  “I should like to ride once in Mr. Bingley’s carriage, for the memory.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Surely, you aspire to more with Mr. Bingley than simply a memory of his carriage?”

  Jane shook her head. “How can I? He is far above me, Lizzy.”

  “I do not believe Mr. Bingley cares. He’s clearly taken with you. My guess is that only his sisters stand between him offering for you.”

  “His sisters?” Jane frowned. “They are very kind. I’m sure it’s simply a practical consideration. We are not of their circle.”

  “Only you would find Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley kind,” Elizabeth observed, but without censure.

  “You are too quick to judge people,” Jane replied. “Have they said one unkind thing to you?”

  Elizabeth smiled. She loved Jane’s idealism. “No, they have not.” They had implied many.

  Jane answered with a smile, which turned into a slight frown. “Unlike Mr. Darcy, who was terribly hurtful at the assembly. I’m sorry my illness forced you to endure him.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “There was nothing to endure. He’s hardly spoken to me these many days.”

  “Which is rather rude of him.”

  “I suppose it is.” Elizabeth didn’t add that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley also avoided speaking with her whenever possible. Mr. Hurst seemed indifferent, though it was difficult to tell. Mr. Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy and, of course, Mr. Bingley had all been convivial. Plus, to balance out her worry for Jane, Elizabeth had been spared the silliness of their mother and younger sisters. Overall, she rated her stay at Netherfield Park pleasant enough.

  After a short carriage ride, they arrived home to find Longbourn blessedly quiet. As they hadn’t sent ahead, their mother and sisters were out, much to Elizabeth’s relief.

  “Jane, it is good to have you back,” Mr. Bennet said, appearing in the foyer.

  “Thank you, Papa,” Jane replied, smile weak. Even their brief, comfortable ride had tired her.

  “And you as well, Lizzy.”

  “Thank you, Papa.” Elizabeth’s words were addressed partially to her father’s back, as he already turned back toward his library. Elizabeth offered his retreating form an amused look, then proffered her arm to Jane. Taking advantage of the calm, she settled Jane in bed.

  Returning downstairs, Elizabeth found their father seated at his desk, though he’d left the library door open. She hesitated on the threshold until he looked up.

  “Lizzy, come in.”

  She entered to take the chair across from him, her worry for Jane allied by the familiar room. She loved being surrounded by rows upon rows of books as well as the quiet that generally permeated the space. As he intended, her father’s library was a sanctuary in their often-chaotic home. Today, more than usual, he appeared as though he required one, looking abnormally tired. Elizabeth imagined her mother and sisters were more difficult for him to endure without her and Jane to mitigate them.

  “How is Jane?” Mr. Bennet asked, marking his place in the large volume before him.

  “She is improved, but still quite ill,” Elizabeth said, some of her ease stealing away. “She’s been very unwell, Papa.”

  He nodded. “Doctor Flynn was by several times to give us updates. He said you did wonderfully. He also said Mr. Bingley paid his fees. Is there something I should know?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Nothing certain. By my estimation, Mr. Bingley is enamored of Jane, but his sisters do not approve of the connection.”

  “And Jane?”

  “She will not admit as much, but she is taken with him, as well.” Elizabeth grimaced. “She feels she is too far beneath him to hold any hope of a proposal.”

  Mr. Bennet steepled his fingers, expression thoughtful. “It seems your mother’s machinations have failed, then, unless her only goal was to make Jane quite ill.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “Time will tell. I hold hope both families will be reasonable.”

  Mr. Bennet cocked an eyebrow. “Do you? That is because you are young.”

  “Papa,” she chided.

  Mr. Bennet dropped his hands to his book. “If Jane does not care for him enough to aspire to him, and he does not care for her enough to ignore the protestations of his sisters, it is not meant to be,” he declared, and opened his book.

  Elizabeth knew that as a dismissal. She stood and crossed to the shelves to select a volume. As she turned to leave, she asked, “When do you expect Mother and my sisters home?”

  “We can pray not until evening. They’ve gone to torment Lady Lucas into holding a party, since I told Mrs. Bennet we cannot have one here until Jane is fully recovered.”

  Elizabeth nodded. Lady Lucas did not realize it, but if she refused, her torment would only grow. With Jane no longer in his care, Mr. Bingley and his company would be out and about once more. The neighborhood would clamor for a party. Every young woman in ten miles wished for a chance to dance with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Fitzwilliam. Mr. Darcy, though they’d all thought him handsome and fine at first, had been branded too proud and aloof to pursue, undoubtedly his intention.

  By the dinner hour, Elizabeth’s mother and sisters returned, plunging Longbourn into a more usual level of chaos. This state prevailed through the evening and spilled into breakfast the following morning. Ignoring the conversation around her, Elizabeth watched Jane carefully as they drank their morning tea, but her sister seemed stronger than she had in days. Perhaps coming home truly was what Jane required to fully recover.

  “If you could all break from the ever-important discussion of ribbons,” Mr. Bennet said loudly from his place at one end of the breakfast table. “I have an announcement.”

  “An announcement?” Mrs. Bennet repeated, tone already filled with accusation.

  “Yes, Mrs. Bennet. News.”

  “You have news you’ve kept from us?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “You are too thoughtless, Mr. Bennet.”

  “Is this like when Mr. Bingley came to town, Papa?” Lydia asked eagerly. “Is there another new gentleman?”

  A look of amusement so keen as to put Elizabeth on guard crossed her father’s features. “Why yes, Lydia, there is.”

  “Who is he?” Lydia asked, at the same time as Mrs. Bennet let out a wail, lamenting her husband’s heartless behavior and Kitty cried, “Another gentleman, Papa?” while Mary launched into a sermon about propriety.

  A vision of the frown Mr. Darcy would unleash on them all popped into Elizabeth’s head. She used her napkin to cover a giggle, not wanting to add to the silliness. Only Jane sat calmly, waiting for their father to elaborate. Finally, the din died down.

  “Do not keep us in suspense any longer, Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet cried.

  “I should have told you long ere now if I’d any hope of being heard,�
� Mr. Bennet observed. He paused, but silence prevailed, although Lydia fidgeted, tearing little pieces from a bun. “Yes, another gentleman is coming to Hertfordshire. To Longbourn itself, in actuality. Your cousin, Mr. Collins.”

  “Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Bennet gasped.

  “The man Longbourn is entailed to?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes. The man who will turn you out of your home when I die,” Mr. Bennet replied.

  All around the table, shocked looks met his declaration, the feeling mirrored in Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet was not usually so dramatic. He seemed in the mood to stir trouble.

  “Why is he coming here?” Mrs. Bennet asked, recovering first. “I don’t want to see him. He is probably coming to see what he’ll inherit. I won’t have that man in my house.”

  “I think it is proper for him to come,” Mary said. “He is, after all, our cousin. Family is important. We are all richer for our connections.”

  “He isn’t an officer, is he?” Lydia asked, still delighted the militia had come to their community. Her only interest lately was officers.

  “Wouldn’t that be grand, to have an officer staying here?” Kitty said. She shared Lydia’s interest in redcoats, though Elizabeth felt Kitty to be less consumed by it.

  “Undoubtedly it would,” Mr. Bennet said in a dry tone. “But one will not. Your cousin is a clergyman.”

  “He is?” Mary said, expression pleased.

  Lydia turned to Kitty and pulled a face.

  Kitty giggled.

  “Why is he coming?” Mrs. Bennet asked, tone querulous.

  “Why don’t we ask him when he arrives this afternoon,” Mr. Bennet replied.

  “This afternoon?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Oh, Mr. Bennet, how could you.” She jumped from her chair and hurried from the room. “Jane, Lizzy,” she cried, her voice carrying back from the direction of the kitchen.

  Elizabeth set down her napkin. “Mary and I will go,” she said, standing. “You rest, Jane.”

  Jane nodded her agreement, a sure sign she still didn’t feel well. Elizabeth gestured to Mary. Together, they went off in pursuit of their mother. In their wake, Elizabeth could hear Kitty and Lydia take up a conversation about the superiority of officers to men of the cloth.

  Elizabeth and Mary spent the rest of the day diligently assisting their mother. Mary with great enthusiasm, for she was eager to meet their cousin and enamored with the notion of a clergyman in the family. Elizabeth completed her tasks cheerfully as well, happy for occupation and to let Jane rest. Kitty and Lydia, in contrast, did their best to hide from Mrs. Bennet, while primping and preening as if an officer, indeed, came to dine.

  Chapter Ten

  “To find a wife,” Mr. Collins said at dinner when Lydia bluntly asked why he’d come.

  Elizabeth eyed their cousin with burgeoning dislike. A large, heavy-looking man, his florid complexion and tendency to ramble did not appear to be helped by his third or fourth glass of wine, which he even now sipped. He had an overbearing sanctimoniousness about him that seemed little borne out by personal merit and much applied to the judgment of others.

  “I would like to heal the breach that existed between my father and yours,” he continued, still addressing Lydia. “I believe taking one of you to wife should suffice.”

  About the table, Elizabeth’s sisters exchanged horrified looks. Mrs. Bennet regarded Mr. Collins through narrowed, calculating eyes. Only their father seemed indifferent, picking at the food on his plate.

  “If you want a wife, why is this the first we’ve seen of you?” Lydia pressed, tone unconvinced. “You are old enough to have married already.”

  Mr. Collins flushed and gulped the remainder of his wine. Elizabeth felt a stab of guilt for not curtailing her sister. They all bore blame for Lydia’s brashness. They let her get away with such impunity because she asked what they wanted to know.

  “I could not afford to come earlier,” Mr. Collins said stiffly. “I was unable to persuade anyone to give me a living. I used most of my remaining capital to buy one. The tithes bring in only three hundred pounds. I thought I could increase my income by farming the glebe, but I cannot farm, manage a parish and run a household. Therefore, I require a wife.”

  “You want a housekeeper, not a wife,” Lydia accused.

  “Every wife must be a housekeeper,” Mr. Collins said in haughty tones. “In the highest households, it is her duty to see that the person with the title of housekeeper does a proper job. In the lowest household, it is the woman’s job to see to it that her family lives comfortably. It is a noble role.”

  Lydia made a sound of disgust.

  “And you have, sight unseen, settled on one of my daughters for this noble role?” Mr. Bennet said softly.

  Mr. Collins nodded. He poured another glass of wine. Three hundred pounds a year wasn’t much. Perhaps Mr. Collins drank so much because he couldn’t afford wine, or perhaps to make him brave enough to speak of taking a wife. Her father, Elizabeth noted, hadn’t even finished his one glass.

  “I wanted to compensate my fair cousins for what, in the normal course of events, will be the loss of their home,” Mr. Collins said, expression filling with condescension. “I do this out of the kindness of my heart and a sense of what is right.”

  “What is right?” Mrs. Bennet gasped. “Right would be not to evict us, sir.”

  Mr. Collins turned to her with that same patronizing expression. “When Mr. Bennet is gone, madam, I do not see myself as being required to support a widow or orphaned children. That would go against the purpose of the entail. Still, taking care of one of your daughters would diminish the burden on you and the others, and would ease my conscience over requiring you to leave.”

  Elizabeth’s mother sputtered, fortuitously unable to find words, unusual for her.

  “That is very noble of you,” Jane said.

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Only Jane could say that without sarcasm. Mr. Collins’ desire to fulfill his sense of right obviously stemmed from complete selfishness.

  “My kindness toward you all is not entirely nobility,” Mr. Collins said, a wide smile cutting across his face. He looked about the table. “Seeing the fair countenances of my charming cousins, I am eager to see which of you will make me the happiest of men.”

  “You think we’re all beautiful?” Mary said, voice a bit breathless.

  Elizabeth cast her middle sister a horrified look.

  Mr. Collin nodded, but trained his attention on their father. “I think you all fair, as I said, but as none of you are married, it is obvious that your beauty has not the means to attract suitors.”

  Mary’s expression soured.

  “How dare you,” Mrs. Bennet began. “My daugh—”

  “Mrs. Bennet.” Mr. Bennet held up a staying hand.

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, her mother fell silent.

  “What are you saying, Mr. Collins?” Mr. Bennet continued.

  “That I am willing to overlook your daughters’ lack of appeal to other men, and their lack of dowry. I only require you to supply fifty pounds a year and guarantee one fifth of what money is settled on Mrs. Bennet after both of your deaths.”

  A chill went through Elizabeth. Mr. Collins had now mentioned their father’s passing more than once, and added their mother’s as well? How could he be so callous as to speak of her parents in such a way? At their table, no less.

  “You not only want a housekeeper, you want an income,” Mr. Bennet observed.

  “I want my due,” Mr. Collins stated. “I am here to provide for one of your daughters. I won’t be taken advantage of.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t yet found a wife,” Mrs. Bennet said, voice saturated with disdain. “Surely, there are women who would marry you and give you a dowry, considering you are planning to throw us out of our house.”

  “When Mr. Bennet dies, it will be my house,” Mr. Collins said.

  He reached again for the wine. Mary’s eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed thin with disapproval
.

  “It must have been expensive to come here, all for the sake of one of us,” Kitty said, tone oddly devoid of rancor.

  Mr. Collins turned a pleased expression on her. “It was, but I did this for you. One of you, at least, I can spare the loss of your home.”

  “Yet, you took a risk, sir,” Elizabeth couldn’t resist saying. “You can hardly be assured your money and time are well spent. You are guaranteed no success in finding a wife.”

  “I thought…” Mr. Collins looked about the table, taking in their expressions. His curdled. He set down the wine.

  “I think he couldn’t find anyone anywhere else who would marry him,” Lydia declared.

  Again, no one bothered to reprimand her. Not even their father, who eyed Collins wearily. Mr. Bennet set down his fork, though he’d hardly touched his food.

  “There are farmers’ daughters aplenty who would be happy to marry me,” Mr. Collins declared, anger touching his voice.

  “So, go marry them,” Lydia suggested with a toss of her curls.

  “Lydia,” Jane murmured.

  “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, le—” Mary began, her words aimed at Mr. Collins.

  “Ug,” Lydia cut in. “Not one of your sermons.”

  “You read the Bible, Cousin Mary?” Mr. Collins said, tone a bit desperate.

  Elizabeth imagined the evening wasn’t progressing as he’d planned. His cheeks were red from wine. His gaze a bit dull. Maybe another reason he drank so much was in celebration, but he now found himself with nothing to celebrate.

  “Daily,” Mary replied primly. “As is my Christian duty.”

  Mr. Collins regarded her with an expression of hope.

  “Why didn’t you marry them?” Kitty cut in, voice over loud. “The farmers’ daughters?”

  Everyone turned to her, varying degrees of surprise on their faces.

  “Was it because…” Kitty flushed. “Do they cough?”

  Mr. Collins’ brow furrowed. “No. I don’t believe so. Not that it matters.” He shook his head. “No, the trouble is, the ones I’ve met can’t even read. Most of the neighborhood where my living is consists of people who are too poor or too wealthy. I need more from a wife than an illiterate milkmaid, yet none of my wealthier parish members believe I will inherit an income of two thousand pounds. They don’t believe I’m really a gentleman. I don’t understand why not,” he continued, tone querulous. “I’m telling the truth.”