Elizabeth entered the house and went to her room to splash water on her face, thinking about what she had learnt—or more likely seething about it.
She had no earthly idea why it upset her so much to find Mr Darcy in the middle of the yapping cur’s antics, but basic honesty made her sheepishly admit that it did. Someday, in a more rational stage of mind, she might recognise the emotion asdisappointment! However, in that time and place, all she could feel was anger at being made the subject of malicious gossip.Was this how all her mother’s victims felt?The thought carried her into another spiral of mortification.
The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned brought on a headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening, that, added to her unwillingness to see Mr Darcy or his cousin, it determined her not to attend the Collinses to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea.
Mary asked, “Lizzy, what is wrong? Did you meet Mr Darcy again? Has he said something that upset you? I am not averse to some strong words with him.”
Elizabeth’s heart warmed to her little lion, so eager to protect her. “No, I did not meet him today.”
She did not want Mary to spend the evening fretting over her, so she spent one of the little lies she allowed herself with Mary. They had been as honest as possible since Elizabeth’s firstawkward conversation,but each occasionally fibbed for the other’s benefit. “Perhaps I walked too far; the calendar is not auspicious.”
Mary nodded; the time for that event was near enough, and far be it from her to object to such an excuse, true or not.
“I will tell Lady Catherine you suffer a headache. If she objects, I will send William to her library to copy out definitions forinvitationandobligation.”
Elizabeth laughed more than the jest called for, her love for her sister swelling.
Mary kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I insist you do not stay in this room all night. It is comfortable enough to sleep in, but a dismal place to spend all evening. Come down to the parlour, and I will ask Hannah to make you a light supper and some tea. It will help settle you.”
Elizabeth promised compliance, so Mary left to attend to a few matters in her own room. A knock surprised her, as did the voice that followed.
“Dear Cousin, I understand you feel unwell. Is there anything, anything at all, within my meagre capabilities, that can be done to restore your comfort?”
With her spirits much improved, Elizabeth glanced in the mirror to make certain she did not look a fright, opened the door, and boldly kissed her cousin on the cheek.
“Your sentiment alone is the tonic I needed, William. You may take the very best care of your wife, and I shall be well.”
William beamed at his wife. They went downstairs to the front hall, put on their wraps and gloves, and set out for the half-mile walk to Rosings.
Elizabeth reflected that she was almost certainly done with both gentlemen. They would, of course, call to take their leave in the morning, and Elizabeth doubted she would ever see either again.
She made no attempt to decide whether she was happy or sad about it.
Big Boxes
When they were gone, Elizabeth accepted a light meal from Hannah and retired to the parlour to read and think.
The former consisted of rereading Jane’s last letters. She was happy that Jane and Mr Jameson were coming together nicely, if in fits and starts. They were both such private people that they had difficulty communicating, but Elizabeth was glad she was not in London. If she were readily available, Jane might enlist her help, and Elizabeth was of the firm opinion that her sister needed to start managing her own life. Mr Jameson seemed in no danger of going away, and there was plenty of time.
As for thinking, she tried to sort in her mind exactly what she thought about the ever-perplexing Mr Darcy. Her anger with the colonel had cooled; it was time to look at the man objectively for once.
The only new intelligence was that the colonel believed, most likely correctly, that Mr Darcy somehow participated in Mr Bingley’s departure, and told his closest cousin of it only vaguely. He did not divulge the names of the parties, so the colonel’s gossip was at least half speculation. It was probablyaccuratespeculation, but still. Whatever his other faults, Mr Darcy was not trying to sink the Bennet family’s reputation.
With some effort, to be both charitable and rational, she must disregard the gossipy aspects of the story altogether and take the colonel’s assertion that Mr Darcy helped in the separation as an unproven, though likely true, fact.
That left what she already knew, along with the supposition that Mr Darcy might have advised Mr Bingley against an alliance. What did that mean for Mr Darcy’s character? Mr Bingley was a lost cause, and she was thoroughly indifferent to the colonel after her ire cooled; but she was still trying to sketchthe Derbyshire gentleman’s character. Was this a stain on it or not?
To aid her thinking, and hopefully remove excess emotion, she tried an exercise that replaced certain characters with others. It was a useful trick she sometimes used with her sisters to weed out bias. She had to choose between using well-known people and strangers, and chose those she knew.
She sat down in a comfortable chair, closed her eyes, and sent her memory back to the Netherfield ball, which seemed to be the event all others orbited. The relations between all parties changed dramatically the next day, so that seemed a good place to start.
Elizabeth imagined Jane as a wealthy heiress and Mr Bingley a nearly penniless fifth son. She made Mrs Bennet the mother of the penniless gentleman, and ran her mother’s exact words through her mind, replacingMr BingleywithMiss Bennet, andJanewithMr Down-on-His-Luck.
As Jane had emphatically asserted, had Elizabeth, as an objective observer, heard the exchange, she would have been appalled. Mrs Down-on-His-Luck would have gone on and on about how her son had captured the elusive Miss Bennet, and how their alliance would certainly throw her other sons into the path of rich heiresses. Hearing the words thus transposed, Elizabeth started to feel nauseous.
For the coup de grace, she imagined Charlotte listening to the exchange, while Mr Down-on-His-Luck’s brother hissed repeatedly at his mother to be silent, only to be chastised with the clear statement that nobody cares what Miss Lucas hears.
Charlotte would have dragged Jane from the ball by force and locked her in her room until the fortune hunter went away.
