Sisterly Affection
Mary Collins stepped into her parlour to find a large assortment of pasteboard boxes surrounding a disassembled dollhouse, and Elizabeth sitting on the floor, tears rolling down her face. She shooed her husband past and went to her sister. Mr Collins glanced at the tableau and did as he was bid. He was a man with enough sense to stay out of women’s business. If they wanted his help, they would ask for it.
Mary walked boldly forward, at least as boldly as she could without stepping on any boxes, sat down beside her sister, and put an arm round her shoulders. “It seems you had a delivery, a visitor, or both. Which has reduced you to tears, my dear?”
Elizabeth snuffled morosely. “As to the first question, both: a delivery and a visitor. As to the tears… I imagine they come from both, though they are vastly different tears for different reasons.”
Mary looked around in confusion.
“Let us start with the easiest. This beautiful dollhouse is Jane’s engagement announcement.”
Mary smiled in pure joy and squeezed her sister even harder with both hands. “I am so—so very happy!”
The dollhouse perplexed her, so Elizabeth said, “It makes sense to me, but I cannot tell youwhy.”
Mary edged closer and peered inside at the dolls. “You did not tell me you endured a second awkward matrimonial conversation—though I shall certainly not fault you. It seems obvious that you somehow pointed two stubbornly private people in the right direction, so this must be thanks as well as announcement?”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are entirely too clever for your own good. You are correct, but we shall speak of that story no more. Their situation has resolved itself as it should.”
“You approve of Mr Jameson?”
“Of course I approve, though it is not really my place.”
Mary smiled and put the kettle on. At Longbourn, nobody ever made their own tea over the fireplace, but in Hunsford Cottage, with only one maid-of-all-work and a cook, it was the done thing.
While the water heated, Mary said, “I can understand tears of happiness for Jane, but that was not what I observed.”
“I suppose not. Your guess was correct. I had a visitor, and it has left me… disconcerted.”
“You arefarbeyond disconcerted, my dear, though I cannot think of a mathematical way to express it.”
Elizabeth giggled slightly. “Who will lift me out of my funks when you are surrounded by little Williams and Marys?”
Mary blushed. “Odd you should ask. I cannot promise you lots of them, but all signs point to one in the autumn. I felt the quickening just this evening. You are the first to know. I have not even told William yet.”
Elizabeth’s face lit with such happiness that she looked ready to jump up and dance—very carefully, round the big boxes—but she only smiled and hugged Mary’s legs.
Elizabeth opened her mouth, plainly ready to chatter about the baby, but Mary gave her the closest approximation to sternness she could manage.
“I am glad you have years to perfect the stern mother look,” Elizabeth laughed. “That one is not the least bit frightening.”
Mary laughed along, but the underlying tension her sister tried to disguise with humour was evident, and Mary was having none of it.
“All right, enough procrastination. How did your Mr Darcy leave you in tears?”
“Well, as I previously asserted, he is notmyMr Darcy… less so now than ever.”
“What did he do? Do not tell me he offended you or did something improper!”
“No, no… There is nothing to censure him for… I—”
She paused, let a few tears fall, wiped them away, and carried on.
“He told me he admires me and loves me… then proceeded to tell me in excruciating detail howinferiorI am, then asserted he wouldoverlookall those things if I would marry him.”
Mary stared at her sister a moment, not nearly as surprised as one might think.
“I agree that is horrible, but… well… you never told me about William’s efforts, though you see that, in the end,hewas not irredeemable. Was itthat bad?”
