Page 35 of A Prudent Engagement

She was much too embarrassed to say a word in reply, but she nodded in a way that made him understand that he had her permission, and he said, “I shall see you then.”

Elizabeth nodded again.

Tomorrow—if her understanding of the situation was correct.

Her fate would be determined then, and she hardly knew whether she liked that fate or not.

When Elizabeth did look up again, Jane was studying her and Mr. Darcy, the corners of her mouth turned down.

A lead weight settled in Elizabeth’s stomach, as though she were doing something dishonourable, dishonest, and reprehensible by meaning to accept Mr. Darcy.

He deserves better.

After the chief of the mourners had gathered, the men who were to serve as the pallbearers went into the bedroom. The women of the family followed them, all weeping.

Except for Elizabeth.

That numbness and dislike of sobbing in front of others filled her again. She hoped that she did not appear insensible or uncaring. But she could not cry in front of them all, for she felt too distressed, too bereft for that. He would be leaving now, forever.

Elizabeth got her last view of her father’s face, then the coffin was closed and carried out of the door and past her.

They all followed, the women accompanying the procession out of the house and down the avenue until they reached the edge of Longbourn’s gardens.

Then they watched the men walk away with the body towards the parish church. Elizabeth’s eye was drawn by Mr. Darcy’s lofty figure, towering higher than any of the other gentlemen who had gathered to see her father off. He walked with a solemn air, and his beaver hat made him yet taller.

The road had a soft curve as it headed towards the church, whose steeple could be seen from the gate, rising above the leafy hedges. The women watched in a great group until the solemn procession had disappeared around the bend.

Then they retired to the drawing room, which was well furnished by Mrs. Hill with tea and cakes.

Elizabeth had no desire to eat.

Except for Mary, who perhaps had found sufficient consolation in texts of a religious persuasion to regain her appetite, none of the family ate much. The other women present—Mrs. Phillips, Lady Lucas and her daughters, Mrs. Long and her nieces, and many others—did ample honour to Mrs. Hill’s kitchen and to the expenditure of lavish funds upon a great many fine cakes, spring fruits, and the remains of the meats from breakfast.

Though not at all apropos, Hamlet’s bitter exclamation to Horatio echoed through Elizabeth’s mind: Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The Funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Though if Mr. Darcy insisted on marrying quickly, perhaps they could manage Hamlet’s suggestion for how to economise.

They were a familiar crowd of women speaking and waiting for the gentlemen to return with the news that her father had been laid to rest. Conversations were held about everyday topics—servants, houses, gatherings, clothes, balls, music, accomplishments, Elizabeth’s trip to Rosings, the regiment, how very well Charlotte looked, and several mentions of surprise at Mr. Darcy’s presence—and it was the latter of these that naturally brought up the question of Mr. Bingley’s failure to satisfy expectations.

Jane turned pale, and for a brief moment Elizabeth expected that her sister would run from the room like she had when Elizabeth arrived at the Gardiners.

Poor Jane!

After an absence of some months, her eldest sister had been back for less than a full day, and despite every reasonable expectation, everyone still insisted on talking about her disappointment. Even their father’s death could not overpower the five-month-old news that a highly eligible gentleman whom she had loved had left when everyone thought he was on the point of declaring himself to her.

When directly asked by Mrs. Long whether she had seen anything of Mr. Bingley while in London, Jane’s face paled further, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the arms of her chair. She exclaimed, “Nothing! Lord, nothing. I am happy for it. I do not wish to have anything more to do with him. Speculations about marriage are worthless and unhappy, and were I a mother, I would strictly forbid my daughters from thinking about it. My father is dead. Must you enquire endlessly whether I shall wed a rich man? I know that is why you all hoped I would marry Mr. Bingley.”

“Well, I am not sorry that I wished you well,” Mrs. Goulding said. “If you could have married Mr. Bingley, it would have been a particularly advantageous thing for your family at present. Six women on your mother’s slender fortune. I hardly imagine how you all will survive.”

“We shall survive with dignity, quiet honour, and cheerful acceptance of the burden that the Lord has placed upon us. I am eager to face the difficulties,” Jane replied.

“You are too good,” Mrs. Long said. “An example to us all.”

“I am not!” Jane cried out. “Do not say such things! I beg you, please. Please, do not.”

Elizabeth took her sister’s hand and squeezed it.

After a while, many of the gentlemen returned, though much of the party had dispersed.