Chapter Text
"...You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. As soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying—and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did…"
Jane Bennet had been expecting an offer of marriage from her distant cousin, Mr Collins. He had explained several times, including during this proposal, that he had come to their house one fine Monday in August in search of a wife to make amends for the entail on the estate that prevented any daughter from inheriting and rendered himself the heir presumptive. He had selected her from among the five sisters, as the eldest and most beautiful, with her mother's encouragement, and performed what he must have supposed to be courtship over the past nine days of his visit.
"...My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness…"
What Jane had not anticipated was the exact nature of his proposal. Although her cousin was a parson, his disposition was imbued with false humility and excessive sense of self-importance. She was fairly certain his first loyalty would lay with his patroness rather than his wife. Luckily, Jane was blessed with a generous, serene nature that allowed her to see the good in everyone and withstand any difficulty with grace. She was especially thankful for her gift of patience at the present moment as she awaited her opportunity to respond to the man's rambling.
"…And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."
Now was the time. She felt her nerves rise as she prayed desperately that she was doing the correct thing. She cleared her throat and forced a smile.
"Mr Collins, I thank you for your proposal. Provided my father gives you his consent, I will accept your offer and become your wife."
"Oh, thank you, my dearest Jane," he cried with a delighted grin. "You have made me the happiest of men this day. I will seek out your father and request his consent forthwith. But first,"—his smile somehow widened even more—"may I humbly request a small kiss from my bride to be?"
Panic rose so quickly that Jane was almost unable to reply on time.
"I apologise, sir, but I must refuse this request. It is not proper and I believe we should wait until we are married."
His face fell, though he attempted to remain smiling so as to mask his severe disappointment from the lovely lady.
"Yes, my dear, you are quite right. Quite right. Please forgive my presumption. Your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness. Now, if you will excuse me, I must speak with your father without further loss of time."
Bowing, he exited the room while her mother and sisters rushed in.
"Oh Jane, my Jane!" exclaimed Mrs Bennet. "You will be married! I can scarcely believe it—and to Longbourn's heir! We are saved!" She burst into tears.
Jane rubbed her back soothingly. "Yes, Mama, I am marrying Mr Collins." She looked around at her sisters; the youngest three, Mary, Kitty and Lydia, looked happy, but her dear Elizabeth was holding back tears. "Our futures are secure. All of you will be welcome to remain at Longbourn as long as necessary once Papa leaves us—which will likely not occur until well after the rest of you have married, anyhow."
"Or it could be tomorrow!" Mrs Bennet interjected. "But now it is no matter, for we shall not be turned out into the hedgerows. It is all thanks to you, my dearest Jane. You have saved this family and I shall never forget it."
As her mother continued to sob, Jane felt her strength return. She could do this. She could marry this man whom she did not love for the sake of her beloved mother and sisters. Perhaps his society would prove more pleasant on closer acquaintance. Perhaps the connection to his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would actually be as agreeable as he claimed. At any rate, he was not vicious, and would care for her and their children to the best of his ability; of that she was certain.
She looked again at her sister Elizabeth. "Thank you, Jane," Elizabeth whispered, as a single tear finally escaped.
Mr Bennet and Mr Collins entered the room together. Her father had a smile on his face, but Jane detected his melancholy as he made the announcement that the betrothal was now official.
He turned and hugged his eldest daughter tightly. "I am sorry, my girl," he murmured in her ear.
"Do not be sorry," she whispered back. "I am pleased to do my duty to this family. I will be happy."
Mr Collins spoke up. "Cousin Bennet has agreed with me that, as I am not able to frequently leave my parish for trips here, and I am eager to marry as soon as possible, we shall have the first banns called this very Sunday and marry three weeks from today on the fourth of September."
Another round of exclamations commenced from Mrs Bennet and the youngest two girls.
Mr Collins looked to his intended. "Is that acceptable to you, my dear?"
She smiled at his concern. "Yes, I thank you. I do not require a lavish wedding, and that is sufficient time to prepare for my removal to Kent."
Elizabeth was quiet throughout the conversation, indeed for the rest of the day. She should have prevented this, she thought miserably. She should have married him herself—or even better, she would have refused him, which her gentle sister had not the heart to do. Jane deserved better than this. Jane was so beautiful, so good and kind, she would surely have found a worthy man who would love and appreciate her. Now it was too late. If Jane had been unable to marry happily before being forced on their irksome cousin, what hope had she, the less attractive, more impertinent sister?
She refused to ruin the celebration with her tears. She would have plenty of time to shed them over the course of her long, bleak future.
The weeks preceding the wedding passed rapidly in a flurry of planning, trips to the local dressmaker in Meryton, and fits of Mama's nerves. Jane and Elizabeth spent far less time together than either wished, for the days were full to bursting and made them too exhausted to stay up late at night sharing confidences as they liked to do.
At last it was the eve of the event. All five sisters piled into Jane's bed for one last night as a complete Bennet family.
"Jane, how exciting that you shall be married!" said Lydia. "I wish I were the one getting married tomorrow, though I would have chosen someone better than Mr Collins."
"Lydia, Mr Collins is a respectable and eligible man," Jane chided. "We all could do worse than a clergyman, and this way our home will not be lost to the family. As the eldest it is my duty to take care of the rest of you. Please do not criticise my choice."
"Jane is correct," Mary said. "I, for one, appreciate what you are giving up for us. I know you always wished to marry for love."
"I still am," Jane smiled, "except it is love for you girls. But I am hopeful that love for my husband will also grow in time."
"You are too good," said Elizabeth. "I hope for your sake that what you predict will be true."
After more chatter, one by one the others left for their own bed chambers until only Jane and Elizabeth remained.
"Lizzy," Jane said with a sudden urgency, "I am trying to be brave, but I am scared. I am leaving behind everyone and everything I have ever known."
"Every woman must be nervous before their wedding," Elizabeth soothed. "After observing him these past weeks, at least I am convinced that Mr Collins recognises what a prize he has caught. He will likely defer to Lady Catherine excessively, but he will be kind to you."
"I suppose that is all I can hope for," Jane sighed. "Lizzy—"
"Yes, dearest?" she asked quizzically at the oddly intense look her sister began giving her.
"Lizzy, promise me you will marry only for love. Not for duty or convenience. Only marry a man you love with all your heart."
"I cannot think of my own marriage right now!" Elizabeth cried. "You know I am most likely to while away my life living here with you and Mr Collins."
"No, you always say that but you will not," her sister insisted. "You will meet a good man who will love you and whom you will love, and you will be happy. Promise me."
"Jane," she shook her head.
"Promise me."
Elizabeth sighed. "Very well. As unlikely as I believe it to be, I promise I will only marry for love. Perhaps I can visit you in Kent and your Lady Catherine will introduce me to eligible men around Hunsford, for there is certainly no one in Hertfordshire for me."
"That is an excellent idea," Jane exclaimed. "Eligible men or not, you must visit me. Next spring, as soon as the roads are clear. Come in March."
Elizabeth squeezed her dearest sister's hands. "That is a promise I can easily make."
The weeks following the wedding and Jane's departure were dull. Elizabeth spent much time with her father in his library, taking long walks outside, and practising the pianoforte. She realised she was quite lonely without her closest confidante and attempted to spend more time with her younger sisters and her friend Charlotte Lucas. She had trouble growing accustomed to now being "Miss Bennet" rather than "Miss Elizabeth" in company. She wrote to Jane frequently, despite there being little news to impart.
One ordinary afternoon the four sisters were gathered in the parlour. Mary was reading, Lydia and Kitty were trimming a bonnet together with surprising harmony, and Elizabeth was working on her embroidery, while their mother was out making calls.
There was little conversation. The clock ticked softly. A bird chirped outside.
Suddenly Mrs Bennet rushed into the room, bursting the pleasantly peaceful atmosphere.
"Girls, girls, you will not believe what I have just learned!" she cried.
"Netherfield Park is let at last!"