Page 8 of A Practical Man
I could avoid thinking ofherno longer. I stood upon the roof of the temple as if on the bow of a ship, searching the landscape for some answer there. I had been thrown most unwillingly back into the vicinity of Elizabeth Bennet’s net. How often had I told myself I did not want to get caught by her? But, of course, I did.
Having faced this inescapable fact left me sorting through the peripheral realities. She had everything against her: no fortune, no connexions, a mortifying family. Yet personally, she had everything I crave in a woman.
I did not enumerate her many attractions. I knew them by heart. Besides which, most of those tangible features that drew my notice could be found elsewhere, or, if not, they could be overcome by a mere resolution to be sensible.
I reflected instead upon the scene of her arrival at Rosings Park where she demonstrated to me the depth of her self-respect. She grovelled to no one, and having been the object of sycophants all my life, I found this trait in an intelligent, vital, kind, and conversant woman to be an overwhelming recommendation.
In failing to properly reflect upon my feelings and in avoiding the necessary self-honesty, I had made an error. I had deferred serious consideration of her eligibility while congratulating myself for my great, good sense. Meanwhile, the battle between what I wanted and what I should not want had raged quietly in the background.
As I stood there, under the passing shadow of a cloud, I reconciled myself to the danger. She would drop her fork and look up at me with mischief sparkling in her eyes, or she would, with those same alluring lights, challenge me to secretly laugh with her at one of Lady Catherine’s mortifying observations.
Something. Elizabeth Bennet would do some small, insignificant thing, and I would, without the benefit of reason or restraint, offer for her.
Perhaps Ishouldrun from Rosings like a whipped dog. Only I did not know how I would find the resolve to leave any place where I might have the privilege of seeing her.
These thoughts were compelling—intensely so. And I became so absorbed, I failed to hear the approach of footsteps and the faint sound of voices long before I usually would.
This was how, in an instant, and before I could act in the manner appropriate for a gentleman by announcing or removing myself, I became an unwilling audience to a private conversation.
For what should happen but that Miss Elizabeth and her friend, Mrs Collins, would stroll out from behind the chestnuts and walk directly below me around the portico to a bench inthe sun overlooking the lake! I should have moved, greeted them or coughed—anything. But the tenor of the conversation was immediately evident. They spoke with a delicacy I could not bring myself to interrupt, and as I began to hear what was said, I did not have the courage to embarrass them with the awareness I might have heard even a small part of what was said.
“She still suffers?” Mrs Collins asked in a voice of kind commiseration.
“Oh, if I gave you this letter, you would read it and say that she sounds as complacent as when you knew her in Hertfordshire. But I have known her all my life, and between the lines, in the things she does not say, and in the combinations of her words—in short, in the intangibles of written communication, I hear her grieving still.”
“Nearly five months later?”
“Yes, five months complete since he decamped after that miserable ball without so much as a fare-thee-well. She is, of course, convinced that his sister was sincere in her odious parting letter and believes Miss Bingley only wanted to spare her distress by warning her they had reason to hope their brother would marry Mr Darcy’s sister.”
My sister!I could hardly credit what I was hearing. The notion was absurd.
The tension in Elizabeth Bennet’s voice had then dropped, and she spoke in a more cajoling tone. “I know what you wish to say to me, Charlotte. Jane should have heeded your advice and shown her feelings more openly.”
“And so she should have. Her current misery proves me right.”
“With such a mother and father with whom we are blessed? We can none of us reveal what we hold closest to our hearts, save for Lydia, whose sole ambition is to be noticed. If Jane were to have shown a flicker of her ardent feelings for Mr Bingley, myfather would have teased her at breakfast for being crossed in love, and our mother would have pushed her onto the street in the path of his horse. How could she have followed your advice and still preserved her dignity? It was impossible, and she had no help fromhim.”
“You fault Mr Bingley, then?”
“Oh, I fault Mr Bingley more than anyone. Had he any resolution at all, he would have fought tooth and claw to have her. Of course, his duplicitous sisters and his disapproving friend arranged for his narrow escape back to London. And Jane may well have survived her disappointed hopes were it not for the constant stream of commiserating matrons and my mother’s cries of infamy. What a wicked trick he played on her! Above all, Charlotte, I believe pity to be a most damning curse to the brokenhearted.”
I stood immobile behind a finial throughout these revelations wafting upward on a light breeze. I hoped Mrs Collins would soon take Elizabeth Bennet away so I could properly catch my breath. But this was not to be, and I stood in agony for another quarter of an hour and heard the most shocking revelations of my life.
“But let us be done with my anxieties,” Miss Elizabeth said. “This is the loveliest prospect I have yet seen in all of Kent. I wish Maria would have joined us, but I also recall how little she enjoys long walks.”
“I knew you would like it, and with my husband gone for the whole of the day, I could think of no better way to entertain you.”
“Just what is a bishop’s caucus, then?”
“Forgive me, but I do not know, and I have not the least bit of curiosity. Do you?”
“Hmm. My only question is how many days it might last.” Then, in a more serious tone, she asked, “But be honest, Charlotte. Are you truly happy here?”
Mrs Collins chuckled. “I have known you too long, Lizzy. Having refused Mr Collins when he askedyouto marry him, you assume that I am as miserable as you would have been had your mother succeeded in forcing you to accept him.”
What?She was nearly forced to?—
“Forgive me,” Miss Elizabeth replied so softly I was compelled to listen more intently.
