Page 27 of To Love And To Cherish
Elizabeth laughed. “That is quite impossible. Miss Bingley is handsome, has a lovely figure, and possesses a considerable dowry. She will have no want of suitors.”
Georgiana said quietly, “I believe Miss Bingley has set her cap for Fitzwilliam. Her attentions are unceasing to the point of discomfort. She is forever at his side, clinging to his arm or inquiring whether he requires anything. I grow quite weary of the display.” Georgiana murmured, “It is very wrong of me to speak so, but I would rather live with my Aunt Helen than endure Miss Bingley’s company indefinitely.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I do not blame you in the least. I may want to visit my Uncle Gardiner for similar reasons. We are expecting a guest at Longbourn next week, the heir to the estate. My father has written to invite him for a stay of some weeks. Mamma hopes, of course, that he will fall in love with me and save the estate through marriage.”
Georgiana grinned. “And is he well-favored?”
“We do not know. But I cannot like him. His letter had a most pompous tone. It was a strange mixture of flattery and self-importance.
“My sister Mary, however, is greatly intrigued by him and speaks warmly of his proposed olive branch. He is a rector and resides in Kent. His letter was full of praise for his patroness, ‘a most noble personage’ by his account. Mary declares she feels a true calling to the duties of a parson’s wife and holds high hopes of being selected as his bride.”
Elizabeth paused, her expression amused but tinged with concern. “But to tell truth, once he lays eyes upon Jane, I dare say he will not give my hopeful sister another thought.”
Georgiana, who had been quietly plucking at a blade of grass, looked up with a blush. “As for that, Elizabeth… I find you very beautiful. He might look at you and fall in love at first sight.”
Elizabeth turned to her friend, a little startled. “You are kind, dearest, but I hope that does not occur. I am the least suited of all my sisters to be a parson’s wife. As my mother often laments, I am an obstinate, headstrong girl. I should offend his sensibilities or those of his parishioners within the week.” She looked gravely at her friend. “Georgiana, my father has warned me that he will soon show the letter to my mother. We bothknow that once he does, her campaign to match me with the rector will begin, and it will be determined and unrelenting.”
She sighed and leaned back, gazing at the branches overhead. “Now I am troubled. If Mr. Collins should arrive and find himself captivated by Jane’s beauty or, heaven forbid, struck by my impertinence, what hope has Mary? She would be greatly disappointed, and I cannot quite see how to guide his affections in the proper direction without becoming absurdly artful.”
Georgiana offered a thoughtful look. “Perhaps… perhaps if Mary is truly the one best suited to him, he will come to see it in time.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Let us hope he is not so dazzled by appearances as to miss what is plain before him. Mary would be an excellent wife to a man of the cloth. But if he sets his sights elsewhere, Mamma will encourage it, no matter whom it displaces.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh, Georgiana, matchmaking is a perilous thing, especially when one must dodge both Cupid’s arrows and Mamma’s ambitions.”
“Elizabeth, it’s grown late and I must return, or my brother will begin to worry,” Georgiana said with a regretful smile. “Shall I see you again tomorrow?”
“Yes, I will be here,” Elizabeth replied warmly.
They exchanged a brief but affectionate embrace before parting ways.
Upon returning to Longbourn after her walk with Georgiana, Elizabeth went at once to her father’s study to speak with him about the necessary preparations for her journey to Scotland, or, should that plan fail to come to fruition, a removal to London to reside with her uncle.
“Papa,” she began carefully, “as I mentioned before, Miss King has invited me to accompany her to Scotland for several weeks. Her cousin, Miss Trent, will serve as chaperone, and all travel arrangements are in hand. I should very much like to go.”
Mr. Bennet lowered his newspaper and regarded her over the rim of his spectacles. “So you still have a mind to venture north? That is a fair distance, Lizzy. Why do you wish to go?”
She hesitated, then said, “For the adventure, Papa. For the beautiful scenery, the company, and the chance to breathe. To escape Mamma and her… machinations.”
His expression softened. “You shall have it, then. I assume you’ll need a few things before you depart?”
“I will,” she admitted, her cheeks coloring. “Most of my wardrobe is three years old and consists largely of Jane’s hand-me-downs. It will hardly do for such a journey. And if the journey should fall through, I wish to seek employment in London, in which case, a new wardrobe will be imperative.”
Without further question, he unlocked a drawer and withdrew a small bundle of banknotes, which he handed to her.
“That should cover several gowns from the seamstress here in Meryton. But do not seek your mother’s advice, unless you wish to appear in flounces and lemon ribbons upon the Highland moors.” His eyes were sad, but he knew it was time for Elizabeth to move on, and he realized that she knew it as well.
Elizabeth laughed. “Indeed, I had no intention of consulting her. She would likely seize the funds and spend them on Jane.”
Wasting no time, Elizabeth visited the seamstress in Meryton the following morning and was measured for five day dresses, three evening gowns, a new pelisse, and a heavy travelling cloak.Mrs. Dunbar, the seamstress, asked no questions and spoke of it to no one.
Elizabeth had not asked for secrecy; she would never presume, but Mrs. Dunbar had long heard Mrs. Bennet’s shrill grievances about her second daughter: how Elizabeth fancied herself too clever by half, how she had turned Jane against a respectable match, and how she would be the ruin of the family.
But Mrs. Dunbar liked Elizabeth. She admired her composed manners, her quiet wit, and the way she always inquired after her grandson’s lingering cough. So she stitched in silence. And when Mrs. Bennet placed an order for another of Jane’s frocks, she said nothing of the gowns tucked safely behind the curtain.
Elizabeth also wrote to her uncle Edward in Cheapside:
April 11, 1811
