CHAPTER XXIII
Edward was sitting with his mother and sisters, reflecting on what he had heard, and doubting whether he were authorised to mention it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared to announce his son's engagement to the family. With many compliments to them, and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the houses, he unfolded the matter,—to an audience not merely wondering, but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken, and Lydia, always unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed,
'Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story?—Do not you know that Miss Collins wants to marry Edward?'
Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding carried him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the most forbearing courtesy.
Edward, feeling it incumbent on him to relieve their visitor from so unpleasant a situation, now put himself forward to confirm the account, by mentioning his prior knowledge of it from Charles himself; and endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of his mother and sisters, by the earnestness of his congratulations to Sir William, in which he was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character of Miss Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.
Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Miss Collins had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole; one, that Edward was the real cause of all the mischief; and the other, that she herself had been barbarously misused by them all; and on these two points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could console and nothing appease her.—Nor did that day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Edward without scolding him, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she could at all forgive their son.
Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charles Lucas, whom he had been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and more foolish than his son!
Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; nor could Edward persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Charles Lucas, for Miss Collins was only the sister of a clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton.
Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a son well married; and she called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was, though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been enough to drive happiness away.
Between Edward and Charles there was a restraint which kept them mutually silent on the subject; and Edward felt persuaded that no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. His disappointment in Charles made him turn with fonder regard to Jane, of whose rectitude and delicacy he was sure his opinion could never be shaken, and for whose happiness he grew daily more anxious, as Bingley had now been gone a week, and nothing more was heard of his return.
Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised letter of thanks from Miss Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to their father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a twelvemonth's abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging her conscience on that head, she proceeded to inform them, with many rapturous expressions, of her happiness in having obtained the affection of their amiable neighbour, Mr. Charles Lucas, and then explained that it was merely with the view of enjoying his society that she had been so ready to close with their kind wish of seeing her again at Longbourn, whither she hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine, she added, so heartily approved her marriage, that she wished it to take place as soon as possible, “which she trusted would be an unanswerable argument with her amiable Charles to name an early day for making her the happiest of women.”
Miss Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary she was as much disposed to complain of it as her husband.—It was very strange that she should come to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient and exceedingly troublesome.—She hated having visitors in the house while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and they gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued absence.
Neither Jane nor Edward were comfortable on this subject. Day after day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs. Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous falsehood.
Even Edward began to fear—not that Bingley was indifferent—but that his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as he was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so dishonourable to the stability of her lover, he could not prevent its frequently occurring. The united efforts of the gentleman's two unfeeling sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy and the amusements of London, might be too much, he feared, for the strength of his attachment.
As for Jane, her anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more painful than Edward's; but whatever she felt she was desirous of concealing, and between herself and Edward, therefore, the subject was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he did not come back, she should think herself very ill used. It needed all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable tranquillity.
Miss Collins returned most punctually on the Monday fortnight, but her reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on her first introduction. She was too happy, however, to need much attention; and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them from a great deal of her company. The chief of every day was spent by her at Lucas Lodge, and she sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time to make an apology for her absence before the family went to bed.
Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of any thing concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill humour, and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight of Charles Lucas was odious to her. Whenever he came to see them, and whenever he spoke in a low voice to Miss Collins, she was convinced that they were talking of the Longbourn estate; of how it could be wrested from Mr. Collins,—whom she was sure now would never marry one of her daughters,—and resolving to turn herself and her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She complained bitterly of all this to her husband.
'Indeed, Mr. Bennet,' said she, 'it is very hard to think that Charles Lucas should ever be master of this house, that I should be forced to make way for him, and live to see him take his place in it!'
'My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor.'
This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and, therefore, instead of making any answer, she went on as before,
'I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was not for the entail I should not mind it.'
'What should not you mind?'
'I should not mind any thing at all.'
'Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such insensibility.'
'I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for any thing about the entail. How any one could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one's own daughters, I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins too!—Why should he have it more than anybody else?'
'I leave it to yourself to determine,' said Mr. Bennet.
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