Jane Austen Made Me Do It (28 page)

“Indeed, with so many dangers all around, it is a wonder I have managed to survive so far,” said John.

“I am sometimes surprised at it myself. However, you have, and we must be thankful for it. We must not take it for granted, though. You must do your duty to your family, your name, and your estate without delay. I think I need not remind you that, if you die without an heir, then Longbourn will pass to Cousin Collins.” A look of distaste crossed his face. “Cousin Collins is not the sort of man who belongs at Longbourn. He is a singularly unpleasant person, a man of no education and of mean intellect. He is a man I despise. Indeed, he is the kind of man to turn your mother out of the house the moment he inherits. But you can prevent him inheriting, John, by presenting us with a grandson.”

“I assure you, Father, I like Cousin Collins no more than you do, but as I have every intention of staying alive, I am determined not to rush into matrimony,” said John. “I will marry in the end, of course, but marriage is at all times a precarious institution, and a hasty marriage is a recipe for disaster. I prefer to look about me and take my time.”

“There is no question of a hasty marriage. I am not asking you to marry tomorrow, merely to start courting one of the young ladies
in the neighbourhood in the near future,” said his father. “Pick a fine, healthy girl from a good family, one who will bear you many children and some good, fine sons. Anne Raistrick, now—”

John gave an involuntary shudder. “No, thank you, Papa, I have no taste for Anne Raistrick.”

“I cannot think why. There is nothing to be said against her, and there is a great deal to be said in her favour. She comes from a large family full of boys, you know, and she is likely to have a great many boys herself. I advise you to get to know her. Talk to her at the next assembly; dance with her. I am sure you will find her charming. You would be welcome to invite her to the house at any time. Your mother and I would approve of her as a daughter-in-law.”

John tried to hide his impatience. “I am sorry to disappoint you,” he said politely, “but Anne Raistrick bores me. She can talk of nothing but her needlework and she looks like a horse.”

Mr. Bennet grew irritable; John grew angry; and the interview ended with John being dismissed. He was glad to escape from the study, and he took refuge in his room. The walls were lined with books and there was a book lying open beside the bed. He picked it up and then, enticed by the sunshine, he walked out into the fields, where he could indulge his hobby without interruption.

He wished, for a moment, that there were other young men like him in the neighbourhood; men of intelligence and sense, who liked to read and learn about the world around them. He sometimes felt that he would stagnate in the small country village where all the young men of his own age spent their days riding, hunting, and drinking. Yet for all its limitations he loved Longbourn, because it was his home. He loved the house, with its cool hall and its elegant drawing-room and its airy bedrooms. He
loved the gardens with their tall trees and their flower beds. But most of all he loved the library. It was a room his father seldom frequented, going there only to conduct matters of business, but John went there often. The books were, to him, old friends. They took him on journeys and showed him the places he might never see. They allowed him to know the thoughts of scholars and philosophers that he would never meet. And most of all, they offered him a retreat from the demands of his parents.

The one he was carrying was a favourite, and as he walked through the paddock to the fields beyond, he felt his spirits lift. Indeed, the day was one such as to gladden the heart of any living creature. It was March, but unseasonably warm, as happens sometimes in that month, and the world smelt of the newly awakening spring. Birds were singing and the trees were blossoming, putting forth thick pink and white flowers that filled the air with their heady scent. The sun was warm and the droning of bees was everywhere.

He swung himself into the branches of a horse chestnut tree and opened his book.

He had not been reading long when his attention was distracted by the sound of laughter and he saw the two Miss Gardiners walking down the lane that bordered the estate. Miss Gardiner was the beauty of the family, indeed the neighbourhood, for she had soft, fair hair, large blue eyes, and a good-humoured countenance which often broke into smiles and laughter. Her sister, Miss Mary Gardiner, was neither so pretty nor so good humoured, but was nevertheless a handsome girl. The two of them, walking past in their hooped skirts, brightened the lane with their brocade dresses and their large hats and their twirling parasols.

“Let us go into Meryton, Jane, and see Papa,” said Mary.

“Oh, yes, we must see Papa,” said Jane with a laugh. “It would never do to neglect him.”

He watched them until they were out of sight, thinking that if Miss Gardiner had been the daughter of one of the landed gentry round about, instead of the daughter of a Meryton attorney, he might have been tempted to fall in with his father's wishes. But the daughter of an attorney would not be acceptable to his parents as a wife for him. Besides, he knew very little about Miss Gardiner, other than that she was pretty and good humoured, and for all he knew, she would not be acceptable as a wife to him either. So he turned back to his book and occupied himself until the sun went down.

The Miss Gardiners continued on their way. They walked the mile into Meryton, from whence they had set out earlier in the day. They had been tempted out of doors by the spring weather and by a desire to show off their new parasols, even if it was only to the cows and sheep, for they had not noticed John in the tree.

The small town of Meryton was busy with shoppers intent on their business. Some were housewives frequenting the butchers and the bakers, buying food for the family. Some were footmen making purchases for their masters, and some were young ladies, like themselves, who were intent on looking at the latest fashions.

As worn in London
, ran the unlikely legend in the milliner's window.

The girls stopped to look at all the hats, praising and criticising them in turn.

“That one is not very pretty but I think I might buy it all the same,” said Jane. “If I pull it to pieces when I get home, I might be able to make it up into something better. I think it might suit me if I change the brim.”

“And that one is very ugly, but I am determined to have it,” said Mary. “If I trim it with some ribbon, it will at least be tolerable.”

They already had a house full of hats, but they shared the belief
that a young lady could never have too many of them, and their mother was of their opinion. Their father could not see what all the fuss was about, but he liked to indulge them. His business was prosperous and it pleased him to see his family happy.

They went into the shop and made their purchases, and then, with only one brief stop at the general shop, they finally arrived at their father's office.

They had not really called there to see their papa, as Jane well knew, but to see his clerk, Mr. Philips.

Mr. Philips was young and handsome, and Mary was enamoured of him. She took every opportunity of calling on her father with some excuse, so that she could laugh and flirt with his clerk. Jane was happy to indulge her sister, for she liked nothing better than to laugh and flirt with her own beaux, and so she would not deny her sister that happiness.

When the two Miss Gardiners entered the office, Mr. Philips looked up and jumped to his feet. He welcomed them with easy charm, remarking on the fineness of the weather, the versatility of parasols, and the likelihood of rain.

Miss Gardiner wandered into a corner and took an interest in a painting which hung on the wall, leaving her sister to flirt to her heart's content.

At last Mr. Philips was recalled to his duties, and they left him with an invitation to dinner, which they issued in their mother's name. She, good lady, never objected to their inviting young men to the house, and it was understood by all of them that they should ask any eligible gentlemen they should happen to meet, saying that the invitation came from Mrs. Gardiner.

Then they went into the office to see their papa.

He rose from his chair with a beaming smile and opened his arms to them, for he was always pleased to see his girls. They
brought laughter and brightness into his life. He made much of them, serving them canary wine and telling them how pretty they looked.

Having drunk their canary wine, the two young ladies then returned home. Their mother saw them walking down the path and jumped up, eager to greet them. She exclaimed over their purchases and agreed with them that the hats were vile but that they could be made presentable.

Their brother Edward was less agreeable and only snorted before going back to the newspaper.

“Is there any news?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.

“Well, we happened to pass Miss Long in the street and she said that George King is going to marry!” said Jane, fluffing her fair curls in front of the looking glass.

“And about time, too,” said their mother. “That shop of his is flourishing and a man with a settled income ought to take a wife.” She glanced significantly at Mary. “There's another man with a settled income, and prospects, too, who will soon be thinking of taking a wife, if I don't miss my guess.”

“If you mean Papa's clerk, why can you not say so?” demanded Edward. “All this hinting is nothing but tomfoolery.”

“And why should Mama mean Arthur?” asked Mary, tossing her head.

“Because he has a settled income and prospects, being set to take over Father's business when the time comes, and you have both of you set your sights on him joining the family,” said Edward.

“And why should he not have the business?” demanded Mary. “You were offered it, but you refused it.”

“He would give it to you now if you changed your mind,” said Mrs. Gardiner to her son.

“Thank you, but I have no wish to be an attorney,” said Edward. “I would much rather go into trade.”

It had caused several family arguments so far, but Edward could be stubborn when he set his mind to something, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had reconciled themselves to the idea.

Besides, it had its bright side, because then Mr. Gardiner could leave the business to Arthur and thereby provide for Mary; Jane being so pretty that neither of her parents thought they would need to provide for her.

The talk turned to the next assembly.

“You will need a new gown,” said Mrs. Gardiner to her eldest daughter. “It is high time you were married, Jane, and a new gown will do the trick. You are not so pretty for nothing. Half a dozen young men in the neighbourhood would be glad to take you to wife. There is William Lucas; he is in a good line of trade and looks set to rise in the world. You could do worse.”

“Oh, Mama! I cannot marry William Lucas!” said Jane, exploding into laughter.

“I cannot see why not.”

“He has nothing to say for himself, and besides, he cannot dance,” said Jane.

“Well, to be sure, that is a pity,” said her mother, “but, after all, there is more to life than dancing.”

But Jane did not think so, and young William Lucas was dismissed.

“Then there is Captain Quentin,” said her mother.

“Captain Quentin?” said Jane with more interest. “Mama, is he here again? Oh, do say he is! I love a man in a red coat.”

“Well, I hear that he is coming to see his cousins again shortly and that he will be here in time for the assembly.”

Jane danced around the room.

“And I must have a new gown, too, Mama,” said Mary.

“Oh, very well, I suppose you must, though Arthur Philips would propose to you if you were dressed in a flour sack,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “We will go into Meryton tomorrow and choose some fabric, and then we will be busy until the assembly.”

The following day brought a letter to Longbourn. It was from Mr. Bennet's distant and despised Cousin Collins, and in it he declared his intention of calling on the family the following week.

Mr. Bennet read the letter out to his wife and son as they took breakfast together.

“… for my wife and I are going to Cheshire to visit her family, and would like to call upon you on the way,
” Mr. Bennet read.
“We have something to show you.”

“With his
wife
. You see, he has married already,” Mrs. Bennet said, turning to look at John. “Now, there's a man who knows his duty.”

“He is five years older than I am,” John said.

“That cannot be helped. I cannot now make you older than you are, nor him younger than he is,” said his mama. “The fact remains that he is married and you are not.”

“I wonder what he wants to show us,” said Mr. Bennet.

“The only thing I want him to show us is a clean pair of heels,” said Mrs. Bennet.

Talk of the Collinses' visit continued to fill the house for the following five days until Cousin Collins himself made his appearance. He arrived just after four o'clock with his wife, a vulgar creature by the name of Nancy. They had hardly descended from the trap when Nancy's voice could be heard through the window.

“Coo, William, fancy! What a big 'ouse! I never thought it'd be so grand. And it's all going to be ours, ain't it?”

And William's voice saying, “Don't get your hopes up too
high, sugar plum, it won't be ours for a while yet, not until my cousin's dead. But he looked sickly to me the last time I saw him, and I don't suppose he's got any better, living the way he does.”

The door knocker announced that they had reached the door, and, as the Collinses were shown in, the Bennets reluctantly greeted their guests.

William Collins was an oily young man with an ingratiating manner. His coat and breeches were too tight and his linen was far from fresh.