Jane Austen Made Me Do It (29 page)

His wife was worse. With her rouged cheeks and her loud cries of “Look, William, did you ever? A long case clock. I've always wanted a long case clock,” she was enough to try the patience of a more patient woman than Mrs. Bennet.

“Then I must let you have the name of our clockmaker,” replied that worthy woman.

William put his head on one side and looked at her roguishly. “Ah, we don't have room for one where we are. Our rooms aren't big enough, just a small apartment, you understand, but perhaps one day …” and his eyes drifted round the room as though assessing its worth before coming to rest on the coveted clock.

Luckily, tea was brought in. Hardly had it been poured, though, when the conversation turned to the subject of duty. William Collins, with his ingratiating smile, said that he stood ready to do his.

“You need have no fear,” he said to Mr. Bennet. “I stand ready to do my duty at any time. If young John should die, Nancy and me will be here to shoulder the burden of the estate.”

“I've never been one to shirk my responsibilities,” said Nancy. She went over to her basket, which she had placed at the side of the room on entering, and took out a bundle of blankets. As she returned to her seat, the Bennets saw that it contained a baby.

Cousin Collins confirmed their worst fears when he said,
“This is why we've come here today, me and Nancy. We wanted to show you our son.”

“Named William, after his father,” said Nancy. “Just think, William,” she cooed to the baby, “one day, this could all be yours.” Then she turned to Mrs. Bennet and said, “Don't you worry, if anything happens to your husband and John—”

“—Carriages are always overturning these days,” put in Cousin Collins, “and men keep dropping dead of diseases—”

“Then we'll be here just as soon as we learn of the sad accident, you'll see. And don't you be afraid we'll turn you out of your home. There's always something useful a woman at your time of life can do, mending tablecloths and suchlike. Me and William'll see you right. And so will little William.” She had a sudden thought and said, “You can be his nursemaid.”

Mrs. Bennet looked at her in horror. But she was made of stern stuff and she quickly rallied, saying, “John and his father are both hale and hearty, and as for dying in a carriage accident, why, they never travel together. Besides, there will be another heir on the way very shortly. John is determined to do his duty and fill the nursery with sons. In fact, he is courting a charming young lady at the moment, one of our neighbours, a very handsome girl with a large dowry. Oh! She is so good and so agreeable. Very genteel! We regard her as one of the family already.”

Who this good and genteel girl was supposed to be, John did not know, but he suspected she was a figment of his mother's imagination, invented to foil the Collinses. Indeed, he rather began to wish that she were real, for the thought of the Collinses in his beloved home made him shiver, and for a moment he thought that, perhaps, his papa was right, he ought to marry as soon as possible. But then he remembered that he was very young and not likely to die, and so he put his efforts into helping his
mama by saying that he had always had the highest respect for the married state and that it was one he had every intention of entering promptly.

Nancy continued to talk of the furniture as though it were her own, saying to the baby, “That table'd look a lot better by the window, wouldn't it, William?” or “That vase is an odd thing, ain't it? It'd be better under the stairs,” whilst Mrs. Bennet continued to talk of the lovely young woman they all adored.

By the end of the visit, they were exhausted and it was with relief that the Bennets saw the Collinses depart.

“And those are the people you will have living in this house when I am gone,” said John's father reproachfully.

“To think of the effrontery of the woman, to say I could do her sewing!” said Mrs. Bennet.

John knew that he would have no peace if he stayed at home and so he said that he was thinking of going to Cambridge to stay with friends for a few weeks.

“It is to be hoped there are some young ladies in Cambridge who will be prepared to put up with your freakish ways,” said his mother in an ill humour.

“Do not worry, Mama,” said John with a smile. “Perhaps I will come home with a wife.”

He did not come home with a wife. He did, however, come home in a more sober frame of mind, for on his way home, a bird flew up in front of his horse and the animal reared and threw him. He escaped with cuts and bruises, but as he caught the reins of his horse again he shuddered to see that he had only narrowly missed hitting his head on the milestone. As he mounted he knew that, if he had fallen three inches to the right, he would have been taken home lifeless. And with his mother and father being unable to
have another child at their time of life, the Collinses would have been the future owners of Longbourn.

It was in this mood that he went to the Meryton assembly. As soon as he entered the room, he saw Anne Raistrick and he wondered if she bored him quite so much, after all. Perhaps he had not taken the trouble to get to know her. And so he walked over to her and asked her to dance.

She accepted with alacrity and he led her out onto the floor.

“How boring these country assemblies are,” she said. “How insipid! These people have nothing to say.”

John, who was standing next to Miss Gardiner and her partner, a smart young man in regimentals, thought that Miss Gardiner, at least, had plenty to say.

“Look at them! Is there anything more depressing than provincials? The shopkeepers and attorneys and bankers, all dressed in their ill-fitting clothes, and dancing without grace or fashion. Mama has promised to take me to London for the season. Will you be going?” asked Miss Raistrick.

“No,” said he shortly, being out of humour.

“A pity,” she said.

She danced with a great deal of energy, stepping on his feet no less than seven times. She went the wrong way twice in the dance, and only the lively eyes of Miss Jane Gardiner, which sparkled with mischief when Miss Raistrick bumped into her, made it tolerable.

He was glad when the dance was over and he could lead Miss Raistrick back to her mama. As he did so, his eyes drifted to the other side of the room, where the Miss Gardiners were chatting away merrily to a large group of young men. To be sure, the conversation was about dancing and clothes and charades and lottery tickets, but it was lively and good humoured, and their high spirits were infectious. He could not help himself, he went over to Miss Gardiner and asked her to dance.

She looked surprised, but then gladly accepted his hand and they went onto the floor. He briefly noticed the faces of his parents, who looked as if to say, Why is he wasting his time with Miss Gardiner when Miss Raistrick is sitting down? But he took no notice.

“I am surprised you asked me,” said Miss Gardiner. “I thought your feet would be too battered and bruised for another dance.”

He smiled and took her to their place in the set, where she curtseyed to him without falling over, as Miss Raistrick had almost done. Her dancing, too, was good. She had none of the formal elegance of most of his other partners, but she had more ebullience, and more natural enjoyment.

Listening to her was a pleasure, for her lively nature made her a good companion. Indeed, even the most commonplace utterances sounded amusing from her lips, for they were delightfully shaped with a Cupid's bow, and as pink as the flowers she had in her hair. By the time the dance came to an end, he felt that he had never been so well entertained. Miss Gardiner was lovely to look at, her voice was sweet to listen to, and she knew everyone in Meryton. He had learned more about them in half an hour than he had in the previous year. He quit her company reluctantly, whereas he had been eager to leave Miss Raistrick.

When the evening was over and he returned to Longbourn in his parents' carriage, his father remarked on the importance of a large dowry and the folly of marrying a young lady who had only her pretty face to recommend her.

His mother, no doubt with visions of nursing the infant Collins dancing before her eyes, said that Jane Gardiner was a very pretty girl and that the Gardiners, though not genteel, were respectable.

In the Gardiner carriage, hired for the evening, the assembly was also being relived.

“What a wonderful night!” said Jane with a happy sigh.

She had danced every dance and had almost worn her slippers through.

“I think Arthur is on the point of proposing,” said her sister.

Jane made some reply, but her mind was not on her sister; it was on her own affairs. She had danced with Captain Quentin, and how handsome he had looked in his regimentals! And then had come something which had surprised her. John Bennet had asked her to dance.

Her mama's thoughts were tending in the same direction, for she said, “Only think, Jane, at this time yesterday I thought that Captain Quentin would be a good match for you. But if I don't miss my guess, we will soon see you as the mistress of Longbourn.”

“Oh, Mama!” said Jane. “Mr. Bennet asked me to dance once! That is hardly a proposal.”

“No, indeed,” said Mary.

She had seen her sister's sudden elevation with mixed emotions, for although she was happy to find that her sister was well liked, she could not help thinking that, if her sister were to marry John Bennet, it would put her own match in the shade.

“But he looked at you often,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “I think you must have another new dress for the next assembly. And it would do no harm if you were to walk past Longbourn once in a while.”

“Oh, Mama!” said Jane.

She had, however, been thinking exactly the same thing, for not only was John Bennet the most important young man in the neighbourhood, he was also handsome and agreeable. To be sure, some of the things he said went over her head, but that only proved how clever he was, in addition to all his other virtues.

A large estate or a red coat? Happy were Jane's deliberations as the carriage took her home. Should she marry Captain Quentin
or should she marry Mr. Bennet? In her mind's eye she saw both men proposing, and pictured herself, first as the wife of an officer, established in neat lodgings, and then as the wife of a landowner, established in Longbourn, the finest house in the neighbourhood.

At that, the image began to fade. Much as he liked her—and she had not been mistaken, she was sure he did like her—and much as she liked him, he would never marry her. What, Jane Gardiner, daughter of a country attorney, to be the mistress of Longbourn? Such things only happened in fairy tales.

There was much to occupy John over the coming weeks. His father came home soaked one day, which led to a cold, which led to an inflammation of the lungs. The physician was sent for. He looked grave, but said that, with rest, he hoped for a recovery.

Whilst his father was indisposed, John took over the running of the Longbourn estate. He was young, vigorous, and intelligent, and it was no hardship to him, but he worried for his father. That once strong man was a shadow of his former self, and was confined to bed.

One morning, as John rode down the drive, he saw that the Miss Gardiners had ventured out of doors and that they were walking down the lane. Knowing it to be muddy further along because of the recent rain, he dismounted and followed them, meaning to catch up with them and warn them. But he was too late. By the time he drew close enough to make himself heard, he saw Miss Gardiner putting one foot unwarily onto a boggy patch, and she sunk in to her ankle. In an effort to extricate herself, she almost overbalanced and she was only able to save herself by putting her other foot down on an equally boggy patch, with the inevitable result.

Standing there, with her skirt held up to keep it out of the mud and in consequence revealing a shapely calf, she burst out laughing.

The joyous sound rang down the lane and John could not help laughing himself. Any other young lady would, he was sure, be crying or frowning, and he found himself thinking again that it was a pity she was only an attorney's daughter.

Her sister, meanwhile, was trying to pull her out of the mud but being afraid of getting stuck herself she soon gave up. The two young ladies suggested various methods of escape to each other between bursts of laughter.

John saw at once how it could be done, for there were some planks of wood leaning against a wall, ready for fencing. Drawing level with the ladies, he assured them he would have Miss Gardiner out of her fix in a minute.

He laid the planks across the mud, making a bridge over which he could walk without sinking into it himself. He walked across the planks and then, taking Miss Gardiner's hand, he helped her out. She stood there laughing and thanking him whilst she shook out her skirts, and then she looked dubiously at the patch of mud that still lay between her and the way she wanted to go.

John was not a great reader for nothing. Many was the time he had read of chivalrous deeds in the works of Mallory and the like. And so, begging her pardon, he scooped her into his arms and then, with his long stride, carried her safely to the other side.

She laughed and her eyes sparkled as she said good-humouredly, “What a lark!” and he thought he had never seen or heard a prettier sight.

“Thank the gentleman,” her sister said.

“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” said Jane, swaying her skirts from side to side.

“I trust you have taken no hurt?” he said.

“No, none at all, thank you, though my shoes are ruined,” she said, looking down at them ruefully.

“A pity. They are very pretty shoes,” he said.

Jane, who had until that moment been regretting wearing her best shoes, was now grateful that she had done so.

“Never mind, I have some more at home,” she said.

“The lane is impassable further along; I suggest you go around by the road,” he said. He offered her his arm. “Will you allow me to escort you safely home?”