The Unexpected Miss Bennet (30 page)

Mrs Bennet had once disliked Mr Darcy, but as he was now her son-in-law, she had transmuted those feelings to ones of awe. If Mr Darcy liked Mr Aikens, then that ought to have been enough for her.

‘But, Lizzy,’ she said, almost with a moan. ‘The Lucases do not like Mr Aikens, and Mr Collins said that Lady Catherine was quite outraged.’

‘Mama, but Darcy does, as do I. Mr Aikens is a fine young man, and he is a good friend to Mary.’

She would not say more. She could not betray Mary’s confidence. Her mother, if she knew that Mary had formed an attachment, would be unstoppable, to everyone’s humiliation. Mrs Bennet had a disgruntled expression as she thought for a long time. It was difficult for her not to blurt out what she felt or thought, and Lizzy sipped her tea and waited. When her mother spoke, it was with continued confusion and upset.

‘I am quite angry with Mary,’ she said. ‘She should not have friends like this. She should not have friends
at all
. What does she mean by befriending men who are liked by some and not liked by others? It’s very confusing, Lizzy. You should tell her, my nerves cannot put up with this.’

‘Mama, if Mary made an unsuitable friend I would have warned her. But she has not. Mr Aikens is a fine young man.’

‘Well. He might be. And perhaps he is if, as you say, Darcy likes him. But, Lizzy, he has caused so much trouble that I cannot like him. Why couldn’t Mary just have done what she has always done? Why has she changed? I knew when she stopped playing the piano that it was nothing good.’

Considering that they had all heard enough of Mary’s piano-playing, Lizzy lifted her eyes to the ceiling.

‘Mary has quite altered, it is true, Mama. But I think it is a good thing. She is well-read, and she has a good heart. She no longer sermonizes and she has learned to show some compassion. She was a good friend to Anne de Bourgh, even though that friendship was scorned. She has a good friend in Mr Aikens, for all that you do not like him. Her society has widened and that is all to the good. I don’t know that the box she put herself in and that we kept her in was quite enough for her.’

‘Lizzy! If you are saying we confined Mary, that is not true. But it was easier when we knew she would play pianos for dancing or not require anything but her books and her sermonizing. She was just Mary.’

Having just proved Lizzy’s point, Mrs Bennet set down her teacup, her eyes wide with new perception.

‘Lizzy! Why did we not make Mr Collins fall in love with Mary! They would have been a perfect match!’

‘Mama!’

‘Oh, Lizzy, what were we thinking? For of course you turned him down, and I was so angry with you, but I am not so any more, for you were right, for Mr Darcy is so much grander and richer. But it would have been the easiest thing to turn Mr Collins’s head towards Mary! For even though she is the plainest of you girls, she is much better looking than Charlotte. Oh, Lizzy, if you had only suggested it, we should not have to worry about the entail or Mr Aikens at all! Mary and Mr Collins! Mary and Mr Collins. How tiresome that we did not think of it before.’

Lizzy watched her mother mourn the lost opportunity with an unladylike expression. A knock on the door caught the attention of both, and Mary came in. Her nose was still red and her eyes were watery. Lizzy suspected that her interview with their father had brought on a renewal of tears. But she managed a smile at her mother and her sister and picked up the teapot. Mrs Bennet wasted no time in regaling her with her new perception of a lost opportunity. Lizzy tried to stop her but it was too late.

‘Mary! What do you think Lizzy and I have just decided!
You
should have married Mr Collins! What do you think of that?’

Mary stared at her mother and set down the teapot so hard that it made the tea things rattle upon the tray.

‘Marry Mr Collins!’ she said. ‘
Marry Mr Collins
!’

Mrs Bennet stopped short at her daughter’s anger.

Mary sat back and looked at her mother. She spoke with great deliberation. ‘Mr Collins would not have me, first because I was plain. Then he would not have me because he could not bear a wife who had more of a vocation than he did. All he has ever done since I have met him is tell me that it is unseemly for a woman to take such an interest in reading and philosophy and to have an opinion. I confess that I wondered why he never so much as looked at me when he came here looking for a wife. Now I know. He couldn’t bear the competition.

‘And I thank Heaven every day that he never did consider such a proposal and that you never did, for we would have been in the deepest misery from the very first day of our wedding.’

Mary had done the one thing that Lizzy had never thought possible. Upon the conclusion of her daughter’s speech, Mrs Bennet was bereft of words.

M
R BENNET’S CONFERENCE with Mary had little openness and much hesitation on both their parts. Mary was much intimidated by her father, and Mr Bennet could hardly apologize for his sins when they were so much a part of his character that he could not even see his faults. It had all been so clear when Lizzy told him how much Mary needed his admiration, much more muddled when he sat awkwardly with his daughter and desperately wished them both elsewhere. Still, he managed, rather respectably, to ask about her experience without revealing much confusion and boredom. For her part, Mary pitied his discomfort and was as forthright as possible. She was glad to be home, she said, and sorry that she caused so much embarrassment to all of them, but she thought the blame lay with Lady Catherine, and if there were any fault on the Bennet side, it was that they thought rather more highly of Lady Catherine than perhaps they should.

‘I admit I could not understand what she meant by her invitation,’ said Mr Bennet, ‘but I could not find a reason to decline.’

Mary smiled and took her father’s words at face value. She knew he meant not that he couldn’t understand an invitation directed at
her
but one that was directed at any one of them.

‘I think she meant it in a most disgusting way,’ Mary said. ‘To put a Bennet in her place.’

Her father smiled and waved a paternal hand at her.

‘Yes, yes, it’s over now,’ he said. ‘You must stay here with us, Mary. It’s become too quiet about the place without your piano.’

‘I no longer play, Papa,’ she reminded him. As she said it, she rubbed her fingers. What a few moments of contentment she had stolen, just before she was exiled from Rosings, in playing the piano in her room. Perhaps – perhaps, she could return to her old habit, taking from it only pleasure in the application of herself to something difficult, and asking nothing in return. But after insisting for so many months that she had given up music, could she begin anew? What did that say of her pride and vanity, that she would lock herself away from such a small accomplishment?

Mr Bennet looked at his daughter for a long moment. Perhaps he understood something of her confusion. Then he patted her lightly on the shoulder. ‘That’s all right, my child. You’ll pick it up again, when you want to. You’ll see.’

He meant it not as a sop to her vanity, but as one who had perhaps set aside a beloved occupation, only to take it up as a comfort later in life. For the first time, Mary felt that her father saw her for who she was.

THE QUIETNESS THAT Mr Bennet rued was soon broken and longed for once again. There was a clattering of hoofs along the short drive that led to the house, then came a knock on the door. Mr Aikens had arrived. He was led into the parlour, where he saw Mrs Bennet and Lizzy and bowed to them.

‘Mrs Darcy! Good to see you again! And you must be Mrs Bennet!’

He pumped Mrs Bennet’s hand enthusiastically. ‘A pleasure to meet you, ma’am!’

‘Mr Aikens, so good to see you,’ Lizzy said, hoping to lure him to a chair. But he ploughed on in his enthusiastic way.

‘I’ve come to see how Miss Bennet has settled in. Is she at home?’

At that moment, Mary slipped through the door. She curtsied awkwardly. Mr Aikens dropped Mrs Bennet’s hand to shake hers. But he also tried to bow at the same time, and he made a comical picture.

‘Home safe and sound,’ he said, rising from his bow. He didn’t let go of her hand. ‘This is a nice room. Good view of the park. I remember when I visited Lucas Lodge and rode this way. Thought, what a nice prospect. Small but neat. Well collected. Well-bred place.’

It was very like Mr Aikens to liken a house to a horse, but Mrs Bennet didn’t know whether to be flattered or outraged.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she managed faintly. ‘It is nice, but the entail—’

‘Mr Aikens!’ Both Lizzy and Mary spoke together, quite loudly, to stop their mother. Mary finished first. ‘It is but a very small park, with a view of the village. Would you like to see?’

He smiled broadly and Mary led the way, trying to still her beating heart. She told herself they were merely friends, but the look she cast Lizzy was filled with both hope and fear. Lizzy smiled encouragingly but was filled with almost the same hope and fear. She did not want Mary to suffer a broken heart – having experienced such discomfort herself, she knew they were not to be wished upon any one.

She and her mother watched them go, then her mother turned to Lizzy. ‘I declare,’ she said, but could come up with nothing else.

‘That was Mr Aikens, and he does leave one breathless.’

Her mother went directly to the heart of the matter.

‘Lizzy! Does he mean to ask for Mary?’

‘I cannot speak for him, ma’am, but I suspect that he may.’

Mrs Bennet sat down. ‘Does he always behave so?’

Worse, Lizzy wanted to say, but she decided not to frighten her mother. Instead, she sat down with her and took her hand. Mrs Bennet fanned herself with the other.

‘I own I do not understand you girls. I must admit I thought you surprised me the most when you married Mr Darcy, but Mary far exceeded you all. This is most unexpected, Lizzy.’ She got up. ‘Well, I will go to Mr Bennet and tell him to expect another wedding. You can be sure he will be as astonished as I am.’

Lizzy watched her go, and sat alone in blessed silence for a moment. If Mr Aikens broke Mary’s heart, she wouldn’t send Darcy after him. She would box his ears herself.

THERE WAS NO danger of heartbreak unless a heart broke with joy. Mr Aikens and Mary strolled down the path around the small park, and then by agreement stood by the tree where Mary had met Lizzy earlier that day.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Mr Aikens said. ‘About what you said, that you liked me even though I can’t sit inside for more than a minute and my boots are always muddy. And I thought, well, if she can like me for that, maybe she wouldn’t mind if I asked her to marry me.’

Mary was confused at first – it was hard to tell whom Mr Aikens was talking about. He looked at her so hopefully that she finally understood that he meant her. She spoke slowly, for she wanted to make sure that they both understood one another.