Page 5 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

CHAPTER 2

Elizabeth Bennet had refused two proposals of marriage in her life. The first she did not speak of, because one did not. The second, all of Meryton was speaking of, because the gentleman had not accepted her refusal and her mother had been listening at the keyhole.

That proposal had occurred three days ago. She was, at present, being dispatched to Uncle and Aunt Gardiner in London until the sight of her ceased to inflame her mother’s rather raw matrimonial nerves.

“Two proposals! Two proposals, Lizzy!” Mamma cried again. “Mr. Kendricks so charming! And now Mr. Collins is at Lucas Lodge! Oh, those artful Lucases⁠—”

“Mamma,” said Elizabeth.

Her father stood just inside his book room with a volume open in one hand, as though he had been reading when the commotion passed his door and had merely glanced up. Elizabeth knew better. He had been waiting for her. Over her mother’s head he caught her eye, and one corner of his mouth curled up into a fond smile.

“Lizzy,” he said, and shut the book. “Do try not to refuse any eligible gentlemen in London. Your mother’s constitution cannot support it, and I have my reading to attend to.”

Her mother huffed and hurried away, calling for Mrs. Hill.

Elizabeth waited until she was out of hearing. “Without Mamma present to encourage suitors, I ought to be safe enough.” She shook her head at her father. “But I make no promises.”

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “I did not expect you would.” He patted her cheek briefly.

Soon, her mother was back with Jane, and it seemed she had yet to draw breath. “—and you will call upon Miss Bingley, will you not, the very first day? You must not wait, for a letter is not a visit, Jane, and men forget so quickly⁠—”

“I shall call upon Miss Bingley, Mamma.”

“—and Lizzy, you will be civil. London is very different than Hertfordshire, and you cannot afford to be too clever, do you hear me? As you cannot be bothered to accept a good man when he offers for you, you must assist Jane with Mr. Bingley.”

“Yes, Mamma.” Her mother began speaking to Jane again. Elizabeth crossed to the stairs where Mary was now standing, with Mrs. More’s Strictures open at a page she did not appear to be reading.

“Mary.” Elizabeth lowered her voice. “Will you please keep an eye on Kitty and Lydia, and alert Papa or write to us if you observe anything wanting? They have been more prone to foolishness this autumn, even for them, and you are the only one who notices. I fear they may land themselves in trouble if no one responsible is paying them any mind.”

Mary looked up with a surprise she did not quite succeed in concealing. A faint colour rose in her cheeks. “Mrs. More says that—” she began, then stopped and drew a small breath. “I will, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth squeezed Mary’s hand. “Thank you. I must say it is a great relief to hear you say so.”

Jane came forward, having heard, and touched her sister’s sleeve. “You shall be the eldest in our absence, and we are grateful to you, Mary.”

“Thank you.” Mary stood a little straighter, her finger marking her place in the book.

Mamma followed them out to the carriage, offering instructions to Jane through the window, to the coachman about the small trunk with the green binding, to Kitty and Lydia who were hanging out of an upstairs casement and shouting something Elizabeth pretended not to hear.

The coachman had been paid to start the journey at precisely ten, and her father, who had followed them into the drive, said, “Fanny, the man has his orders.”

The carriage began to move. Mamma continued to give instructions as they pulled away from Longbourn, and Elizabeth’s last sight of her mother was of her speaking with great animation while her father gazed after the coach and lifted one hand.

Elizabeth blew out a breath.

“She will be quite herself as soon as we are out of sight,” Jane said.

“This is herself, Jane.” Elizabeth settled back against the squabs. “Though I must say I admire her fortitude.”

Jane smiled. It was the first smile Elizabeth had seen from her since Miss Bingley’s letter had arrived.

They rode for a time in silence. Meryton slid past outside—Mr. Jones entering his shop, the two Long girls walking arm in arm, a boy leading a pony—and then they were through the town and out into the countryside where there was nothing but hedges and fields and the grey cloudy sky. Elizabeth watched the town disappear behind them without regret.

She turned to Jane. “You shall have to decide, you know, what to do about Miss Bingley.”

Jane was working at the strings of her bonnet, which had become twisted. “As to that,” she said, “I must confess something which you may find amusing.”

Elizabeth leaned forward to place her own bonnet on the backwards facing seat, leaned back, and placed her hands in her lap. “I am prepared to be entertained.”