In the morning, as Mary was pushing extra pins into her hair in an attempt to secure it, Mrs Hill came quietly into her room.
‘So your cousin is arrived, miss.’
‘He is indeed.’
‘And what do you think of him? What kind of man is he?’
‘I’m afraid he hasn’t won many friends in the house. My sisters think him dull and my father has decided he is a fool – but you are not to repeat that, I beg.’
‘But what about you, miss? I asked your opinion of him.’
Mary peered into the mirror. Her hair was not a success. Without a word, Mrs Hill picked up a brush, took out the pins and let it down. As she worked, Mary decided to speak as candidly as she could. She trusted Mrs Hill, and thought it would help to express her thoughts aloud.
‘He does seem absurd at times,’ she began, ‘but I don’t believe there is anything really wicked about him. I think he is unsure and uncertain and that makes him inclined to talk too much to no good purpose. He believes his flattery will please those to whom he speaks, but the result is often the exact reverse.’
‘You feel sorry for him, then?’
‘A little. He is such a tempting target for my father’s teasing that it is impossible not to feel some sympathy for him, although I admit no one else seems to think as I do.’
Mrs Hill was now twisting Mary’s hair in a smooth knot with practised skill, anchoring it securely at the nape of her neck.
‘Does that mean you might look at him … in a friendly manner?’
‘That’s a very direct question.’
‘I’m sure you know what I mean,’ replied Mrs Hill, unperturbed. ‘I wondered whether you have thought about him … in a marital way. He talks like a reading man, and he’s already asked to use the library – your mother wants me to make sure it’s dusted this morning. You’d have your books in common. He isn’t a showy sort of gentleman … not someone to value a pretty face above all other considerations.’
Mary took a green and gold ribbon from her dressing table and began to run it absently through her fingers.
‘You say that, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off Jane since he arrived.’
‘Well, we know her thoughts are elsewhere, and likely to stay that way, I should think.’
‘If Jane refused him, I’m sure he’d think of Elizabeth next. I should be a very poor third choice.’
‘I shan’t reply to that – you know it makes me sad to hear you so hard upon yourself. But I doubt Miss Elizabeth would have him. You might still have a chance. Would you like me to put that ribbon in your hair?’
Mary looked at it, surprised, as if she had not known it was in her hand.
‘Oh, no, I don’t think so. It’s too bright for me.’ She placed it hurriedly back on the dressing table. ‘But even if he could be persuaded to make me an offer – what kind of happiness do you think I could look forward to with him?’
Mrs Hill considered her handiwork, pushing a last pin into Mary’s hair.
‘They say marriage is a lottery and none of us knows if we’ve drawn a winning ticket until it’s too late.’ She passed Mary a small mirror, so that she could see her head from the back. ‘But whatever you think of him, as his wife you’d be mistress of Longbourn – and that’s something to consider, is it not?’
Mary stared into the mirror, contemplating her neatly dressed hair.
‘In my opinion,’ concluded Mrs Hill, ‘you have as good a chance of catching him as anyone. You should think very hard about it before letting someone else steal him from under your nose. A man like him, whatever his little annoyances, won’t be around forever.’
She laid down the combs, and having delivered herself of the point she had always intended to make, left the room. For a few seconds Mary did not move, sitting and thinking before she rose and pulled on her shawl. As she did so, she felt a strand of her hair slip down. Angry, she thrust in a pin with too much force, making her head throb as she walked downstairs to breakfast. She arrived in the hall just in time to see Mrs Bennet follow Mr Collins out of the drawing room. He looked self-conscious but pleased with himself; her mother seemed excited, as though she could scarcely contain what she had just been told.
Throughout the meal, she beamed at Mr Collins, handing him the hottest rolls and helping him to the butter and jam. Mary watched him closely; she thought she could guess at the contents of a conversation that had left both him and her mother so ebullient. He must have spoken to her about his intentions. A shiver of apprehension passed through her, as she contemplated what this meant. She must decide now if she intended to follow her head or her heart – whether she would listen to the promptings of duty and self-interest, or cover her ears and hope against hope for something better. Her mind was soon made up. She said nothing until everyone else had gone and only she and her mother remained. As Mrs Bennet played idly with the remains of a slice of toast, Mary got up and carefully closed the door.
‘Excuse me, ma’am, but I wonder if I might ask you something?’
Mrs Bennet nodded absently.
‘Is it your belief that Mr Collins has come here to ask for one of us in marriage?’
Her mother looked up, surprised.
‘What do you mean by asking me that? Have you been listening at doors?’
‘Indeed, I have not. He has dropped several hints that suggest that might be his intention.’
‘And if it is, what has it to do with you? I’m not sure what you mean by questioning me.’
Mary struggled on, trying to suggest a confidence she did not feel.
‘I have been thinking very hard about it, and it seems to me that of all my sisters, I might be the most sensible choice for him. I think our interests coincide; we are both of a serious turn of mind and might grow to suit each other well enough. I’m sorry to speak so boldly, but I’ve tried to consider the situation as rationally as I could before raising it with you.’
Her voice shook a little at the end, but she did not waver.
Mrs Bennet looked at her daughter, speechless; words seemed briefly to have failed her.
‘Well, you are full of surprises, to be sure. But you are right, Mr Collins does intend to ask for one of you girls in marriage. He told me so this morning. Of course, his first thought was Jane; but as I’ve explained, I have every reason to expect she will shortly be engaged to a gentleman of rank and fortune.’
She smiled into the middle distance, the mere thought of such a happy event enough to please her.
‘I suggested he transfer his hopes to Lizzy, and he seemed pleased enough to do so.’
‘Was that entirely wise? I don’t think there’s any chance of Lizzy accepting him; their dispositions are so very different. She’s in no hurry to marry and can expect many other offers.’
Mrs Bennet began to grow annoyed.
‘If he couldn’t have Jane, it was Lizzy he wanted, and it was hardly the moment to suggest alternatives. What am I to do, offer him around the family like a parcel? I’m sure he would never have thought of you – your name wasn’t mentioned at all.’
Mary flinched. The pin she had pushed so clumsily into her head was hurting her, but this was not the moment to adjust it.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve angered you,’ she continued. ‘I didn’t intend to make any claims for myself. I know I don’t possess the attractions of Jane or Lizzy. But I thought as I am the only sister likely to look favourably upon him, it would be sensible to direct his attentions towards me. If he made an offer, I should feel obliged to accept him. It would keep Longbourn for us, besides taking your least marriageable daughter off your hands. Those and those alone have been my motives in speaking.’
Mrs Bennet was not mollified.
‘That’s finely said, but I don’t think Lizzy will refuse him. I intend to make sure she does not. There will be no need for anyone in reserve. You are not to meddle in things that don’t concern you, and you are expressly forbidden to mention any of this to Elizabeth. To be frank, Mary, I’m amazed at your presumption.’
She stood up, indignantly gathering her skirt before her.
‘I don’t want to hear another word from you on the subject. And your hair has come down at the back. Please attend to it.’
When her mother had gone, Mary poured herself some tea. At first, her hand shook slightly, but by the time she raised the cup to her mouth, she was calmer. Mrs Bennet’s words shocked her very much. She knew her mother had no hopes she would make a marriage of the kind she dreamed of for her other daughters; but Mary had not realised until now how little she featured in her mother’s plans at all. Nothing, it seemed, was to be done for her. She was unworthy of any consideration, not fit even to serve as a consolation prize to a disappointed man. If proof had been needed that Charlotte was right when she insisted a young woman must unflinchingly pursue her own best interests, she had surely received it this morning. She could hear the servants outside, waiting to come and clear the table, and knew it was time to leave. For the merest instant, as she got up from her chair, she wondered if her mother’s rejection was in fact a blessing in disguise, that she was being offered a chance to think again, that she was not required to lay herself out to please a man she hardly knew and wondered if she could ever love. But it was a thought she quickly buried. There was no alternative to Mr Collins. Even Mrs Hill had urged him upon her. She was foolish to imagine she deserved anything else. If her mother would not help her secure him, then she must do so alone.