Chapter 6

A New Day

 

As Elizabeth was climbing into the carriage, she thought of something she had yet to try. Every time this happened, she awoke to the following day. Would it be possible to break the mechanism by not going to sleep? She determined to remain awake until the following evening to see what that would accomplish.

Everyone went to bed when they returned to Longbourn, but Elizabeth went to her father’s bookroom and selected a book. Then she settled into a chair by the fire and lit a lamp. She read until the sun was bright and went upstairs to prepare for the day. She was dreadfully tired, but she would not give up.

She took her seat in the breakfast parlor and was pleased to notice her family trail in with bleary eyes. Her mother was in no shape to be seen, so she ordered a tray in her room. Lydia and Kitty were discussing the officers they had danced with the night before.

It worked! She did it! It was not Tuesday, but Wednesday. Blessed, wonderful day!

She had a moment of disquiet when she thought of her conversation with Mr. Darcy last night and wondered briefly what he thought of her in the wake of her boldness, but she was too relieved with her success to bother worrying about that. She was walking in the gardens, basking in the joy that was Wednesday, when she realized she still had a problem. The Netherfield party would leave the next day. Jane would be heartbroken.

Perhaps Mr. Bingley would return? She had truly believed he would when she first saw Caroline’s letter and heard Jane’s excuses for her. But now, after having attended numerous balls where she observed the behavior of the Bingley family and their friend, she could not say that she believed Mr. Bingley would return. In fact, she would be very surprised if he did. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had made their disdain abundantly clear. Mr. Hurst was a fashionable man and lazy besides. He would not want anyone unfashionable in the family, or anything that would require effort from him, like standing up to those who would decry Bingley’s choice.

Charles Bingley had no allies, and Elizabeth was not certain that his character was strong enough to stand alone. His closest friend also appeared against the match, though Mr. Darcy had been surprisingly kind to herself lately. She never ceased to be surprised by him, though she had attended the same ball more than a dozen times now.

She realized with a start that she didn’t know how long it had been since this all began. She wondered idly if she would age with all this repetition of time while the people around her remained static, or if she would be twenty forever. There were worse ages to be stuck at, she thought wryly. She had looked particularly gangly at fifteen, and even Jane had been awkward when her height matured before the rest of her. Elizabeth didn’t think it was too vain to believe herself to be in very good looks at the moment. Her figure was formed but still firm, her hair was full and soft, and her skin was brilliant and clear. She would always be outshone by Jane, as nearly everyone was, but she knew she was pretty in her own way and thought there were worse things than being perpetually twenty years of age.

But alas, she was no longer stuck, as her plan seemed to have worked. She made her way into the house and was caught by her mother in the entryway.

“Lizzy, Mr. Collins would like to speak with you.” She shoved Elizabeth into the drawing room and closed the door quickly behind her.

Elizabeth looked around the empty room and flinched when she saw her cousin standing by the fireplace. She had forgotten this happened the day after the ball. Oh, well. She would just have to suffer through his insulting proposal and refuse him once again. Then she would think of something to prevent the Netherfield party from leaving the following day.

Mr. Collins began speaking, she knew not what of but it was clearly not a proposal yet. She caught the name of his noble patroness in his rambling speech and decided she would try her newfound talent for changing the course of events on her cousin.

“Mr. Collins,” she interrupted.

He stuttered to a halt and looked at her in surprise, as if he had forgotten she was there.

“Yes, Cousin?”

“It is impressive that you know just how to behave with Lady Catherine. I’m sure I would not know how to speak to such an exalted person.”

“Oh, her nobility will inspire the utmost decorum, I am certain, my dear,” he said condescendingly.

She snorted loudly as she had heard Lydia do. It hurt her nose a bit, but the look on Mr. Collins face was well worth it. “La! What a good joke!” Why had she not thought of imitating Lydia sooner? It was sure to repel any man even mildly respectable. “I’m certain she would find me impertinent and headstrong. You know my mother is always complaining about me.” She rolled her eyes and flopped into a chair, slumping against the seat and stretching her legs in front of her.

Mr. Collins looked appalled. “Cousin Elizabeth! What are you, I, you,” he spluttered and she laughed again.

“Thankfully I shall never meet the grand lady and we shall all be spared the mortification,” she said, in something of her usual tone.

He continued to look at her in shock, as if she were a barn cat who had suddenly begun speaking to him.

“She is much too grand for the likes of me, I am sure,” she said, in case he was too thick-headed to understand her point. “I wonder if she will get along with your wife, whomever she turns out to be. I could never be a vicar’s wife. I would be absolutely horrid at it!” She laughed gaily. “What a joke! Married to a vicar!”

Mr. Collins turned a deep shade of red and she worried for his health for a moment, but then she remembered that he was a young man, and an insulting one besides, and she continued on her chosen path.

Elizabeth rose from the chair and bounded toward the door. “I should like to walk to Meryton and see if there are any officers about. I wouldn’t want them to forget me after last night.” She smiled mischievously and skipped out the door, leaving an open-mouthed Mr. Collins behind her.

Her mother appeared after she had put on her cloak but before she could make it out the front door.

“Well, what did he say?” asked Mrs. Bennet impatiently.

“He only told me about Lady Catherine, Mama. I cannot imagine why you thought he should have anything else to say.”

Her mother gaped at her for a moment and Elizabeth took the opportunity to rush out the door. She walked in the direction of Netherfield, wondering what she could do to make the party remain, at least until Mr. Bingley returned and offered for Jane. Then they could go wherever they liked.

She stopped walking and stared blankly ahead. She was an idiot! Why had she not thought of it before! If Mr. Bingley proposed to Jane at the ball, he could ask Mr. Bennet for his consent and they could announce it that very night. Even if he didn’t speak to Mr. Bennet that night, he would surely return to his betrothed! Why had she not tried to get Mr. Bingley to propose before?

She continued walking and wondered how one went about inspiring a man to propose. She knew a lady was supposed to encourage a man she wished for, and discourage those she was uninterested in, but how was that accomplished by someone outside the couple? Could she convince Mr. Bingley to propose? For that matter, why hadn’t he already? He had been showing Jane an inordinate amount of attention for two months. Surely he realized he had raised her hopes and the expectations of the neighborhood.

She stopped again. Was that why the entire party followed him to London? They knew he was about to propose and wanted to stop him? Or did Mr. Bingley himself realize he had raised expectations he had no intention of fulfilling and wanted to escape an awkward situation? No, she couldn’t believe it of him. Mr. Bingley loved Jane, she knew he did. He simply must!

She shook her head. It didn’t matter what she believed. Mr. Bingley had already departed for Town, the spell was broken, and tomorrow would be Thursday and the Netherfield party would depart. She briefly considered sabotaging their carriage again, but besides not thinking it would work for more than a few days, she had barely survived the last effort. She had no desire to relive an experience that brought her so close to having an apoplexy.

Elizabeth wandered towards Netherfield’s borders but saw no one about. She wondered what she had been expecting. Did she think Miss Bingley would be walking in the woods and she would beg her not to go because Jane was desperately in love with her brother? She couldn’t imagine a scene less likely.

She returned to Longbourn and prepared for dinner, where she sat as far away from Mr. Collins as possible. That man stole wary glances at her the entire evening that she steadfastly ignored. Mary watched Mr. Collins watching Elizabeth with a puzzled expression on her face, and Mrs. Bennet looked between her second eldest and their guest in confusion, wondering what she could do to bring about a proposal if he didn’t take the chances she gave him.

Elizabeth was exhausted after having remained awake all night and excused herself shortly after dinner. She put on a soft nightgown and climbed into bed and was asleep in minutes.

She woke early the next morning and decided she would pay a morning call at Netherfield. With Jane. What she would actually do is walk perilously close to the estate and use some excuse to go into the house before the acceptable time to call. She could say she just realized she had left something there when she tended Jane and wanted to get it before they left. Once she was there, she would think of something. Maybe she would secure an invitation for Jane in Town or make plans for them during the festive season. Something, anything!

Once her hair was neatly pinned up, she tiptoed to Jane’s room and woke her sister.

“Jane, wake up, dearest. Come for a walk with me.”

“Lizzy?” Jane said groggily. “What time is it?”

“It is early, but the day is bright. Let’s walk toward Oakham Mount.”

“Oh, Lizzy, not today! I am sleepy. And I don’t want to tire myself before the ball.”

Elizabeth went cold. “What did you say?”

“I said I want to go back to sleep. And we will be up late dancing; we shouldn’t tire ourselves out before we even get to the ball.”

“Jane,” Elizabeth spoke in a thin voice, “what day is it?”

“It is Tuesday, of course.” She sat up and looked at her sister. “Are you ill, Lizzy?”

“I feel suddenly unwell.” She sank heavily onto her sister’s bed.

Jane slid over and opened the blanket to her sister. Elizabeth kicked off her shoes and lay down, her face pale and her eyes blinking frantically.

“Is there anything I can do?” Jane asked, feeling her sister’s forehead for a fever.

“No, nothing. I just need a moment. I shall be well soon enough,” she said. She stared at the ceiling for several minutes, too shocked to think or plan or speak.

“Sleep will set you to rights,” Jane said soothingly. She stroked Elizabeth’s hair and hummed softly in an effort to comfort her sister.

There was no comfort to be had, but sleep welcomed Elizabeth into sweet oblivion.