Chapter 16 A Test of Fire

Mr. Collins abandoned his efforts to unite himself with the Bennet family through marriage without any further offers to his cousins. Farewelling the family as he planned just a fortnight away from his patroness, no one but Mary seemed to miss his presence. The family enjoyed a short lull in social obligations until excitement for Jane’s wedding and Elizabeth’s recovery spilled over into the seasonal traditions of Longbourn.
Evergreens adorned the house from top to bottom. Elizabeth could not walk into a room without the pungent freshness of the forest assaulting her senses, reminding her of why she loved the holiday best. As the weather grew worse for her daily walks, the reminder of the woods and glens she frequented coming indoors offered a partial consolation. In a week, it would be Christmas, and then Jane and Mr. Bingley would marry. Though she felt most anxious for her sister’s happiness, it was the return of Mr. Darcy’s presence to the neighborhood, as he promised, that ignited her own.
During their separation, Mr. Bennet shared a few lines that directly related to Elizabeth from the letters he received from Mr. Darcy with her. While Elizabeth wished to hear more than short hopes for her continued good health, she realized that Mr. Darcy was unlikely to write any lines of substance that her father might read. Each time she was summoned to the library that Mr. Bennet used as his study, her father greatly enjoyed embarrassing his daughter to the fullest extent.
“So Lizzy, your sister is crossed in love. Next to being married, a state she will soon enter in good time, a girl likes to be crossed in love now and then.”
“Father,” Elizabeth attempted to interrupt her father, but he would not be dissuaded from his point.
“It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to be outdone by Jane for long.”
Elizabeth frowned at her father. She gazed down at her hands stained in the hues of burnt umber, all the way underneath her fingernails. She sighed as she wished she had not been summoned at all, as her project above stairs had served most faithfully in excusing her from Jane’s wedding activities. She needed to complete it if she hoped to present it to the Lucas family before Christmas.
“I am not in competition with my sister,” she said, plainly. Then she looked up to her father. “And if I was, Jane would surely lose. You know she cannot bear to disappoint anyone, not even in her own self-interest.”
Mr. Bennet waved off his daughter’s logic. “Now is your time. Let Darcy be your man. Surely you have some yearnings in that heart of yours to commit to paper that I may send back to him?” Mr. Bennet scowled as Elizabeth laughed at him, shaking her head.
“The yearnings of my heart, sir, do not belong in a letter to a man I am not presently engaged.”
“Then write to the man about the weather! Your painting! Anything, in faith, my daughter, so that I do not yet have to write to him again!”
Elizabeth smiled. Certainly, her father would not outright offer falsehoods if he did not wish to encourage her with Mr. Darcy. But the true dilemma he faced was not in fostering that man’s feelings, but to avoid writing more correspondence. And thus far, Mr. Darcy had been a very reliable correspondent with at least one letter reaching Longbourn each week.
“I will pen him my thanks for his gift and detail the work I am pursuing, after,” she stressed the last word, “I have finished and presented the painting to the Lucases.”
“But how long will that put off a response to Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Bennet asked, suspiciously.
“I believe I can finish today and allow it to cure enough to travel in two days.”
Mr. Bennet groaned, covering his face with his hands. “By then he will have surely sent another letter!”
Elizabeth hesitated, not wishing to give her father any further material to tease her upon. Still, she ached to know the answer to her question.
“Does Mr. Darcy write about his plans to travel back to Hertfordshire?” She tried to sound as unaffected as she could manage, and looked away from her father to reveal none of her emotions on her face.
Mr. Bennet did not answer and allowed silence to hang in the room. His daughter’s question caught him quite off guard. Clearing his throat, as the implications soon troubled his mind, he gave his daughter honesty.
“He has mentioned it occurring, but as to any specific dates, I’m afraid not.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, as her father tried to reassure her that such an oversight meant nothing at all. The man did not intend to stay at Longbourn, and being the great man that Mr. Darcy was, he certainly would not believe he needed to submit his travel plans to a leaky baronet in the middle of nowhere of note, England.
Mumbling something in agreement, she politely abandoned her father to see about her own business: the gift she planned for Sir William Lucas and Lady Lucas. Once started, her paintings called out to her throughout the day in her mind as small fixes and embellishments took form in her imagination.
Upstairs, Jane occupied their room allowing their shared maid to style her hair.
“Is Mama parading you about again?” Elizabeth asked, lifting her apron over her head that she wore when she painted. She scowled to find that in the time she had visited with her father, at his behest, the sun’s position in the sky changed the lighting in the studio area of their room. Wrestling with her easel, Elizabeth listened as Jane answered.
“We are visiting Mrs. Long. Mama is insistent that I visit the many families in the area to establish myself as the future Mrs. Bingley.”
“While you each wear gray, how could anyone suspect such a joyous occasion is nearly upon us?” Elizabeth nudged the legs of her easel with her foot to get the best light on the portion of Maria Lucas’ gown that she was working on. At first, she had thought to paint them in the gowns from the assembly, but that would always make the painting a source of melancholy. Instead, Elizabeth depicted each Lucas daughter wearing the frock she remembered flattering them best. However, the pale pink of Maria’s gown had proved to be the most aggravating shade to capture.
“I’m also not so sure Mr. Bingley will remain in the area,” Jane braved explaining after the maid left them.
Elizabeth paused in her mixing of pigments. “Strange. I believed with Mr. Bingley offering for your hand, his decision to purchase Netherfield Park a foregone conclusion.”
Jane shook her head. “We’ve spoken, and he asked me if I should like to remain in Hertfordshire.”
“And what did you tell him?”
Jane shrugged, gathering the last of the things she needed before a visit. “If you marry Mr. Darcy, you will be far away to the north.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips as her sister’s obvious logic challenged her desires. She loved the idea of marrying Mr. Darcy and playing mistress to a mystery estate far away. The practicality of such a vocation, however, warred with her familiarity of her surroundings, in addition to the love she felt for her family members.
“I hadn’t given that much consideration,” was the only noncommittal response she offered.
Jane approached Elizabeth’s painting to see the progress, one of the only family members permitted to witness a work before completion. Truthfully, the permission derived from the realities of sharing a bedroom instead of the artist’s own preference.
“Charlotte’s expression is sublime,” Jane complimented, earning a nod from her sister. Suddenly, Jane spotted a small detail that was out of place. “I don’t recall her wearing a cross similar to yours.”
“I painted mine on her.”
Jane gulped as Elizabeth’s stony expression remained fixed on painting the ruffles of Maria’s hemline.
“That is a lovely touch.”
Hearing their mother’s bellows up the stairs, Jane reluctantly left her younger sister to her enterprise. Picking up another paintbrush, and placing the handle of the previous one between her teeth for easy retrieval, Elizabeth delicately moved the paint into a simulation of movement. Still, her mind raced over Jane’s intelligence that she and Mr. Bingley might move away. This notion compounded with the added reminder that to marry Mr. Darcy, she, too, would by necessity have to move away from Longbourn. She equally felt silly to find herself stuck upon these two ideas, as there was nothing plainer about the business of marriage than a bride leaving her family to join her groom.
Setting her brushes down and stretching her neck to relieve herself of the tightness growing between her shoulder blades, she inspected the small inventory of blank canvasses in her possession. Instead of giving over to dismay about the inability to live in two places at once, she assigned herself a new mission to complete after the Lucas painting.
She would paint her favorite places near her home so that no matter where she lived in all of England, a part of her home would travel with her. The new project, already demanding space in the artist’s mind, made Elizabeth sigh with resignation. She would have to paint from near dawn until dusk to finish all of them if Mr. Darcy wanted a short engagement like Mr. Bingley!