“Thank you, Mary,” said Jane.
“How could she write such a letter at a time like this, with such disregard for our father?” said Elizabeth. Elizabeth was often the most rational of Mary’s sisters, which was an admirable trait, and she generally managed to express her sentiments in a concise yet compelling manner, a skill which Mary wished she could imitate.
“Even if I were married to a man like Wickham,” said Kitty, “I would come for a funeral.”
Jane reached across the table and took the letter. She would probably say something altogether too kind, and more forgiving than Lydia deserved.
“Oh, surely she is prevented for some reason from coming and is using this excuse as a mask for her emotions. See this line, ‘I have not stopped shedding tears since I heard the news.’ Do you not hear the real sadness there?”
Mary did not sense any sadness on Lydia’s part. Of course, she had never understood her youngest sister. She tried to withhold judgment, for various sermons said it was not man’s role to judge, yet she often found herself condemning Lydia’s follies. Jane and Elizabeth had come when their father had taken ill; all his daughters had been there with him in the moment he took his last breath. All except Lydia. And now she chose not to attend his funeral.
A man entered the room without the courtesy of a knock or warning, and they silenced and turned back to their work. It was best not to discuss overly personal matters in front of servants, and this seemed especially true for the men hired by Mr. Collins.
Due to the entailment, which was unalterable, as each of the daughters tried to explain to Mrs. Bennet time and time again, the estate and most of its possessions went not to any of Mr. Bennet’s daughters, but rather to his closest male relative, Mr. Collins.
Mr. Collins had been serving as a clergyman, but upon Mr. Bennet’s death a week before, had decided to renounce the living and devote himself to the running of Longbourn. After his arrival, his first task was to follow the advice of his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and to immediately, without any delay, make the estate match his personal expectations of taste and comfort. Mr. and Mrs. Collins intended to use some of the existing furniture at Longbourn, but they also planned to bring some of their own pieces, and so Mr. Collins had arranged to sell the excess. Mary wondered how a mismatched collection of furniture would serve them, but it was his furniture, and he could do with it as he liked.
He had stated that Mrs. Bennet could remain at Longbourn until she chose a permanent place. In the meantime, she could even maintain possession of her bedroom, which he admitted was the best in the house and would be within his rights to occupy (though of course his sense of duty to Mrs. Bennet would not allow him to take it from her). All of Mr. Collins’s actions and words seemed, on the surface, very rational to Mary, yet somehow his mannerisms left her feeling that he should be doing more to accommodate their family.
Despite Mr. Collins’s insistence that his goal was to make the situation agreeable to everyone, Mrs. Bennet had declared that she would not be a guest in her own home. She had wanted to vacate the premises immediately, but Mary and Kitty had convinced her that they should not leave until several days after the funeral. Mary could not abandon her father’s body to the care of Mr. Collins; she and her sisters would watch over it. Meanwhile, Mr. Collins’s haste in selling the existing furniture did make living here during the funeral preparations more difficult. She could not even play a funeral march uninterrupted.
The hired man passed rather closely to where Jane, Kitty, and Elizabeth were seated. A loud noise, perhaps some sort of bird, came from outside; it was louder than a typical bird, and not the sort of sound one normally heard in these parts. They all turned to look, but there was nothing to be seen, so after a moment they returned to their tasks. The hired man was examining an upholstered chair. He paused and looked briefly at Mary with the sort of focused attention that disconcerted her. His eyes then turned to Kitty before returning to the chair.
“Will you be sitting with Father tonight, Mary?” asked Jane.
“Yes, I am prepared to do my duty.” She considered saying more, but she was distracted as the man lifted the chair.
As he passed her on the way out of the room, Mary could not help but notice that his clothes seemed a bit crisper than those of the other hired men, and his cravat was a slightly different shade of brown. She did not recognize his face, though it was a very normal face, with no distinguishing characteristics. He must have arrived later than the other men, or maybe he had been sitting with the wagons until now, but still, something about him unsettled her.
“Did anyone notice something strange about that servant?”
Elizabeth and Jane shook their heads, quizzical expressions on their faces.
Kitty leaned forward and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, “Did he do something untoward?”
“Of course not,” said Mary. “But I was certain Mr. Collins only brought eight men, and he was not one of them.” Not only had she sensed that he did not belong, but she felt like he had been evaluating her.
Kitty gave a brief, derisive laugh. “You counted the men he brought?”
Mary looked down at the pianoforte’s keys. Kitty had spent a lot of time mocking her lately. Mary ignored it with practiced indifference, but still it grated on her.
For the most part, she had liked it better when all four of her sisters had been
