Page 56 of Hard Home

"Yes, but whatisit? Where did the old man have it?"

"He was a merchant at Ware. Or his father was. I do not know."

"He was not," said Mary. "He was the last of the Kings of Bulstrode. My father has the pedigree in the book with the green cover, and I looked at it on Tuesday, because I wanted to seewhether it went back before the register, and it does. There was an Accord at Bulstrode. It is a very little one — it is not a great house, it is four hundred acres and a fish-pond — and it went through the female line twice in the last century, which is unusual, and it can go through the female line, which is the whole point."

Elizabeth put down the jar.

"Mary. What are you telling me?"

"I am telling you that Miss King has ten thousand poundsanda line that a man may braid into." Mary's voice was completely flat, as it always was, which somehow made it worse. "And that there are perhaps nine women in this county of whom that is true, and that you and I are two of them, and that Mr. Wickham has been in Meryton four months and has been particular, at one time or another, with four of the nine."

"That is not evidence of anything. Every young man in a country town is particular with—"

"He was not particular with Miss Fanshawe," said Mary, "who is the prettiest girl in this parish and has three thousand pounds and no line at all. He has never once stood up with her. I have watched him at five assemblies and I have written it down."

Elizabeth said, "You have written it down."

"I have written a great many things down. Nobody has ever asked me for any of them." Mary wiped her hands on her apron. "You asked me for one thing, at Netherfield, and I have been of some use to you for four months in my own head, and it has been the pleasantest four months I have had. I know precisely how that sounds and I am not going to apologize for it."

"Mary—"

"Listen to the rest, because I have got it wrong twice and I do not think I have got it wrong now." Mary sat down on the edge of the table, which she never did. "Everybody in this house thinks Mr. Wickham wants money. He may want money; most peopledo. But a man who wanted money would have gone after Miss Fanshawe in November and been comfortable by Christmas.

"There is only one way into an Accord for a man who has not got one. It is not purchase, and it is not service, and it is not the gift of any gentleman living, however much he may love you — because the ground does not care what the gentleman intends and it is not obliged to have him. There is exactly one door, Lizzy, and it is braiding. That is what braidingis. Two lines are put together and neither of them is consulted and it cannot be undone by anybody. A man may be born outside every house in England and be inside one of them by Michaelmas if a woman will stand up in a church with him."

The still-room was very quiet.

"He is not looking for money," said Mary Bennet. "He is looking for a door."

Chapter Twenty-Six

Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state for enjoyment; for she had seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

That is what she wrote to Jane afterwards, and it was two-thirds true.

The journey was performed in the company of Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria, and the party was rendered agreeable by Sir William's talking a great deal and requiring nothing whatever in return. He had been three times through the history of his presentation before they reached Hatfield, and Maria, who was a good-humored girl but as empty-headed as her father, had nothing to add to it; and Elizabeth, who could listen to Sir William with about a quarter of her attention and had long practice, spent the remainder of the road going over a conversation she had not yet had.

They were to lie a night in Gracechurch-street.

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Jane came down the steps before the carriage had stopped.

She was well. That was the first and best thing and Elizabeth had it within four seconds: her sister's color was good, her hands were warm, and she had put on a little of what she had lost in November.

It was over supper, with the children in bed and Sir William being taken through Mr. Gardiner's warehouses in conversation, that she said the other thing.

"It has gone away entirely, Lizzy."

"The tiredness?"

"Everything." Jane turned her glass round on the cloth. "You will think this is nothing, or that I am being fanciful. I have been in this house nine weeks and I have not once known what anybody in a room is feeling."

Elizabeth put down her fork.

"I do not mean that I have been mistaken about people. I mean that I do not — reach anybody. There is nothing going out of me at all." Jane said it quite calmly. "It began about a week after I came. And at first I thought, well, I am unhappy, and unhappy people are of no use to anybody, and it will come back. And then I noticed that I sleep, and that I can sit in a room with my aunt when she is worried about the children and simplysit in it, and go up afterwards not tired. And, Lizzy, I have had nine weeks of that now, and I am ashamed to tell you how much I have liked it."

"Jane—"