by Jann Rowland
Once he had decided his course of action, he determined it was necessary to reassure Mr. Bennet of the modest yet enviable future that awaited his second-oldest daughter.
“Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Collins by the man's sickbed, “I want to advise you that you may pass comfortably from this world as soon as may be, knowing that the fate of your daughters is secure. Indeed, I have come to impart this most blessed of knowledge upon you, for I can readily say that Miss Elizabeth finds herself in the most enviable position of having been selected as the recipient of my affection and most delicate attentions.”
Mr. Bennet gave a small cough and then squinted up at his bedside visitor. “You must forgive me, but I am afraid I do not catch your meaning, Collins.”
“Of course, of course. I beg your pardon for not having been clearer. In short, for I understand that long conversation can be difficult to follow for one who is so very ill, I have decided that Miss Elizabeth is to be my future companion in life.”
Mr. Bennet was quiet for a few moments as he considered what had been said. “You wish to marry Lizzy?”
“That is correct, Cousin. She shall be comfortably situated in her childhood home for the rest of her days. I am told your eldest daughter is unavailable, but I believe Miss Elizabeth will be a suitable alternative, and I am most pleased to have selected her.”
“Have you . . . asked Lizzy to marry you?”
“I have not,” said Mr. Collins, “but I am certain that an announcement shall be made ere long. After all, a proposal is but a paltry detail in matters of such import as this.”
Mr. Bennet did not appear to be exulted by Mr. Collins's news, but as he soon descended into a fit of coughing, Mr. Collins deemed it prudent to leave the room and allow the man to rejoice in private.
While Mr. Collins might have allowed some time to become better acquainted with a young woman before proposing marriage to her had the circumstances been different, he did not know how long Mr. Bennet was for this world. Believing it necessary to secure Elizabeth's position as his future wife to ease Longbourn's transition from Mr. Bennet's hands to his, he endeavored to secure her hand without delay.
Mr. Collins, though he still had not refreshed his clothes after his journey, entered the drawing-room where the female Bennets sat. Somber looks were worn by all, and the eyes of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth held the redness of recent tears. Seeing him enter, Miss Elizabeth curtsied and then immediately made as if to leave the room, no doubt to resume her place at her father's sickbed now that Mr. Collins had finished with the gentleman.
“I would like to request a few minutes to speak with Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Collins hastily and loudly, bringing the young woman's steps to a halt.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Come, girls! Let us give Lizzy and Mr. Collins a little time alone.”
Her brow furrowed in concern, Jane Bennet began: “Mama—”
Mrs. Bennet interrupted her before she could say anything further. “You need not worry, Jane. Simply return to Mr. Bennet's side; he will appreciate the company.”
“I should be much obliged if you would do so,” said Mr. Collins, bowing.
Mrs. Bennet then continued to usher all her daughters from the room, though not before Miss Bennet had made one last attempt to protest. Once the young women were all gone, Mrs. Bennet closed the door, shutting Mr. Collins inside the room with the quiet Miss Elizabeth.
Though Mr. Collins would have viewed being left alone with a young woman as a most inappropriate circumstance, he knew that exceptions could be made for a proposal, which would, indeed, be most unorthodox to make in a roomful of watching eyes.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Collins, “please have a seat.”
His cousin looked toward the door briefly before she sat on the edge of the nearest chair. “Might I ask why you wish to speak with me, Mr. Collins? As our acquaintance can be measured in no more than a few words, I should wonder why you might feel the need to converse with me in such an intimate fashion.”
“Certainly, certainly, I understand the confusion that has come over you, and I shall enlighten you ere long. But this is something I must not rush. In the future, you shall remember this day and think of it quite fondly, I assure you, so I must tend to every detail as a gardener tends to the flowers under his care, pulling out the weeds and sprinkling generous amounts of water to enable his charges to grow as he desires.
“Now, as you know, your father is quite ill, and it is widely believed that he shall not survive until the new year. Upon his death, the estate of Longbourn shall fall onto me due to the entail that was set in place generations ago. I am certain you must be aware of this.”
“Mr. Collins—”
“Miss Elizabeth,” continued Mr. Collins, “you must accept my condolences for the difficult situation you are in, losing your father as you shall soon. I know how dear the familiarity of an old face can be. But you need not fear also losing the familiarity of your childhood home, and that is the joyous news I bring you.”
Miss Elizabeth, who appeared to have been fighting the urge to weep, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and bit her lip. Then she inhaled deeply and said: “Mr. Collins, as I am quite distraught at present and wish to return to my father's side, I would request that you please speak plainly and briefly.”
“Very well. As I said, I bring you most joyous news. I have selected you among your sisters as being the one most worthy of taking the position of my future wife. You may wipe away all your tears now and rest peacefully with the knowledge that you need not fear the vagaries of the world. Instead, you will be so fortunate as to be content with your place at my side for the rest of our days.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Miss Elizabeth, her voice shaky and filled with some sort of emotion that Mr. Collins could not discern, “I appreciate the kindness of your intentions, but I am not convinced that either of us is capable of making the other happy through marriage.”
“Miss Elizabeth, I fear you have no choice but to accept me. While I understand this is a difficult time for you—”
“No!” cried Miss Elizabeth. “You do not understand. You cannot know the love that I have for my father or the place he has held in my life all these years.”
“The place of your father shall be filled by your husband—”
“No, I cannot agree! Mr. Collins, please—I cannot think of marriage right now. I cannot.”
Then, tears streaming down her face, Miss Elizabeth leaped to her feet, flung open the door, and fled the room.
Mr. Collins, after passing a moment of stunned silence, rushed after Miss Elizabeth, nearly colliding with Mrs. Bennet and her daughters, who had been standing outside the door.
“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Collins, dipping his head, before he continued to follow Elizabeth Bennet.
The young woman left the house, sobbing and seemingly moving forward with no destination through the grass. Mr. Collins, though already puffing a little in his exertions, cried out: “Miss Elizabeth, please return to the house!”
They continued in this manner for a few minutes, with the distance between him and Miss Elizabeth growing all the while. Then the sight of a man approaching on horseback slowed both of their steps.
As the horse and its rider drew closer, Miss Elizabeth came to a halt and turned away, wiping at her eyes with the handkerchief she still had in hand. Mr. Collins, his chest heaving with every breath, took the opportunity to move closer to her.
The new gentleman soon dismounted, his face the very picture of concern. “Miss Bennet, whatever is wrong? Who is this man? Is he harassing you?”
Miss Elizabeth finally turned to look at him, fighting to keep her tears and her voice under control. “This man is my c-cousin, Mr. Collins.”
“We are in the midst of a very important conversation, sir,” said Mr. Collins, “so we would both be much gratified if you would please allow us some time alone to reach a resolution.”
“I believe I am speaking
to the young lady,” said the gentleman coldly.
He then turned to the young woman and asked: “What has he done to you, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Oh, I do not w-wish to marry him!” cried the young woman before collapsing to the ground and sobbing, her face buried in her hands.
“Her father is dying, sir,” said Mr. Collins, “and I have merely presented an option that should be welcomed by all. She has been overcome by various emotions, and there is no need to concern yourself.”
“I told you I am speaking to the lady,” snapped the other man. “I have not made your acquaintance yet and do not desire it.”
Then the man knelt beside Miss Elizabeth and gathered her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest and rubbing her back while murmuring comforting words.
“I apologize for my cousin's behavior,” said Mr. Collins with a frown, “but your current actions are not appropriate. As her future husband, I believe that I am to be responsible for her well-being, and I shall convey her back to Longbourn.”
To Mr. Collins's agitation, the other man ignored him, and once Miss Elizabeth had reached a calmer state, the man stood up with her in his arms and began striding forward, obviously intent on returning her to Longbourn himself.
Mr. Collins watched him for a moment before grabbing the nearby horse's reins and following him with token protests.
Upon their arrival at Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet waited inside near the entrance. At the sight of the gentleman holding Miss Elizabeth, she made a noise of surprise. “Mr. Darcy! Whatever are you doing here?”
“Mr. Darcy?” echoed Mr. Collins. “Why, could it be that you are the Mr. Darcy who is the nephew of the late Lady Catherine de Bourgh? I apologize, for I did not recognize you. I saw you only from a distance at her funeral, you know—”
“Miss Elizabeth is unwell,” said Mr. Darcy to Mrs. Bennet. “I believe she needs to rest.”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Bennet, looking at the young woman. “Let me call for our manservant.”
Once Miss Elizabeth had been deposited safely into her bed, Mr. Darcy left after exchanging only a few brief words with Mrs. Bennet outside her daughter’s room. To assuage his curiosity, Mr. Collins approached his hostess and asked her about the circumstances which caused Mr. Darcy to be found nearby.
“Mr. Darcy is a friend of Mr. Bingley, the young gentleman who let the nearby estate of Netherfield before Michaelmas,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy has been at Netherfield for a few months with his friend, and he was recently joined in Hertfordshire by his sister so that they might spend Christmastime together.”
“How fortuitous that I should meet him here,” said Mr. Collins, smiling. “Once he realizes the connection between us, he shall no doubt be glad to bestow his blessing on my marriage to your daughter.”
“I would not be so very certain myself,” said Mrs. Bennet, “for the man’s pride is quite unseemly.”
Before Mr. Collins could respond, the housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, appeared and brought a young woman forward.
“Mistress, I hope you do not mind,” said Mrs. Hill to Mrs. Bennet, “but Miss Lucas has come to call on Miss Elizabeth and was most insistent upon seeing her after hearing she felt unwell.”
“Of course, of course,” said Mrs. Bennet, waving for Mrs. Hill to leave. She then proceeded with making the introductions between Miss Lucas and Mr. Collins, explaining that Miss Lucas was one of Miss Elizabeth’s dearest friends.
After the introductions had been completed, Miss Lucas told Mr. Collins: “I have tried to call at Longbourn every day since Mr. Bennet became ill. There may not be much that I am able to do, but I try to manage what I can.”
“That is quite admirable,” said the man, smiling to himself and looking upon Miss Elizabeth with approval. It seemed only fitting that his bride-to-be would have such a considerate friend. He had done well indeed in selecting his future wife.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and when Mr. Collins went to break his fast, he found Elizabeth Bennet waiting for him.
Her face appeared pale, no doubt due to the emotional upheaval caused by her father's illness, yet she spoke to him in an unwavering and almost flat voice. “I have thought about your proposal, Mr. Collins, and as long as you agree to allow my mother and sisters to stay at Longbourn after my father's death, I shall agree to marry you. Though my mother has hoped Mr. Bingley would ask for Jane's hand, I have not yet seen evidence of his commitment to such a course of action, and I cannot be assured that my family will have a place to stay after my father's death unless you offer one.”
Mr. Collins smiled. “Of course, Miss Elizabeth. I shall gladly offer your sisters a place to stay until they are married or able to seek positions as governesses, and your mother shall no doubt assist you when it comes to your assumption of duties as mistress of Longbourn. I have reason to believe that our marriage shall bring happiness to all, and you need not fret about the future in the slightest.”
Miss Elizabeth curtsied and then left him. Mr. Collins smiled and congratulated himself on handling everything with such promptness.
That evening, Mr. Collins found himself in the highest of spirits when he left the drawing-room to return to his bedchamber. Now, the only item left for all his plans to come to fruition was for Mr. Bennet to pass from this world.
Smiling to himself, he reached out to grasp the doorknob to his room when the face of Lady Catherine de Bourgh suddenly sprung into his vision, emblazoned on the brass of the knob.
With a cry and a muttered oath, Mr. Collins jumped backward, running his hand over his face in surprise. As he looked once more at the door, he found that the knob bore not even the slightest resemblance to his former patroness. Still, he wiped his brow and bowed. “I beg your pardon, your ladyship. Please forgive this humble clergyman for his ill treatment of your person, but I really must enter my room.”
Then, carefully watching to ensure the head of her ladyship would not materialize once more, Mr. Collins reached out and turned the knob, exhaling in relief as it retained its ordinary shape.
“Seeing Mr. Darcy recently must have stirred up memories of her ladyship's funeral,” said Mr. Collins to himself, attempting to explain away the unnatural occurrence. “I must have been imagining her on account of our meeting.”
Shaken despite his attempt at justification, Mr. Collins proceeded in readying himself for sleep and putting on his nightclothes. But once he had drawn the bed linens back and proceeded to sit upon his bed, a voice called out his name sharply.
“Mr. Collins!”
He jumped and looked up at the frowning visage of his former patroness. “Lady Catherine!” Gasping, he pulled the bed linens up over him like a shield. “What . . . Whatever happened to you?”
He had failed to notice it at first, but her ladyship was completely covered in chains. They crisscrossed all over her body in a tangled mess, and they were so numerous as to make it impossible to tell what she wore underneath. Even her head had a crude sort of hat upon it that had been formed from links of metal. As Mr. Collins continued to stare at her in stupefaction, he realized that she was also transparent and hovering at least a foot off the ground.
“You wish to know what happened to me, Mr. Collins?” asked Lady Catherine with an upturned lip, rattling her chains as if to emphasize her point. “I forged every one of these chains by myself through my officiousness. By trying to force everyone to do as I wished rather than allowing them to live their own lives, I neglected to fill myself with the milk of human kindness and instead filled myself with the poison of selfishness.”
“I beg your pardon, your ladyship, but attempting to encourage others to abide by your wishes is not against the Commandments—”
“Selfishness is not to be abided, Mr. Collins, and selfishness ruled my entire life.
“But just as I am covered with these chains, so, too, are you fettered. Your chains may not be so long and great as mine, but they shall grow every day until you reach the afterlife and find
yourself to be choked by them.”
Alarmed, Mr. Collins looked about him to find the chains her ladyship had referenced, but he saw nothing. Even running a hand about his neck failed to find a solitary link of metal. “I beg your pardon, your ladyship, but I do not see any such chains.”
“You may not be able to view them now, but they are there, Mr. Collins.”
“But why?” asked Mr. Collins. “Why should I have any chains at all?”
“Is it not true that selfishness and your sense of self-worth rule your life, Mr. Collins?” asked Lady Catherine. “When you asked Elizabeth Bennet to marry you, were you trying to do what was best for her or what was best for you?”
Still holding up the linens to obscure her ladyship's view of his nightclothes, Mr. Collins stammered: “Our marriage would be mutually beneficial—”
“Collins!” snapped Lady Catherine. “Your proposal was hasty and careless of Miss Elizabeth's feelings. Beware how you act in life, or else you shall forge your own chains in death. I would suggest that you mend your ways with Elizabeth Bennet immediately, or you shall be forced to suffer the consequences.”
“Your ladyship,” said Mr. Collins, bowing forward until his forehead touched the bed, “I can assure you that the circumstances are quite different from what you seem to believe. As such, you need not worry for my well-being, though I am, of course, touched that you would make a special visit after your death for the mere purpose of assisting your humble clergyman.”
“Heed my words, Mr. Collins, before your chains are so tangled together they can never be removed,” said Lady Catherine ominously, clanking her chains together before her transparent form dissipated entirely.
