by Jann Rowland
“Ordinarily, I should gladly listen to whatever business with which you might flatter me, but the issue which I must discuss with you is one that cannot be further delayed.”
“Mr. Collins, I wish to discuss your marriage to Miss Elizabeth—”
“No, no, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins. “There is to be no marriage! I have decided—I cannot be dissuaded—there is nothing that can change my mind—Miss Elizabeth and I do not suit, and I shall not marry her. I must insist that you take her to be your wife.”
Mr. Darcy remained silent for several moments, his mouth partway open, as if he had meant to speak but forgot what he had intended to say. Finally, he asked: “I beg your pardon? How did you know that I was coming to—”
“I do not know whatever your business is this morning, sir, but I fear you must leave off it at once and propose to my cousin. I have come to realize that you may be able to make her happy and that I shall not make a good partner for her. I will not have her, Mr. Darcy. I do not want her any longer.”
Before Mr. Darcy could respond, the door to the house opened, drawing their attention. The subject of their discussion walked outside, only to pause and pale at the sight of the two gentlemen.
“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins,” said the young woman, hastening into a curtsy.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Collins, stepping toward her, “might I inquire as to the state of your father's health this morning?”
She glanced at Mr. Darcy before returning her attention to Mr. Collins. Subdued, she said: “He appears to have a little more strength than he did yesterday, so I intended to take a brief walk around the house before returning to be with him.”
“I confess I am somewhat surprised to hear that he still breathes this blessed air,” said Mr. Collins, “but I am glad for it, indeed, for you have a most important business to attend to with him this morning.”
“Mr. Collins,” began Mr. Darcy.
“No, no, you must attend to it immediately. I shall not hear of anything else.”
Once someone had been called to see to Mr. Darcy's horse, Mr. Collins ushered his cousin and Mr. Darcy into Mr. Bennet's room.
“Mr. Collins,” said Miss Elizabeth, her voice sounding somewhat strained, “I beg your pardon, but I am not aware of what sort of business it is that Mr. Darcy could have with my father at this time.”
“My dear cousin,” said Mr. Collins, bowing and smiling, “you shall find out soon enough. I have faith that Mr. Darcy shall acquit himself well.”
He stepped out of the room and quietly shut the door. After glancing around to ensure no one else stirred at this early hour, he placed his ear against the door. While he ordinarily would not scruple to eavesdrop, he felt this matter concerned him so closely he had little choice but to listen to ascertain whether circumstances proceeded as they should.
“Well, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, “I suppose you at least have some notion of what was alluded to by Collins.”
“I do,” said Mr. Darcy. “I had wished to talk to your daughter in private first, but I suppose there can be no help for it now.”
“What is your business, then? Surely you shall not keep a man on his sickbed waiting.”
There was a brief pause before Mr. Darcy spoke once more. “The simple truth is that I wish to marry Miss Elizabeth. Before you protest, I must emphasize that my love for her is most ardent and sincere. The thought of her marrying a man who cannot appreciate her mental faculties has sickened me. I am confident that I can bring her the happiness that Mr. Collins cannot.”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but my illness appears to have afflicted my hearing. Could you please repeat yourself?”
After Mr. Darcy expressed himself once more, Mr. Bennet exclaimed: “Well!”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, “you are aware that I have already agreed to marry my cousin—”
“Mr. Collins releases you from your promise,” said Mr. Darcy. “He no longer wishes to marry you, but I certainly do.”
“Now, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, “while I can say without exaggeration that Mr. Collins is not the sort of man whom I would want to marry my most intelligent daughter, I do know that she would have at least been on an equal footing of sorts with him.
“You may find it surprising to hear, but I am actually aware that you have been harboring feelings toward Lizzy. Despite the rumors that have passed throughout the neighborhood, my illness was not sudden, so as it has come over me, I have attempted to watch those who might be interested in my daughters. I have been a foolish man, not investing as I should, but I do nonetheless desire that my family be cared for after my demise. It is because of my careful attention that I have witnessed the way your eyes follow Lizzy's movements and soften at her laughter. While I am aware that you are capable of providing for her, you must know that there is little in terms of connections and dowry that she shall bring to a marriage. As such, I am not certain she is well-suited to be the wife of such a prestigious figure as yourself.”
“I have money and connections aplenty,” said Mr. Darcy. “What I desire is a wife whose wit and vivacity shall bring mutual happiness to us both. I can promise you that I shall do everything I can to make your daughter happy. I have always wanted to love my wife as my father loved my mother, but I never actually expected to have the opportunity to find such a gem as she.
“If you agree to give your daughter in marriage to me, I promise that I will do whatever I can to make her love me as much as I love her.”
“Handsome words from a young man, to be certain,” said Mr. Bennet, “but I must confess I remain hesitant. Are you certain you want my Lizzy for your wife? While I believe she is worth more than any other young woman in England, I know your family must have certain aspirations with you in mind.”
“I suspect you are more than aware that the worth of spirit and mind should outweigh any other considerations. As such, Mr. Bennet, you must consider giving your blessing. My mother—” Here, Mr. Darcy paused, and he seemed to consider whether to continue saying what he had intended. Finally, he did, though in a soft voice that Mr. Collins had to strain to hear. “My mother visited me in a dream last night, and she told me in no uncertain terms that I must not let Miss Elizabeth slip away from me. While I do not ordinarily place significance on dreams, this one deeply moved me, and I immediately determined to come here when I awoke.”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, “I had no idea you harbored such feelings for me. I had thought that you only looked on me with disgust—that I was not handsome enough to tempt a man of your standing.”
“I regretted those words the moment they were spoken, Miss Bennet. As I have come to know you and as I have witnessed your lively nature and heard your spirited words and looked upon your dancing eyes, I have come to think of you as one of the handsomest—nay, as the handsomest woman of my acquaintance. Bingley's sisters attempted to convince me to go to London for the winter, but I could not do so, for I could not bear to leave your society. I thought at first that my feelings were naught but infatuation, but they have grown all the stronger, such that I cannot bear to let you go.”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, “I should have expected you to marry the daughter of an earl or some heiress with lauded connections. Are you certain that your interest in me is genuine?”
“I have never been so certain of anything in my life,” said Mr. Darcy. “I confess I did once falter for reasons not unlike what you have described, but my love for you is strong enough that such concerns seem base and not worthy of consideration.
“If you were willing to marry Mr. Collins, then surely you can accept my suit in his stead. Please agree to marry me, Miss Bennet. I promise I shall do what I can to assist your mother and sisters when the time comes.”
“I myself can argue no longer when faced with such an ardent suit,” said Mr. Bennet, “but I suppose my arguments are not ultimately the most important. Lizzy, will you have Mr. Darcy?”
There was a
pause, and then Miss Elizabeth finally spoke, the sound of her voice holding evidence of both laughter and tears. “I suppose I cannot argue with the ardency of such affections either. Yes, Mr. Darcy, I agree to be your wife.”
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, his words unmistakably joyful.“I am glad to have my family's future secured in such a fashion,” said Mr. Bennet. “Certainly, a load has been lifted from my shoulders. However, I must own that I actually am feeling as if I am a new man this morning. I shall not be surprised if I disappoint everyone and live.”
Mr. Collins felt that this served as a fitting conclusion to the business to which he had needed to attend, and he smiled broadly as he stepped away from the door. He felt as if the spirit of Christmas had filled his very being to the brim with happiness. He had done quite well that day, and he praised himself for handling the situation so excellently.
Wanting to breathe in the fresh air of that Christmas morn one more time, he exited the house and raised his hands up to the sky, soaking in the rays of the brilliant sun beaming overhead. The day was perfect, and he would not change anything about it.
“Mr. Collins?” asked a voice in confusion.
He redirected his gaze and found Charlotte Lucas approaching and looking puzzled.
“Ah, Miss Lucas,” said he warmly. “You appear to be quite surprised to see me. I suppose I might wonder whether you were coming to Longbourn this morning for the explicit purpose of being in my company.”
“Actually,” said Miss Lucas after a brief pause, “I was wondering why you were still in your nightclothes.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Collins, “I suppose that would seem rather odd.” Then he hastened to excuse himself and return to his room to dress. Perhaps there was one thing he would have changed about that particular Christmas Day.
The End
From the Heart
by
Colin Rowland
In the midst of an early Canadian snowstorm, I started to wonder about the same type of occurrence happening around Christmas when Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley have been called away on business. How might Elizabeth and Jane face the prospect of Christmas without their dearest loves?
Elizabeth Bennet felt as if her spirits were sinking by the hour. Mr. Darcy had left for his estate of Pemberley on an unknown matter, and though she would never have expected her happiness to be so strongly affected by a temporary parting from a suitor, no matter how ardent her affections, she felt quite bereft. That he was gone was not out of the ordinary; the steward of his property, while competent and independent, on occasion deemed it necessary to request Mr. Darcy’s presence to address an issue of one kind or another. During the few instances in which this had happened previously, Mr. Darcy had resolved the affair as fast as he was able and returned to Netherfield, often arriving in the wee hours of the morning, testament to his eagerness to see Elizabeth once more.
This trip, however, was unlike those taken previously, for the decision to travel was sudden. Mr. Darcy had invited Mr. Bingley along and departed hurriedly, leaving only a note written in haste and promising to return before Christmas should arrive.
To compound Elizabeth’s anxiety, cold, wet weather had arrived soon after Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley commenced their travels, thereby causing her to suspend the morning walks she enjoyed each day. With little to occupy her, the usually good-natured young woman was gone, replaced by one who was quick-tempered and morose.
Elizabeth sat at the window, gazing toward the lane bordering the Longbourn estate. Her longing for her lover’s company had manifested as an ache in her bosom which no attention to needlework or other pastimes could ease. Perhaps it was only natural that she should feel such a way due to the wondrous circumstances which had seemed to conspire in bringing the two of them together. From Mr. Darcy’s slight at the spring assembly to his surprising reversal of feelings and ardent courtship, she could not help but confess to a feeling of thankfulness for her good fortune and the love she and Mr. Darcy shared.
“Lizzy,” announced a voice from behind her. “Why so glum? Did not Mr. Darcy declare his intention to return with all urgency?”
“He did, Jane,” said Elizabeth, “but I fear this inclement weather has caused a delay to those plans. The rain is falling heavily, and with it, the wind is strengthened. Furthermore, the lowering sky suggests the storm is not soon to be completed.”
Jane peered through the window to the scene in the manor’s yard. Though the drops of rain falling from the sky had begun the day small and light, they had now substantially grown in size and intensity, such that a curtain of water looked to have been drawn in front of the glass. The wind had stepped up, with strong gusts fiercely driving the rain against the windowpane, as if attempting to gain access to the warmth of the room. Visibility for anyone outside in such a storm had been made difficult, if not impossible.
“I am sure Mr. Darcy intends to do whatever is in his power to return as soon as he is able,” said Jane. “After all, Mr. Bingley is with him and will not allow unnecessary delay.”
“I worry more that he shall make a rash decision to travel when it is unsafe to do so.”
“Mr. Darcy is an uncommonly sensible man,” said Jane. “I have no fear his own good sense will keep them safely at Pemberley until it is advisable to leave for Netherfield.”
“What reason might have given adequate provocation to convince him a journey to his estate was vital in this season?” asked Elizabeth, her ire rising to the fore. “Furthermore, he left without a word of explanation!”
The sounds of children laughing and shouting with glee interrupted the exchange, as a pair of young girls ran through the sitting room, followed by an identical number of younger boys, seemingly intent upon catching their prey. The laughter which accompanied the youngsters was shrill and of a volume to overrule the possibility of speech.
“He would not have made such a decision on a mere whim,” said Jane when the Gardiners’ children had cleared the room. “Whatever the reason, I presume it was of sufficient urgency to urge his compliance. Let us go to the dining room. You may aid me in minding our young cousins, as they appear to be in a boisterous mood.”
Taking her sister’s hand, Jane drew her from the window and took her to the dining room, where a light midday meal had been prepared. The Gardiners’ young brood had already been gathered for the meal; they giggled and teased one another as Mr. Gardiner attempted to encourage them to be seated.
“Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “come enjoy the repast. It has been some time since last we visited, and I am given to understand you have caught the attention of an eligible suitor. Your mother is brimming with happiness and is speechless besides. I will rely on you to offer the details; for now, however, be seated, as we have much to review.”
The Gardiners had come to Longbourn to spend the Christmas season, and while the estate ordinarily could not have been called a domicile of peace and quiet, now it was even further from matching such a description. Elizabeth would typically have relished the change, for she felt quite close to Mrs. Gardiner, but now her agitation kept her from properly enjoying the company.
Mrs. Gardiner appeared to have recognized the alteration in Elizabeth’s mood, as she paused to search the young woman’s downcast face for the smile she usually wore.
“Whatever is the problem, Lizzy?” asked she of her niece. “You bear an expression of unease. Is something amiss?”
“She is anxious for the safety of Mr. Darcy,” said Jane. “He departed without notice for Pemberley three days ago, and his only communication was in the form of a brief note stating his intention of returning before Christmas Day. Lizzy fears that the worsening weather might delay his journey or that he will make a foolish choice to travel in defiance of the storm. It is my belief he is not the type to imperil himself or his companion without cause, but she is not to be persuaded.”
“I am in agreement with Jane,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “From the description I have been given, Mr. Darcy i
mpresses me as a man in possession of an astute sense of propriety and a level head. He cannot be goaded into an unsafe judgment, no matter the depth of his desire to enjoy the pleasure of your company once again.”
Elizabeth gave no reply, content to allow the discussion to end. In her heart, though, her anxiety continued, increasing each hour as the storm strengthened its assault on the manor and kept her bereft of the one whose proximity she most desired.
“Come,” said Jane to Elizabeth when the meal was consumed. “Our cousins desire amusement, and I can see you are also in need of a distraction.” Rising from her chair, she moved to the dining room door and waited for Elizabeth to join her. “We will play a game of Hoodman’s Blind with them; this should capture their attention for the remainder of the day.”
Elizabeth aided her sister in gathering the children and shepherding them into the sitting room, where the game was to be played. When they were seated, the fun began.
The afternoon was consumed in the playing of the game, with a new contest commencing each time one was completed. To her credit, Jane occupied Elizabeth in the amusement, so the latter’s forebodings were swallowed up in her enjoyment of the games. When next the circumstances of Mr. Darcy’s departure were recalled, the sun had set and the young cousins had been put to bed for the night.
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth to Jane when the final child was tucked in and the last bedtime story related. “With your help, my focus transferred from petty issues to the joy of the children. Because of your ministrations, I have greatly enjoyed this day in spite of myself.”
“Think nothing of it, dear sister,” said Jane, “for you know I should do anything I can to alleviate your suffering.”
Sounds arising from the sitting room brought the sisters to investigate. Entering, they found the room in the midst of a transformation. Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner sat in chairs to either side of the fireplace, wherein roared a boisterous fire. Mrs. Bennet, comfortable in her favorite chair, directed her servants through vocalizations and broad gestures in the placement of boughs of greenery upon the tables and the fireplace mantle. Great branches of evergreen trees had been harvested and set above, below, and to either side of the room’s windows, and the fragrant aroma of the freshly cut greenery added to the excitement of the approaching holiday. Kitty and Lydia busied themselves with the setting of candles at the sides of the boughs in readiness for the commencement of the Christmas observance to begin on the morrow. Above the entrances and over many of the rooms in the manor hung kissing boughs of mistletoe, with twigs of berries lining each sprig. Strings of gaily colored paper dangled from each corner of the room, crossing in the center and continuing to the opposite corners.
