by Jann Rowland
William Collins’s face resembled that of a fish, but he gamely gathered himself and uttered these fateful words: “My dear naïve cousin, it is not your sister Mary of whom I speak; on the contrary, I wish to pay my addresses to your sister Jane. After all, is she not the most beautiful, the eldest, and the most eligible of all your sisters? No offense to you, but she shines above you all, a jewel which would bring much grace and beauty to the life of a pastor who has the very great fortune of being the heir to this fine estate.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed in fury; perhaps it would not be a surprise to note that the interview rapidly deteriorated and ultimately ended soon thereafter.
While gazing at her cousin’s back, Elizabeth recalled those dreadful months—William Collins’s dogged pursuit of the affections of his cousin, Jane’s wide-eyed countenance and green complexion whenever her amorous suitor was nearby, Mrs. Bennet’s lament that this was not how it was supposed to be . . .
Finally, Mr. Bennet had emerged from his bookroom to tell their cousin in no uncertain terms that Jane was not out yet, that she would not be forced to marry as soon as she came out, and that Mr. Collins’s attentions were not welcome at this time. He was instructed to cease his clumsy attempts to woo Jane and behave more in the way that a proper young man in line to inherit an estate would be expected by society.
Of course, to Elizabeth’s chagrin, this merely served to cement in Mr. Collins’s mind the fact that his young cousin was positively the most brilliant and wise twelve-year-old of his acquaintance. After all, she had told him he would not be able to court his cousin until after she was out. The fact that he had been talking of one cousin while she had been speaking of another was of no consequence.
Shaking her head of these thoughts, Elizabeth called out once again.
“William!”
Surprised at the sudden noise behind him, William stood in a hurry, almost tripping on a root at his feet and then catching his balance while trying to shove the handkerchief into his pocket at the same time. The effect was diverting in the extreme, but he managed to stand without dumping himself unceremoniously on the ground.
“Yes, cousin?”
“You are wanted in the dining room. Mama says that dinner is about to be served.”
“You have my thanks,” responded he, beaming. “Shall we adjourn to the dining room then?”
Although being escorted anywhere by William Collins was not exactly high on her list of priorities, Elizabeth nevertheless agreed and soon was walking along the pathway toward her home, her cousin chattering happily away.
A few moments later, the family had gathered around the dining room table for their evening repast. For once, Mr. Collins was silent. Unnoticed by anyone else at their table, his face was flushed and becoming redder by the moment, and his hands were increasingly being raised to rub his face as surreptitiously as he possibly could. Within minutes, however, he was openly scratching his face with both hands as angry welts appeared all over his exposed flesh.
Predictably, Mrs. Bennet screamed, Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow, Jane looked on in pity, Mary voiced some pithy platitude, and the two youngest Bennets gazed on their cousin with curiosity and disgust. Elizabeth continued to sip on her soup, her eyes dancing merrily away as she ignored her detested cousin’s distress.
Eventually, he was led away from the table to his room, where the apothecary was summoned to attend him.
Thinking back on the previous weeks, Elizabeth smiled to herself with satisfaction. Her dearest sister Jane had revealed that certain items of hers, though never important ones, had gone missing—a sampler which she had recently finished, some small trinkets she had owned, a pair of gloves, and other such objects.
The clever and observant Elizabeth had set about watching with keen eyes and had deduced that William Collins had decided that though he could not pay his addresses yet, he could at least hold some measure of his (imagined) beloved by absconding with some of her personal property.
After Elizabeth had decided to teach him a lesson, it had been a simple matter to take a recently completed handkerchief. A short walk and a rather fine specimen of poison ivy later, and she had held a quite contaminated piece of fabric in her carefully gloved hands, making certain it did not touch any exposed part of her body. It had then been a simple matter to drop it during a walk about the grounds with her dear sister, making it appear as though Jane had dropped her new handkerchief herself.
Although she could not count William Collins among the cleverest of her acquaintances, Elizabeth hoped he would learn his lesson and cease rifling through the possessions of his disinterested cousin.
The apothecary’s diagnosis was quite accurate, and he ordered all of young William’s possessions to be immediately and thoroughly laundered to remove the taint of the unforgiving plant. And although Mr. Bennet wore a look of suspicion on his face toward his second daughter, either he decided he had no proof of her complicity, or his own mirth at the situation won out.
Regardless, Elizabeth felt it was a profitable venture in the end. After all, for a few days at least, the Bennets were spared the society of their unwanted and irksome guest.
The End
The Gossip
by
Lelia Eye
And who hasn’t speculated on how Darcy’s proposal in Kent might have gone differently? For my purposes, I thought that all Darcy needed was a little bit of perspective . . . .
I am going to ask her to marry me.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow at his cousin, who had dropped down into a chair in front of him. “I beg your pardon, Darcy?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I intend to ask for her hand in marriage.”
Fitzwilliam took a sip of his brandy and waited for a moment, expecting Darcy to indicate he was jesting, but the look of seriousness on his cousin’s face could not be feigned. “You are serious.”
“As serious as a man can be.”
“What of her family and connections? A country gentleman’s daughter is not the type to draw the eye of a man of your stature. I understand she does not even have a dowry worth speaking of.”
“None of that signifies. I have already tried arguing with myself. But I cannot get her out of my mind.”
“Darcy, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I should not be surprised if she does not favor you.”
“What?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam studied him for a moment before saying gently: “She has very strong opinions about you that are not precisely conducive to marital felicity.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when I spoke to her today of your good deed in separating a friend of yours from a rather imprudent match, she appeared quite put out. I fear she felt your behavior to be officious.”
Darcy actually turned white. “You told her about what happened with Bingley?”
“Ah, so it was him? I speculated that it might have been, but I was not certain.”
Darcy leaped to his feet and shoved his chair to the floor in frustration. “Devil take you, Fitzwilliam! The woman whom I separated from Bingley was Miss Elizabeth’s sister. You gossip worse than a fishmonger’s wife!”
Fitzwilliam grimaced and held out his brandy. “I believe you might need this more than I do, Darcy.”
Darcy swept the glass to the floor with a sweep of his hand, causing it to shatter.
Fitzwilliam tilted his head and looked at the floor, where damp shards of glass glinted in the light. “A waste of perfectly good brandy. This woman really has pulled you from your usual taciturnity. I do not believe I have ever seen you this passionate about anything.”
Darcy had begun pacing. “I did what was best for all involved. I did not believe Miss Jane Bennet’s feelings to be touched by Bingley.” He stopped abruptly. “What did Miss Elizabeth say to you, Fitzwilliam? What did you say to her?”
“I told her there were some strong objections to the lady, and she indicated that you should not be the one t
o judge the manner in which your friend should be happy. I had thought it odd that she seemed so unusually passionate on the subject, but I had dismissed it as being the product of the intensity of her dislike for you. Truly, Darcy, I had no idea you felt any particular interest in Miss Bennet.”
“How could any man with half his wits not feel attracted to Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I know that you have not been immune to her charms.”
“You are indeed correct. But as I am a younger son, I have not the freedom to pursue whomever I wish.” Colonel Fitzwilliam paused for a moment and then asked quietly, “What do you intend to do?”
“You must help me, Fitzwilliam. I cannot . . . I cannot lose her.”
“You might want to start by reuniting her sister with that Bingley fellow.”
Darcy looked away from his cousin. “I studied her carefully, Fitzwilliam. Miss Jane Bennet gave no indication that her heart was more than lightly touched by my friend.”
“And you have given no indication at all that your heart has been touched by Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I have known you for years, Darcy, and I find myself utterly stunned to find you this passionate about her, for I was able to see no indication of it. Could it not be that this Miss Jane Bennet is not keen to wear her heart on her sleeve? Does she, perhaps, remind you of someone?”
“Perhaps,” murmured Darcy as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Do you believe Miss Elizabeth to be a fortune-hunter, Darcy?”
“Certainly not.”
“She seemed quite upset by your interference with her sister’s happiness. Do you believe that Miss Elizabeth would be inclined to exhibit such a vehement reaction if her sister did not love your friend? Is it not possible that Miss Elizabeth knows her sister’s feelings better than you do?”
Darcy sighed and threw himself into a chair. “Of course.”
“Truly, I regret having spoken so carelessly with Miss Elizabeth. But there may be time yet to salvage the situation. Perhaps you might like to pick up a pen?”
“Indeed. I only hope Bingley’s response to me will prove legible.”
And write to Bingley, Darcy did. He told his friend that he had received information which indicated Miss Bennet had not been as indifferent to Bingley as Darcy had feared. Furthermore, Darcy suggested that if his feelings were still what they were, then Bingley might want to visit the young woman at her uncle’s house near Cheapside and attempt to discern the present contents of her heart. Finally, Darcy intimated that Miss Bingley would know the address.
Despite this step in attempting to secure his personal happiness, Darcy could not feel anything but agitated. And when Miss Elizabeth failed to come to tea that evening, Darcy felt certain that her absence could only be attributed to her conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam concerning the happiness of her sister.
Though he knew perhaps he should allow her emotions time to cool, he could not keep himself away. He had to see her; he needed to assure himself that she was well. And if he were honest with himself, he knew he wanted to immediately explain his reasons for separating Bingley and Miss Bennet.
When he entered the room and saw that Miss Elizabeth had set aside some correspondence, he could not help but wonder if the letters were from her sister. He was pleased to find that Miss Elizabeth did not truly seem to be ill, but the cold civility with which she greeted him could only cause him pain.
“Are you well, Miss Bennet?” inquired Darcy after he had seated himself. His mouth felt so dry that it was a wonder he could speak. “Mrs. Collins appeared to be worried about you.”
“I had a headache, but I feel it has mostly passed,” was all the reply he received.
“I am glad to hear that, Miss Bennet.”
They sat in silence for some moments before he finally spoke again. “My cousin told me about the conversation you had with him earlier today.”
“Did he?” asked Miss Elizabeth. Her eyebrow was raised.
Darcy hesitated only for a moment before deciding to charge right ahead. “He indicated that you were less than pleased with my behavior of late in regard to Bingley’s relationship with your sister. I want you to know that I have made steps to rectify my mistake. I have written to Bingley and suggested that he seek out your sister to further determine his feelings for her.”
The look of surprise on Miss Elizabeth’s face was unmistakable. “You have?”
“I truly did not believe that your sister’s emotions had been suitably engaged by my friend. His disposition is such that if he does not marry for love, then his heart shall shatter. I studied your sister carefully and saw nothing there to encourage me. But after speaking with Colonel Fitzwilliam today, I realized that the recommendations I made to Bingley were unwarranted.”
“You are quite right,” said Miss Elizabeth in a low voice that seemed filled with displeasure. “Jane does not show the contents of her heart to the world, and it was wrong of you to interfere in a matter which had no bearing on your own situation.”
“Your reprimand is well-deserved, Miss Bennet. I apologize for whatever harm my actions have wrought, and as I said, I have attempted to fix the problems I created. I would hope that you could consider forgiving me.” His voice had grown quiet at the end, and he was afraid that he had revealed too much of his feelings.
The young woman studied him for a moment before speaking. “I do not know why you are attempting to do so, but I sense that you wish to better my opinion of you.”
“I do indeed, Miss Bennet. Your opinion of me is of paramount importance.” He had not meant to say that at all, but it had come out nonetheless, and he could not attempt to deny it.
Miss Elizabeth’s brow furrowed slightly. “I am afraid that there are other reasons for me to have an ill opinion of you, Mr. Darcy. The pride you displayed in Hertfordshire for all the world to see could certainly not recommend you to others. And your treatment of Mr. Wickham is inexcusable.”
“My treatment of Mr. Wickham?” repeated Darcy in a low voice. Just the mere mention of that scoundrel’s name was enough to raise his ire.
The young woman flushed but sat up straighter in her chair. “My opinion of you has not merely been based on your destruction of the happiness of my most beloved sister, but also on the demonstration of your pride and its detrimental effects on others. Can you deny that you have been the means of destroying Mr. Wickham’s prospects?”
Darcy’s anger grew. For someone to accuse him of ill treatment of that blackguard was enough to make his blood boil. Fortunately, however, reason soon asserted itself. Could Miss Elizabeth be blamed for believing the words of a charming young man over those of a man who had offended the society in which she had been raised? Darcy had never given her any true indication of his interest in her and had never made any sort of effort to befriend those whom she held dear. It was humbling to realize that her negative opinion of him was actually warranted . . . and to realize just how badly he had behaved.
After taking a moment to compose himself, Darcy spoke in measured tones. “You are quite right when you say that I displayed an excessive amount of pride in Hertfordshire. I allowed my discomfort in company to prevent me from putting forth effort into communicating with others cordially, as I should have. Your reprimand on that account is well-deserved, and I apologize for any offense I have given. Yet I am not to be blamed for my dealings with that young man. If anything, I have been kinder to him than he deserves.”
Miss Elizabeth tilted her head and waited for him to expound upon his statement.
And then he began to explain everything. He told her about his father’s fondness for his steward and that steward’s son, of George Wickham’s utter want of principle. He told her about Wickham’s desire for three-thousand pounds in lieu of assistance with the church and of the man’s insistence three years later that he had changed his mind and wished to take the living. And finally, he told her about Wickham’s attempt to elope with Georgiana, which was, in Darcy’s mind, the greatest blow of all.
Throughout his explanation, Miss Elizabeth listened intently. She paled at times and even seemed inclined to speak on occasion, but she restrained herself until he was finished.
“For all of these particulars involving George Wickham, you may apply to Colonel Fitzwilliam for confirmation. As he shares in the guardianship of my sister, he is well-acquainted with that . . . with Wickham’s activities.”
Miss Elizabeth stared at him for a few moments before speaking. What she said first surprised him, though it should not have, as he knew she was in possession of a fine character. “I am sorry about what happened with your sister.”
Darcy inclined his head. “Though I was thankfully able to save her from a lifetime of heartache, I often consider what might have happened if I had not joined her early at Ramsgate. The mere thought gives me pain.”
“If Mr. Wickham’s behavior has been as you said, I could certainly see why.”
Darcy stiffened at Miss Elizabeth’s reply. Though the slight note of doubt was perhaps to be expected—after all, the confidence he had imparted was in some ways as inappropriate as whatever Mr. Wickham had said—he could not initially help but feel offended. But after a moment of reasoning with himself, he was able to respond calmly: “I do not expect you to believe me unconditionally. As I said, you may ask my cousin for further details.”
“Mr. Darcy, you must understand that you have provided me with a lot of information today, and while I must own that I am inclined to forgive you and move past your mistakes in light of your apologies and your obvious desire to set everything aright, I need some time to think on what you have said.”
“And you cannot change your opinion of a man in an instant?” asked Darcy wryly. He held up a hand when she started to protest. “I was merely jesting, Miss Bennet. I know you need time to reflect on what I have told you. I hope I have not made you feel worse.”
“No,” said Miss Elizabeth with a smile. “In fact, I think you might have made me feel better.”
