by Jann Rowland
All of this happened in an instant, and Darcy turned to see Mr. Collins standing directly beside him where Miss Elizabeth had previously stood. To his side a little apart, Miss Elizabeth was turning back to the parson, her affront ablaze in her eyes. But where Darcy thought she might flay him with the sharp razor of her tongue, she caught Darcy’s eye, and in an instant her countenance changed and she shook her head, amusement written upon her brow. She smiled at him to let him know that she was unhurt, and she took her place by Mr. Collins’s side, but Darcy was not about to allow this incivility to go unchallenged.
“Now, as I was saying—”
“Mr. Collins.” Mr. Collins stopped speaking, his eyes wide at the icy displeasure in Darcy’s voice. “What do you mean by pushing Miss Bennet out of the way? Are you a parson, or are you nothing more than an abuser of women?”
“I am no such thing,” said Mr. Collins, drawing himself up, though his height was still made unimpressive by the hunching of his shoulders. “I merely wished to speak with you more closely.”
“A man, Mr. Collins, does not shove a small woman aside so that he may take her place. One day, on the unhappy day that Mr. Bennet passes on, you will be a gentleman yourself, and yet you show little understanding of what exactly constitutes gentlemanly behavior.”
“I am a parson, one of a noble profession, sir.”
“Mr. Collins,” growled Darcy. “Do you not know who I am?”
Perhaps it was beneath him to use his standing and connection to Lady Catherine to intimidate Mr. Collins, but it achieved Darcy’s objective. The man’s shoulders hunched even more, and the defiance bled from his countenance. He looked down at the ground, and his skin assumed a whiter hue.
“A thousand apologies, sir, I—”
“I am not the one to whom you should apologize, Mr. Collins. But before you do, I will remind you of this.” Darcy stepped up to Mr. Collins and looked down at him, his contempt rolling off him in waves. Mr. Collins seemed to sense this, as he hunched down even further, making himself seem even smaller. “You will not ever behave with such violence toward Miss Bennet, or any other woman again. Miss Bennet is a diminutive woman, and you are a very large man. You might have injured her with your unseemly haste to walk beside me.”
“Yes . . . yes, of course, Mr. Darcy,” babbled Mr. Collins. “A thousand apologies, sir. I assure you—”
“Miss Bennet is there,” said Darcy, gesturing toward the young woman. For her part, Miss Elizabeth was watching the scene with wide eyes, and Darcy had noticed at least once where she had put her fist in her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud.
Though it was with great reluctance, Mr. Collins turned to Miss Elizabeth and said: “Of course. I apologize for my clumsiness, Cousin.”
Such a perfunctory apology could do nothing but stoke Darcy’s ire, but the sight of Miss Elizabeth shaking her head prevented him from depositing Mr. Collins in the dust beside the path, sorely though he was tempted.
“Very well. Shall we?”
And Darcy extended his arm to Miss Elizabeth, and she took it, her eyes dancing in her amusement, and they began walking down the path.
“But, Mr. Darcy,” cried Mr. Collins. “I wished to speak with you.”
“Then speak, sir,” said Darcy. “You may do so from where you walk as easily as you could if you were walking beside me.”
Mr. Collins huffed but did as he was told. The man did not seem to realize that Darcy had, in fact, insulted him, but that was not surprising, as he had little understanding of anything implied rather than stated in a forthright manner.
Needless to say, Mr. Collins followed them like a puppy follows its master, and they were not able to speak without his interruption for the entire remainder of their walk.
It was not long before Elizabeth had become vexed with her relations—or two of them in particular—and she began wishing she could just ship them back to Hertfordshire so she would be left in peace. Mr. Darcy’s objectionable relation was ever-present as well, but she seemed to have decided to step back and observe, though she was often there, an adder ready to strike.
Elizabeth’s mother and Mr. Collins were the main sources of Elizabeth’s ire, of course, as it seemed one or the other of them was constantly interrupting when most inconvenient or taking her to task to enforce their own vision of how they felt matters should be. At times, it was both, though it was amusing to Elizabeth how their opinions contradicted each other.
The day after Mr. Collins interrupted her walk with Mr. Darcy, the Bennet sisters staying at Rosings visited the parsonage. Elizabeth would have cheerfully forgone the pleasure, knowing that two of the three biggest threats to her sanity were residing there, but she was not allowed to do so.
“Mr. Collins did invite us to Kent,” said Jane. “We should pay our respects to him and to our parents.”
Elizabeth almost hated Jane for her reasonable words. “I suppose you have the right of it. Then let us go and be done with it.”
All four Bennet sisters set out that morning, and soon they arrived. They were welcomed in, and Mrs. Bennet cheerfully guided them into the parlor—she was, after all, nominally acting as mistress of the house—and plied them with refreshments. Underneath her seeming good humor, however, Elizabeth detected more than a hint of calculation. Elizabeth sighed; she knew her mother would attempt to take them aside and impose her views upon them.
When it happened, Elizabeth felt vindicated, though she was still exasperated with her mother. Using the pretext of wishing to speak with them about certain matters, Mrs. Bennet led them into the garden, and there she proceeded to have her say.
“Girls,” said she, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed, “I am quite distressed by the manner in which your courtships with Lady Catherine’s nephews are not proceeding. Do you know that her ladyship supports marriages between my eldest daughters and her nephews?”
“You have spoken to Lady Catherine?” gasped Jane.
“Of course, I have,” replied Mrs. Bennet, as if conspiring with the daughter of an earl to commit matchmaking was a common occurrence. “Her ladyship understands her nephews, and furthermore, she understands how my daughters have been brought up in such a way that they may grace the homes of any man.
“It is fortunate, indeed, that we have come to this place at such a time, for it relieved her ladyship of the burden of having to search for wives for her nephews. With my two eldest, most eligible girls at hand, she may assure herself that they shall provide everything her nephews require, and I may finally marry my daughters to worthy gentlemen.”
Elizabeth listened, aghast at such unguarded words coming from her mother, and the look she exchanged with Jane conveyed the same meaning. Is this really happening?
“Mama,” said Elizabeth, “surely her ladyship’s wishes for her nephews cannot take precedence over her nephews’ own desires.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam have their own wishes,” said Mrs. Bennet. “But you must put yourselves forward and ensure that their desires quickly become that which you have to offer. And yet, I do not see anything in your behavior which would suggest that you are capable of doing so.”
“Mama—” said Jane, but she was interrupted yet again.
“No, Jane, I shall speak and you shall listen. Jane, Mr. Darcy is the richest man we have ever seen, and he can easily care for all of us should your father pass on. He wishes for a quiet, demure sort of girl, one who will lend elegance to his house and a companion to his sister. You must put yourself in his company more, ensure he sees you as the fulfillment of his desires.
“And you, Lizzy, have not paid the attention you should to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is a man of the world, gregarious, happy, and intelligent. Though he is not so rich as Mr. Darcy, I have it on good authority that he owns an excellent estate, one which will give you a comfortable life. Though I will own that I cannot understand why, it is clear he wishes for an intelligent wif
e, one who is at ease in society and may entertain his soldier friends. And yet I have not seen you put yourself in his company. That must change, so he can see you as the companion of his dreams.”
What followed was long, often nonsensical, and at times completely improper. Mrs. Bennet exhorted and cajoled, and when that did not seem to be enough, she commanded. They were instructed to use their wiles to capture the man Mrs. Bennet had determined they should capture, and if that failed, she almost hinted at compromise to achieve their goals. At times her suggestions were so ludicrous as to cause Jane to pale, and Elizabeth was forced to keep an iron grip on her composure lest she burst out laughing.
“Now,” said Mrs. Bennet at length, “do you see what you need to do? Heaven knows that with Mary the focus of Mr. Collins’s attentions, I do not have time to watch you all the time to give you instruction. You are intelligent girls; surely you will know what to do.”
“Mama,” said Elizabeth, “have you not noticed that Jane is often with Colonel Fitzwilliam, and that Mr. Darcy pays more attention to me?”
“I am aware of that,” snapped Mrs. Bennet. “And I put the blame on you, Lizzy. If you would curtail your loose tongue when in Mr. Darcy’s presence, perhaps he would direct his attention to Jane where he should.”
“But, Mama,” wailed Jane, “I do not wish for Mr. Darcy’s attentions.”
“Of course, you do! He is a wealthy man, so tall and handsome. What young lady would not wish for him to make love to her?”
“Now, girls, no more discussion. You will do as you are told.”
And with that, Mrs. Bennet turned and walked back to the parsonage. As she left, Elizabeth could hear her muttering as she walked. “Oh, to be cursed with such disobliging daughters. A mother’s work is never complete.”
Completely drained, Elizabeth looked at Jane, and she could not help the snicker that escaped at the sight of Jane’s confusion. When Jane turned to her, the sight of each other caused them both to descend into laughter.
“I have often thought Mama to be ridiculous,” managed Elizabeth, “but she has outdone herself this time.”
“What can she be thinking?” demanded Jane, though her own peals of mirth never ceased.
“I suppose we shall simply have to prove it to her. Now, shall we return to Rosings?”
Unfortunately for Elizabeth, the absurdity still had not run its course. They stepped toward the front door, intending to collect their sisters and return to Rosings, when Mr. Collins stepped around the corner. He spotted them and approached.
“My dear Cousin, I have been searching for you, as I wish to take this opportunity to correct your behavior. Cousin Jane, you may leave—I wish to speak to your sister alone.”
“There is nothing you can say that I would not share with Jane anyway,” said Elizabeth. She looked longingly at the gate, but after the events from the day before, she found herself a little wary of Mr. Collins, and deemed it prudent to at least allow him to have his say.
“Very well,” said he. “If you wish your humiliation to be witnessed by another, I have no objection.
“I wished to speak to you, Cousin, about your actions, particularly those concerning Mr. Darcy. I understand some females consider themselves elegant and suffer from the affliction of reaching for more than they should, but I am distressed that one of my own cousins could behave in such a manner. It almost induces me to wish I had not invited you here, for I am forced into the mortifying position of bringing a temptress, one intent upon catching her ladyship’s own nephew into her presence.
“The time has come for you to cease this objectionable campaign to turn Mr. Darcy’s head away from his rightful bride, Miss Anne de Bourgh. They are engaged to each other, and have been from the very cradle, and your attempts to capture him are not only in defiance of all decency and decorum, but are also doomed to failure. For what man could possibly turn his back on such a wonderful creature as Miss de Bourgh for a young miss who does not even know her place? It is in every way unfathomable, and I do not doubt that you are doomed to failure and ridicule if you persist.”
“If you feel I am doomed to failure,” said Elizabeth, her tone scathing, “I wonder that you would take the trouble to speak to me now. Should you not simply allow me to meet my fate?”
“I would, if it did not reflect poorly on me.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Speaking with the man was a waste of her time and energy, but his words demanded response.
“Mr. Darcy is not engaged to his cousin. I have heard of the matter from both Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy. It is a dream in Miss de Bourgh’s mind only.”
“I fancy that I, having known Lady Catherine longer, and being privy to all her intimate concerns, know more of the matter than you do, Cousin.” Mr. Collins turned his ugly countenance on her, his manner almost petulant, and he stated his demands. “You will stay away from Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Mr. Collins was not to be reasoned with. So, she took the simple expedient of making a promise she knew was irrelevant in any case.
“I can promise you that I will not pursue Mr. Darcy, sir. There, is that good enough?”
Though Mr. Collins eyed her, suspicion oozing off him in waves, he nodded once, curtly. Elizabeth curtseyed and led her sister away from the odious man, collected Kitty and Lydia, and departed from the parsonage. She determined that she would not allow anyone to talk her into another visit.
“You are aware that you promised him nothing,” observed Jane as they walked.
“Oh, yes, Jane. But Mr. Collins, though he clearly suspects I did not give him what he wanted, still has no idea of what I just told him. It matters little. Mr. Darcy will put him in his place, should he continue to be a problem.”
Jane shook her head, but she did not say anything else. For Elizabeth, she wished to forget even the existence of such an odious creature as Mr. William Collins.
Chapter XI
As time wore on, Lady Catherine saw enough of the couples’ interactions to know that her plans were bearing fruit, and she could not be happier about it. Not only would her favorite nephews have ladies they loved and respected, but they would be happy in their lives, and bring much happiness to those around them.
Anne was still a problem, though she had been much less overt about her objections since the day she had vowed to change Darcy’s mind, Nonetheless, Lady Catherine did not for an instant think that her daughter had abandoned all hope of marrying her cousin. If Darcy and Miss Elizabeth were to marry, it would also have the benefit of forcing Anne to recognize that she and Darcy were not meant to be. Maybe then she would open herself to other possibilities.
An event of great significance happened in those days, one which Lady Catherine was waiting for, but had not pushed, determined, as she was, not to stamp her authority on any of the young people. They had stayed at her house for a month complete by this point, and still formality was a barrier which separated them. It was not surprising, then, that it was Miss Elizabeth who finally broke through.
As she had promised, Miss Elizabeth accompanied Lady Catherine on her visits to the tenants on occasion, and one such morning, a beautiful day in which the buzzing of insects could be heard, and the warmth of the sun warmed their cheeks, they walked back toward the house, as the tenant cottage had only been a short distance away.
“These woods are lovely, Lady Catherine,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I believe you are quite fortunate in the location of your estate.”
“It is lovely,” replied Lady Catherine. “Anne and I used to sit in a clearing not far from the back of the house. Anne, my sister, of course.” Lady Catherine paused, the melancholic ache of her sister’s absence still affecting her after all these years.
“You were very close?”
“As close as you and Jane. She would be so proud of her children. They truly are the best parts of her and her husband.”
Though she had not done so in many years, the thou
ght of her departed sister brought up a well of longing in Lady Catherine’s heart, and she felt a tear slip from her eye, to trickle down and leave a wet trail on her cheek.
“I cannot imagine losing Jane,” said Miss Elizabeth, her voice subdued.
Lady Catherine smiled through watery eyes. “I hope you do not experience that pain for many more years.”
“Oh, Lady Catherine,” said Miss Elizabeth, throwing all caution to the wind and herself into Lady Catherine’s arms. “I am sorry for your loss. You speak of her with such devotion that I feel like I know her.”
“She would have approved of you, I am sure,” replied Lady Catherine, her tears flowing now in earnest. “She wished for nothing more than for her children to be happy, and it is clear that you make Darcy very happy, indeed.”
Shyness descended over Miss Elizabeth, and she pulled away, hugging her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill. “I did not think highly of him in the beginning.”
“I believe you have already told me, dear girl,” said Lady Catherine. “But it seems to me those feelings have changed.”
“They have,” replied Miss Elizabeth quietly. “He is so much more than I ever imagined. I—” She stopped, and then she gazed up at Lady Catherine shyly. “You approve?”
“How can you doubt it? I knew you would suit him from the moment I met you.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed and she wagged her finger. “No matchmaking, if you please. If Mr. Darcy and I are to be together, we must find our way to each other.”
“I would never dream of it,” murmured Lady Catherine. It was true—she needed to do nothing else but watch events play out. Of course, it might be necessary to ease Darcy’s concerns, but she did not truly see that as matchmaking so much as simply opening the boy’s eyes. Fitzwilliam was the easy one—he was enamored of Miss Bennet, and he had enough experience in the army to know that the content of one’s character was more important than one’s descent. Darcy still clung to notions of marriage for standing and fortune, although those considerations were becoming weaker as Miss Elizabeth proved herself to be worth more than the price of rubies.
