by Adams, Alexa
Darcy studied the older gentleman – he certainly did see the disparity in his marriage and it seemed to be this lack of harmony that fueled all the issues that abounded at Longbourn. “Please excuse me sir, if I take your tone as an invitation to proceed with similar candor erroneously, but what I have noticed is that you seem to avoid your wife, leaving the care of your children to a lady who is, excuse me again sir, more concerned with marrying off her daughters than raising them correctly. Granted, Miss Elizabeth’s position is lower than I imagined for my wife, but I am certainly wealthy enough that her lack of fortune is no constraint. My scruples lie not so much in the monetary but in the proprietary. It pains me to say that I have watched the behavior of your younger daughters on more than one occasion with dismay. You must take them in hand sir, before something irrevocable happens. Indeed, it was all too easy to imagine the most dire consequences for their conduct, seeing them as I did today in the company of George Wickham. Such considerations had much to do with my urgency in speaking with you, Mr. Bennet.”
“So there lies the issue,” Mr. Bennet thought with a frown. Certainly he could not blame the man. In fact, Mr. Darcy was aptly displaying the wisdom he had just accused him of lacking. Mr. Bennet knew his defects as a parent and landlord; unhappy in marriage, having failed to produce an heir, he was much more content to hide away in his books than to supervise lands his offspring would not inherit or attend to children he mostly found intolerable. Now his indolence was hurting Lizzy, the one child for whom he would not fail to exert himself. Besides, the future looked far brighter with the prospect of a match between Mary and Mr. Collins on the horizon – with Jane and Elizabeth attached to such distinguished gentlemen, perhaps his life would prove a credit to his name after all. His good humor returned.
“What shall I do sir?” he finally replied. “I am but one man alone against a herd of females. You too would find it daunting I warrant. It is easy to feel defeated and retreat from the battle but, provide me with a winning strategy, and I will once again enter the fray and endeavor to bring the house to order.”
“I know it must be difficult,” Darcy quietly replied. He was pleased that Mr. Bennet did not see fit to reproach him for his intrusiveness, attempting instead to amend the matter. “I have but one sister in my guardianship and despite the most careful attention I still find it to be rocky terrain. With such a large family, it would be impossible to manage on your own. Did you never think to employ a governess?”
“We discussed it when the girls were young but Mrs. Bennet was suspicious of the idea. And what lady, in her right mind, would take such a job at this juncture?”
“It is a bit late to be forcing the ladies into the school room – well, what about that? School I mean. There are many fine institutions that would provide exactly the right environment for young ladies in need of a bit more refinement.”
“You know, we did consider school for the girls years ago, but with such a brood the expense seemed unjustified. Now with one daughter soon to be settled,” he raised an eyebrow, “perhaps enough income will be freed to at least send Kitty and Lydia. The discourse at Longbourn would certainly improve without them. Why, I might even be able to go an entire day without hearing of redcoats!”
Darcy smiled, relieved to have so positively weathered the encounter. But Mr. Bennet was not done with him quite yet. “So, Mr. Darcy,“ he said jovially, “with the youngest Bennets safely ensconced in a reputable institution, and if a few words to Mrs. Bennet can curb her enthusiasms, what will you have to say to my Lizzy then?”
Darcy, still not knowing how to respond, was silent, leaving Mr. Bennet to answer his own question, “Time will tell, Mr. Darcy. It always does.”
Chapter 12
Time passed slowly for Elizabeth as she endeavored to wait with patience for the interminable hour, during which Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet were in conference, to end. Shortly after Mr. Bingley returned, he and Jane departed for a walk on the grounds while Mrs. Bennet bustled away to make dinner preparations, determined to tempt their gentlemen callers, upon learning that they were unengaged for the evening, to remain the entire day with the promise of a sumptuously spread table. So when Mr. Darcy entered the sitting room he found Elizabeth both alone and discomfited. His immediate impulse was to relieve her anxiety.
“Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth. I am not intruding?”
“No indeed sir. I confess I have been waiting most impatiently for your reappearance from the depths of my father’s library.”
He smiled at her and took a seat. She certainly inherited her humor from her father. “You must be quite alarmed by the odd manner of our arrival this morning. Has Bingley said anything to enlighten you?”
“He has not.”
“Very well then. I shall tell you all.” He paused to steady himself before again recounting his sad tale. “When passing through Meryton this morning we encountered your sisters in the company of a man with whom I am unfortunately quite familiar: a thoroughly unsavory character. I do not know what brings him here or how long he shall stay, but it was imperative I warn your father to keep him well away from your family as he is known to be a – please excuse the word but no other will do – seducer of impressionable ladies.”
“Good heavens, Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth knew he was of the utmost seriousness but the question was too irrepressible not to be asked, “Surely you do not mean my cousin, Mr. Collins?”
“Who is this Mr. Collins?” Darcy asked, thoroughly confused by the Bennet family’s propensity to mistake this unknown person for George Wickham.
But there was no need for Elizabeth to enlighten him as, at that moment, the door to the room flew open and the man himself entered, a breathless and sweaty spectacle, presented a groveling bow to Mr. Darcy, and frantically declared: “Mr. Darcy, you must excuse my failure to recognize you before! It was but moments after your departure that I was made aware of your identity. Please except my humblest apologies, sir.”
As Mr. Darcy was now clearly befuddled, Elizabeth stepped forward to perform a proper introduction but her cousin, in his eagerness, was too quick for her to intercede, “I am William Collins, sir, the rector at Hunsford and humble benefactor of your esteemed Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bough’s, largess.”
This only presented Darcy with a new quandary – what on earth was his aunt’s parson doing at Longbourn? Mr. Collins continued to oblige him, “You find me here at Longbourn visiting my gracious cousins. Lady Catherine was most insistent that I attend the family.”
Before he could continue Elizabeth managed to interject, “Mr. Collins is my father’s heir, Mr. Darcy. Your aunt is Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
“Yes,” he replied in a tone of astonishment. “I knew my aunt had recently appointed a new rector, but I certainly had no idea he was a relation of yours.” He gathered himself and nodded an acknowledgment, “Mr. Collins.” The man was repeatedly reassuring Mr. Darcy as to the fine state of Lady Catherine’s health when Mr. Bennet fortunately entered the room and intervened.
“So there you are Collins. I have several more folios I am anxious to give you the pleasure of enjoying. Please do come along as I have been most impatient for your return.” Poor Mr. Collins had no choice but to excuse himself excessively and exit after his host, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth alone to contemplate such an uncanny twist of fate.
Once in the hall Mr. Bennet directed his unhappy guest to continue on to the library while he detained Mrs. Bennet, whom they had met on the verge of reentering the sitting room. “Oh Mr. Bennet!” that lady exclaimed, “What did Mr. Darcy have to say?”
“Calm now my dear, no need to rouse your nerves! I shall give you all the details later but, for now, we have only a moment and you must heed what I say.” He paused and gave her a serious look, watching for her eyes to grow wide with attentiveness, “Mr. Darcy has expressed an interest in Lizzy. Hear me out Mrs. Bennet!” he admonished as she threatened to squeal. “He has reservations and is not prepared to declare himself
at this juncture. It is imperative that you remember that Mr. Darcy is a reserved, dignified man, who is unaccustomed to the high spirits of our family. We must endeavor not to overwhelm him or he will surely flee. This is how the matter now stands – we all must be quiet, sedate, and on our very best behavior when he is amongst us, do you understand?”
Mrs. Bennet nodded. No lengthier speech could have been better calculated to check her usual exuberance. The couple entered the sitting room together, the lady of the house greeting her guest graciously while her husband smiled in approval. Mr. Bennet was just congratulating himself on being able to demonstrate so soon to Mr. Darcy that his words had been heeded when the good impression he sought to make was totally destroyed by Lydia, predictably, who came racing into the room followed immediately by Kitty and a more sedate Mary. Ignoring all decorum and the presence of a guest, the youngest exclaimed, “Mama! Such news! The most handsome gentleman is enlisting in the militia and he is dining at Aunt Phillips’ tomorrow! We were invited for cards and supper – we can go can we not? I shall use the time to great benefit getting to know everything I can about Mr. Wickham!”
Elizabeth observed Darcy pale. So this was the man of whom he spoke! Just like Lydia to fulfill her promise by falling instantly for a scoundrel. But to her great surprise, before her mortification was able to sink in, Mr. Bennet uncharacteristically put his foot down.
“No, Lydia, you will not. You will be spending tomorrow evening at home and I shall send word to Phillips immediately informing him that the man ought not be welcomed into his house.”
“But Papa!”
“No conversation is required. You and Kitty go to the front parlor and wait for me there. I have much to discuss with you and will follow shortly. I should like to use my library but, as Collins is occupying it, the parlor will have to suffice. Perhaps you, Mary, could provide your cousin with some assistance until I return?”
“Yes Papa.” Astonished into obedience, all three girls left the room.
“And you Lizzy, perhaps Mr. Darcy would care to see the grounds? It will do Mr. Bingley and Jane no lasting harm to have some chaperonage.”
Mrs. Bennet watched her husband in amazement. “Well done Mr. Bennet!” she exclaimed after he finished ushering Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth on their way.
“Thank you Mrs. Bennet. I have to agree. Would you care to join me?” He offered her his arm and escorted her through the house, anxious to unfold his next surprise.
--
The veritable epidemic of love unfolding at Longbourn that day might lead one to believe the emotion contagious. Mary knocked timidly at the library door before entering. “Miss Mary!” Mr. Collins exclaimed with a broad smile. “What a pleasant surprise. I was expecting your father any moment to guide me through a perusal of his more interesting volumes. He has a wonderful library, quite exceptional when one considers the size of the estate, though certainly it pales in comparison to the exquisite library at Rosings. Have I yet told you of Lady Catherine’s library, Miss Mary?”
“No sir, you have not, but I have always observed that attentiveness to the proper maintenance of such a facility reflects upon the owner’s strength of character.”
“Rightly said, Miss Mary. It is certainly the case at Rosings. Did you know that the room boasts all of eight windows?”
“Eight windows? Indeed I did not.” Mary did not voice her suspicion that such an excessive quantity of light could not possibly be beneficial to the preservation of books.
“Lady Catherine says the room was specially designed to maximize the glorious sunshine that bestows its light upon the jewel that is Rosings. You really must see the effect to truly appreciate it. A studious lady such as yourself would relish such an experience, I am sure.”
“I do love a fine library. One with such comfortable appointments would be a pleasure to use.”
A shy silence fell upon the usually ready tongue of Mr. Collins while Mary shifted nervously into a chair. She spoke first, “My father had to attend to a family matter, Mr. Collins. He thought I might be of assistance until he can attend you personally.”
“Yes indeed, the folios. There seem to be several fine volumes he has set aside. I would appreciate your attention.” The two happily immersed themselves in the books and for several minutes found comfort in each other’s company but, as more and more time slipped by, both began to grow uneasy.
“What keeps my father?” Mary silently wondered, becoming deeply concerned about the propriety of remaining alone with Mr. Collins for much longer. How often had she read of the fragility of feminine virtue and how its loss is irretrievable – that only one false step can lead to endless ruin, that a lady’s reputation is no less brittle than beautiful, and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behavior towards the undeserving of the other sex? But was Mr. Collins undeserving? She was here at her father’s behest, with his cousin and heir, a respectable man of the cloth in favorable position. She decided she would stay put until her father arrived. He would not appreciate her looking for him. Besides, like so many of those sad ladies led astray, she was enjoying herself in spite of the potential consequences.
Mr. Collins thoughts were similarly occupied, though his were focused less on matters of propriety and more on the awkward sensations Mary’s close presence produced in him as they bent over their book. He had certainly been attracted to his fair share of ladies but never to the degree that he need forsake the opinion that one comely face was as good as another. It was this very belief that made him so confident a suitable wife could easily be found amongst one of his many unwed cousins. But as he watched Mary’s profile, occasionally sensing the brush of her arm against his coat as she turned the pages, he felt something quite different than he had ever experienced before. We need not ponder whether the novelty of his sensations was due to the miraculous power of Cupid’s arrow or merely to no lady having ever before encouraged his advances – either way, the end result is the same.
Mr. Collins provided commentary on the volume while Mary listened carefully, though she had read it many times before, occasionally asking astute questions which flattered Mr. Collins. Never before had someone attended to him with such deferential interest, except perhaps in the pulpit. “How did I ever believe her plain?” he wondered, as her eyes sparkled with interest. Instantly the image of the two together at Hunsford, cozy together in his library, which would have to be expanded immediately, made him so crave peaceful domesticity that, without much thought for his words (and he had always intended to put an excessive amount of thought into these words), he dropped the subject of a particularly interesting finch to pose this disjointed question: “Did you know, Miss Mary, that the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford I spent the evening at Rosings, for I am often asked, I should mention, and I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages of my appointment, that very noble lady condescended the very night before my departure – between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss De Bough’s footstool – to tell me (unasked too!) that I must marry forthwith, that a clergyman like me must marry?”
“No I did not, sir,” Mary replied, looking down and blushing furiously.
“She did indeed. My views were directed on Longbourn with this intention, for Lady Catherine had already condescended previously to make known her opinion on this matter, as I am to inherit the estate after the death of your honored father, who I sincerely hope will live many years longer. I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from amongst his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place.” Mr. Collins paused self-consciously, wondering if he was proceeding in a manner all wrong.
“That is very kind of you sir.” Mary said quietly, hoping he would continue.
“I do not mean to dwell upon such matters. I have not prepared ahead, as is my wont, my words before proceeding just now. The truth is I am struggling to fin
d the most animated language with which to assure you of the violence of my affection for you, Miss Mary. Almost as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my future life. Will you, Mary, marry me?”
It hadn’t gone at all the way he would have liked; never had Mr. Collins felt more discomfited in his life, though he often had reason to. He prayed she would simply say yes – he had heard some elegant young ladies might reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly meant to accept and he hoped Mary was not of their kind. He didn’t want an elegant young lady who would toy with his affections when they had never before been so vulnerable. He wanted what Lady Catherine wanted: a gentlewoman, active, useful, a Mary Bennet.
