Waking to Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Novella

by Leenie Brown

  “Papa? Jane?” Elizabeth rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  “Ah, my daughter, it is good to see you.” Mr. Bennet took her hand and gave it a kiss. “Your mother worried all night that a wild animal had devoured you. She was quite relieved to learn that you were alive.”

  There was a banging of the door in the other room and a hurrying of feet toward them. “Oh, Cousin Elizabeth. You are well!”

  “Collins,” growled Mr. Bennet. “Why are you here?”

  “Mr. Darcy.” Collins took Darcy’s hand, though it had not been extended, and bowed deeply. “It is an honour to meet you. My patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, speaks very highly of you.”

  Mr. Bennet sighed. “Mr. Darcy, my cousin, Mr. Collins.”

  Darcy withdrew his hand from Mr. Collins’ grasp.

  The very square shoulders had returned and gone was the pleasant look to his face. The change saddened Elizabeth, but she could not fault him. Mr. Collins had that effect on most people who possessed any degree of sense.

  “Shall we move to the other room and allow the ladies some privacy.” Mr. Bennet put a firm hand on Mr. Collins’ shoulder and moved him toward the door. “It is highly improper for you to be in here, sir.”

  Darcy was somewhat startled by Mr. Bennet’s stern tone. He had not thought him entirely capable of being firm.

  “But I had to see my dearest cousin. I was so very worried that she might be grievously ill.” Mr. Collins reluctantly moved out of the room. “I am glad to see you are well,” he called to Elizabeth. “I have something to say to you.”

  Mr. Bennet gave the gentleman a push to remove him completely from the room. “You have nothing to say to Elizabeth,” he said.

  “Oh, but her mother has a message for her.” He pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “See, it is here. Well wishes, I assume.”

  Mr. Bennet took it from him. “I shall see that she gets it if I decide the contents are such that she needs to see them.” He tucked the note into his pocket.

  “But, sir, I was tasked most specifically with giving that to her. I would be sorely grieved to have not completed the service for which I was enlisted.”

  Mr. Bennet ignored the comment and looked past Mr. Collins to where Mr. Bingley stood in the middle of the common room. “Ah, Mr. Bingley. Has the water boiled?”

  “I do not know,” said Bingley. “I would imagine it is nearly boiled but not yet.”

  “Good,” said Mr. Bennet. “Collins, are you capable of making a pot of tea?”

  “Oh, I most certainly am. Why just the week before I travelled to Hertfordshire to visit my dear cousins, Lady Catherine called at the parsonage, and for one reason or another, I was left to the task of making the tea. Now, Lady Catherine was beside herself with indignation on my behalf that I should have to perform such a task, but she was quite pleased with the results. And Lady Catherine does not give praise where it is not due. So, I can with some assurance tell you that I shall be able to make you an acceptable pot of tea. Indeed, Lady Catherine will be pleased to know I could be of service to Mr. Darcy.” Here he bowed once more. “As I told her then and will reiterate when I relate this tale to her, God surely had his reasons for my having to make the tea. And so it now seems it was so that I might make it now for you and give you such assurance as I have given.”

  “Mr. Collins.” Mr. Bennet spoke before the man could continue on his ramble. “The water will be boiled away if you do not attend to it soon, and then what would you have to say to Lady Catherine. No doubt her ladyship would be sorely displeased.”

  Shock suffused Mr. Collins’ face, and Darcy nearly laughed at the speed with which the man scurried from the room.

  “Insufferable dolt,” muttered Mr. Bennet. “I do apologize. I believe, my wife has been scheming.” He pulled the note from his pocket and unfolded it. It was as he thought.

  Lizzy, if Mr. Darcy does not want you, as I am assured he will not, Mr. Collins will forgive you your circumstances. Accept him and all will be well. Your embarrassment shall be forgotten and your reputation saved.

  Mr. Bennet tore the paper once and then again before tossing the pieces into the fire. “Mr. Darcy, I am given to understand you cared for my daughter.”

  Darcy gave a sharp nod. “I did.”

  “I apologize for my abruptness, but my cousin may appear at any moment. I hope you understand.” He smiled as Darcy nodded again. “Your care extended to her clothing?”

  Darcy’s heart pounded within his chest. What he had done had been done for Elizabeth’s benefit, yet he could not imagine how he might view a man who had rendered the same service to his sister. “Yes, sir.”

  “All of them?” Mr. Bennet’s voice was soft but serious.

  Darcy swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Bingley assures me you are prepared to offer for her.”

  Another swallow. “I am.”

  Mr. Bennet sat in the chair that faced the couch on which Darcy and Bingley sat. He leaned back and studied Darcy for a moment. “Why should I allow you to have my daughter?”

  Darcy blinked. “Aside from her reputation?”

  Mr. Bennet nodded. “Yes, aside from that. And keep in mind that I am well aware of your ability to provide for her.”

  Darcy understood what the gentleman was asking, and it pleased him to know that Elizabeth’s father, though, perhaps, negligent in some regards, was interested in the sort of man to whom he would entrust his daughter. “You wish to know of my character?” Darcy asked.

  Mr. Bennet tapped his nose. “I hear such differing accounts of it, that I should like to hear your opinion.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Although a thorough discussion might have to wait until I can rid us of an annoyance.”

  Darcy smiled at Mr. Bennet’s reference to his cousin. From his earlier conversation with Elizabeth, Darcy knew the sorts of accounts the man might have heard. There was no point in denying his weaknesses as several had been on display since his arrival in Hertfordshire, and so he began here. “Very well. I shall be as succinct as possible. I am given to thinking well of myself. I am not always the most long-suffering of men. I do not yell or abuse, but I do get sullen and withdraw. My temper has been described as implacable, and my good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.” He watched the surprise on Mr. Bennet’s face grow with each comment. “I say all this to assure you that I am neither a man without fault nor a man who is unaware of them.”

  At that moment, their conversation was intruded upon in a fashion that was not pleasing to any gathered, save the intruder. Mr. Collins appeared, carrying a tea tray and rattling on about the trays of delights he had taken part of at Rosings, which, Darcy suspected, would have taken a turn to a lofty description of the parlours — all of them with each being given more than its share of praise — had Mr. Bennet not intervened.

  “The rain has slowed,” he said, looking pointedly at Mr. Collins. “It might be best if you were to take advantage of the lull and return to Longbourn. I should not wish for you to become ill, and I am confident that Lady Catherine would be most displeased if I did not caution you most strongly about seeing to your wellbeing.”

  For a moment, it looked as if Mr. Collins might take Mr. Bennet’s advice, but alas it was not to be.

  “You are quite right about her ladyship’s desire to see me well. I have had her instruction on it daily. All very worthy advice, and I do attempt to follow it as closely as I can. However, I shall have to wait until the next reprieve, for I really must speak with Cousin Elizabeth. Her ladyship demands it.” He paused to take a sip of his tea.

  “How exactly does my aunt demand you speak to your cousin when she is not here?” Catching the widening of Mr. Bennet’s eyes, Darcy knew instantly that he would regret his inquiry.

  “Ah!” Mr. Collins took another sip of his tea and with a smack of his lips at the end, set his cup aside. “Lady Catherine has made it clear to me that a parson is much better received and look to for advice if he is married.”
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  A lump settled in Darcy’s stomach. Surely this insipid man did not mean to ask Elizabeth to marry him! Darcy had not been in the man’s presence for long, but he knew that Mr. Collins was not Elizabeth’s equal in any way. Mr. Collins was large and lumbering where Elizabeth was slight and rather fleet of foot. Mr. Collins was too preoccupied with paying homage to devote any time to serious thought on anything else while Elizabeth thought deeply on a great many subjects. It was a match which to Darcy was in all ways reprehensible. Elizabeth was worthy of a greater situation than that of a parson’s wife! And at Rosings, no less! He had seen the books. He knew precisely how much the parson made and what were his provisions. He also knew his aunt’s tendency to economize for everyone that served her.

  “You see,” Mr. Collins was continuing, “there has been a crack in our family history for some years now, and when her ladyship heard of it, she was incensed that I should allow it to remain as it was. She was most insistent that I take appropriate steps to repair the breach.” Mr. Collins picked up his cup and lifted it to his lips. What he had intended to be a sip became more of a slurp, and with no little amount of embarrassment, he apologized several times before returning to his explanation. “Her ladyship most wisely saw that both my need of a wife and the healing of my family’s distress could be met in one action. Therefore, I am come to Hertfordshire to select a wife from my cousins. It will be a most advantageous match, for, I hope I do not offend, but their portion is not large, and I shall, one day, in the distant future–” Here he cast a look to Mr. Bennet that bespoke more compassion than Darcy expected the man was entirely capable of. “I shall become the master of Longbourn and be able to care for those who might be left behind and in need. A wife from some other corner might not be so willing for me to keep my relations, you see.” He took a small, quiet sip of his tea. “Quite wise,” he muttered, “quite wise.”

  “And you have selected Miss Elizabeth?”

  Mr. Bennet sputtered on his tea at Darcy’s question.

  “Oh, indeed,” said Mr. Collins. “I had wished to secure Cousin Jane, but her mother was kind enough to inform me that Cousin Jane’s eye had turned elsewhere and was hopeful of a good result. So, most naturally, I settled on the second daughter, whom her mother has assured me will make an excellent addition to the parsonage — well-spoken, capable, all that.”

  “And if Miss Elizabeth will not have you?” Darcy felt his frustration with the talkative, unthinking clod growing.

  “Oh, I have no doubt of her assurance.”

  “Indeed?” said Mr. Bennet in surprise. “I expect you shall be disappointed.”

  Mr. Collins looked at Mr. Bennet as if his cousin was slow of understanding. “Who else will have her? She has spent a night in a cabin with two gentlemen and no chaperone. Once it is known, she shall have no other options, and one knows such stories cannot be kept silent for long in a village of any size, and I find Meryton particularly rich with gossips. I really must speak to the parson about it. He must not be doing his utmost.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy’s tone was a bit of a growl. There seemed to be no end to the gentleman’s audacity. To speak of the lady he wished to marry in such a fashion! “Indeed, she has spent the night in this cabin,” he motioned to the door, “in my bed.” He allowed the words to hang in the air for a moment as once again Mr. Bennet sputtered on his tea. “I do think that places the duty of marrying Miss Elizabeth squarely at my feet, sir.”

  Mr. Collins’ eyes grew as wide as Darcy had ever seen. “But you cannot,” he said at last. “You are already betrothed. Her ladyship has had me prepare the service.”

  “I am not betrothed.”

  “But her ladyship assures me you are.” Mr. Collins sat straighter in his chair and lifted his chin as if taking umbrage at the insult to his patroness.

  “My aunt is wrong. I have made no offer of marriage to any lady.”

  “That cannot be.” Mr. Collins’ chin lifted even higher so that he had to look down his nose at Darcy. “Lady Catherine has told me how it was arranged since you were young. It is the great desire of both she and your late mother. I cannot imagine a man as honourable as yourself turning his back on his family’s expectations for some country miss who is below your standing.”

  Mr. Bennet made a move as if he were about to speak, but Darcy held up a hand and gave him a smile. “Please, allow me.” Receiving Mr. Bennet’s nod and a wave to continue, Darcy turned back to Mr. Collins. “Mr. Collins, I do not know how you came by your degree, sir, for you seem incapable of producing a sound thought. Firstly, I will reiterate that I am not now, nor have I ever been, betrothed to my cousin Anne. Secondly, choosing a potential wife should be done with more care than selecting your trousers. One does not simply walk into a house and pick a wife from among the ladies of the home. You must get to know them – – which will require you to stop speaking for several minutes in a row — a feat that I am not currently certain you could accomplish. If you had taken the time to become familiar with Miss Elizabeth, you would have realized that she would make a deplorable parson’s wife.” He turned to Mr. Bennet. “Forgive me,” he said with a small smile, “I do not mean this as a disparagement.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded.

  “Miss Elizabeth is headstrong and will not be the biddable wife that my aunt would prefer you to have. There would be many arguments, from which, I believe, my aunt would come away very unhappy having been put rightly and properly in her place. Now where was I in my enumerations?”

  “Thirdly,” supplied Bingley. “Miss Bennet.”

  “Very good, thank you, Mr. Bingley. Thirdly, to speak of the desires of a lady like Miss Bennet in securing a match is most indelicate.” He gave Bingley a smile. “Particularly when the object of her affection is in your presence.”

  “Quite so.” Bingley folded his arms across his chest, looking quite pleased.

  “And most importantly, you have spoken meanly of a person for whom I care deeply. Miss Elizabeth is not a country miss of low standing nor does she possess any lack of character as your comments about her spending time here have suggested. She is a gentleman’s daughter of impeccable quality. I have come to count her as a friend and with permission, hope to make her my wife. I will not tolerate any disparagement of her — not now, not ever.” Darcy stood. “However, it is not for us to decide whom Miss Elizabeth should marry. I do believe that is her decision, is it not, Mr. Bennet?”

  Mr. Bennet blinked and rose to stand next to Darcy. “Most certainly,” he said. “However, she must choose one of you, for I am convinced that her reputation, no matter how upstanding she has been, would not survive the gossips.” He turned to Mr. Collins. “Our vicar does not need your suggestions. You will keep them to yourself.”

  Mr. Collins nodded.

  “Come now, ” said Mr. Bennet. “Let us see my Lizzy and hear her decision.”

  “But she is ill,” protested Mr. Collins.

  “Is she too ill to know her own mind?” Mr. Bennet looked to Darcy.

  “I do not believe she is.”

  Darcy’s concern for Elizabeth must have shown on his face, for the man winked at Darcy and said, “She will be well. The surgeon will be here soon.”

  Chapter 7

  Elizabeth sat, propped up by pillows, in the bed. Gone was Mr. Darcy’s shirt, and in its place was a proper night rail and dressing gown that Jane had brought from home. Jane had also brushed and braided her hair. So, when the door to her room opened, she was feeling much more like receiving guests than she had before. If her leg would stop aching and her throat stop its tickling, she might even find the ordeal enjoyable, but she did not, especially when her cousin was among the people who entered.

  She smiled at her father and Mr. Darcy, gave a bow of her head to her cousin, and finally smiled at Mr. Bingley in greeting. “I must thank you for retrieving my sister and father, Mr. Bingley.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said with assurance and a decidedly happy smile as his gaze shifted
from Elizabeth to a blushing Jane. According to Jane, Mr. Bingley’s visit to Longbourn had been very productive. He had sealed himself away with Mr. Bennet in the study for a lengthy time. First, to tell their father of what had happened to Elizabeth without the complete house knowing the details, and then, since he was already speaking of offers of marriage, to request to make one of his own. He had, and Jane had accepted with alacrity.

  “Now we shall never be parted for long,” Jane had said, “for Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are such great friends that we shall often find ourselves together.”

  The knowledge of this fact did help Elizabeth in facing what she knew would be the results of her father’s learning of her accident and Mr. Darcy care. Yet, there was still a fluttering of unease in the pit of her stomach that greeted what she assumed would be the discussion of that very topic. Perhaps it would not be so very unsettling to discuss if Mr. Collins were not there, looking at her with his curious eyes and a look of pious superiority as if his presence was something to be desired. It had made her shudder when she first met him, just as it did now.

  Mr. Bennet crossed to the chair next to his daughter’s bed. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

  “Tired,” she answered honestly. “My leg is sore, my head still aches, and my throat is in need of some tea and honey.”

  “Ah, but not incapable of having a discussion of a serious nature?” asked her father.

  She knew this discussion was coming, and yet the mention of it caused Elizabeth to swallow and her eyes to dart to Mr. Darcy. He looked as uneasy as she felt. It was really quite remarkable for it was an expression she had not seen on his face since those first few moments when she had first woken. The man, whom she had supposed to be always composed and assured of himself, had twice now looked very uncertain of his reception. “I believe I am capable,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to look at the hand Jane held.