Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted. Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father’s speech, was afraid her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.
“If I,” said Mr. Collins, “were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure in obliging the company with an air. I consider music a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do …” Mr. Collins said more, much more, but Elizabeth was too vexed to pay him much mind. When finally the man concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room, he gave a bow to Mr. Darcy. Many stared and smiled, but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.
To Elizabeth it appeared her family had made an agreement to expose themselves to as much ridicule as they could during the evening, and it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success. Some of the exhibition escaped Bingley’s notice, as his concentration was so fixed upon Jane. Otherwise, her mortification might have been complete. That Bingley’s two sisters and Mr. Darcy should have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough, and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. Seeing Mr. Darcy studying her, she wondered if he silently judged her as well for allowing him to touch her cheek, and quickly made her escape from his immediate notice through the crowded room.
The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain she entreated him to stand up with somebody else, and offered to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it. His chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her and he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to Charlotte, who joined them often, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins’s conversation to herself.
She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy’s further notice, though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it. Perhaps his touching her cheek had been merely to turn her face so he could see its expression in the dark. Surely, such an act went against the propriety of the gentleman’s nature, but no matter the cause, she resolved to not care about the event and to put it far from her mind.
The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a maneuver of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a languor over the whole party. This was little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behavior to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley, and even Lydia was too fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of “Lord, how tired I am!” accompanied by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and especially addressed Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was grateful, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, where he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.
Elizabeth was to be married to the insufferable Mr. Collins. Darcy could scarcely believe what he had heard; though he had not meant to eavesdrop on Mrs. Bennet as she prattled on to Lady Lucas, it was not to be helped for the woman spoke very loudly about private matters. The distaste he felt for such behavior had been made all the stronger by witnessing the excessive attention Mr. Collins bestowed upon the very person he had spent the evening observing.
The possibility that Mrs. Bennet had merely been expressing her own hopes and not the true intentions of her daughter, did not escape him. However, that idea brought him little comfort for Elizabeth had shown an unnerving interest in Mr. Wickham. The idea of either man — Wickham or Collins — possessing that which he himself would have did not set well upon him, nor did the knowledge that he had almost committed a grave impropriety.
When he had seen her go to the balcony, he had followed her with the express intention of explaining himself against some of her misconceptions, or at least that is what he told himself he would do. However, when he witnessed the gentle curves of her body caressed by moonlight, and her lips moving as if she scolded herself in some silent argument, he had been moved to act. He had wanted her then, wanted to pull her against his chest, to caress her hair, stroke her arms, and hold her close; wanted to feel the gentle press of her lips, the opening of her mouth, and the sweet, victorious moment when her resistance caved; needed the sensation of her body to his, flesh to flesh, heat to heat, sex to sex. Every inch of him stirred with desire. Had he lost another ounce of decorum he would have kissed her there on the balcony. Had he been allowed to act on pure impulse, he would have done more than kissed her. He would have thrown her over his shoulder and dragged her into the gardens, away from the music and the dancing, out of the grasp of Mr. Collins and the incessant annoyances of her family. There he would make love to her, wild and untamed, for how else could it be between them? She frustrated him, challenged him, drove him mad with distractions, and yet it only made the desires all the more forceful.
His body stirred; his arousal stiff and in need of relief. Darcy resisted his desire, not wanting to give into it once more. He should not care if Mr. Collins married her. If the whispers of the man were true it would be a good match for one of Mr. Bennet’s daughters. The young ladies could do much worse than a parsonage under the patronage of his wealthy aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Still, it hardly seemed right to pair a woman of Elizabeth’s natural vitality and spirit with such an insufferable man. Mr. Collins would kill the spirit he had grown to admire in her. Years of insipid and droning conversation would snuff the light from her eyes. It pained him to think of it. And, Wickham. He shivered at the very thought. That man would surely ruin her more grievously than Mr. Collins ever could. He would never allow such a match, even though such a decision was hardly his to make. However, Darcy could hardly depend upon Mr. Bennet to choose more wisely than Mr. Wickh
am, should the man pursue his daughter.
“I cannot have her for her family is far beneath mine, and I want no other to have her.” He laughed at himself, a humorless, derisive sound that mocked his own sentiments. “What a gentleman am I to wish a spinster fate on such a woman; for, if not a spinster, I would then have her as my mistress — neither of which fates she is deserving of.”
The lack of her family connections made it impossible for him to wish for much else beyond taking her as a lover, yet he would never dishonor a woman of breeding, no matter how ridiculous her parents were, or how low her prospects. Though, when he thought of Elizabeth, he did not think her so low. Confusion filled him. Never had his desires warred so fervently with his duty to his family name, and in the end he found himself seeking what physical release he could manage.
He had been a fool to think he could resist the temptation of the flesh, at least the temptation of his imagination when it came to the flesh. He could no more stop the trail of his hand down the front of his trousers than he could stop the memory of Elizabeth’s heavily lidded eyes as she looked at him on the balcony. Would she have let him kiss her? She let him touch her face, caress her cheek. Even now he felt the impression of her soft skin against his fingertips. Oh, and her scent! She had smelled of flowers when he danced with her, subtle and elegant and meant to drive a man to distraction.
Darcy closed his eyes, wishing for that which could never be. He pressed a hand flat against the bedroom wall to support his weight as he lowered his head. His fist tightened, gliding over taut flesh. He would give almost anything for one night with her, one stolen moment, one secret encounter that would not end in ruin for either of them. Oh, but to have a kiss, a touch! Then, maybe she would release him of the hold she had over him; maybe he would be free of her. Maybe, maybe.…
Every inch of him ached to be back on that balcony, to press against her. He imagined peeling her dress from her skin, unveiling the gentle curves that haunted his erotic visions, touching supple flesh and hardened nipples. Would her eyes turn serious in such a moment? Or playful? Or challenging? Or would they close, overcome by the pleasure he could give her?
Curse her for this madness! His soul begged to be free of it. His mind taunted him with images he could not erase. His body cared naught, so long as his hand kept moving, hard and tight, propelling him onward. A plea escaped him, “Too much, too much,” and his body answered with the gratifying moment of release.
Darcy groaned; gasping for breath as he let the bittersweet pleasure overtake him. His heart beat hard and fast. Curse her fine eyes! He was immersed in madness and he knew not how to get out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE NEXT DAY OPENED A NEW SCENE at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances, which he supposed was a regular part of the business.
On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother, “May I solicit, madam, for the honor of a private audience with your fair daughter Elizabeth in the course of this morning.”
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a gasp of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered instantly, “Oh, dear, yes! Certainly, I am sure Lizzy will be very happy. I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs.” And, gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out, “Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself.”
“No nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are.” And seeing Elizabeth’s vexed and embarrassed looks, and her seeming about to escape, she added, “Lizzy, I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth could not oppose such an injunction and a moment’s consideration made her sensible that it would be wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible. She sat down again and tried to conceal her feelings, which were divided between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off. As soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began.
“Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness, but allow me to assure you I have your respected mother’s permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse; however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble. My attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying, and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife.”
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with his feelings made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not use his short pause to attempt to stop him, and he continued, “My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances, like myself, to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, I am convinced that it will add greatly to my happiness. Thirdly, which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honor of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion on this subject, and it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford, between our pools at quadrille, that she said, ‘Mr. Collins, a clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; for your own let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.’ Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe. Your wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus for my general intention in favor of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views were directed towards Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, where I can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honored father — who may live many years longer — I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters that the loss to them might be as little as possible when the melancholy event takes place. This has been my motive and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to interrupt, but he did not give long enough pause and his words carried over the beginning of hers.
“And now nothing remains but for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four percents, which will not be yours till after your mother’s decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent. You may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married.”
It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. “You are too hasty, sir! I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honor of your proposal, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline it.”
“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reje
ct the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favor; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”
“Upon my word, sir,” insisted Elizabeth, “I assure you that I am not one of those young ladies who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so. Nay, were Lady Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation.”
“Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely, “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would disapprove of you. You may be certain when I have the honor of seeing her again, I shall speak in the very highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualification.”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say. I wish you to be very happy and very rich, and by refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered as finally settled.” And rising as she spoke, she would have quitted the room, had Mr. Collins not addressed her once more.
“When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the subject, I shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than you have now given me. Though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”
Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) Page 14
