Darcy Steps In

by Nicole Goodall

  ‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said, resigned to her fate. ‘You see, it’s either marry Mr. Collins or we all become charladies. Maybe even charladies for Mr. Collins.’

  Jane snorted with laughter and immediately clasped a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh Lizzy. You are wicked.’

  Lizzy clasped her sister’s hands in hers. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t believe Mr. Bingley will return. I simply had to act rather than risk Mr. Collins’s indignation at my refusing him. This way, you and mama and our sisters can remain here at Longbourn.’

  ‘And you, sister?’ Jane’s lovely eyes filled with concern.

  ‘I am to go to Hunsford. Mr. Collins wishes for Lady Catherine to assess me before the marriage; to see if I’m a suitable clergyman’s wife. Mama intends to write to our aunt Philips immediately and ask her to escort us.’

  ‘Oh, Lizzy. When?’

  Elizabeth sighed. It had been Mr. Collins’s plan to remain until Saturday, but he now saw no reason to remain in Hertfordshire after the funeral. And that was only after Mrs. Bennet had reminded him that he might like to attend. ‘After the funeral,’ she said in a small voice. ‘That’s if aunt Philips is able to accompany me. Though I’m sure mama will prevail in that respect.’

  Jane smiled. ‘Mama must be thrilled. One of her daughters married.’

  ‘Almost,’ Elizabeth corrected.

  ‘And the wedding? Mr. Collins seemed bent on marrying as soon as possible.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzy said with some irritation. ‘But I believe mama has convinced him to wait for a decent interval, at least until such time as we girls are out of mourning.’

  Jane reached over and stroked a loose lock of hair away from her younger sister’s face. ‘Thank you, Lizzy,’ she said softly. ‘You do us all a great kindness.’

  Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed. ‘Please. Do not mention it again.’

  10

  After spending a night in London at the Gardiners, Lizzy was astonished to find herself in high spirits as they set out for Hunsford. They fell silent as they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, as her aunt sought her first glimpse of the Parsonage. Elizabeth’s attention was taken up by quelling the misgivings that had begun to form in her mind.

  The paling of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth frowned at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. The great Lady Catherine; poor Miss Anne de Bourgh and her frail health. Where once Mr. Collins’s earnest tales had been a source of wicked amusement for Lizzy and her dear father, now his good graces were the only thing that stood in the way of the Bennets and certain destitution.

  ‘Oh, look Lizzy,’ her aunt cried out.

  After casting an alarmed glance to ensure her husband-to-be hadn’t woken, Lizzy followed her aunt’s gloved hand. She saw what must have been the parsonage. Everything, from the sloping garden to the laurel hedge and green pales, matched Mr. Collins’s detailed descriptions of the place. An unfamiliar feeling of anxiety stirred in Elizabeth. She would soon call this place her home.

  The carriage drew to a stop at the gate and Mr. Collins jerked awake at the sudden change in momentum.

  ‘Ah,’ he said decorously. ‘We have arrived. Come.’ He lumbered out of the carriage before either lady had had a chance to exit. Lizzy eased herself down and held up a hand to help her aunt.

  They had scarcely opened their trunks when there was a loud shriek from somewhere nearby. Mrs. Philips looked at Lizzy in alarm.

  ‘Come on,’ Lizzy said, rushing to the door. Was it an intruder? she wondered.

  There was a rush of footsteps on the stairs. Lizzy glanced back at Mrs. Philips and threw open the door, mindful of the possible danger but disregarding it in the spirit of adventure. She hurried downstairs and, noting the open front door, rushed to the dining room to see where Mr. Collins could possibly have rushed off to.

  Elizabeth smiled at the scene unfolding outside. At the gate, Mr. Collins stood speaking to two ladies in a low phaeton. ‘And this is all?’ cried Elizabeth. ‘I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter!’

  Mrs. Philips tutted her disapproval, but Elizabeth might have seen a slight smile form on her aunt’s lips had she been less intent on studying Miss Anne de Bourgh.

  At length, the ladies drove on and Mr. Collins returned to the house, head held high. Elizabeth had never seen him look so happy.

  Remembering her duty, she smiled and bowed her head. ‘Was that Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh?’

  Mr. Collins’s face fell. ‘Goodness, no. No, that was Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them.’

  ‘Ah,’ was all that Elizabeth could say, but it made no matter—Mr. Collins was buoyed by good news that he could scarcely keep to himself.

  ‘It is your great fortune, Miss Elizabeth! We’ve been asked to dine at Rosings on the morrow.’

  11

  ‘Who could have imagined,’ Collins said, ‘that her ladyship should invite us all to dine at Rosings today? I should not have been surprised. Lady Catherine has expressed her desire on many occasions for me to be seen to marry the right lady.’ He fixed his watery eyes on Elizabeth. ‘Now, my dear. You must not be alarmed. Lady Catherine is far from requiring elegant dress in us, which becomes her and her daughter. I would advise you to put on whatever of your clothing is most superior. Lady Catherine will not think worse of you for being simply dressed.’

  Elizabeth retired to her toilette feeling rather confused about the whole situation. When they were ready to depart, her level of trepidation did not increase, despite Mr. Collins’s heightened state of nerves. He spoke at a speed much faster than usual as he implored them to hurry. Elizabeth even managed to hold her tongue and make no mention of the fact that it was the gentleman of the house who was delaying their departure.

  It was a cold, unpleasant evening, and a hack was summoned from the village to carry them to Rosings Park. Even though their vision was obscured by the driving rain, Mr. Collins provided a ceaseless commentary as to the cost of the glazing and the exact dimensions of the great house. It was only when they reached the steps that Elizabeth could see the building in any detail. She had to own that it was impressive, but fancied Mr. Collins spoke of the place as if he himself was the occupant.

  His commentary did not cease as they ascended the steps and entered the great entrance hall. They bore witness to the fine proportions and finished ornaments before being escorted to meet her ladyship and Miss de Bourgh.

  Elizabeth glanced nervously at her cousin as they entered the room whether the ladies were sitting and her ladyship rose to greet them.

  Mr. Collins cleared his throat and stood before the great lady. ‘Lady Catherine,’ he intoned in a hushed, reverential tone. ‘May I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire and her aunt, Mrs. Philips.’

  Elizabeth dipped her head and curtsied, aware of a slight tremor in her hands for the first time. It wasn’t Lady Catherine’s money or rank that caused her to be anxious, more the knowledge that this tall, strong-featured woman was to have such a bearing on Elizabeth’s future.

  ‘Delighted,’ the older woman said. She stood over them, scrutinising them with the kind of benevolent expression Elizabeth might have expected her to bestow on her favoured tenants. Lady Catherine was perfectly polite, but there remained in her manner a sense of her superiority of rank, which was upheld by Mr. Collins at every available opportunity.

  They sat for a while, the conversation stilted despite Mrs. Philips’s best efforts. Elizabeth found herself discreetly scrutinising her ladyship, and was surprised to see a strong resemblance to her nephew, Mr. Darcy. Her earlier impression of Miss de Bourgh was reinforced—what a perfect companion for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, she who barely uttered a sound, even when directly addressed!

  Lizzy pictured Jane and immediately chided herself for her unkind thoughts. For she should have been pleased that Mr. Darcy had made such a good match. Glancing a
round the splendid room again, Lizzy murmured ‘what a splendid room, Lady Catherine. Why it’s simply majestic.’

  Lady Catherine nodded approvingly at the statement but didn’t deign to comment. Mr. Collins saw it as a cue to give them a more comprehensive treatise on the room, which he did with frequent glances at her ladyship to ensure his telling of the history was correct. In this way, they passed the time before dinner was called.

  The meal, though splendid, did not spark a lively conversation. Elizabeth was seated beside Miss de Bourgh and across the table from her aunt and Mr. Collins, who held forth on serious matters with Lady Catherine, who presided over the table. Miss de Bourgh barely spoke, despite Elizabeth’s attempts to coax a conversation from her. Elizabeth was largely ignored by Lady Catherine.

  ‘Mr. Collins,’ exclaimed Lady Catherine when they had all finished. ‘You will join us in the drawing room?’

  The clergyman bowed his head solemnly. ‘It would be my honour, Lady Catherine. My honour indeed.’

  Elizabeth watched this exchange with amusement, careful not to allow Lady Catherine to perceive her scrutiny. The older woman appeared flattered by Mr. Collins’s obsequiousness.

  Without another word, their hostess stood and swept from the room, gliding through the doors mere seconds after her servants had opened them. Elizabeth glanced at her aunt and they followed her ladyship.

  Mr. Collins took Miss Elizabeth’s silence as an indication of fear or intimidation. ‘You mustn’t worry,’ he said, injecting his voice with the calm she imagined he used to reassure his parishioners. ‘She knows your pedigree; her expectations of you are not high so you mustn’t worry yourself, my dear.’

  Elizabeth didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end, she simply nodded, not trusting herself to respond verbally to her cousin’s kind reassurance.

  ‘Ah, this is it,’ Collins said knowingly, as the servant gestured to the drawing room doors. ‘Just remember. There is no need to be frightened.’

  12

  ‘Fear not, Mr. Collins,’ Lady Catherine said, after arranging herself on one of the sofas. ‘I received a letter from my nephew this morning. It seems I am to have the pleasure of two of my nephews’ company in the coming days. So you will have gentlemen to imbibe port with should you be invited to dine with us again soon.’

  Elizabeth’s ears pricked up. She reasoned that she was merely interested in observing the interaction between Miss de Bourgh and Mr. Darcy, since she had never met two so reticent.

  Mr. Collins heard something else entirely.

  ‘I assure you, Lady Catherine,’ he said haughtily. ‘I am not a man who indulges in that manner. No.’

  Lizzy tried not to hang her head. Must he always stress his own piety? she wondered, before dismissing that thought from her head. She had known what she was agreeing to when she accepted his proposal, so she felt like she had no recourse now. She glanced around the room and breathed a subtle sigh of relief—at least Fordyce’s Sermons didn’t appear on the amply stocked shelves of the Rosings drawing room.

  ‘Do sit down,’ Lady Catherine drawled.

  Elizabeth did so and spent the next few moments taking in the room. The heavy, brocade drapes were drawn, but she felt sure those vast windows looked out onto a garden that was more coiffed than her younger sisters before a ball.

  ‘I was sorry to hear,’ Lady Catherine said, taking a delicate sip from the teacup that had been silently placed in front of her, ‘about your father, my dear.’

  Elizabeth nodded. She could seldom believe it herself. ‘Thank you, your ladyship.’

  ‘Your poor mother. And your sisters. You have four.’ It was a statement, not a question. Lizzy wondered what exactly Mr. Collins had told her before his trip to Longbourn.

  ‘I do,’ Lizzy said softly.

  Lady Catherine’s eyes lingered on Mrs. Philips. ‘It is a shame one of your dear sisters could not accompany you to Kent.’

  ‘They are all in mourning,’ Elizabeth said as delicately as she could, despite the impertinence of the statement. ‘As is my mother.’

  Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed in a way that was almost imperceptible, giving her the air of one of the birds of prey Elizabeth had seen in a book in her father’s library. ‘I am well aware,’ she said, in an unctuous tone. Beside her, Mr. Collins had gone rigid. His eyes were as wide as the good lady’s were narrow. Lizzy avoided his gaze and remained composed.

  ‘Of course, your ladyship.’

  ‘I understand your father’s estate is entailed on Mr. Collins,’ she said. Again, it was not an enquiry.

  Lizzy bristled, but managed to maintain her composure. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see no occasion for it,’ Lady Catherine said thoughtfully, ‘Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s family certainly did not see the necessity. In your case it is fine, is it not, with Mr. Collins generously striving to keep the home in the family?’

  At this, Elizabeth had some idea of what her mother’s fits of nerves must entail. Her heart began to beat faster. Still she remained calm—she had no choice, she knew. She had offended Mr. Collins once—she knew she could not afford to do so again for the sake of Longbourn.

  ‘Indeed, madam,’ Lizzy said, forcing a bright smile.

  But Lady Catherine had not tired of the subject. ‘Your sisters. I understand all are unmarried?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  Her ladyship uttered a sigh of regret. ‘Such a sad circumstance. I imagine none will be lucky enough to secure a suitor with the means and connections of Mr. Collins.’

  Mrs. Philips gasped as if she was pained. Lizzy’s heart sank. She could understand her aunt’s pique well enough, but now was no time for it. ‘Are you feeling unwell, dear aunt? Perhaps—’

  ‘No, Lizzy, I’m fine. I—’

  Lizzy stared into her aunt’s eyes, hoping to convey the importance of being agreeable. Her mother’s sister, of all people, should know that if Lizzy Bennet was holding her tongue, there ought to be a very good reason for it.

  ‘Shall I summon a carriage?’ Lady Catherine asked.

  ‘Oh, now that won’t be necessary,’ Mr. Collins blustered. ‘She’s quite fine. Don’t trouble yourself on our account, Lady Catherine.’

  Mrs. Philips shifted in her seat and patted Lizzy’s hand. ‘I’m quite fine,’ she said faintly. ‘Just a…’ she looked at Lizzy, who widened her eyes in warning. ‘Just a turn.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ her ladyship said, taking another sip of her tea.

  The happy outcome of Mrs. Philips’s apparent spell was that the subject of Lizzy’s family circumstances appeared to have been forgotten. Lizzy knew that the paper supply at the parsonage would be vastly diminished once her aunt had vented her indignation to Mrs. Bennet, but that didn’t matter now.

  After tea, the card table was placed and they passed the evening in near silence until Lady Catherine summoned one of her carriages, much to the rapturous delight of Mr. Collins.

  13

  The rest of the week was spent pleasantly enough, with Elizabeth engaging in conversation with her aunt and—when the skies weren’t opening, as was typical of England in the winter—enjoying the outdoors, being careful to avoid Mr. Collins’s garden, which he tended to avidly.

  The first hint of new arrivals at Rosings came about a week after Elizabeth’s presentation at that great house. She awoke early one morning to the sound of gasps and cries outside her room. At first she was alarmed, but she quickly realized it was Mr. Collins. Having had notice that Lady Catherine’s nephews were due to arrive in the county, Elizabeth quickly ascertained that this arrival was the cause of Mr. Collin’s great excitement.

  Sure enough, when she had dressed and descended the stairs, escorted by Mrs. Philips, Mr. Collins was nowhere to be seen. A glance out the still-open door found him practically hanging over the gate and squinting in the direction of the great house that was just visible through the trees from that vantage point.

  The matter was confirmed after several minutes. Mr. Collin
s came rushing into the parlour where the ladies were sitting down to breakfast.

  ‘Lady Catherine’s nephews have arrived,’ he said, appearing quite in a fluster. ‘I must go and pay my respects, as the rector of the parish.’ He hurried around the room in higher spirits than Elizabeth had ever seen. She watched him, bemused.

  She wondered whether Lady Catherine—knowing her nephew had spent time at Netherfield—had mentioned Mr. Collins’s engagement to a girl from its vicinity. Surely, she reasoned, the great lady would not have condescended to discuss such trivial matters as Miss Elizabeth Bennet in their esteemed company? Elizabeth excused herself from the table, puzzled as to why the matter was playing on her mind. She turned back and found Mrs. Philips staring at the fireplace. Oh, how Lizzy longed for Jane’s company, even after an absence of little more than a week! Her letter to Jane had gone unanswered, which left Lizzy fearing the worst for her dear sister’s state of mind.

  She left the table and set off upstairs, resolving to write to Jane again. She might have tried to convince her sister to join them in Kent—the novelty would surely have a positive effect on her health—were it not for their mother’s condition. As it was, Lizzy felt guilty for being detained in another county.

  Later that day, Mr. Collins bustled back into the parsonage in even higher spirits than before. Elizabeth owned that such a state did not become him. He seemed better suited to solemnity. Still, she could not think long on the subject, for he burst into the room and addressed them in a tone bordering on mania. It was only then that Lizzy noticed the two figures behind him. Quickly, she put aside the book she had been perusing and stood.

  ‘Mr. Darcy,’ she said, with a bow.