Meant to Be: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Andreea Catana

  Mr. Collins replied no more on the subject, but his thoughts remained the same, for he continued to mention Lady Catherine’s name a few more times before they reached the mansion. Elizabeth looked ahead of her at the impressive building rising before her eyes, wishing she could rest for a second. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and ended up, quite unwillingly, admiring the marvellous edifice of Rosings Park. She had seen it in a drawing Mr. Collins kept in his house, but the actual view of it had charms no painter could capture on canvas.

  She sighed deeply and quickened her pace to the entrance as Mr. Collins discreetly directed them. The party entered the hall where Charlotte was allowed to rest in a chair while Sir William sank, defeated by his efforts, into the other chair in the hall.

  “How are you feeling, my dear?” Mr. Collins asked his lady in a voice so quiet that he could barely be heard by anyone.

  Charlotte replied that she felt no sharp pain as before, but the leg, at best, was swollen. Elizabeth drew near Charlotte, trying to accommodate her better in the chair while Mr. Collins stood motionless as he watched one of the servants enter the drawing room where Lady Catherine, most surely, was waiting for them.

  “What now, Mr. Collins?” Sir William inquired as soon as he caught his breath, seeing his son-in-law at a loss for immediate action. “Someone must be summoned to take care of my daughter.” Mr. Collins agreed, but still he moved not, and Elizabeth guessed his actions were prevented by some apprehension caused by his noble patroness.

  Elizabeth was set to add something to Sir William’s words, but before she could speak, her attention was fixed by the imposing figure approaching followed by two footmen; this could only have been Lady Catherine.

  “Mr. Collins!” her voice thundered in the empty hall, and Elizabeth understood why her cousin had been reluctant to make his presence known.

  Lady Catherine was a tall, heavily built woman with a definite air of superiority. It was apparent that the lady would have been handsome in her youth. She stopped in front of the party and remained in a rigid pose as if expecting the acknowledgement her rank deserved.

  With the exception of Charlotte, who was unable to stand, everyone else greeted her ladyship, Elizabeth with a brief curtsey and the gentlemen with a heartfelt bow, a gesture that seemed to make little impression on her ladyship as she continued to speak with severity.

  “My nephew Mr. Darcy has informed me of what has happened to your wife and that she needs to be seen by a physician.”

  Mr. Collins nodded, unable to make a sound and overwhelmed by her scolding presence. After a few moments in which no one dared to speak, Elizabeth found the courage to thank her on behalf of her cousin.

  “Yes, your ladyship. We would be very grateful if Mrs. Collins could be helped immediately to one of the rooms and be taken care of.”

  Lady Catherine’s gaze paused on Elizabeth’s face, annoyed at being addressed by this young lady who had not been introduced to her. The same mortification spread on the face of Mr. Collins who, upon seeing the cold reaction of his patroness, spoke for the first time.

  “Your ladyship, allow me to introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a cousin, and Sir William Lucas, my father-in-law.”

  Lady Catherine acknowledged their presence for an instant and returned to Mr. Collins, who appeared as frightened as if he was about to receive a sentence of a most serious nature.

  “I have told you numerous times that you should purchase a small coach to have at your disposal for any occasion. Yet, you decided to create this ridiculous spectacle for my guests and put your wife’s health at risk!”

  The guilty look on Mr. Collins’s face was evident as he lowered his head and hoped the reprimand was over.

  “Mr. Collins, Harrison”—Lady Catherine addressed one of the servants indirectly—“will make the proper arrangements to have your wife, and all of you for that matter, taken to the back rooms for comfort. You will have a chance to clean yourselves and remedy your appearance. Afterwards, I expect you, Mr. Collins, to come and see me, for I am not finished with you!”

  A short bow from the party concluded this painful encounter, and Lady Catherine vanished into her rooms as quickly as she had appeared. Mr. Collins turned to his lady, visibly shaken, barely able to speak a word. Elizabeth could feel only pity for her cousin, who in spite of his tall stature seemed now shorter than she was.

  “Go, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte whispered to him. “Go make yourself presentable for Lady Catherine, and do not worry about me. Elizabeth will take care of me.”

  ***

  The room was small but clean and quite comfortable. A servant helped Charlotte undress herself, helping her lie on the bed. The leg was now wrapped firmly, and what was more encouraging, the swelling did not seem as serious as before nor cause more pain for Charlotte. Elizabeth, dressed in her petticoat, sat on the bed with a blanket around her shoulders, looking at the servant who removed the remains of the wrapping from the room.

  “I am terribly preoccupied for Mr. Collins, Lizzy,” Charlotte said as soon as the servant left the room.

  “Do not think about that. Let us be thankful that your leg is not broken. You heard the doctor; we can return to the cottage as soon as Mr. Collins has finished with Lady Catherine.”

  Charlotte sighed, not taking notice of what Elizabeth said.

  “She can be so…overwhelming. You heard her reprimand poor Mr. Collins for such a foolish thing.”

  Elizabeth rose and went to the window, thinking about the unfortunate scene she unwillingly caused. She could not shake the feeling that she had been somewhat responsible for Lady Catherine having been so harsh with Mr. Collins. The thought brought her no joy—considering how he had treated her in the past—only compassion. It is indeed terrible for a person to be abused in such a public manner without having the chance to make a reply in his defence.

  “That Mr. Darcy—God knows how he reported the incident to his aunt!” Charlotte cried, which made Elizabeth turn to her again.

  “What sort of man is he, Charlotte?” she said suddenly. “Have you met him before?”

  Charlotte replied that she had seen him only once, a couple of days before Elizabeth arrived at Hunsford.

  “I find him so…infuriating!” Elizabeth confessed, remembering the cold and reproachful look he gave her that morning. How savage he must have thought me to be!

  “He is not a pleasant man; I can tell you that, Lizzy. Proud and arrogant! When I saw him here the other night, he spoke to no one in the room besides Lady Catherine. I suspect that he fancies himself better than the rest of us.”

  “How unfortunate. But he is young, is he not?”

  “Yes, barely seven and twenty; you know that he is bespoken to his cousin, Lady Catherine’s daughter; I do not think even she could put up with his ill humour and conceit.

  “Poor creature,” Elizabeth said with true compassion in her heart.

  “If you ask me, they deserve each other. One is sick of body, and one is sick of soul. They are perfect for each other.”

  Elizabeth had not seen this streak of malice before in her friend, and Charlotte’s words left her quite surprised although she blamed it on the accident. Determined to put an end to their conversation, Elizabeth left the window and drew near Charlotte.

  “If that is the case, I hope we shall not see more of him.”

  “I hope so too. From what Mr. Collins tells me, he will not be here long. He has come for a short visit, and he is bound to return to London by the end of the week.

  The servant entered again, carrying the clothes Mr. Collins sent from home, and Elizabeth dressed quickly. While being helped to change her clothes, Charlotte inquired about the whereabouts of her father; it was reported that the gentleman was waiting for her in the yard with Mr. Collins, as a coach was prepared to take them back home.

  A sense of relief came over Elizabeth, and she excused herself at once, leaving the room with the intention of meeting them in the yard as the directions
provided by the servant seemed easy to follow.

  However, Elizabeth soon found herself striding through silent halls that proved to be more of a maze than anything else.

  She turned ’round and took the opposite direction, thus entering another hall, which led to a different part of the house.

  Finally, she exited into the yard. Sir William was nowhere to be seen, nor was any coach in sight. All was silent; with the exception of a chirping of bird, no other noise could be heard.

  Elizabeth took a few more steps, admiring this new side of the impressive building—impeccable taste, indeed, and the effort of countless generations—and remained for a few moments in admiration.

  When she finally shifted her gaze from the magnificent building and turned towards the main road, she came face to face with Mr. Darcy.

  The gentleman stopped before Elizabeth, incredulous to find her there. His expression was haughty, but his face was not displeasing, and Elizabeth noticed something she had missed on their first encounter: his eyes. Their intense blue changed with the light, giving the impression of a different man than she had seen earlier. It gave Mr. Darcy a strange warmth, and the impression on Elizabeth was staggering.

  She had never seen a gentleman with such fine eyes. It pained her to admit that, in this light, Mr. Darcy was handsome—something she had always found to be a vain feature in a man. Further, the pain Elizabeth felt came from the memory of her information from both Charlotte and Mr. Collins.

  Mr. Darcy’s character did not match his handsome appearance.

  The gentleman locked eyes with Elizabeth in silence until Mr. Darcy removed his hat and bowed gently. It was a subtle move, yet masculine in a way that impressed her.

  Elizabeth sought to say something, but she remembered they had not been properly introduced—which she felt now as the most embarrassing circumstance—and returned his silent greeting. He remained fixed on his spot, and Elizabeth did not know what she should do. He seemed to study her carefully, perhaps even judging her for being there alone. She was not intimidated by his silent inquiry and gave him a slight smile of defiance.

  Suddenly, he bowed again, concluding the encounter. Elizabeth remained still, gazing after him, then smiled to herself.

  At least, he knows that I shall not be impressed by him. I shall not allow it…

  Elizabeth remembered with amusement the expression on Mr. Darcy’s face upon seeing their party in dire straits earlier. Surely, he must have felt derision at being forced to watch such a laughable situation, and, most certainly, disbelief at being part of such a spectacle. Certainly, no other acquaintance of his was ever in a similar position.

  Elizabeth heard voices behind her and turned to see Sir William and Mr. Collins coming towards her. Charlotte was with them, once again in her father’s arms. Mr. Collins was in better spirits than the last time she had seen him and quite his usual self, happily telling his wife what he had discussed in private with Lady Catherine.

  “Obviously, we cannot be received in her ladyship’s presence as we are now, so Lady Catherine has renewed her invitation to dine tomorrow, providing Charlotte feels better.”

  “Mr. Collins, my daughter needs time to recover,” Sir William protested mildly.

  “That cannot be!” Mr. Collins replied. “Her ladyship cannot organize her time to suit us.” Upon seeing Elizabeth standing by herself in the garden, Mr. Collins stopped. “Cousin Elizabeth, I suspect you might have heard the good news…”

  “Yes, I am content that your wife is feeling better.”

  Mr. Collins protested that he alluded to the invitation Lady Catherine bestowed on them yet again, but his joy was interrupted by a servant who announced that the coach was ready.

  The party settled Charlotte comfortably on the cushions, and Elizabeth sat next to her friend, looking out the window once again at the impressive estate. Her eyes inadvertently fixed on a figure that moved from behind the curtains in one of the upper rooms.

  Elizabeth was sure it was Mr. Darcy.

  Chapter Three

  Dearest Jane,

  I have been at Hunsford for almost a week, but I have only now found the time to write you. I do hope my letter finds you in good health and your time in London filled with many wonderful memories for you to share with me once we are home. I cannot wait for you to tell me all the wonders you have seen and heard during your time there.

  In Hunsford, life has a tendency to be unpredictable. A few days ago, Charlotte had a rather unfortunate incident—which details I shall not spread over the course of a page—that required her to stay in bed longer than expected with an injured leg. An apothecary came daily from Rosings Park, and he decided that our dear friend should be confined to bed for a couple of days, putting no strain on it for the sake of recovery. I do as much as I can to be of assistance to her and entertain her to the best of my abilities.

  This morning, Sir William left us to go to London—Mr. Collins devotedly taking him in his gig—so I am left here alone to take care of the house and Charlotte. This afternoon, she has walked a little—a few steps in the lane of her garden.

  I advise her not to strain herself, but in vain, the reason being that we are to dine this evening at Rosings Park. We were supposed to have dinner several nights ago with her ladyship, but since Charlotte was in too much pain, we had to postpone it. However, today we received another invitation, which Mr. Collins says we cannot refuse a third time. Thus, our being there is an imperative none of us can escape.

  Lady Catherine is entertaining guests, and I hope they keep her amused so that we have a pleasant evening. One of her guests is the familiar figure of Mr. Darcy—do you recall him from our cousin’s stories? And the other one is his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, to whom I have not had the pleasure of an introduction but who is said to be the opposite of his cousin.

  Regarding Mr. Darcy, I must say Mr. Collins was not mistaken in painting him as a proud man. I have been in his presence on two separate occasions, and I cannot say that he gives the impression of a gentleman who improves on later acquaintance. He is tall, handsome…

  Elizabeth paused her pen for an instant, not sure she really meant to describe him as such. After careful consideration, she added—

  …although I am too partial to give him that opinion based on my encounters with him. But if Mr. Collins is correct again, I shall not have to talk to him, as he rarely speaks.

  His presence, however, is more familiar to me because each morning, very early, Mr. Darcy rides his horse in the vicinity of the parsonage; I can see him from my window. I am quite accustomed to the noise his party makes, and I have come not to mind it at all.

  I end this letter saying once again how much I miss you, and please send my best wishes to Aunt and Uncle, for they are always in my heart.

  Yours, Lizzy

  Elizabeth finished her letter to Jane with a smile on her face and soon began another addressed to her father, in which the events were more briefly described, consisting of her impressions of the places she had seen on her journey and little on the people she had encountered. Elizabeth spent the chief of the morning organizing her correspondence and settling her things inside the room until she was summoned to lunch. Charlotte was in higher spirits after the slow morning walk and assured Elizabeth that she eagerly anticipated dinner at Rosings.

  “They have the finest porcelain I have ever seen, Lizzy.” I am told it came from China and belonged to an emperor or something. To know that I eat from the same plate an emperor used—what a fine thing!”

  Elizabeth smiled gently, happy to see her friend so animated. Mr. Collins, who sat at the end of the table, looked on, enjoying the conversation.

  “Mr. Collins is quite the expert,” Charlotte said, bringing the satisfaction of a compliment to his face. Indeed, Mr. Collins enumerated the many rooms of the estate, the number of footmen that would be serving them, and all aspects related to the night as if he had prepared the event himself.

  Upon arriving at the es
tate a few hours later, Elizabeth found that Mr. Collins’s descriptions had been accurate. The spacious hall, upholstered with impressive paintings, gave one the impression of a royal castle. Mr. Collins pointed with precision to each ancestor of the family up to the current time, briefly explaining each one’s relation to her ladyship.

  “And the gentleman in this portrait is Mr. Darcy’s late esteemed father and his wife.”

  Elizabeth stopped and looked at the painting; she saw a refined man of gentler features than she had seen on his son. He possessed, however, the same blue eyes as the young Mr. Darcy. The mother, on the other hand, was the most affable lady she had seen in a portrait. She felt instant admiration for this woman she had never known, for her grace and charms spoke to her. Her hand rested on her husband’s shoulder, and she regarded them with love—the look of love on a mother’s face. Elizabeth had no doubt that the lady directed her loving gaze at someone who was there when the portrait was painted. Possibly, her son, Mr. Darcy.

  “Hurry, Cousin Elizabeth! Try to stay with me,” Mr. Collins whispered in the large hall when he realized that Elizabeth had been left behind, admiring the painting. Then he turned to his wife. “Charlotte, come, we must not be late again.”

  Charlotte took her husband’s arm as Elizabeth followed them and proceeded to an even larger hall in which a gentleman, whom she recognized as Colonel Fitzwilliam, and a young woman that Elizabeth could only guess to be Miss Anne de Bourgh were seated next to Lady Catherine. Mr. Darcy was nowhere to be seen, and Elizabeth breathed in relief for such small comfort.

  At Lady Catherine’s feet, sat a large hound, unimpressed by the new visitors. Elizabeth had seen it with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam that morning.

  “Come, Mr. Collins, bring your party before me!” Lady Catherine demanded. The tone in her voice was rigid with little inflexion of welcome or warmth, and Mr. Collins approached tentatively, bowing to her as humbly as he humanly could then straightening up and discreetly summoning Elizabeth to join him.