Refusing Mr Collins

by Carrie Mollenkopf

“You will have another time to express appreciation for the grandeur of the grounds and exterior, cousin Elizabeth, but dinner is sharply at seven. We are more formal and conscious of that sort of thing here, do be respectful. I know Lady Catherine will want to speak with me before as well. Perhaps we will have the luxury of a carriage on the return. She is a most generous patroness.”

  Elizabeth restrained the urge to roll her eyes for Charlotte’s sake. Had the woman been truly filled with generosity, at least a curricle would be provided for her vicar. Rosings was no small parish, yet Mr. Collins was forced to walk to tend his flock. Perhaps he was not so well favored as he thought? Suppressing a giggle, Elizabeth imagined Mr. Collins collapsing from the heat like a beached sea mammal. It was a thought that remained when they were announced, further enhanced by the opulent décor. Someone, perhaps Lady Catherine herself, had been very fond of nautical themes. The main salon at Rosings was resplendent in sea blue silk with gold accents. The furniture was arranged to accentuate a single chair, raised on a small dais above the rest. It was there that an elderly woman, dripping in rose velvet and strings of pearls sat, holding court.

  “A throne in the center of a fish bowl,” Elizabeth muttered a bit too loudly, but her censure was taken as complement by Mr. Collins sharp ears.

  “Is it not wonderful? I have seen nothing finer, not even when I had the great fortune to tour the public rooms at Buckingham. I must make introductions…. you are capable of a formal curtsey? Do not look her straight in the face, and never turn around, just back away slowly.”

  Elizabeth only half listened as they approached, taking the measure of the rest of the room’s occupants. Already present and standing were two younger women and one very tall and exceedingly unattractive young man. Presuming the gentleman to be Miss de Bourgh’s intended, the only unknowns were the nearly twin ladies. Small to the point of elfin, the women were exceedingly fair. Golden curls cascaded becomingly around fine features and porcelain skin. It was not until one sneezed repeatedly that Elizabeth knew which was who. A rough tug upon her arm, redirected her thoughts as she was presented.

  “Lady Catherine, may I present my cousin, Miss Elizabeth Bennet… of Longbourn.” Mr. Collins intoned formally.

  Feeling particularly spirited, Elizabeth dipped an average curtsey before directly addressing her hostess.

  “Pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Mr. Collins has told me much of Rosings.”

  “Has he? And you Miss Bennet, what is your first impression?”

  “I feel as though I could almost smell the sea in here.”

  Elizabeth could hear Mr. Collins gasp in disbelief behind her. No doubt he was thinking that she would cause him to be dismissed as a long silence reigned before Lady Catherine finally answered.

  “Not the sea, for that is a clean, refreshing scent. What you smell is rotting fish. I have always hated those mounted trophies of my late husband’s but cannot bring myself to be rid of them.”

  “Memories can also be carried in the heart, where they need not be shared, but are ours alone.”

  “An excellent thought. Perhaps one I might consider. Mr. Collins has told me much about you. Is it true that you nearly poisoned him?”

  Elizabeth felt a flush of color threaten her composure. Would he carry that tale forever?

  “An accident, one of the maids mixed up a bag of rat poison with Mr. Collins’ medicines.”

  “Medicines my foot. That man is always ingesting silly foreign concoctions. Plain gruel after a good solid dinner is all one needs, not a bunch of strange herbs. It is a wonder he has not died already from his own stupidity, but he does an excellent job as vicar. The parishioners love him… and now Mrs. Collins.”

  “They are well matched.”

  “As is my own daughter with Lord Penwick. A mother is in a constant state of distress until her daughters are married. Have you any siblings?”

  “Four sisters. One recently married, and another engaged.”

  “Hmm… And what of you? Have you any particular attachments?”

  “I am afraid not. I fear that I am too outspoken and opinionated for most men to find attractive. And as I am without a dowry, there can be no other temptation.”

  “Then they are fools. A strong-minded wife is an asset, for she must manage everything while he takes the credit. I have been known to be rather hard headed as well, an attribute that is lacking in most of the mealy-mouthed twits out in society.”

  “I am afraid that describes my youngest sister perfectly, yet she was the first to marry.”

  “To a man equally stupid no doubt.”

  “Indeed, he is, but they seem happy enough for now.”

  Lady Catherine raised a gold rimmed pair of spectacles and peered closely at the young woman before her. Miss Bennet was not traditionally beautiful, but handsome in her own way. A stark contrast to her own child, she was not frail or sickly, but strong enough to bear a dozen children. Had she been her own daughter, Lady Catherine would have seen to the best of educations, but one could not choose their own. Miss Elizabeth Bennet would do nicely for her nephew.

  Feeling the scrutinizing eyes upon her, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Have I split a seam? Or are there remnants of luncheon in my teeth? Why does her ladyship examine me like a prize mare?”

  To this Lady Catherine dropped the glasses and began to sputter in indignation, but the absurdity of her actions changed into laughter.

  “You are a bold one, but that is quite refreshing. Have you met my daughter and her intended?”

  Elizabeth smiled, feeling pleased that she seemed to have passed whatever strange test the old lady had put her under. While she did not wish to embarrass Charlotte or Mr. Collins, she would not hide her sense of self for anyone. After greeting the other occupants of the room, the conversation soon turned to wedding preparations and descriptions of Lord Penwick’s home. Mr. Collins, finally allowing himself to breathe, joined his patroness to discuss the religious aspect of the ceremony, but a frown of disapproval was barely disguised as Elizabeth took his now vacant place next to Charlotte. He had clearly overheard the entire conversation and was not pleased. She had the feeling that a long lecture from the disgruntled minister was in her future, but for now, Elizabeth would have some fun. Only the continued absence of Mr. Darcy flawed an otherwise enjoyable evening. Having been provided no explanation for his absence, Elizabeth found she greatly liked both Anne de Bourgh and Georgiana Darcy. Despite their identical pixie like appearance, that was where the delicacy of their persons ended. Inside the comfort of home, both women demonstrated individuality and keen wit, yet lacked the spiteful malice so common in many of their station. Everything that she had been led to believe was utterly wrong. It made her former false assessment of Darcy all the more painful.

  ~32~

  In a chamber above stairs…

  Fitzwilliam Darcy would never have used the word coward to describe himself before that evening, but that is what he was. The prospect of seeing Elizabeth again filled him with an anxiety he could not control. He had even considered remaining in his chamber and pleading illness, only to drink himself into a stupor. However appealing, it would not solve his dilemma, it was best to get it over, behave like a perfect gentleman and convince himself that he held no lasting feelings for her.

  “Liar, that is what you are…a liar and a coward,” he spoke to his reflection. Having traveled without his valet, there was no one to overhear his monologue as he alternatively criticized himself and practiced what he would say to her. Unfortunately, the hall clock struck six times as he practiced, sending a reminder that he had already missed any predinner conversation. Sighing, he took one last look at his appearance and went below to suffer whatever may come. Waving away the footman standing ready at the door, Darcy quietly let himself in the sitting room, immediately attending his aunt. Apart from the rest of the company, she was deep in criticisms for a quaking Mr. Collins. His sausage like fingers gripped a
pen fiercely as he wrote her dictations, unsuccessfully trying to make suggestions. Although he had come well prepared, Lady Catherine had studied the prospective wedding sermon for the briefest of moments before crumpling the paper into a wad and carelessly tossing it onto the floor.

  “This will not do. It is too traditional. My Anne’s wedding must stand apart from everyone’s. Just write exactly how I say it.”

  “But your ladyship, a woman always promises to obey her husband. What will the bishop say?”

  “Not if he is an idiot! I don’t know how Charlotte puts up with you. She should be sainted, tell that to your bishop.”

  Lady Catherine made to grab the pen just as Darcy entered, saving Mr. Collins from a physical attack as he leaned down to kiss his aunt’s cheek. Instead, she turned her inquisition on him.

  “Oh, there you are Darcy, come out of hiding, have you? Your Miss Bennet pleases me greatly. I was just telling Mr. Collins that only a fool would let a woman like her get away.”

  Darcy did not answer as dinner was announced, saving him from further assault. Offering his arm to his aunt, she rose and addressed her guests.

  “Now that my wayward nephew has decided to join us, we will dine. It is a broiled salmon tonight, and my favorite potato leek soup. Let us not allow it to get cold.”

  Lady Catherine took up her cane and waved Darcy away, hissing lowly in his ear. “Go attend Miss Bennet, I have seated her next to you. Surely there will be more favorable conversation than with that of a lady in her dotage…off with you!”

  With no other choice than to comply, Darcy crossed the room and offered his escort to a smirking Elizabeth Bennet. Her hearing had always been most keen, providing many opportunities for amusement, and this time was another.

  “I cannot guarantee more stimulating conversation than that of your Aunt. She is quite something.”

  “Agreed, but as a gentleman, I am prohibited by manners to say exactly what that is.”

  “Manners? Or fear?”

  “Perhaps a bit of both.”

  Elizabeth laughed but accepted his arm, having anticipated an awkward meeting, she was relieved to find him so cordial. Taking her seat between Darcy and Timothy, she was treated to a constant stream of entertainment enjoyed by all persons present except one. Mr. Collins, sitting sullenly beside his wife, shot daggers of venom across the table. He should never have allowed Charlotte to invite Elizabeth Bennet to Rosings. It was one thing to have his patroness belittle him at every turn, and a wife must be taught to know her place. However, it was intolerable to suffer such abuse from a nobody. The woman was a constant reminder of his shortcomings, the sooner she was gone, the better. Surely God would justify the actions of a righteous man? Mr. Collins pondered this idea as he ground his dinner between his teeth, gaze never wavering from where Miss Bennet chatted gaily with those about her. This change in manner was ignored by all but Charlotte, who felt a sudden fear enter her being as she realized that her husband hated her best friend. Would Mr. Collins try to hurt Lizzie?

  ~33~

  After dinner, Miss Anne de Bourgh offered to give Elizabeth a tour of the house. Georgiana eagerly agreed as it had been some years since her last visit, and much had been altered from the memory of a child.

  “Can we go all the way to the top? The old nurseries were always the scariest place. If I ever have children, I should not want them so far from me. Nannies may be very competent, but they cannot replace the attention of one’s own mother,” she insisted, but her comment in its intention of being most serious, only resulted in a chortle of laughter from Elizabeth and Anne. Puzzled, Georgiana looked to her brother for clarification.

  “I suppose that depends upon the mother,” he replied in an attempt at neutrality, but Elizabeth only laughed further.

  “Perhaps someday, you shall meet mine and alter your opinion,” she offered, but did not offer any detailed explanation.

  “Indeed, Mama has been a different person since the announcement of my engagement. In the past, she was quite controlling, even insisting upon choosing what I wore on a daily basis, right down to the small clothes,” Anne added with a sigh.

  Georgiana blanched at the prospect, but had difficulty imagining the lady that had received her with such hospitality being so disagreeable. Having grown up without a female parent, she only knew what good she missed.

  “It is also different when one has many siblings to share the attention. There are always favorites, but a sister can take the place of that affection,” Elizabeth added.

  “I have always longed for a sister. Perhaps if Fitzwilliam EVER marries, I shall know what that is like,” she insisted while simultaneously elbowing her offending brother in the abdomen.

  “At least you have a brother, I have only had Mama for company… but now there is Mrs. Collins, but she rarely speaks…. It’s like having another Fitzwilliam about, always wanting to play the peacemaker,” Anne teased, and poked him herself for good measure.

  Darcy groaned, and again wished that he had remained in his chamber. How was he to survive all three if they wished to torture him. Seeking male assistance, he looked beseechingly at Timothy Archibald for rescue.

  “I hope you know what sort of family to which you are choosing to be connected. As you can see, it is filled with bullies…especially Anne. She may put on a face of sweet compliance, but there is a viper hidden inside. Only Miss Bennet has the opportunity to escape us.”

  “Oh, you will not have it so bad. I have survived four sisters without any permanent damage.”

  “Four sisters? I have five brothers, all unmarried. We must arrange a meeting, surely at least one marriage will result,” Timothy offered, his skeletal face softening when he smiled. Elizabeth laughed and agreed that it should be done, but could not imagine Kitty being interested should his siblings share a resemblance.

  By now, they had wandered through a succession of receiving rooms. Each were ornate and stuffed with furnishings, all sharing a particular theme or color scheme. Beautiful as individual objects, but rather overwhelming together.

  “As you can see, Mama cannot manage to toss out anything. Papa’s family has had this house for five generations, each one adding to the pile. I don’t know what will become of it all when she passes.”

  “Will it not be yours?”

  “Yes, but I will not be living here. Hopefully Mama will live on for another twenty years, then I can bestow it on my least favorite child…or maybe I will stick Georgie with it.”

  Anne de Bourgh’s dry humor was a treat for Elizabeth, but Georgiana Darcy did not see the joke in her cousin’s words. As a woman with an elder brother, the only thing she possessed was her dowry. Her home would be shared with whomever he married, but she would never be mistress of it.

  “You speak so casually of a fortune Annie.”

  “I know, but a house must be a home. I want to live where there is not a constant worry that I should ruin a priceless carpet with my muddy shoes. This place is a museum… or a mausoleum.”

  “No fear of that at Gallymeade. With so many boys tramping through, it is well loved and in places, well worn. And… I suppose you have all noticed that I am a bit clumsy. There have been a great many broken windows from our play.”

  “You are not clumsy,” Anne defended, “the world is simply too small to accommodate.”

  Timothy blushed with the compliment and dared a kiss to the top of Anne’s head, as it came to just under his chin. The personal touch, although perfectly harmless, made for an awkward silence before the group moved upwards to the top of the manse.

  “Miss Bennet’s home of Longbourn is very comfortable,” Darcy supplied to restore the mood.

  “It is also bursting at the seams with people. But it will seem just as large as Rosings without my two sisters. It is the people that make the home, else it is just four walls and a roof, nothing more.”

  “Well said, Miss Bennet. Pemberley is just as grand as Rosings, but one can feel very lonely,” Georgiana ag
reed, watching her brother’s face closely. Every time Miss Bennet spoke, something in his countenance changed, and now that they had arrived at the spooky former nurseries, he looked almost wistful. Her stuffy brother was in love, but did Elizabeth Bennet even know? Perhaps it was he who needed some advice from a sibling. Vowing to speak with him later, Georgiana turned her attentions to the innocuous architecture of Rosings.

  *****

  “I lost count of the rooms. I should have become lost had I been alone,” Elizabeth said nearly an hour later as the group circled back to the great hall. Owning a house so immense in size would be difficult to manage. It was no wonder that many of the chambers went unused. Was the Darcy estate of the same magnitude? She had turned down his offer of marriage because of what she had presumed to be arrogance on his part, but now Elizabeth was beginning to realize what a marriage to a Darcy would entail. So much of her life would change, and not necessarily for the better. Money, or the lack of it, had always left the Bennet sisters with a worry about their futures. But marriage to man of considerable income also had its responsibilities. She was not a person to pass of the running of a household entirely to servants. Nor was she one to desire living in a museum. Respect for tradition and family did not have to constitute keeping hordes of decaying possessions. However, none of that mattered anymore, she had refused him. It was unlikely that another offer would ever be issued, despite her growing feelings towards Darcy. Throughout the tour, he had hung back from the party, but she had felt his eyes upon her. Even when they returned, Darcy hovered close by as the coffee was poured.

  “I must confess to having a fondness for the heathen beans, but on a minister’s salary, such luxury is limited to others,” Mr. Collins said as he shoveled sugar into his cup. The idle mention of his income was not lost on Lady Catherine who muttered under her breath as to his ungratefulness, but only Elizabeth heard her displeasure.

  “It cannot replace a good cup of tea,” Darcy insisted as he refused the thick brew.