by Maria Grace
Though perhaps a bit alarmist, her reasoning was sound.
“I see no choice but to separate them, for he will give her up no other way.” She sipped her tea.
Darcy drummed his fingers on the table. “Are you certain such drastic means are required? I have never found him so difficult to sway.”
“Ordinarily, I might agree. I have seen you work your persuasion upon him to great effect. But in this, the risk is too great, and the possibility of him being stubborn, too real. I fear drastic measures must be taken. It is bad enough that there is no way I can prevent him from calling upon Longbourn before he goes to London this morning.”
Was it impossible for her to think something out clearly? Did all her thoughts run in convoluted circles? Darcy gripped his forehead. “If he is going immediately to London, I do not see the problem. They will be separated as you desire.”
“He will return in just a few days, though, perhaps with strengthened sentiments because he fancied himself lonely whilst he was gone.” She leaned forward and tapped the table. “What I propose is this. He will go to London today, and tomorrow we will all join him. Once there, we might begin to work upon him. He regards your insight very highly. If he were to hear you in agreement with us, it would convince him of the evils of returning to the country.”
Darcy had never sided with Miss Bingley against her brother before. Usually, he only interfered when Bingley asked his counsel. While it was true, Bingley relied upon him often, it was hard to conscience such open collusion.
“You know how my brother enjoys the diversions of London. Once settled there, you can have no doubt of his happiness.” She batted her eyes, again.
He turned aside.
Still, it was for Bingley’s own good that it should happen. The sooner, the less painful the ending of the attachment for all involved.
“Very well, I will prepare to leave tomorrow.”
Miss Bingley clasped her hands before her chest. “I cannot thank you enough.”
Pray, no more batting eyes or fluttering hearts!
Darcy rose and excused himself. If he were to be leaving Netherfield soon, then a morning walk, and on the off chance, an encounter with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, might not be so very dangerous a thing after all. He called for his hat and coat.
Two days of dry weather had done little to reduce the puddles and patches of mud still riddling the footpath. Pemberley’s footpaths were much better maintained than these. Little surprise. Netherfield’s owner neglected so many details of his estate. Still, the crisp air proved bracing, and no amount of neglect could diminish the morning sunshine. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell Pemberley.
A flash of color caught his eye—a familiar shade of blue. Elizabeth had worn that color when she had stayed with her sister at Netherfield
It was her! Walking, no storming up the other side of the path, just beyond a stand of trees. She broke a small branch and slashed at the knee-high grasses reaching for her skirts. Her brows drew together, and she murmured under her breath.
What was she saying? Perhaps if he drew nearer.
He ducked behind a large tree and pressed his back to the trunk.
“I cannot believe ... if he should ever ...” If only she would enunciate more clearly whilst she talked to herself!
He held his breath and closed his eyes.
“Why must Mama push so hard and insist on what she truly does not understand? I know why she thinks it a good thing, but so soon? How can she think she knows his character? It certainly is not the same thing as knowing his position. How am I to convince her only a fool rushes into an alliance, no matter how ideal it seems?”
She cast the branch aside and stalked away.
So, Miss Elizabeth saw it too. The insidious matchmaking attempts by her mother, and she agreed no good would come of them. She wanted to see her sister separated from Bingley.
Perhaps she might never know of it, but he would perform this service for his friend and for her. On the morrow they would be off to London and make sure Bingley never returned to Netherfield.
MAMA MET HER JUST OUTSIDE the small wilderness near the house. “Where have you been? I have been looking for you for nearly an hour.”
More likely it was a quarter hour. Mama’s sense of time was notoriously linked to her level of vexation.
“Hill knew I had gone walking.”
“Walking? Walking? Who goes walking the morning after a ball?”
“I walk every morning, why should this one be different?”
“Because you are wanted in the house immediately.”
“Wanted? What for?”
“Never you mind that. Just come along.” Mama grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to the house.
She nearly stumbled and fell. A suffocating pressure gripped her chest.
“I ... I must call upon the tenants.” She pulled her hand back, but Mama did not release her.
“You have far more important business to attend. The tenants can wait.” Mama flung open the front door and marched in, Elizabeth still trailing behind her. “Now come to the morning room for breakfast.”
“When has breakfast become such an urgent endeavor?”
“No more of your cheek girl, go in and sit. Eat with your sister.”
Elizabeth sat beside Kitty and pretended interest in a slice of slightly burnt toast.
Mr. Collins entered the room with great solemnity. “May I hope, Madam, for your approbation when I solicit for the honor of a private audience with your fair daughter, Elizabeth, in the course of this morning?”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet.
So did Mama, clapping her hands in front of her chest. “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.”
Elizabeth clutched the back of her chair. “Dear Mama, 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.”
Mama rapped her knuckles on the table. “No, no nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you will stay where you are. I insist upon you staying and hearing Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth dare not disobey so direct an injunction. Perhaps getting this over quickly was the best alternative.
Mama and Kitty walked off, leaving Mr. Collins to begin.
Could a man use more words to say less? His horrifying proposal waxed on until she nearly bit through her tongue. When at last she could loose it, her efforts were of little avail. He denied her at every turn. To such perseverance in willful self-deception Elizabeth could make no reply. Immediately and in silence she withdrew—what other choice had she?
Not a quarter of an hour later, a servant fetched her to her father’s study and shut the door behind her. Mama stood primly near the fireplace whilst Papa rested pensively in his favorite chair.
“Come here, child.” He beckoned her to his side. “I have sent for you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Very well, and this offer of marriage you have refused?”
“I have, sir.” She bit her lip and clutched her hands tightly before her.
“Very well. We have now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?”
Mama stepped forward and punctuated her words with her hands. “Yes, or I will never see her again.”
Papa chewed his cheek and adjusted his glasses. “An unhappy alternative is before you Elizabeth.”
She held her breath.
“From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”
She exhaled heavily and mouthed ‘thank you’ as Mama sputtered and stammered and stamped.
Of course, Papa would support her—she hardly imagined anything else. But their immediate dismi
ssal from his library stung. Could he have not exerted himself just a little more on her behalf, rather than leaving Mama stalking her from room to room, pleading, cajoling and even at length, threatening for her cause. Only Charlotte’s visit took Mama from her side.
By the end of the day, Mr. Collins pleaded Mama cease her lamentations and her insistence upon remedying the situation. His favors were officially withdrawn.
A man who could change his mind with so little effort surely could not have been much affected by sentimentality. Any affection he might have had for her must have been a work of his imagination. Surely this justified her decision, proved beyond doubt his unsuitability for her.
Did it not?
Something in the disappointment in Mama’s eyes made her wonder.
November 28, 1813. Meryton
The following morning, Darcy settled into the soft, leather covered squabs of his well-sprung coach. Soon Meryton would be but a memory and the danger to Bingley—and to his own equanimity—would be over. If Elizabeth knew what he was doing for her, she would thank him, but of course she never would. It should be enough to know himself that he was serving her.
The coach rolled past Longbourn. Would she be out walking now? He flashed a sidelong glance at the slowly passing countryside. But no light and pleasing figure rose from the grasses nor peeked out from between the trees.
Just as well.
The little pang in his belly was not disappointment. He should not have eaten those kippers before he left.
A NIGHT’S SLEEP—HELPED along with a touch of laudanum— produced no improvement in Mama’s humor or health. Her nerves overcame her and sent her to the refuge of her chambers. No doubt, it was her way of avoiding Mr. Collins who—despite his disappointment—could not be moved to depart any sooner than his planned date of Saturday.
At breakfast, Lydia suggested a walk into Meryton to inquire after Mr. Wickham’s return. Even if the question had not piqued her curiosity, Elizabeth would have been ready to agree simply for the pleasure of avoiding Mr. Collins.
The threat of his company at the house motivated all her sisters to join in the errand. Jane suggested adding a visit to Aunt Philips to their journey. Poor dear must be deeply troubled by the level of tension at home. She was hardly one to invent reasons to be away lest she miss a call from any of the Bingleys. Not surprisingly, Jane’s suggestion met with rousing approval.
Chill November air burst against Elizabeth’s face as they poured out of the front door. Cold sunshine greeted her, far more inviting than the weather when she last walked. Lydia and Kitty surged to the front, tittering among themselves, the excitement in anticipation of meeting officers clearly too much to contain. They dashed ahead, kicking up little clods of dirt and splashing in the occasional puddle as they ran. Elizabeth walked more carefully, avoiding puddles that would spoil her newly cleaned nankeen half-boots and petticoats. Such things disturbed Mama, and she was disturbed enough right now.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, but the door remained closed. Mr. Collins did not appear, running to catch up with them. Was it wrong to be so relieved?
It could not be easy to be one whose absence brought greater pleasure than his presence. She should be sympathetic, but only Jane could be quite that good.
“Look! Look!” Lydia pointed at two figures stepping out of the boarding house at the edge of town.
“I think it is ...” Kitty grabbed Lydia’s hands.
“Mr. Wickham!” Lydia screamed and giggled.
The taller of the two figures waved energetically. That must be Denny.
Kitty and Lydia waved back, laughng. Still holding hands, they ran toward the officers, kicking up a spray of gravel in their wake.
“They should not run. It is unladylike and Mama would not approve,” Mary muttered, pointedly avoiding Elizabeth’s gaze.
Though she said nothing directly, there was no doubt Mary harbored many mixed and strained sentiments toward Elizabeth since Mr. Collins’s proposal. Eventually they would have to talk that over, but now was not that time.
“We probably should hurry on—best not leave Kitty and Lydia unattended for too long.” Jane bit her lip, staring at Kitty and Lydia.
Jane was right. They were standing too close to the officers and giggling much too freely. So close to the boarding house, they were sure to be seen by someone happy to spread gossip about them.
Mary pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders and marched ahead. Jane and Elizabeth hurried to catch up.
“We were just telling Wickham how much he was missed at the Netherfield ball.” Lydia looked over her shoulder and batted her eyes.
“I am humbled that my absence should have even been noticed at such a distinguished event.” Wickham bowed from his shoulders.
Beside him, Denny mirrored his actions. Both men wore their regimentals. That alone was enough to send Kitty and Lydia swooning.
“Unfortunately, business in town could not be postponed.” Wickham raised his brow slightly.
Perhaps he would share the rest of that thought later.
“Business always ruins the best of our fun.” Lydia pouted and sidled between the two officers. She slipped her hands into each of their arms.
Jane blushed almost the color of Lydia’s scarlet cloak. “We are on our way to call upon our Aunt Philips. Perhaps you would care to join us on our call?”
Hopefully they would agree. At least that way Lydia could be ill-behaved behind closed doors instead of in the middle of the street.
Wickham and Denny exchanged a quick glance and nodded at one another.
“Mrs. Philips has extended us such warm, open hospitality already. It would be our pleasure to call upon her.” Wickham’s smile suggested the invitation was the highest honor he had ever been offered.
What a dramatic contrast to Mr. Collins, whose smile left her squirming, or Mr. Darcy who seemed never to smile at all.
The suggestion must have mollified Lydia. Her deportment improved to almost proper on the walk to the Philips’s.
Aunt Philips was only too happy to invite them all in. A party of young people, particularly one that included eligible young men in the company of her very marriageable nieces, could not be but a delight.
They sat in her cozy—or crowded and over-decorated, depending on who was viewing it—parlor, and tea was soon brought in. Lydia and Kitty squashed up on the long sofa to sit between Wickham and Denny. Truly, Aunt Phillips should suggest that there were enough seats for everyone, but both looked so satisfied, she would have been hard pressed to move either of them. Mary sat, somewhat aloof, nearest the windows, more often looking out of them than joining in the conversation. She really was taking the turn of events with Mr. Collins very poorly. Aunt Philips hardly seemed to notice though, happily presiding over the little party from her seat near the fireplace.
“You gave us no small concern at your absence from the Netherfield ball, sir.” Aunt Phillips handed Wickham a cup of tea. “We were quite relieved not to find ourselves deprived of your company, Leiutenant Denny.”
“Denny is such a good dancer, is he not?” Lydia leaned close to Kitty, her tea sloshing nearly out of its cup.
Kitty launched into a painfully detailed description of the set she and Denny danced together, the one during which Mary King had stumbled.
Mr. Wickham leaned toward Elizabeth, glancing back at Lydia and Aunt Philips as though in hopes of a bit of privacy.
She cocked her head and inclined his way.
“I found as the time drew near that I had better not meet Mr. Darcy. That to be in the same room, the same party with him, for so many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself.”
“I admire your forbearance, sir, to deny yourself the very great pleasure of such an event out of consideration for the rest of the company.”
His cheek dimpled with a half-smile. “I felt sure you were capable of seeing it in such light. I
only hope you will not resent—”
“Mr. Darcy? Surely you cannot expect I will not harbor ill-will toward him when his very presence deprived us of your company.”
“Are you speaking of the business that kept you away?” Lydia huffed. “What droll preoccupation could demand your attentions away from us?”
Wickham’s eyebrow twitched, and he tipped his head toward Elizabeth. “They were very droll indeed. You could hardly take interest in my succession of busy nothings in town.”
How neatly he avoided giving Lydia a direct answer. He never told an outright falsehood, distracting and side-stepping instead. Much practice must have gone into the perfecting of that skill. Jane, though, had wondered at the desirability of such a talent.
At the end of half an hour, they bid their aunt good day.
“Pray allow us to attend you home. It is much too soon to depart from such agreeable company.” Wickham held the door for them as they proceeded out.
“Indeed, it is.” Denny offered an arm to Kitty and the other to Lydia. With another peal of laughter they set off with him.
Mary snorted and stalked on, quickly overtaking them on the quiet roadway.
“Pray excuse me.” Jane curtsied and hurried after Mary, little clouds of dust forming at her heels.
If anyone could pacify Mary’s hurt feelings it was Jane.
Wickham glanced at her and slowed his pace a fraction, extending their distance from the others. “I cannot pretend to be sorry for a few moments to express my thanks for your gracious understanding, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You are too kind, sir. It is you who are all gentlemanly forbearance and—”
“You think far too well of me. I am hardly a gentleman.”
“Perhaps not by birth, but certainly by deportment, which is more that I can say for many who are born to the office.”
“You honor me. Would that society could be so liberal-minded as well. You are most certainly an example of a true gentlewoman.” How was it that his compliments always left her feeling so warm and fuzzy inside? Mr. Collins’s certainly had not.
