If I Were Mrs Darcy

by Sophia Grey

  “I shall not be,” Elizabeth huffed. “I was knocked off my feet by a most disagreeable gentleman and then presented in a bedraggled and unconscious heap to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst… I cannot be grateful for that.”

  There was a cough outside the chamber door and Jane looked up with wide eyes as a dark figure moved away down the corridor.

  “Lizzy, what if someone had heard you!” she whispered loudly.

  Elizabeth felt a small stab of regret, but lifted her chin instead. “If someone overheard what I have said, then they should not have been listening around corners,” she said boldly.

  Jane regarded her skeptically, but Elizabeth smiled and laid her hand upon her sister’s cheek. “I do hope that Miss Bingley was not horrible to you while I was gone,” she said.

  “Oh, no, indeed,” Jane replied.

  “Good. I am most suspicious of her motives,” Elizabeth said in a conspiratorial tone. “Do not let anyone tell you that you are not worthy of a good husband, Jane Bennet. I will not have it.” Jane flushed primly and rose from her seat on the bed to fuss over her sister.

  “I will write to mama to have the carriage sent,” Jane said. “Mama will want you home to recover.”

  “To be sure,” Elizabeth murmured. She allowed Jane to straighten the blankets and re-wrap the linen that bound her ankle, and though she tried, Elizabeth could not forget the shadowy figure in the hallway. But she was determined in her conviction. If anyone had overheard and been upset by her words, it was their fault, and not hers. She had meant every word, and would ay them again if pressed.

  Elizabeth’s ankle ached, and she was sure that she was bruised in an uncountable number of places, but no matter how she was feeling, she would be glad to leave Netherfield Park and return home to Longbourn.

  5

  Her injury was not a serious one, but their departure from Netherfield Park was more of a hardship than Elizabeth had expected. Not only did a carriage come from Longbourn, but Mrs. Bennet, herself, accompanied it.

  Mrs. Bennet fussed and clucked over her injured daughter, and Elizabeth could not help but wonder how much of her mother’s concern was related to the proximity of Mr. Bingley and his sisters.

  “We do wish you a speedy recovery, Miss Eliza,” Caroline Bingley called out. “We do hope you will visit us again, Jane. It was so diverting to experience some of Hertfordshire’s best society.”

  “You have been most kind to my dear girls, Miss Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet said as they helped Elizabeth to clamber into the carriage. Lizzy is not usually clumsy, so I imagine her accident must have come as quite a shock.”

  “Mama,” Elizabeth growled from inside the carriage. “It was nothing, do not fuss.”

  Caroline Bingley laughed shortly and exchanged a pointed look with her sister. “Oh, no, indeed, Mrs. Bennet, we were glad of the distraction! It is not every day that one sees a young lady clothed in more mud than muslin.”

  Mrs. Hurst hid her laughter behind her hand as her sister’s catlike smile stretched across her long face and Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment. She sat back against her seat and winced as the motion jarred her injured ankle.

  “I have no doubt that my Lizzy is very grateful to you for your attentions and kindness,” Mrs. Bennet continued. “I do hope that we can expect a visit from you soon.”

  “To Longbourn?” Elizabeth choked out, but her mother glared over her shoulder and Elizabeth swallowed her protest. From the look on Miss Bingley’s face, it was clear that they would never step foot on Longbourn’s grounds.

  “Of course, to Longbourn,” Mrs. Bennet said with a smile that Elizabeth could hear in her voice. “And you would be very welcome, indeed. Perhaps your brother would be so kind as you join you when you come...”

  “Mama,” Jane whispered warningly.

  “Oh, Jane, do not fuss. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst are more than welcome to Longbourne at any time,” Mrs. Bennet said graciously.

  “I thank you Mrs. Bennet,” Caroline Bingley replied sweetly. “You are too kind. It was our honor to look after dear Eliza during her injury.”

  Jane thanked Caroline and Mr. Hurst again for their hospitality, and then stepped into the carriage to sit next to her sister. She held Elizabeth’s hand tightly as their mother clambered into the carriage. Mrs. Bennet waved and called out the window as the carriage pulled away.

  As they drew away from Netherfield Park Mrs. Bennet settled against the cushioned seat with a contented sigh, but then she turned a suspicious eye upon her daughters.

  “Lizzy, you are not usually so unfortunate in your steps. I do hope this was not some ploy to distract Mr. Bingley’s attention away from Jane.”

  “Mama!” Jane cried in outrage. “How could you even think such a terrible thing? Lizzy was hurt, she slipped on the wet grass and has been injured. How could you be so unkind?”

  Elizabeth could only stare at her mother, but Mrs. Bennet’s serious expression faded in an instant to be replaced by a comforting smile. “That is all I needed to hear,” she said and patted Elizabeth’s leg gently. “A few days of rest and you will be well on your way.” Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line and glared out the window.

  Without pause, Mrs. Bennet reached into her reticule and produced a letter which she brandished like a weapon inside the cramped quarters of the carriage.

  “What is it, Mama?” Elizabeth asked with an exhausted sigh. She could see the glint of excitement in her mother’s eye, and she already had a feeling that the contents of that letter would not do anyone in their house any favors.

  “It is a letter,” she replied. “A letter from a long absent cousin. A relative of your father’s.”

  “A cousin?” Jane exclaimed. “But we are well acquainted with our cousins… and Papa has none.”

  “Indeed, he is unknown to us,” Mrs. Bennet said carefully. “But Mr. Collins would seek to change that.”

  “Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth repeated. “Papa has never spoken of him.”

  “No, indeed,” Mrs. Bennet said severely. “I wanted to speak to you girls before telling Lydia and Kitty.” Their mother took a fortifying breath and handed the letter to Jane. “Upon your father’s death, Mr. Collins holds the keys to Longbourn… it is a most unfortunate situation, but one that cannot be corrected.”

  Jane read the letter quickly, and gasped as she reached a certain passage. “Mama, an entailment?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Bennet said heatedly. “As Mr. Collins is your father’s closest male relative, Longbourne is to be his.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her reticule and dapped at her eyes. “He is coming to visit in a few days time.”

  “Visit?” Elizabeth gasped. “To what end?”

  “I do not know, Lizzy,” her mother snapped. “I suspect he would like to examine his inheritance. The foul man has never once written to your father, and I cannot expect that he will be very welcome.”

  “No, indeed,” Jane said as she passed the letter to her sister.

  Elizabeth scanned the letter, her eyes confirming what Jane had already said. But there was one particular passage that gave her pause. “‘I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—’ Mama… what does this mean?”

  “Though it is difficult,'' said Jane, “to guess in what way he can mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his credit.''

  Elizabeth pursed her lips and re-read Mr. Collins’ words.

  “It is a grievous affair to my poor girls,” Mrs. Bennet moaned. “I can only presume that he comes to Longbourn to mock our misfortune and flaunt his entailment in front of our noses. Oh, Jane, what shall we do?”

  Elizabeth re-read the letter while her mother wailed dramatically. “Mama, he will be here in four days’ time!”

  “You will welcome Mr. Collins into our home, and you will gi
ve him every respect owed to him. This gentleman, however he may appear in his letter will be the very person who will see to our care after… after your dear father has left us.” Mrs. Bennet snuffled into her handkerchief and Elizabeth exchanged a sharp look with Jane.

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth said. She did not know what her mother’s words truly meant, but as she read Mr. Collins’ letter for a third time, a feeling of great unease settled over her shoulders.

  His arrival at Longbourn could mean nothing but trouble for them all. Lydia and Kitty would be unaffected by his presence, Mary would be indifferent as she always was, which would leave the entertainment of their long-lost cousin to herself and Jane.

  The manner in which his letter made mention of her and her sisters did not fill Elizabeth with anything more than a curious dread.

  All at once, Mrs. Bennet’s tears were dry and she smiled at her daughters once more. “Lizzy, I will depend on you to be sure that Mr. Collins is well taken care of.”

  “Me?” Elizabeth asked. The carriage turned down the narrow road that led to Longbourn and Elizabeth stared at her mother who seemed preoccupied with the scenery that passed by the carriage window.

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Bennet replied casually. She reached out to pat Jane upon the arm and smiled at her eldest daughter. “Your sister is the object of one gentleman’s affections already, it would not be fair to allow Mr. Collins to presume—”

  That feeling of dread fell heavier upon Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Presume what?” Elizabeth asked through gritted teeth.

  “Presume that she were available for any other arrangements,” Mrs. Bennet said quickly. “Ah, we have arrived.” The carriage lurched to a stop and Mrs. Bennet flung the door open and stepped down onto the gravel. “Come now, girls. We must help Lizzy to the parlor,” she called out to Lydia and Kitty who loitered in the doorway of the house.

  Elizabeth fixed Jane with a blank stare, but Jane could only shake her head. “I do not know what she intends,” Jane began.

  “I believe I do,” Elizabeth said bitterly.

  By the time Mr. Collins arrived in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth’s ankle had healed but her resistance to her mother’s machinations had not lessened. Mrs. Bennet had spent the last four days dissecting every nuance of Mr. Collins’ letter.

  “I truly believe that if we welcome him with the same kindness and deference expressed in his letter, that we shall all be treated fairly,” Mrs. Bennet decided.

  Mr. Bennet, for his part, seemed wholly intrigued by the gentleman, though Elizabeth suspected that his interest was by no means an affectionate one.

  * * *

  Mr. Collins arrived at Longbourn as he had promised, on the afternoon of November the twenty-eighth just before four-o’clock.

  Lydia and Kitty had convinced themselves that they were excited for Mr. Collins to visit, but Elizabeth did not believe for a moment that they welcomed the clergyman with any serious happiness. They had largely ignored any conversation pertaining to the gentleman, and Lydia had made a very specific point of mentioning how boring and old-fashioned his letter had sounded.

  “He is a clergyman,” Mrs. Bennet had admonished gently. “I have no doubt that his manner of speaking will be very much different than his writing.”

  But, alas, their mother’s prediction proved to be very wrong, indeed. Mr. Collins, as he alighted somewhat clumsily from the carriage that delivered him, was a disappointment from the beginning.

  He was dressed severely in black, as any clergyman should be, but he was of a smaller stature than Elizabeth had expected, and a somewhat rounder countenance than many men of the cloth she had encountered in her lifetime. In fact, Meryton’s clergyman was a jovial man in possession of of many more winters than Mr. Collins and he was as tall and slender as a any sapling.

  However, Elizabeth suspected, that was the price one paid to have a rich patron. Mr. Samson had no patron other than the good people of Meryton, and from the look of Mr. Collins, she suspected that he was not forced to eat sparingly at mealtimes. He was broad across the chest and, but not in a manner that was pleasing—at least, not to Elizabeth’s eye.

  “My dear, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Collins greeted them warmly. “I am overwhelmed by this welcome and so grateful that my fair cousins have seen fit to grace me with their presence at such an hour.”

  Mrs. Collins’ pretty words were stiffly delivered with all the propriety of a man many years his senior and Elizabeth glared at Lydia and Kitty who had decided that Mr. Collins’ manners were to be a topic of great amusement. But if Elizabeth had found Mr. Collins’ introduction to be effusive, she was not prepared for his exclamations to continue.

  He was full of praise for everything he laid his eyes upon; from the decor in their front foyer, to the dishes served at supper.

  “And which of my fair cousins may be commended for this most excellent meal?” he exclaimed at the delivery of the main course. He turned his beaming smile upon each of them in turn, obviously anxious to bestow his compliments whomsoever deserved praise. Lydia dissolved into barely restrained giggles while Kitty stared at him with wide eyes.

  “You will find, Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet sniffed, “that we are very well able to provide for ourselves enough to secure the services of a fine cook. None of my daughters need ply her hand in the kitchen. You may pay your compliments to Hill when she returns with dessert.” It was clear that she had taken affront to Mr. Collins’ words, and the pale young man had good reason to look uncomfortable.

  Mr. Bennet said nothing, but Elizabeth could see that his own mirth lurked beneath the surface of his composed exterior. For herself, Elizabeth was astonished at the man’s assumption. The young ladies of her acquaintance had no need of culinary skills, and she could not imagine any of them pulling an apron over their day dresses to knead dough or stir pottage before the sun rose.

  Mr. Collins stood up from his chair in a trice and laid his hand upon his heart in a gesture of deepest sincerity. “Mrs. Bennet, do forgive me if I have offended you. I merely wished to pay a compliment to my dear cousins. Please be assured of that.”

  “Your apology is most generous, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bennet said quickly but Mrs. Bennet’s furious exhalation made it known that she did not agree in the slightest and Mr. Collins set about making his deepest regrets known at every occasion until, indeed, their plates were cleared away and dessert delivered.

  But it was as the stewed apples were delivered that Mr. Collins began to speak upon what Elizabeth would come to understand was his favorite topic.

  Rosings Park.

  The estate of his patron, the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh no less. Elizabeth did not have the slightest inclination to listen to anything that Mr. Collins said during supper, but as he continued to speak about the generosity of his patron, the more Elizabeth began to dread this man’s presence at Longbourn.

  “These stewed apples remind me of a time when Lady Catherine, in her most generous condescension invited my humble personage to dine at Rosings Park during last Christmas’ celebrations.” Mr. Collins’ expression took on a dreamlike quality as he descended into memory of that surely wondrous day. “The apples she had acquired for this occasion had been sent especially for her as a gift from the Marquis of Anjou, with cinnamon and cardamom acquired from a particular acquaintance in Kashmir—”

  “How wonderful,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed as though she had long hungered for apples from the south of France and exotic spices from faraway lands.

  “Indeed,” Mr. Collins beamed, “I have often said that to dine at Lady Catherine’s table is to taste of the entire civilized world.”

  Elizabeth looked down at her stewed apple, but not before catching Lydia rolling her eyes heavenward as Kitty giggled behind her napkin.

  “If I were Mrs. Collins I should eat at Lady Catherine’s table every night,” exclaimed Lydia. “In fact, I would demand it, and he would be sure to comply.” She shrieked with laughter at her o
wn joke and leapt upon Elizabeth’s bed.

  “Hush now, Lydia, the poor man will hear you,” Jane said in a stern whisper.

  Kitty winced as Jane finished brushing her hair and set to braiding it for sleep. “What if Mr. Collins has come to Hertfordshire to find a wife?” she asked quietly. Lydia coughed and then laughed incredulously, but Elizabeth’s blood froze in her veins.

  “Could you imagine being married to such a creature?” Lydia choked out. “Lord, I would die of boredom before I could be invited to Rosings Park.” Lydia’s imitation of Mr. Collins’ inflection sent her into another gale of giggles, and Kitty smothered her own laughter in her hands. “If I were Mrs. Collins I would encourage him to be away from the parsonage as much as possible,” Lydia continued. She tugged Kitty out of the chair while a frustrated Jane tried to finish tying a strip of linen around the hair she had just finished braiding.

  Lydia and Kitty said their goodnights and Elizabeth followed them to the door. “I wonder what misery tomorrow will bring,” Lydia moaned as she dragged her sister from the room.

  Elizabeth closed the door behind the giggling girls and leaned against it for a moment.

  “What is it, Lizzy?” Jane asked.

  “I cannot help but wonder if Lydia is correct,” Elizabeth replied. “What if Mr. Collins has come to Longbourn in search of a wife? He has made mention many a time of how closely Lady Catherine directs his routine. I would not doubt that she would expect him to marry as soon as possible.”

  Jane’s eyes widened but she did not argue, which meant that she had considered this option as well.

  “It would suit Mama very well to have one of us married to Mr. Collins to ensure that she is well taken care of after Papa’s death,” Elizabeth said.”

  “Oh, Lizzy, you should not speak of such things,” Jane said with some distress in her voice.

  “But we cannot ignore it,” Elizabeth said stiffly. “Mr. Collins’ arrival is a jarring reminder that our happiness is nothing unless we are able to find good husbands… do you not remember that Agnes Chalmers and her dear mama were turned out of their family home by just such a well-meaning relation? She is working as a maid in London—”