by Jann Rowland
Her sisters snickered at her irreverent joke, while her mother turned a mock glare on her, joining with their jollity. John, the footman, was hard-pressed to keep his countenance and was not entirely successful if the snorts Elizabeth heard were any indication. When the four ladies alighted, they straightened their skirts and approached the door, where, even now, Mr. Collins was standing, arguing with the housekeeper.
“You shall take me at once to the mistress of the estate. Do you not know who I am?”
“I neither know nor care,” said Mrs. Nichols, a woman known to the Bennets. “Wait for the rest of your party; I shall then convey you all to the sitting-room.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Nichols,” said Mrs. Bennet, giving the woman a smile and interrupting Mr. Collins’s diatribe. “We are all gathered—please convey us to the mistress.”
Mrs. Nichols curtseyed and turned to walk away, the five visitors following them. As she walked, Elizabeth could hear Mr. Collins muttering under his breath, promising to have her removed from her post. Annoyed with the parson as she was, Elizabeth could not help but snap at him.
“I suggest you allow the matter to drop, Cousin. Mrs. Nichols is an excellent housekeeper, and I know for a fact my uncle shall not part with her services, regardless of your opinion.”
The sour look Mr. Collins fixed on Elizabeth spoke to his feelings. The parson, however, decided against speaking, a fact for which Elizabeth could be nothing but grateful. Within a few moments, they entered the sitting-room and greeted the gathered Netherfield party.
“Oh, Lizzy!” exclaimed Georgiana at the sight of her. “I have longed to see you!”
With those words, Georgiana and her brother commandeered Elizabeth’s company, and she sat to speak with them. Jane joined Mr. Bingley, as was her custom, while Mrs. Hurst took on the office of greeting Mrs. Bennet. Miss Bingley, her hard gaze narrowing at Elizabeth’s position between the Darcys, moved to intercept them but was herself intercepted by Mr. Collins.
“Miss Bingley,” said the man in his arrogant and nasally voice. “How fortunate it is to see you again, for I must assume that you have wished to see me as much as I have longed for your company.”
Had Mr. Collins possessed even a hint of sense he would have known at once that Miss Bingley might have wished to see a wild boar charging her rather than Mr. Collins. The parson, however, took no notice and spoke, rarely pausing to draw breath, never allowing her to say anything in response. Elizabeth did not know if the woman’s forbearance would last in the face of her mounting frustration and fury when Mr. Collins began to speak of the dearest subject to his heart.
“My patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, you see,” the parson was saying, “is a woman of many abilities and talents. Why, she not only had the wisdom to send me here to search for my future companion, but she took the liberty of inspecting the parsonage to suggest changes to prepare it for her coming. These changes, I assure you, I have followed in every particular.
“‘Mr. Collins,’ said she in her usually condescending manner, ‘the closets I see before me are horribly bare of anything resembling convenience. I would recommend you add shelves, for such items may be adapted in many ways for the use and comfort of your guests.’ Thus has Lady Catherine proved her wisdom, making my parsonage the only one in Kent with such fine appointments.”
Though Elizabeth was on the edge of bursting out into laughter. After what happened next, she almost wished she had.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh?” asked Georgiana, not realizing the mistake she was making. “Why, Lady Catherine is my aunt!”
Mr. Darcy, it seemed, was not blind to the consequences of making such an obsequious toad aware of their family connection, but the damage was already done. Though Mr. Collins could not respond for several moments out of stupefaction, he recovered quicker than anyone might have wished.
“Lady Catherine is your aunt?” For the moment, no one could determine whether he was horrified or struck with awe. “Have I been in the presence of members of Lady Catherine’s noble family and been unaware?”
Belated though it was, Georgiana seemed to understand what she had done, for she looked at her brother with uncertainty. Mr. Darcy, however, appeared amused at Mr. Collins’s manner and was not unwilling to respond.
“We are related to Lady Catherine, though your ignorance of the matter is unsurprising.”
“Of course!” exclaimed Mr. Collins. “Mr. Darcy! I have heard Lady Catherine herself speak of you and your sister in the fondest terms!”
“Family is of great importance to Lady Catherine.”
“It is!” exclaimed a rapturous Mr. Collins. “Let me say then, Mr. Darcy, that Lady Catherine and her excellent daughter were in the best of health when I left Kent.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins, for that confirmation. I received word from Lady Catherine myself only last week confirming the same.”
The vigorous nod with which the parson responded led Elizabeth to wonder if he was about to do himself permanent damage. The thought was so amusing, that Elizabeth turned away to hide her laugh with a feigned cough.
“Let me also say, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins, “that Lady Catherine herself has spoken to me in the most animated terms of her anticipation for your upcoming union with her most excellent daughter. What a match it shall be! What felicitations shall be yours! What a splendid fortune you shall create together. One can scarcely contemplate it!”
Two things struck Elizabeth at once: the first was how ill Miss Bingley appeared at the parson’s assertions, and the second was how a pang entered her heart at the same time. Before she could contemplate this thought, however, Georgiana leaned forward and caught her attention.
“Will my aunt never leave this subject alone? It is nothing more than her own hopes, for William does not mean to marry Anne, and I doubt Anne wishes to have William as a husband.”
Relief flooded through Elizabeth, though the reason escaped her at the moment. Mr. Collins continued to speak without cessation of the wonders of his patroness and her expectations for Mr. Darcy, but when Elizabeth looked at the gentleman, she could see Mr. Collins’s antics had ceased to amuse him. It is the mark of a gentleman to turn away from another when he is being ridiculous, and Mr. Darcy chose that manner of response, turning back to Elizabeth to resume their interrupted conversation.
“Pray, is there anything you wish me to tell Lady Catherine when next I write to her?’ asked Mr. Collins, again interrupting their conversation. “It would be no trouble to include whatever comments you might have or include your felicitations to your fair betrothed.”
“No, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy. “That will not be necessary.”
Then Mr. Darcy turned his attention back to Elizabeth and spoke again. Elizabeth did not know if Mr. Collins would have continued to importune Mr. Darcy regardless of his obvious disinclination for speaking with him; however, at that moment, Miss Bingley interjected herself into their conversation, drawing Mr. Collins’s attention.
“A connection between the Bennets and your aunt’s parson,” said she in a voice brimming with harsh laughter. “How quaint! What other high connections do you Bennets have hiding in the woodwork? A tradesman, a parson, a country solicitor—perhaps you have an innkeeper or a blacksmith too?”
“No, Miss Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet, her annoyance spilling into her voice. “Respectable professions have we, but none of those you suggest.”
“Let me tell you something of my connections!” exclaimed Mr. Collins, and Miss Bingley was once again forced into the parson’s company.
“It seems Miss Bingley possesses the most ardent of suitors,” said Elizabeth to her companions, unafraid to allow her amusement to show. Mr. Darcy and Georgiana laughed at her sally and Miss Bingley, though she had moved some distance away—attempting and failing to escape Mr. Collins—glared at them as if knowing of their conversation topic.
“That she does,” said Georgiana. The girl turned her gaze on Elizabeth, and said in
a playful tone: “Are you not jealous of her fortune? Shall you accept defeat at the hands of Miss Bingley?”
“Believe me, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth, wryness seeping into her voice, “I wish Miss Bingley nothing but the best with Mr. Collins. Of the gentleman’s society, a very little goes a long way.”
Georgiana laughed and rose, giving them both a wink, before joining Mary, who had been watching the proceedings. Soon, they were engaged in a close conversation, concerning music, unless Elizabeth missed her guess.
“So, you are engaged already, are you Mr. Darcy?” said Elizabeth, regarding the gentleman with an arched eyebrow. “Perhaps you should make this known to the neighborhood, for you shall break the hearts of young maidens everywhere if you do not take care.”
With a chuckle, Mr. Darcy said: “I am not engaged to my cousin, Miss Elizabeth, and I suspect you already understand that. It is true my aunt has long wished for the union; she does not possess as much sway with me as she might wish.”
“There are many advantages to the match,” said Elizabeth, “as Mr. Collins has stated, however ineloquent his words. Is your cousin’s estate not extensive?”
“If I cared for nothing more than wealth, I might agree with you,” replied he. “However, I have always hoped for something more in marriage than a cold union for the procurement of riches.”
“And your cousin?” asked Elizabeth. “What does she think about the matter?”
“You must understand, Miss Elizabeth, that my aunt is of a forceful personality, whereas my cousin is not. Anne does not often volunteer an opinion of her own without my aunt interjecting, and given my particular . . . difficulties speaking to her, lest Lady Catherine assume more than I mean, I have not asked her opinion. Given her general demeanor toward me, however, I suspect she has no more interest in marrying me than I have in her.”
“Then it seems to me, Mr. Darcy, that you have fulfilled your obligation to your cousin and your aunt.”
“I have always seen it that way, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy paused and considered the matter for a moment. “As for Miss Bingley, she has long wished to be the mistress of my estate.”
The way he phrased it told Elizabeth everything she needed to know of the situation. Miss Bingley had no interest in the man himself—or mayhap it was more correct to say her primary interest was the man’s estate and his position in society, rather than his person.
“Yes, I see how that would disconcert you, Mr. Darcy, to be pursued for circumstances not in one’s control.”
Elizabeth turned and watched Miss Bingley, noting the woman’s hateful glances in their direction coupled with her baleful glares at the still blathering parson. A thought crossed Elizabeth’s mind and a chuckle escaped her lips, prompting a glance from her companion. Noting his questioning gaze, Elizabeth was happy to explain.
“It seems, Mr. Darcy, that Miss Bingley is experiencing the same frustration to which she has subjected you. Do you think Mr. Collins has any interest in her which is not due to her possession of a fine dowry?”
Mr. Darcy nodded wryly. “It seems you are correct, Miss Elizabeth. If my observation is correct, it does not appear Miss Bingley is enjoying the experience.”
“Is it too much to hope that she will realize the truth and mend her ways?”
With a shaken head Mr. Darcy informed her: “In this instance, I believe it is too much to ask, Miss Elizabeth. I doubt she will see anything other than the obstacle placed in the path of her schemes.”
“I suppose you must be correct, Mr. Darcy,” murmured Elizabeth.
For some moments, they remained in companionable silence, watching those around them. Though Elizabeth watched, she did not see, for instead her thoughts were fixed upon the person of the gentleman at her side. It was a curious thing, she decided, that a man she had met only a few days before had become such a matter of interest for her. Did Mr. Darcy feel the same? Elizabeth could not be certain, but she soon realized she hoped he did; she hoped it very much, indeed.
“I hope you do not think I am being too forward, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to him. “It is on my mind that I should like to have your hand for a dance at Bingley’s ball. Might I . . .”
Mr. Darcy paused and chuckled, and he fixed Elizabeth with a rueful look. “It has not been my custom to dance much at balls or assemblies, Miss Bennet. I would not have you think I am too proud or impressed with my position in society, but I have often found that young ladies will raise their hopes due to nothing more than the solicitation to dance.”
Knowing this might be the sign of his regard, Elizabeth smiled and replied: “I hope you do not think I am one of those women, Mr. Darcy.”
A broad smile came over the gentleman’s countenance. “Perish the thought, Miss Elizabeth. That is why I feel comfortable asking you for your first sets, if you please.”
“I am eager to accept. They are yours.”
With those final words, they settled again into a companionable silence. While it was only a first step, Elizabeth thought it was a significant one, given her observation of the gentleman’s reserve, coupled with his own testimony of the same. It was still premature, to be certain, but Elizabeth felt this man could be all she wished for in terms of a suitor. With that, she was content.
Chapter XI
Upon returning home, Elizabeth found herself the subject of Jane’s intense interest and interrogation. While Elizabeth might not have supposed her sister had been capable of any attention which was not focused on Mr. Bingley, it seemed her sister was more observant than she had expected.
“Lizzy,” said Jane when they returned home, “I should like to speak with you.
While Mary entered saying nothing, Mrs. Bennet looked on, displaying her amusement, before announcing she must speak with Mrs. Hill, their housekeeper, and left them alone. Even that was not enough, for Jane grasped Elizabeth’s arm and pulled her up the stairs toward their rooms. From the nursery, which Mr. Bennet had converted to a schoolroom when the Bennet sisters grew older, the sound of the woman who had been engaged to teach Lydia and Kitty reached them, but Jane ignored it, pulling Elizabeth into her room. Once the door was closed behind them, Jane turned a demanding look on her sister.
“I must own to having come to some interesting conclusions, Lizzy, though I would not have thought my sister capable of behaving in such an impulsive manner. Mr. Darcy, though we have only known him for a few days, appears to have made quite an impression upon you.”
Feeling her cheeks heat, Elizabeth nodded, though she did not answer at once. It was clear from Jane’s stance and the impatient tapping of her foot on the floor that she would not allow Elizabeth to retreat without the required explanation being offered.
“I do esteem Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth after composing herself for a moment. “He is an excellent man, the best of men, I am coming to believe.”
Jane appeared more surprised than ever, for she gawked at Elizabeth. After a moment, however, she came and sat by Elizabeth’s side, regarding her with unfeigned interest
“For you to come to esteem a man with such speed is unlike you, Lizzy.”
“Perhaps I have never met a man who is so easy to esteem,” replied Elizabeth. When Jane pursed her lips, Elizabeth felt compelled to clarify: “I am not in love with Mr. Darcy, if that is what you are asking. The acquaintance is too new for that.”
Elizabeth paused and laughed. “You would think me mad if I were to declare undying love for a man whom I have not known for a week.”
“We have always declared we would marry for only the deepest love.”
“And you are concerned with my affinity for a gentleman who was only just introduced to us this week.”
“No, Lizzy,” replied Jane. “If you say you love a man, I must allow you the knowledge of your own mind, regardless of the length of the acquaintance. I only wish to understand.”
“How can you understand when I do not understand myself?” asked Eliza
beth. “There are a few things I know, Jane, and that sustains me and gives me hope. Mr. Darcy is a man I would like to know better; I do not know how a man who has had such a hand in raising such a wonderful young woman as Georgiana, one who has been given a good character by men of the quality of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley can be anything other than an excellent man himself.”
“Yes, I suppose you must be correct,” replied Jane.
“At present, I intend nothing more than to accept Mr. Darcy’s overtures and learn more of his character. If he should prove to be what I expect he is, I would accept his proposal, should he offer it, with gratitude. But I stress it is still early in our acquaintance, and I do not know him yet.”
“Then you will have my support,” said Jane. For a moment, she regarded Elizabeth, as if attempting to make something out. “It seemed to me you were speaking of some weighty subject, Lizzy. Do you care to share?”
Elizabeth fixed her sister with a grin. “We spoke of Miss Bingley and Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine, but of more import, Mr. Darcy may have asked me for the first sets at Mr. Bingley’s ball.”
“And may you have accepted them?” returned Jane.
“Perhaps,” replied Elizabeth. “What better way is there to learn of a man than to learn how he dances?”
The sisters collapsed into laughter. It was a blessing to have such a close and wonderful sister as Jane, Elizabeth reflected. She had no better supporter.
Caroline Bingley was not happy—this was plain to anyone who cared to look, whether or not they were familiar with her moods. Though it could be said that she was not often happy, in the present circumstances, she had more reason than most for her discontent. That did not mean Darcy, though he empathized with her, meant to do anything to relieve her distress.
The reason for her current state, that of stalking about the room, gesticulating with wild abandon and complaining, was the continual and ineffectual attentions of one William Collins, parson. The scene that morning had been amusing, to say the least, for the parson had come before normal visiting hours—and this after visiting with the Bennets the day before—and had stayed for much longer than was proper, imposing himself on Miss Bingley and refusing to be moved from his objective. When he had left—Darcy thought Miss Bingley had been on the verge of ordering him thrown from the estate—Miss Bingley’s explosion of temper had followed.