by Jann Rowland
Charlotte smiled and embraced Elizabeth, saying: “If you cannot see how he already looks at you, after so short an acquaintance, I must think you are blind. Give him a little encouragement, Lizzy—he will not disappoint you.”
Then Charlotte turned and departed, leaving Elizabeth to follow. The Darcys were waiting for her when she exited the church, and she led them toward Longbourn, Charlotte’s words echoing as she walked. After a time, she forced them to the back of her mind for later contemplation, for at present she wished to attend to her friends.
The walk to Longbourn was pleasant, the late summer morning warm, though cloudy, with a hint of a wind, presaging the future descent into autumn and winter. Conversation between them as they walked to her home was brief and inconsequential, the kind of discussion between friends who felt comfortable enough with each other that they did not require constant words between them. The only incident to mar the walk occurred, of course, at the instigation of Mr. Collins.
“What a silly thing to say, Mr. Collins!” exclaimed Miss Bingley, loud enough for the entire party, though they were spread out, to hear her.
“How charming you are, Miss Bingley!’ exclaimed the parson. “I know that young ladies who admire a man will respond with a contrary opinion when all they wish to do is agree with everything he says. I am exceedingly charmed!”
Elizabeth exchanged looks with her companions and shook her head. “What manner of man believes a woman abusing him is playing the coquette?”
“Perhaps Mr. Collins is jesting?” ventured Georgiana.
“If you will pardon me, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth, “I do not believe Mr. Collins is intelligent enough or possesses the imagination to jest.”
“If he does not rein in his ardor, Bingley will be forced to call him out,” said Mr. Darcy, his looks at Mr. Collins severe.
When they reached the entrance, the party entered, shedding footwear, bonnets, gloves, and other various items into the hands of the waiting Mrs. Hill and a maid. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet invited the company into the sitting-room to visit until their repast was ready, and while Elizabeth sat with Georgiana to further their conversation and acquaintance, she could not help but overhear what was happening in another part of the room. Mr. Bingley, genial man though he was, had had enough of Mr. Collins’s misbehavior.
“That is enough of your insanity with respect to my sister, Collins,” growled Mr. Bingley in as stern a voice as Elizabeth had ever heard from the gentleman.
“I do not understand your meaning,” replied Mr. Collins his manner as short as Mr. Bingley’s had been. “Now, if you will please excuse me, I wish to speak more to your excellent sister.”
“Are you mad?” demanded Mr. Bingley. “What manner of man looms over a woman spouting nonsensical drivel in the hope she will find him irresistible?”
“I know not how you conduct your courtship, Mr. Bingley,” replied Mr. Collins, “but I know how to court a woman. It is my distinct honor to have had Lady Catherine de Bourgh, my patroness, impart the best way to going about capturing a woman’s heart, and I shall not shirk in putting her ladyship’s expert advice into practice.”
Mr. Bingley appeared fit to be tied, such that Elizabeth would not have been surprised had he beat the senseless parson about the head. Salvation came in the calming presence of Mr. Darcy. The gentleman rested a hand on his friend’s back, calming him, and leant his voice to Mr. Bingley’s.
“Bingley is correct, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy in a tone which did not allow dispute. “A man courts a woman with the utmost in tenderness, but with an eye to assuring her comfort. If a woman does not wish for your presence or attention, you must bow out with more grace than you attended her. This looming over Miss Bingley is not endearing you to her.”
“But Mr. Darcy—”
A hand silenced the parson, though he appeared the petulant child. When he was assured he had Mr. Collins’s attention, Mr. Darcy continued:
“Perhaps today would be best spent admiring Miss Bingley from afar, Mr. Collins. For is it not said that absence makes the heart grow fonder?”
It appeared Mr. Collins had nothing to say, for he gaped at Mr. Darcy, his mouth moving with no sound emerging. Then an expression of cunning came over his countenance, and he nodded his head vigorously.
“Had I not already known you were Lady Catherine’s nephew, I would have known it now, for those words might have come from her ladyship herself! What a wonderful notion you have suggested Mr. Darcy! I shall be certain to put it into practice, for the blessings of contemplation and reflecting on the delights to come cannot be underestimated!”
Mr. Collins might have gone on for some time had Mr. Darcy not turned away and rejoined Elizabeth. The parson, thereafter, was quieter than his wont, though his eyes did not often leave Miss Bingley’s form. The lady, however, was in no way as ardent as the parson, for she refused to look at him, remaining close to her sister until it came time for them to leave.
One further moment of discord occurred when the company went into the dining room for dinner, and Mr. Collins discovered his position at the table was not near to Miss Bingley’s. Again, Mr. Darcy called him to order and harmony was restored.
Elizabeth, for her part, did her best to ignore the parson, for he had proven himself to be less than contemptible. Besides, she was more interested in contemplating Mr. Darcy, for Elizabeth was beginning to wonder what the future might hold for her and if it might include a closer connection with him. Unlike Mr. Collins’s chances, Elizabeth believed the possibilities of her association with Mr. Darcy were much better. If Mr. Darcy continued his charming behavior, Elizabeth thought herself well on the way toward being in love with him, the brief nature of their acquaintance notwithstanding.
Chapter XIII
Monday morning, Elizabeth woke with a start. At once she noticed the sun hanging higher in the sky than usual when she awoke, the sounds of birds twittering and calling filling the air outside her window. Luxuriating in the pleasure of a comfortable bed in a cozy room, Elizabeth stretched, throwing her arms high over her head, easing the stiffness from the previous night’s rest.
A moment was all she allowed herself, for the morning and the outdoors beckoned, inviting her to savor the landscapes she so loved. So, Elizabeth threw off the blanket and rose for the day, choosing a comfortable walking dress and tying her hair back into a simple knot. Soon, a roll from the kitchen in her hand, she slipped out the front door and made her way down Longbourn’s drive toward the freedom which lay beyond the gate.
If Elizabeth had tried to assert she was not hoping to see Mr. Darcy on her morning ramble, she would have been lying to herself. The thought of the gentleman, unknown to her only a week before, was a constant companion by now; Elizabeth was hard-pressed to remember what it was like before he came. The later than usual hour of her departure, coupled with the ball scheduled for the morrow made his appearance unlikely. It was not in Elizabeth’s nature to be unhappy about such things, however, so she set to her walk with a will, determined to enjoy it as she ever had, regardless of Mr. Darcy’s presence or absence. Sometimes, however, fate works in curious ways; Elizabeth was not to see Mr. Darcy during her walk, but that did not mean she would not see him.
When Elizabeth returned to her home and changed into a more appropriate dress, she visited the breakfast room for a more filling repast, and there she found her mother and her sisters, her father being nowhere in evidence. Upon entering the room, Elizabeth knew given the looks she was receiving from her family that teasing could not be far behind.
“You have returned late today, Lizzy,” said Jane, giving her a knowing grin. “Did you, perhaps, meet someone on your walk who delayed your return?”
Elizabeth fixed her sister with a stare that suggested she eschew teasing as she was not proficient at it. “I awoke later than usual this morning. That is the only reason for my late return.”
“It is not like you to sleep late,” chimed Lydia. “Did you not sleep well, Sis
ter dearest?”
“The thoughts of a certain gentleman must have kept her up during the night,” said Kitty.
The rest of her sisters joined in with Kitty’s giggles. Elizabeth, knowing Kitty’s supposition was near to the truth, did not deign to respond. Instead, she fixed herself a plate of her favorite breakfast foods and set herself to it with a will.
“If Lizzy is meeting a man on a secluded path,” said Mary, ever the stiff proponent of proper behavior, “that would be improper. I hope you are not indulging in clandestine meetings.”
“Do not concern yourself, Mary,” said Elizabeth with the warm and welcoming smile she used for her sister when she began to moralize. “Though I have encountered Mr. Darcy on my walks, I do not plan to meet him in advance.”
With a smile of approval, Mary turned back to her breakfast. But that did not mean the rest of her sisters did not intend to take up the teasing standard.
“Oh, but you have met Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Lydia. “How romantic!”
“And you have only known him for a few days!” added Kitty with a sigh. “How wonderful it is that you have already found your companion in life, and after so short an acquaintance!”
“Girls, that is enough,” said Mrs. Bennet when the two youngest fell against each other laughing. “You know your sister is of better judgment than that.”
Though Mrs. Bennet’s admonishments quieted the sisters a little, the mirth was not at an end, for Jane continued to make comments to which Elizabeth was forced to reply. Soon, the merriment at the table was such that they were all in stitches. When they had finished their meal, Mrs. Bennet shooed away the youngest sisters for their morning lessons.
“I cannot be happier for you, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy appears to be such a good man. However, I am also worried, for you have only known him a few days. Is that long enough to have formed an attachment to him?”
“There is no need to concern yourself, Mama,” said Elizabeth, pulling her mother into a warm embrace. “I do not claim to love Mr. Darcy. But I esteem him very much, and I am eager to come to know him better.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled and patted Elizabeth’s hands. “You are a wonderful girl, Lizzy. I knew you would not act without prior thought. Regarding Mr. Darcy, I agree with you in every particular and will support you whatever happens.
“I hope you will forgive me if I hope the gentleman turns out as you hope he does, for I believe he would suit you very well.”
“Believe me, Mama,” said Elizabeth, “my hopes are identical to yours.”
When, a short time later, Mr. and Miss Darcy entered the room to visit them, Elizabeth was the subject of several expressive looks. Ignoring them, she stood to welcome their guests, embracing Georgiana like they were old friends and greeting Mr. Darcy with a curtsey to his bow.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, greeting the mistress as propriety dictated. “I hope our visit this morning is not an imposition.”
“Nothing of the sort, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Please be assured we are ready to welcome you and your charming sister at any time convenient.”
Within moments, they sat in their usual positions, Elizabeth close to Mr. Darcy with Jane and Mary attending, while Mrs. Bennet had sent for Kitty and Lydia when Georgiana mentioned wishing to speak to them. The three girls were soon situated with their heads close together, speaking in low tones, with the occasional giggle, about the festivities scheduled for the following evening.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, turning his attention toward Jane, “I wish to pass along my friend Bingley’s regrets which he charged me to carry to you. The ball tomorrow is occupying his time, rendering a visit today impossible.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Jane with no hint of embarrassment.
“And you, sir?” asked Elizabeth, fixing the gentleman with a playful look. “Are you and Georgiana not assisting with the preparations?”
“The benefit of staying at a house leased by another,” said Mr. Darcy, “is the ability to cry off such activities. Though I offer my assistance to Bingley when required, in the business of hosting a ball I am not needed. Georgiana and I are not family, after all—we are nothing more than invited friends.”
“Ah, then I salute your ingenious ability to beg off, for I would find planning a ball to be nothing less than tedious.”
Mr. Darcy laughed, as did her sisters, though Jane gave her a sharp look. “I cannot claim that I am enamored with the notion either, though I have never hosted one myself.”
“Then perhaps in the future, you will, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet.
“Yes, my position in society guarantees it,” replied the gentleman easily. “That, however, will not happen until I have married, and the burden will then rest with my wife.”
It might have been a trick of her perceptions brought on by anticipation, but Elizabeth fancied Mr. Darcy spoke to her, or perhaps of her. The necessity of reminding herself that she had not known Mr. Darcy long was pressing, despite what she had told her mother. As such, Elizabeth turned her attention to other matters of interest.
“How is your cousin, Mr. Darcy? I have not seen him in some days.”
“Fitzwilliam is well,” replied Mr. Darcy, “though I have not seen him of late myself. There is much to do to command a regiment, or so he tells me. Though he often came to Netherfield for dinner after my arrival, these past days he has chosen to eat with his officers.”
“Do you think he will remain long in the militia?” asked Elizabeth.
A frown settled over Mr. Darcy’s countenance. “Though his mother may wish him to quit the army altogether, Fitzwilliam has always insisted on fulfilling what he thought to be his duty. When he has healed, I cannot say what he will do. I expect it likely he will return to the regulars.” Mr. Darcy paused and sighed. “And this, though he possesses his own estate.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam has an estate?” asked Elizabeth, confused. “Then why did he join the army at all?”
“It was an unexpected bequest from a distant relation,” explained Mr. Darcy. “When his father first purchased his commission, my cousin was a second son, one who knew he must make his own way in the world. Then three years ago, a distant relation—I do not recall the exact connection—willed him a small estate not far distant from mine.”
“Then one would have expected him to resign his commission and transition to the life of a gentleman,” said Elizabeth.
“One might,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “That person would not know my cousin, for he is a man of duty; we could not sway him from his purpose.” Then Mr. Darcy grinned and leaned forward as if imparting a secret. “Fitzwilliam has informed me several times that he considers the life of a gentleman too sedate.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose it is not surprising a man of action would feel that way.”
The conversation turned to other subjects, and they continued in this manner for some minutes until another arrived. Elizabeth neither knew nor cared where Mr. Collins had been that morning, and the family had, by now, become indifferent to his very existence. But absent he had been, and when he entered the room that morning, he started when he saw the Darcys there; no one misunderstood his glance about the room and subsequent disappointment when he did not spy Miss Bingley.
“This is a wondrous surprise, Mr. Darcy,” said the parson in his expansive manner, “but I do not see Miss Bingley here. Did she not accompany you?”
“Miss Bingley is busy with preparations for the ball tomorrow, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Ah, that is unfortunate,” said the man with a regretful shake of his head. “As I shall see her again tomorrow, I shall be content.”
Mr. Darcy inclined his head but did not respond, turning back to Elizabeth. Their conversation continued for some more moments, but Elizabeth was not blind to the looks Mr. Collins was directing at them. The man’s frown bespoke his displeasure, though she sensed a hint of concentration about him. It did not take l
ong before they learned the reason for the gentleman’s disapproval.
“Excuse me, Mr. Darcy,” said he, interrupting their conversation. “It has come to my mind that I have often seen you together with my cousin in recent days.”
“Yes?” asked Mr. Darcy. “What of it?”
Elizabeth did not believe that Mr. Darcy did not understand Mr. Collins’s meaning. It seemed to her the gentleman was daring the parson to complete his thought. While most men would have recognized the warning inherent in his voice, Mr. Collins either did not, or he ignored it. He did so, however, in a hesitant matter, as if reluctant to state his case.
“Well . . . Do you think it proper, sir, to lavish such attention on my cousin?”
“First, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy, beginning to sound testy, “I have no notion of what business it might be of yours. Second, I wonder just what you are implying; do you believe I am not behaving as a gentleman ought, or do you have some other purpose in mind?”
“A thousand apologies, Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Mr. Collins. “I meant nothing of the kind! I am sure my noble patroness’s nephew must possess an equal measure of superiority as her ladyship and would never presume to suggest anything of the sort. Thus, the fault must lie with my cousin.”
It was clear Mr. Darcy did not know what to make of Mr. Collins’s sudden declaration; Mr. Collins, however, was not bereft of words.
“Perhaps you do not know, Cousin,” said he, affecting a stern tone, “but Mr. Darcy is engaged to Lady Catherine’s daughter. Though I must assume you are attempting to entrap him into marriage, I must inform you it shall never happen, for who would choose a penniless, impertinent miss such as you, when he can have the jewel that is Miss de Bourgh? I abjure you to cease this objectionable behavior at once!”
So sudden was the attack that Elizabeth could not find her voice. Mr. Darcy was not in similar straits, and her mother looked like she would speak if he did not.
“That is enough, Mr. Collins! There is nothing you can say to censure Miss Elizabeth, as she has been the very model of propriety.”