“You mustn’t look so grim,” Jane said reprovingly as she observed Elizabeth pressing an ear to the dining room door, attempting to hear who was behind.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Elizabeth retorted. “It is not you whom he has decided to fawn all over.” It seemed Mrs. Bennet was leaning heavily upon the hope that Mr. Bingley would prove to be a solid match for Elizabeth, for Mr. Collins had only made one clumsy attempt to engage Jane in conversation before turning his eye upon Elizabeth.
He had spent the entirety of the previous day trailing after the sisters as they walked about the estate. For some reason, he had insisted upon walking half a pace ahead or behind them at all times. No matter how Elizabeth and Jane adjusted their pace, he did not seem inclined to match. It was a most peculiar affectation, but one Elizabeth would happily endure if the man would cease his endless descriptions of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Rosings Park. If even half of what Mr. Collins said was true, she would be very glad indeed to never meet the woman.
Elizabeth could hear the low rumble of voices behind the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief—Mr. Collins’ oddly high-pitched voice was not among them. She smiled at Jane and pushed the door open.
“Good morning,” Mr. Bennet greeted his eldest daughters over his newspaper. Kitty and Lydia, both looking heavy-eyed and tired, nodded their greetings but did not say anything. Mary, Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet were not at the table.
“Good morning,” Jane and Elizabeth said together.
They sat down at the table and Elizabeth reached out to put a piece of toast and an egg on her plate. She picked up her spoon and began to break the shell of the egg. No one seemed disposed to talk this early, and that suited Elizabeth. She finished peeling her egg and began to eat. She had only taken a few bites when Mrs. Bennet entered the room, Mr. Collins on her heels. Mr. Bennet took one look at the pair, stood up, tucked his newspaper under his arm, and disappeared towards his study. Elizabeth watched him go with envy.
“Lizzy, Jane,” Mrs. Bennet said brightly. “I’m glad that you are still here. Kitty, Lydia, you as well. It is a beautiful day outside, and I think it would be most wonderful to walk into town and show Mr. Collins about.”
Elizabeth stared at her mother, her mouth still full. Kitty and Lydia exchanged a look that clearly said they would rather not engage in such a task. Only Jane was able to muster a reply, but even her response was a few seconds in coming.
“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” Jane said, looking at Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Elizabeth could feel Jane’s foot pressing upon hers, demanding that she too say something.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said slowly, her mind working furiously to figure out a plan that would not require her to spend a significant portion of the day listening to Mr. Collins’ views upon Fordyce’s Sermons and the moral conduct he expected of his parishioners. However, she could not think of an excuse. “Mr. Collins, we would be pleased to show you Meryton. Wouldn’t we, Kitty? Lydia?” She stared at her younger sisters, who immediately began to make excuses.
“Mama,” Lydia said. “We were just in Meryton yesterday! Surely it would be more beneficial for us to stay home.”
“What is this?” Mrs. Bennet asked incredulously. “As if you have ever claimed it possible to visit the village too often. I cannot believe such nonsense.”
“But it is true,” Kitty said, trying to sound convincing. “Mr. Collins’ presence has motivated Lydia and I to improve ourselves. There is no better time to begin than the present.”
Elizabeth stared at her younger sisters, impressed with their quick thinking. She envied their excuse. It was well-crafted to play into Mr. Collins’ pride. Indeed, the man looked quite satisfied with himself.
“It is the duty of every clergyman to encourage the development of moral character in every person he meets,” Mr. Collins said seriously. “I am grateful that my presence here has helped my young cousins recognise their deficiencies, and motivated them to take up the mantle of change.”
Lydia let out a shrill giggle that she quickly hid by coughing loudly into her napkin. Mrs. Bennet glared at her, but Mr. Collins seemed not to notice. Elizabeth glared at her sisters: if she was going to be forced to spend the day with the man, so would Lydia and Kitty.
“Surely the best way for young women, such as my sisters, to better themselves is to seek out the company of the clergy,” Elizabeth said. Kitty and Lydia shot dark looks in her direction, but she ignored them. “For how can books compare to having a living teacher?”
“Quite right, dear cousin,” Mr. Collins replied with a self-satisfied laugh. “I cannot argue with such sound logic.”
“Nor can I,” Mrs. Bennet quickly agreed. “Lydia, Kitty, you will accompany Elizabeth and Jane.” The younger girls scowled, and Elizabeth knew they would come up with some sort of retribution, but she thought it well worth the price.
The door opened and Mary entered the room. “What is going on?” She asked, looking about the room.
“Mary,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Yes, yes, I suppose you shall go along as well.”
Mary looked somewhat confused, and Elizabeth quickly explained. “We are to show Mr. Collins about the village,” she said. “All of us.”
Mary generally disliked visiting the village, and Elizabeth expected her to complain just as much as the rest. However, she was surprised to see Mary nod her understanding and hide a small smile. She was an odd girl, Elizabeth thought. She could never predict what Mary would do.
“I am pleased that is settled,” Mr. Collins said happily, taking the chair next to Elizabeth. He turned his attention to Lydia and Kitty. “Perhaps now would be a good time to begin. For there is much to be said about the table and the behaviour of proper young women.”
Elizabeth could feel Lydia and Kitty’s glares, but she ignored them. She quickly finished her meal and stood up.
“Oh, will you not join us for breakfast?” Mr. Collins asked, sounding a bit disappointed.
“I’m afraid I must prepare for our day out,” Elizabeth said in what she hoped sounded like an apologetic tone. Kitty and Lydia jumped up as well.
“Yes,” Lydia said, breathlessly.
“Us too,” Kitty added. They both gave a shallow curtsy and rushed from the room.
“Please, excuse me,” Elizabeth said, attempting to be a bit more polite. But she, too, lost no time in exiting. Lydia and Kitty were waiting for her outside the door.
“That was a dirty trick, Lizzy,” Kitty said crossly.
“You cannot be too angry with me,” Elizabeth replied teasingly. “For I know how much you want to improve yourself—anger is a vice, you know.”
“What else were we supposed to do?” Lydia asked glumly. “Walking about with a clergyman? How will we ever have a spot of fun with that? I’m sure none of the officers will want to talk with us while he is around.”
“Perhaps it is a good thing that he is to be with us,” Elizabeth said grimly. “You are far too friendly with anyone who wears a red coat.”
“Just because you do not know how to have fun, does not mean it is the same for all of us,” Lydia replied.
“Well, I think none of us will have much fun today,” Elizabeth said, ignoring Lydia’s jab.
Lydia and Kitty both nodded in agreement. Elizabeth anticipated it would be a long day.
* * *
An hour later, the five Bennet sisters and Mr. Collins stepped into the warm sunshine. Elizabeth allowed the sun to warm her face for a few moments before tying on her bonnet securely. It was a lovely day, and she wanted to enjoy as much of it as she could.
“There is a small village, much like Meryton, not far from my own home,” Mr. Collins said, placing his wide-brimmed black hat upon his head. “Of course, there are a few more luxuries in that place—Rosings Park requires such little things. Not to say anything poorly toward Meryton, far from it. Why would Meryton have these things when there is no estate near such as Rosings?”
“A fi
ne observation,” Jane said diplomatically. Elizabeth thought the observation was foolish, and she was glad Jane was able to say something kind. She turned her attention toward the drive and the road beyond. As soon as she did, she realised she could see a couple of riders coming down the road.
“Who is that?” Lydia asked excitedly. “Perhaps they are coming to visit us!” Her excitement was clearly for more than just the prospect of visitors.
“I cannot quite see yet…” Elizabeth answered slowly, squinting.
“Why, it is Mr. Bingley!” Kitty said excitedly, recognizing the man. “Jane, it’s Mr. Bingley!”
“Hush, Kitty,” Jane said quietly, her cheeks pink. “We do not know he is coming here.”
“But who is that with him?” Lydia asked, shielding her eyes against the sun. Elizabeth had a suspicion of the identity of the second rider, but she did give her guess voice. However, that did not stop a blush from creeping up her face. Why on earth would Mr. Darcy come to Longbourn?
“It’s that man, the one whom Wickham told us about,” Kitty said, sounding shocked. “What was his name, Mr. Derby?”
“Mr. Darcy!” Lydia exclaimed. “He has some nerve, coming here, after what he did to poor Mr. Wickham.”
“Lydia, that is quite enough,” Jane said, glancing at Mr. Collins. Whatever Wickham’s story, it appeared that Jane saw no reason to apprise Mr. Collins of the tale. Mr. Collins, however, did not seem to hear Lydia’s words past the name.
“Mr. Darcy?” He asked excitedly. “Would that be Mr. Darcy of Pemberley? In Derbyshire?”
“I believe so,” Elizabeth answered, curious in spite of herself. “Are you acquainted with the man?”
“No,” Mr. Collins said, smoothing his clothing and adjusting his hat. “But my great patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh has many relations by the name of Darcy. She would be most displeased if I did not greet her family well.”
“Does she?” Elizabeth asked, comparing Mr. Collins’ descriptions of the venerable woman with her experiences of Mr. Darcy. She could not find much familial similarity, but that did not mean there was no relation.
However, if Mr. Collins spoke true, and Mr. Darcy was related to Lady Catherine, perhaps Mr. Wickham’s story was more accurate than she wanted to believe. She could certainly envision Lady Catherine treating Wickham as he described. A chill ran through her—she dreaded thinking that Mr. Darcy could be so cruel.
“I suppose this means we will not be going into Meryton,” Kitty said, trying, and failing, to look sad.
“No,” Jane agreed, turning toward the house. “I doubt even Mama will be too disappointed by that.”
Elizabeth agreed, and she too began to walk back towards the house, taking off her bonnet. She realised that everyone had turned back, save Mr. Collins.
“Are you coming?” She asked, wondering what the man could be doing.
“I feel I must make my greetings to Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Collins said, bouncing on his toes.
Elizabeth felt a flash of embarrassment.
“There are proper ways to do such things, Mr. Collins,” she said. “Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley will both consider it an impertinence if you were to meet them on the drive. Even more so without introductions.”
Mr. Collins seemed not to hear her, and Elizabeth began to feel dread—it seemed likely that Mr. Collins would embarrass more than himself.
“Please, come inside.” She could hear a note of begging in her voice.
Mr. Collins gave her an annoyed look, but he acquiesced.
“I shall do as you insist, cousin,” he said with a sigh. Elizabeth tightened her lips. It was clear Mr. Collins thought her ridiculous. The feeling was shared, she thought to herself, following the cousin inside Longbourn.
Elizabeth quickly put her bonnet and cloak away, and rushed into the sitting room to join her sisters and Mrs. Bennet, just as the servant opened the door to a knock. A few seconds later, the same servant entered the room and announced the visitors.
“Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy,” the woman said with a curtsy. She stood aside to admit the men and then left the room. Elizabeth and Jane both stood to greet the visitors, but before either could say anything, Mr. Collins bustled forward.
“Mr. Darcy? Of Derbyshire?” He asked, not waiting for an introduction. Elizabeth stifled a groan, and her cheeks flushed red. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jane looking embarrassed as well. Mr. Darcy looked past the man, giving Elizabeth a questioning look.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, walking forward. “Please excuse my cousin. This is the Reverend Mr. Collins, visiting from Kent. Mr. Collins, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and Mr. Bingley, most recently of Netherfield.”
Mr. Collins bowed low, while Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley exchanged a look.
“My distinguished patroness, Lady Catherine, has relations called Darcy in Derbyshire,” Mr. Collins said in a serious tone. “She is a lady of great prestige, and one would expect her family to possess the same magnificent bearing.” A small, simpering smile crossed his lips. “I have often observed to the Lady that she is surely the example to whom all well-born ladies should look toward. For if every lady bore the same grace and temperament as Lady Catherine, our society would be without compare.”
“Mr. Collins has a gift with words,” Mrs. Bennet said, giving Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy simpering smiles.
Elizabeth wanted to bury her face in her hands. Between Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet, she was uncertain she would ever be able to look either of the visitors in the eye again. Mr. Darcy’s face was unreadable, but Mr. Bingley was definitely hiding a smile behind his hand. Elizabeth could see his blue eyes dancing in amusement.
“Lady Catherine is my aunt,” Mr. Darcy said, cutting off Mr. Collins before he could say anything more. Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy in surprise—she had not thought Mr. Collins would be correct.
“I could see it in an instant,” Mr. Collins said. “For you bear the same countenance as your lady aunt.” Mr. Darcy, it appeared, did not know what to say to this. Mr. Collins, however, took no notice. “I am pleased to say that she is in fine health. At least she was when I last saw her, no more than a week past. Lady Catherine does me the honour of attending my parish on Sundays, and imparting her valuable opinions upon my sermons.”
“My aunt does enjoy imparting her opinions,” Mr. Darcy said dryly. He stared at Mr. Collins incredulously, as if attempting to discern what was happening. Mr. Bingley, meanwhile, had managed to step away from the other two men and was already in conversation with Jane and the rest of the Bennet women.
“A more generous woman I cannot imagine,” Mr. Collins said. “I do not hesitate to tell you that, in the months since I arrived in her parish, she has invited me to dine with her and Miss Anne de Bourgh no less than six times.” He looked quite proud of this accomplishment. Mr. Darcy, for his part, simply stared.
Elizabeth felt humiliated. She wanted to sink into the floor and hide away from this mortifying situation. She knew Mr. Collins to be a fool, but she had no notion that he could cause her such embarrassment. What must Mr. Darcy think of her, of the family, being related to this simpering country clergyman? The clergyman that venerated his aunt!
Her heart sank as she realised, for the first time, how different they truly were. Her relations were foolish members of the clergy. His were the patrons of such people. Mr. Darcy did not seem to possess the same arrogance as Lady Catherine, but that did not alter the facts: they were very far apart.
Elizabeth realised she was disappointed. She still wondered about Wickham’s story—the blatant evidence of Mr. Darcy’s high-class upbringing truly made her wonder if he could be telling the truth—but she could not deny the sinking feeling in her heart.
It seemed unlikely that Mr. Darcy, the wealthy gentleman of Pemberley House, could ever be interested in a simple, country gentleman’s daughter like Elizabeth Bennet. Even as Elizabeth thought these words, she found herself hoping they were not true—unlikely as that might be.
Chapter 18
Darcy
Darcy stood transfixed by the ridiculous little man before him. This Mr. Collins seemed perfectly at ease to speak at length without comment or encouragement from Darcy. He seemed utterly devoted to Darcy’s aunt, and Darcy could hardly believe such a person existed. He knew his aunt likely greatly appreciated the unending stream of appreciation and affirmation that undoubtedly came from her pet clergyman, but Darcy did not know how to receive such a torrent.
“Lady Catherine has often deigned to visit me in my own home, coming with her wonderful carriage and horses. When last she came, she suggested some truly marvellous improvements—shelving in the pantry that completely revolutionised the functionality of the space…” Mr. Collins droned on.
All the while, Darcy found himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. The man seemed to lack any notion of propriety. He continually looked to Elizabeth, and he could see how embarrassed she was, but she did not interject. He could not blame her. If one of his relations behaved in such a way, he too might be paralyzed with humiliation. Of course, he thought, none of his relations ever would behave in such a manner.
“I am surprised, Mr. Darcy, that I have not seen you about Rosings. Perhaps you should visit your aunt more often,” Mr. Collins said sternly.
Darcy’s mouth tightened: he had excused much of the man’s behaviour, but he was not certain he could stomach the rebuke. Blessedly, Elizabeth finally intervened.
“Mr. Collins,” she said sharply. “I hardly think it is appropriate to make such suggestions.” Mr. Collins did not even have the decency to look ashamed. On the contrary, he drew himself up.
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