by Jann Rowland
“And I will be there to guide both of your daughters, Mrs. Bennet,” added Lady Catherine. “I have been presented and I am well-known in society. I shall sponsor their curtseys to the queen and ensure their introduction is a success.”
It was clear that Mrs. Bennet was overwhelmed with the thought of such lofty considerations, so Lady Catherine let the matter rest where it was. She turned her attention to Mr. Collins, who was still displaying his sourness for all to see. Though the conversation became animated, Mr. Collins looked at all with sullenness, and at his cousin with something akin to hatred. It would behoove her to rein the man in before Darcy took offense and called him out.
Catching his eye, Lady Catherine motioned to her side, a chair which was situated close to the one she usually used. His petulance forgotten at once, Mr. Collins eagerly made his way thither, exclaiming upon his arrival:
“Yes, Lady Catherine? You have need of me?”
“After a fashion, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine. The stern look she directed at him immediately set him to mopping his brow as he often did when he was nervous. “In fact, I require you to cease this objection to the match between your cousin and my nephew. The matter has been decided and will be official as soon as Mr. Bennet gives his consent, which I am assured he will deliver with alacrity.”
The sourness once again came over Mr. Collins, and he shot a sullen glance at Elizabeth. “Your nephew is capable of aspiring to so much more.”
As a final gasp of defiance, it was rather pitiful. It was also fortunate, for though Mr. Collins had not noticed, she had seen Darcy’s reaction to even that much, and it was clear he was not amused.
“In matters of fortune you may be correct,” replied Lady Catherine. “However, on a personal level, I cannot think of anyone who is more suited for Darcy than Elizabeth, and it is clear that they love each other. That is the most important concern.”
Mr. Collins turned his dull eyes on her. “I would not have thought you to be a romantic, Lady Catherine.”
A laugh escaped her lips, though she had not intended it. “I dare say there are many things you do not know about me, Mr. Collins. My husband and I shared felicity in marriage, and I could not wish for anything less for my child, or for the children of my siblings. Regardless, I like to think I understand that I do possess a certain measure of influence, but in some things—especially matters of the heart—I am powerless, not that I would presume to take the happiness of these good people from them.
“You would do well to take my advice and cease any and all objections to these matches. Society may very well look on them with the same opinion you possess, but it is truly none of your concern. Furthermore, you are on the verge of seriously displeasing Darcy, and it would not do to earn his enmity.”
The man glanced at Darcy, and his carriage became less certain as he noted Darcy’s challenging glare. Unsurprisingly, it was Collins who looked away.
“I believe you may be correct, your ladyship.”
“I do not understand you, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine, leaning back in her chair and regarding the man with confusion. “You have proclaimed a vociferous opposition to Elizabeth’s match with Darcy, declaring it to be beneath him, but you have said nothing about Jane’s attachment to Fitzwilliam. It is strange, as Fitzwilliam is the son of an earl, whereas Darcy is just the nephew of one, and yet the Bennets are sisters.”
As Lady Catherine suspected, Mr. Collins was unable to answer her question, and for once he did not attempt to do so amid flowery language which would make little sense to anyone but him. Lady Catherine allowed him to squirm under her sharp gaze for a few moments before she relented.
“Very well. Take my advice to avoid angering Darcy, Mr. Collins. He is an implacable enemy, one you would not wish to make.”
Then assured that Mr. Collins would behave himself, Lady Catherine allowed the man to retreat to lick his imaginary wounds in silence. During their discussion, the rest of the room had descended into conversation, and Lady Catherine thought that the two couples were sharing accounts of their courtships. It was not surprising that most of the sharing was being done by Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, as each were the more vocal of the couples. But Lady Catherine also did not miss the fact that Darcy held Elizabeth’s hand tightly, seemingly disinclined to let go, and Fitzwilliam was doing the same with Jane. Perhaps it was not quite proper, but after all the interference they had endured, Lady Catherine could not find the heart to reprimand them.
It had all turned out as she had expected. Lady Catherine felt the warmth of being right well up within her breast. Her nephews would be happy, she did not doubt, and perhaps Anne would learn to be happier too. Lady Catherine loved being of use.
Chapter XVI
Though Elizabeth would have preferred otherwise, Lady Catherine extended an invitation to Mr. Collins to stay at Rosings for dinner that evening. Elizabeth would choose never to be exposed to the man again. But she understood the lady’s situation as well; the living had been given and could not be rescinded, so she had little choice but to make the most of the situation.
It was fortunate for all involved—especially the parson himself, given Mr. Darcy’s dark looks—that Mr. Collins paid no attention to Elizabeth. It resulted in a peaceful evening for the most part. Elizabeth basked in her newfound happy situation, as did Jane, and the sisters spent some time in happy conversation with their intendeds, the chaos of the past days forgotten in favor of their happiness. Several toasts were raised in honor of the newly engaged couples, and conversation and laughter flowed long. To some of the company, however, vexation still prevailed.
Elizabeth felt for her sister Mary, for Mr. Collins seemed to feel that her regard was unaffected by his energetic opposition to Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr. Darcy, though his method of lovemaking was as curious as everything else about him.
“I have decided,” Elizabeth overhead Mr. Collins say in his usual weighty voice, “to forgive you for the words you spoke to me earlier and extend the benefit of my attentions once again. I am sure you can have no objection, for it is clear that should I not propose, you may never receive another offer, your close connection to the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families notwithstanding. Perhaps once we are married, you will learn the proper respect, and that my authority is not to be challenged.”
A few short weeks ago, Elizabeth might have thought that Mary would ignore his words, no matter how offensive they were. This Mary, however, seemed to have matured and gained a measure of confidence, and though she did glance at her father, his smile and nod seemed to instill her with resolve. Thus, when she turned back to Mr. Collins, it was with coolness the parson could not fail to understand.
“I thank you for that civility, Mr. Collins,” said she. “But that will not be necessary. I have no intention of accepting your attentions, to say nothing of your proposal.”
The look which Mr. Collins bestowed on Mary was for the briefest moment dumbfounded, though he soon recovered, and it changed to knowing. “Ah, I am familiar with this facet of maidenly comportment, I believe. You wish to punish me for objecting to your sister’s match by withholding your affections. There is no need to resort to such stratagems, Miss Mary, for what I did was nothing more than in the service of my patroness. I am certain you can understand this.”
“My understanding or lack thereof is not at issue, Mr. Collins, nor is the infamous way in which you treated a beloved sister. I have been the recipient of your attentions, and I have found them wanting—it is as simple as that.”
Mr. Collins frowned. “I have explained my reasons for objecting to your sister’s match, so there is no reason to act in such a way. There is also no reason to continue to attempt to punish me. You may expect me tomorrow morning when we may continue our courtship.”
“You may come, but I will not receive you,” said Mary. “As I stated before, I simply am not interested in anything you might offer. Please find some other young lady who wishes to
receive you.”
“Miss Mary, this is unseemly,” said Mr. Collins. “You should remember my previous words and that it is unlikely you will ever receive another offer of marriage. Would you throw this chance away when it may be the only one you ever receive?”
“Better that she remain unmarried than to see her married to you, Mr. Collins,” interjected Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth, who had been following the conversation, had not noted her father’s increasing displeasure.
“What do you mean, Cousin?” asked Mr. Collins, a hint of alarm in his voice.
“Just what I have said,” was Mr. Bennet’s short reply. “I am certain Mary will have ample opportunity to meet other young men, given who her brothers will be. Her response to your inept attempts at lovemaking only spares me the effort of rejecting your application should she have accepted you.” Mr. Bennet turned a smile on his middle daughter, which she returned warmly. “It seems Mary has grown in confidence these past months. I am happy that she has seen the imprudence of accepting your proposal.”
“Imprudence!” exclaimed Mr. Collins. “What imprudence do you call it? I am the rector of this parish, a very valuable living, I might add, and heir to your estate. Would you not wish for your daughter to be cared for?”
“Her physical needs you can meet, but everything else is beyond your reach.” Mr. Bennet’s glare at the man was brimming with contempt. “I am aware of my failures as a father to my children, but do you think I could countenance ever marrying one of them to a man who would mistreat them?”
Mr. Collins sputtered, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth.
“Do not think I did not understand your meaning when you spoke of ‘correcting’ Elizabeth’s behavior, Mr. Collins. I have no respect for a man who would beat his wife. You will not have Lizzy, as she has made a match with a fine man, and you will not have Mary, as she has rejected you. You may as well put any thoughts of my youngest daughters from your mind, as I will not approve any applications for them either. I will not see any of my daughters married to a fool.”
“But, Cousin—”
“Enough, Mr. Collins! I will hear no more of it.”
Elizabeth had the distinct impression that Mr. Collins might have continued to protest, but he happened to look up and see the twin looks of displeasure Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were giving him, not to mention the warning look from Lady Catherine. Thus, he subsided, though not with any grace. For the rest of the meal the man was mercifully silent, pouting by the side of the table.
It was not until after dinner that Elizabeth had the opportunity to speak briefly with her father, as she was curious about two things. “I am wondering, Father,” said she. Across the room, Mr. Collins was sitting by himself glaring at them all, sulking in silence. “I thought you rather enjoyed Mr. Collins’s company or, at the very least, his foolishness. I would have thought you wished to keep the connection.”
“Of some foolishness, Lizzy,” replied he, “a little goes a long way. Yes, I have enjoyed the man’s absurdity these past months, but I find that I have had my fill of it. His comments about you and correcting your behavior told me that he is, at the very least, capable of enforcing his ideal of behavior on a wife with his fists. I have no wish to maintain a connection with a man who is capable of such things.”
A complex man, her father surprised her to a certain extent. Elizabeth had not missed Mr. Collins’s references herself, but they had not affected her as she would never have accepted him and had been confident of Mr. Darcy’s regard. But her father—though he had never been a violent man, she might have thought he would reprimand the man and then ignore him, turning back to his enjoyment of Mr. Collins’s foolishness.
“And Mary?” asked Elizabeth. “It seems to me you have come to a new understanding with my sister these past weeks.”
“I had to replace you in some fashion,” replied Mr. Bennet, the familiar twinkle which appeared when he was teasing shining in his eyes. “Since your Mr. Darcy is about to take you away from me and spirit you off to Derbyshire, I am about to lose my companion.”
“Oh, Papa!” said Elizabeth. “Do not speak so. You will hurt Mary’s feelings if she overhears you.”
“I believe you have misjudged your sister, Lizzy. Mary has grown much, and though she still scolds me when I tease too much, she has learned to accept it. She would not be offended.”
Mr. Bennet smiled, though to Elizabeth it seemed like a wistful sort of gesture. “Mary is not the same as you, Lizzy. She does not possess the sense of humor you share with me, though she has learned to laugh a little. My relationship with her will be different from that which I share with you, but change is a necessary part of life, do you not think? I find that I am anticipating the debates I shall have with her. They will be different, and I think I will enjoy confounding her much more than I did you.”
“I am glad you have reached this understanding with her, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps she will take a greater interest in life outside Fordyce.”
“I have not even seen that book in days,” replied Mr. Bennet with a wink.
Elizabeth laughed and excused herself to return to the side of her future husband. Mr. Darcy welcomed her, though the look in his eye told her he would much prefer to have her in a secluded grove where he might express his appreciation in a more animated fashion.
“All is well?” asked he.
“It is, Mr. Darcy. In fact, for the first time in quite some time, I am hopeful for the future of my family. Our association with your aunt has done much to improve many things, even beyond the benefits I myself have received.”
“And what benefits might those be?” asked Mr. Darcy.
“Do you not know?” asked Elizabeth, arching an eyebrow at him. “Why, the benefit of improved society and entrance into her ladyship’s company. And I must not forget how Mr. Collins’s constant harangues have curbed my impertinence. Indeed, I must be grateful to Mr. Collins above all others.”
“Minx!” exclaimed Mr. Darcy. “I can see Mr. Collins was right about one thing: that insolence must be curbed. I shall need to see to it directly when we are married.”
“Then do your worst, Mr. Darcy.”
And he did, though it was clear to anyone who cared to look that Mr. Darcy had no interest in dampening Elizabeth’s spirit. It was that which had attracted him in the first place, and he encouraged it rather than the reverse. The Darcys were married alongside the Fitzwilliams, and they all retired to Derbyshire and their estates there. If their happily ever after was at times beset with rough patches, they decided with philosophy that it was the fate off all to end that way. Both couples had their share of happiness, their own measure of vexations and grief, their triumphs and defeats. But as Lady Catherine predicted, they were well suited and very much in love, and that was enough to keep the world at bay.
The inevitable meeting between Jane and Mr. Bingley took place not long after the weddings, and in the highly public arena of Covent Garden. As it was their first foray into society, the entirety of their new family had turned out in force, with Lady Catherine and her daughter, the earl and countess and their children, as well as other sundry more distant relations. In accordance with Lady Catherine’s prediction, the earl had not been particularly pleased with his nephew and his son’s choice of wives. However, he had accepted them in favor of family unity and had quickly come to appreciate them. Elizabeth, who was standing and speaking with her aunt and uncle Gardiner, who had also attended, had been in a position to see what happened with the additional benefit of not being noticed.
“Darcy, my friend,” said Mr. Bingley, approaching with hand extended. “It has been some time, has it not?”
“Indeed, Bingley,” replied Mr. Darcy—or William, as Elizabeth now called him. “How have you been?”
“Quite ill, indeed,” interjected Miss Bingley. The woman had followed her brother and was eyeing William as if he were a particularly fat side of beef. “We spent s
ome months in York with our relations, and it was a most tedious time. I cannot be happier that we have returned to London and its superior society.”
“And did you find them well?” asked William of Mr. Bingley, ignoring Miss Bingley’s exaggerated ennui.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Mr. Bingley. His irrepressible good humor was unaffected by his sister. A little farther away in the press of those gathered in the lobby stood Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, but while they watched the scene, they did not approach.
“And how is your dear sister, Mr. Darcy?” asked Miss Bingley, stepping forward and laying a coquettish hand on his arm. “I dare say her playing has grown so exquisite that all of London must be waiting in anticipation of her coming out.” She turned a sly look on her brother. “Charles has spoken much of her. I believe he is as eager as I to once again make her acquaintance.”
A giggle escaped Elizabeth’s lips, drawing the attention of her aunt. “Do you find something amusing, Lizzy?”
“Only the antics of Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth, gesturing at the woman. “She is about as subtle as a herd of stampeding horses.”
Both her aunt and uncle turned to view the scene. It was clear that William was disinclined toward Miss Bingley’s company, and equally clear that she could not see it. He spoke with Mr. Bingley, who did his best to take part in the conversation, while Miss Bingley did her best to speak over him at every opportunity.
“Is Mr. Bingley not the man who left our Jane heartbroken last year?” asked her uncle.
“He is, indeed,” replied Elizabeth. “He is an amiable man, but as you can see, his sister is a gorgon. Though I would have been happy for Jane had she married him, I cannot but think it has turned out for the best.”
The Gardiners watched the Bingley siblings for a few moments, before Mrs. Gardiner nodded her head. “I agree, Lizzy. With a sister such as Miss Bingley, I doubt Jane would have been comfortable.”