by Jann Rowland
“You will do as you are told!” cried Mrs. Bennet as she whirled on Elizabeth, one finger jabbing at her in accusation. “It is because of you this family must rely on Mr. Collins. It falls on you to ensure that he has no choice but to provide us with a home when your father is gone.”
Elizabeth laughed, a harsh grating sound which caused the woman to gape at her in surprise. “Mother, I believe that you must be the most insensible woman of my acquaintance. Do you not see that you are condemning yourself by supporting my father in this?”
Faltering, Mrs. Bennet looked on with incomprehension. She quickly recovered again and turned away. “It is unfortunate that a daughter of mine should be married with such haste. However, I believe it is well that there is no time to plan anything, as I would be loath to plan even the plainest of wedding breakfasts for such an ungrateful daughter such as you.”
“I cannot fathom why you would wish for me to be the next mistress of Longbourn, mother,” said Elizabeth over her mother’s prattling.
“It truly does not signify who marries Mr. Collins as long as we have the man tied to us,” replied Mrs. Bennet. “Though I certainly would not wish for my Jane or Lydia to be tied to the man. Both are meant for much greater things.”
“You might wish for the devil himself to marry Mr. Collins instead of me, mother. You would not like me as mistress of Longbourn.”
That caught Mrs. Bennet’s attention, and she turned toward Elizabeth with wide eyes.
“Mr. Collins is stupid and servile, mother,” said Elizabeth in a low voice. “Do you think it would take more than a few days for me to gain complete control over him? And if I was to return as mistress of this house after my father is gone, do you think I would be inclined to be merciful to you?”
Fear positively blossomed in Mrs. Bennet’s face as the implication of Elizabeth’s words began to sink in to her consciousness.
“I promise you, Mama, that if I am forced to marry Mr. Collins and it is accepted as legal, then I will make your life a living hell. The leakiest and smallest tenant cottage would look like sheer paradise next to where I will have you housed. And you will never entertain again, not unless you wish to be seen in the drabbest, most threadbare clothes I can find to dress you in.”
“But I am your mother,” said Mrs. Bennet, her voice weak and her eyes wide with fright. “You must respect me and care for me.”
“Like you have cared for me? Remember back to what I was subjected to as a child. Then you will have a glimpse of how much charity I will hold for you in my heart.”
For a moment, Mrs. Bennet stood stock still, gaping at Elizabeth. Then all at once, she was fleeing through the open door, screaming for her husband. Elizabeth watched her go, knowing it would not be enough to dissuade Mr. Bennet. But though it might not have been admirable, it had felt good to be able to make her mother fear her for a change.
The ensuing argument echoed through the halls of Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet’s wails intermixed with Mr. Bennet’s angry shouts. Elizabeth thought to follow her mother to her father’s bookroom and stir her up into a further frenzy, but she was prevented from doing so by the detestable stable hand, who had entered the house yet again and barred her way from proceeding down the stairs. But though her mother’s lamenting cries were heard throughout the house, her father stood firm in his intent.
“You are ruining me, Mr. Bennet!” wailed her mother. “To have such a demon child as mistress of Longbourn! Have you no compassion upon my poor nerves? Let Mr. Collins wed Mary instead.”
“Not another word, Mrs. Bennet! The decision has been made. Elizabeth will wed Mr. Collins!”
“But what shall I do? Mr. Gardiner will not take me in. I shall have to throw myself on the mercy of my sister Phillips!”
“You believe too much in your daughter’s angry words. Mr. Collins, if nothing else, is a creature of duty. You shall not be left undefended.”
Mrs. Bennet’s reply was much quieter, though it was accompanied by a loud sob. But Elizabeth vowed to herself that her mother would receive no such consideration from her if this travesty was allowed to proceed. She might have no way to obtain vengeance upon her father, but her mother would feel her wrath—of this, Elizabeth was determined!
“Elizabeth, what is happening?” asked Jane as she appeared in the door of her room. All of her sisters had similarly been summoned by the commotion in the house. Jane’s eyes were wide with fright; she had likely never heard her parents’ voices raised in such tones, though when Elizabeth thought on it, the day she had left Longbourn behind had witnessed a similar scene.
“I am being forced to marry Mr. Collins today, Jane.”
Jane’s eyes widened, and she gaped at Elizabeth, seemingly unable to comprehend, let alone formulate a response.
Perhaps it was something Elizabeth could have predicted, but Lydia huffed and rolled her eyes, saying. “Is that all?” She then turned back into her room and slammed the door behind her.
“Surely you are mistaken,” said Mary as she, Jane, and Catherine—the latter with frightened eyes—all moved toward her.
“That is far enough,” said the ever-present stable hand from where stood in front of Elizabeth’s door. “The master has decreed that no one shall enter Miss Elizabeth’s room except her mother.”
Jane’s shocked features instantly transformed into a fierce scowl, the likes of which Elizabeth had never seen before on her face. “Stand aside, John! I will speak with my sister.”
The poor man—if he could be termed as such—gaped at Jane with surprise, but though he did not move, Jane was able to slip past him into Elizabeth’s room. Though he had been instructed regarding Elizabeth, touching a gentlewoman was no small matter, and he was not willing to chance the repercussions which could result from handling her sisters in such a manner.
“I will not wed Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth once her sisters had gathered in her room. “But my father seems to think that I must be the one to restore the family’s fortunes, and he is determined that I shall be the means of repairing our family fortunes.”
“But surely Mr. Collins could not be party to this,” said Mary slowly, as if trying working through the implications as she spoke. “He is a clergyman, after all . . . .”
“I know not what Mr. Collins’s involvement is,” replied Elizabeth in an impatient tone. “But I know he is stupid enough to believe anything my father chooses to tell him.”
Catherine gasped, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. “But if Papa makes you marry Mr. Collins, then what about the rest of us? Does he already have our husbands chosen for us?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I am certain you have nothing to concern yourself over. I am the one who has been singled out for this honor.”
“I do not understand,” said Catherine, looking at Elizabeth with a frown. “What do my father and mother have against you?”
This time, it was Elizabeth’s turn to be shocked. “You mean you do not know?”
“It was never spoken of after you left, Elizabeth,” Jane was quick to say. “The girls were too young to remember.”
“That is not what distresses me, Jane,” said Elizabeth through a veil of tears. “Of course they would not wish to speak of the matter. But my mother and father have taught you all to hate me, yet they have never given any reason for it. I have been made the pariah, the faceless, hated sister, despite no reason ever being given for my being shunned. There is no direction for this hatred. It is all so senseless.”
Sitting down heavily on her bed, Elizabeth gazed at her hands, unseeing, too heart-sick over what was happening to even feel properly. “I wish I had never returned.”
She truly was bereft. She had no family, no connection to anyone in this house, no reason to ever be here again. The Gardiners had offered to take her with them to Ireland and to fight her father’s control over her. Never before had she wished so fervently that she had listened to their wisdom. Perhaps she might have been spared this pain.
> “I have known what happened for years,” said Mary. “And though I have not shown it since you arrived, I have never held it against you, Elizabeth.”
“I do not understand,” said Catherine in a plaintive voice. “What happened?”
“Not now,” snapped Jane.
“Tell her, Jane,” pleaded Elizabeth. “At least let her know the truth so that she may judge for herself. And tell Lydia, though I doubt she will listen.”
“‘Judge not, lest ye be judged,’” murmured Mary.
Down below, a door slammed, and Elizabeth thought it was the sound of the door to her father’s sanctuary impacting against the wall behind it as it was flung open. Her father’s voice echoed up through the house.
“I will not discuss this any further, Mrs. Bennet! You will return to your room and compose yourself. We shall discuss this in a rational manner when I return.”
The sound of her father’s heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Elizabeth knew that he was coming for her.
Desperately, she turned to Jane, and drawing her sister close, she said softly, “Tell Mr. Darcy that I did not do this willingly.”
Jane looked at her, puzzled by this sudden plea. “What do you mean?”
“Just tell him,” entreated Elizabeth, willing her sister to comply.
There was only time for a brief nod, and then Mr. Bennet entered the room. He scowled at his assembled daughters, cowing each of them with the force of his glare. But Elizabeth would not be intimidated by this man!
“Girls, you will return to your rooms, this instant.”
Catherine wilted under the force of his stare and fairly scurried from the room in fright, but not without first casting a worried glance at Elizabeth. Mary, though she did not seem intimidated, evidently decided that there was nothing she could do. She gave Elizabeth’s arm a squeeze before retreating from the room.
Jane, however, glared at her father and would not budge from Elizabeth’s side.
“I will stay with my sister.”
To say that Mr. Bennet was unimpressed was akin to saying the French Tyrant was a minor obstacle to peace. “You will return to your room, Jane. Do not disobey me.”
“My sister deserves someone to stand up with her through her ordeal. I will not leave her alone.”
With sudden violence of movement, Mr. Bennet grasped Jane’s arm and dragged her from the room, ignoring her protests.
“Jane!” cried Elizabeth, following closely after her father. “It is well. I will be well. Do not worry for me.”
“You should listen to your sister, Jane,” said Mr. Bennet.
He opened the door to Jane’s room and thrust her inside, closing it behind her. He then turned to the stable hand, who was watching the proceedings impassively, and fixed him with a stern glare.
“None of the ladies of the house are to leave their rooms until I return. You have my leave to restrain them if they make the attempt.
“You!” barked he, turning to a maid who had been hiding just out of sight down the hall near the servant’s stairway. “Go down and get Mrs. Hill. Instruct her to bring the keys to the house up and lock the doors of all these rooms. John, you will watch Mrs. Hill as she does this. She may bring trays to their rooms later so they may break their fasts, but they are not to be allowed out until I return and command it.”
The stable hand nodded, but Mr. Bennet had already turned to Elizabeth. “Will you come with me willingly, or shall I carry you to the church?”
“I will not do this willingly, father. Whatever you have done to ensure this charade goes forward, you can be certain that I will never consider it to be legal or binding upon me.”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “I suspected as much.”
Taking her arm in a vise-like grip, Mr. Bennet dragged Elizabeth from the room. She thought to struggle with him, but it was clear that she had no real chance of escaping.
“Do you think that Mr. Collins will believe that I am a willing bride, with all the commotion he has been subject to this morning? I am surprised we have not seen him yet, pontificating over the need for family harmony.”
Her father let out a bark laughter. “Once again, I have anticipated you. I expected that you would not go to your fate easily, and I sent him on to the church before the festivities began.”
Though she would not give the man any credit, it appeared as if he had given thought to any eventuality and planned for them all with meticulous foresight.
“And what makes you think I shall submit to Mr. Collins?”
“I care not what you do.” By this time, Mr. Bennet had led her out the front door, and they began to cross the lawn toward the church which stood in the distance. “Once you are married to Mr. Collins, it will be up to him to control you.” He fixed her with a sidelong look. “I will tell you that I have advised Mr. Collins that he will need to take you firmly in hand. You should think about that when you resist him.”
Elizabeth laughed. “If you think that William Collins can ‘take me firmly in hand,’ I believe that you are sadly overestimating his capacities.”
Her father shrugged and continued to walk at a fast pace. For the first time since she had been led outside, Elizabeth felt the chill in the air. It seemed to pierce her all the way to her very bones, as the thin dress was little protection against the elements. But even that coldness was nothing compared to the chill which was extending tendrils out from her very heart, grasping her in its grip like a never-ending winter.
Soon, Mr. Bennet had bustled her into the church where the two parsons were awaiting her, Mr. Collins looking at them with a saintly smile etched across his features and Mr. Jones watching them through rheumy eyes with a vaguely confused air about him. It was clear that neither understood the true state of affairs.
With an abruptness which momentarily threw Elizabeth off balance, Mr. Bennet stopped and fixed Elizabeth with a fierce expression. It almost seemed as if Elizabeth could see her death in the depths of his eyes.
“Remember that I still have authority over you,” hissed he. The look in his eyes almost seemed to pass into madness. “If you say one word which leads either of these men to believe that you are here by anything other than your own will, you will feel my wrath, and it will not be pleasant.”
By now, Elizabeth was convinced that her safety—and perhaps her very life!—was in danger should she not obey, and as Mr. Bennet had already raised his hand to her once, she did not doubt his ability to do so again.
But he did not give her time to think on the implications; rather, he began to walk once again toward the pair of parsons waiting for them. “You may proceed, Mr. Jones,” said Mr. Bennet as they came to a stop before the parson.
The ancient man looked on him with confusion. “What of your lady wife? Does she not wish to witness her daughter’s marriage?”
“Mrs. Bennet is overcome with joy at the thought of a daughter being married,” said Mr. Bennet, his lips curled in a sarcastic sneer. “We must not wait for her.”
“But the witnesses—”
“You and I will suffice,” snapped Mr. Bennet. “Continue!”
Mr. Jones blinked, but he did not protest any further. Elizabeth thought that he was too senile to understand what was truly happening, and she therefore did not hold it against him.
“Miss Elizabeth, please stand next to Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Jones, gesturing toward both of the principles.
Loath though she was to even stand next to the man, Elizabeth was forced to move by her father’s firm grip on her arm. Mr. Collins watched the proceedings, and he smiled at her, though she was repulsed by the naked lust in the man’s eyes.
“Such modesty is becoming of a young maiden, but soon it will not be required. Your display of reluctance is charming, and my love for you is increasing each moment by leaps and bounds. How I am anticipating the joys of marital bliss!”
Elizabeth glared at him, and she heard a soft snort from Mr. Bennet, but she did not deign to respond. Elizabeth decided
that all of this did not matter in the slightest. No one would believe such a travesty to be legal.
Mr. Jones soon started with the wedding passages from the Book of Common Prayer, but Elizabeth was not listening, refusing as she was to dignify the proceedings with any sort of seriousness.
As Mr. Jones droned on, Elizabeth glanced at her father out of the corner of her eye, watching as he impatiently waited for the parson to get to the point. Not for the first time, she wondered just what was motivating Mr. Bennet. While the belated desire to protect his family must be a part of it, Elizabeth knew that it could not be all. As she thought about it, she became convinced that it was more about revenge than anything else.
What a petty and selfish waste of a man her father was!
The service went on, and Elizabeth barely heard Mr. Collins make his vows. When it came time for her to do the same, she glared at the parson and refused to open her mouth.
“She does,” interjected Mr. Bennet with a glare at the parson. “Move along.”
For a brief moment, the parson turned his gaze upon Mr. Bennet, his eyes wide with surprise, and it appeared that he was about to protest. But his words died in his throat, as Mr. Bennet fixed him is a savage glare and enunciated quite slowly and clearly, “Finish the ceremony, Mr. Jones.”
The parson jerkily nodded and continued, moments later pronouncing them man and wife. The words hit Elizabeth’s soul with the force of a hammer blow, and tears began forming in her eyes. She dashed them away angrily as her new husband grasped her hand tugged her over to where the register waited. Mr. Collins signed it, but when he passed the quill to Elizabeth, she merely glared at him.
“Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bennet in a low voice, “you will sign that document, or you will face my wrath.”
Her eyes flicked to her father, and Elizabeth regarded him with cool fury through the tears which descended—whether they were tears of sorrow or of rage, she could not even determine herself. She noted that Mr. Bennet’s hand was twitching, and she knew that he would not allow her to resist him, not when he had gone so far already.