by Leenie Brown
“But you have seen them and have not found anything lacking in their looks?”
Darcy shook his head. “No, they are all pretty. Miss Bennet is perhaps the most beautiful, but the others are equally as attractive in their own ways. They seem to take after their mother in that regard, for Mrs. Bennet is still a handsome woman.”
Collins’s smile was tight. “Yes, I had heard from my father that she was pretty in her youth, and I had hoped that perhaps the daughters would have taken after their mother in that way. It is perhaps the best she could give them if my father is to be believed.”
Darcy’s brows rose. “How do you mean the best she could give them?”
“Mrs. Bennet’s father was in trade – a merchant with warehouses in Cheapside or some such place. Not at all the sort of lady a gentleman should consider. Her education would be lacking, and as such, how would she teach her children? I suppose a governess could be employed. Indeed, one should be employed if one wishes for his children to excel. You do not know if they had a governess, do you?”
Darcy shook his head. “I am afraid I never inquired after such a thing. However, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth do not lack for intelligence. They are the two daughters in whose presence I have spent the most time.”
Collins leaned forward eagerly. “Are they refined in their accomplishments?”
“I cannot say. What I may find adequate or even exceptional, you might not.”
“But you do find them adequate?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And Miss Bennet is beautiful?”
Darcy nodded but did not get to answer as Richard was quicker to respond.
“Quite, but you shall have to look elsewhere as I believe there may be a happy announcement in her future.”
“She has a suitor, then?”
“One could say that,” Darcy replied. “However, nothing official has been proclaimed and to speak about it further would tread along the very edge of gossip, would it not?” He did not wish to divulge anything of Bingley’s affairs as he did not know for sure if Bingley were indeed planning to offer for Miss Bennet. He suspected it to be the truth, but he had not had such intelligence from Bingley on the subject.
Collins’s brow furrowed. “Then, tell me about her next younger sister.”
“Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked in surprise, glancing at Richard, who was looking rather self-satisfied. He had said Collins would select Elizabeth if Jane were not an option. It was rather annoying how his cousin could rightly discern the character and habits of an individual so often.
“Yes, I believe that is what you said her name was.”
“She would not do for you,” Darcy replied.
“She would not?” Richard asked.
Darcy glared at his cousin. Richard knew very well that Elizabeth would not suit this Mr. Collins. He had been the one to declare it to Darcy. He was playing a game and leading the conversation where he wished it to go. However, Darcy would curtail his fun.
“No, she would make a deplorable parson’s wife,” he said. “She is a lovely young woman, do not misunderstand me. She is handsome – tempting even – and possesses a quick wit. However, she is – how shall I say this?” He paused and found himself smiling as he recounted the debates he had participated in with Elizabeth. She needed a husband who would appreciate such skill just as he did. His left brow rose as the thought hung in his mind for a moment before he tucked it away to consider later. “She is not retiring. If she holds an opinion on a topic, she feels no compulsion to keep it to herself.”
“She is forward?” Mr. Collins’s eyebrows had disappeared beneath the shock of hair which hung down on his forehead.
“No, that is perhaps not the best word,” Darcy replied. “I think headstrong might be better.” Strong, determined, and beautiful might be better words, but headstrong seemed the best choice to dissuade Collins in his quest. Whether he could or should consider her as a choice for himself or not, Darcy would not see her tied to the likes of Collins. “She just simply would not make a good parson’s wife. That is all. Why, imagine if she should disagree with you on some point in front of your patroness?”
Lord Matlock was suddenly taken in a fit of coughing and excused himself to the far side of the room.
“I do hope my lord is well and has not contracted your illness,” Collins said to Darcy, casting a worried glance toward where Lord Matlock stood with his back to them.
“I am certain he is well,” Darcy assured Collins. In fact, Darcy was certain that his uncle was not coughing at all but rather laughing from the way the man’s shoulder shook.
Collins looked once more at Lord Matlock and then turned his attention back to Darcy. “And who is after Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy smiled. He had succeeded. Elizabeth would not be considered by Collins. “Miss Mary is next, then Miss Kitty, and, lastly, Miss Lydia.” He twisted Anne’s ring on his finger as he listed off the remaining Bennet sisters. “However, it might be best if you wait until you have arrived in Hertfordshire before selecting one or another to pursue. I have not spent much time in company with the younger Bennets, and I am loath to make faulty recommendations.”
None of the younger sisters had made a favourable impression on him, but he was not about to say such a thing and perhaps put Elizabeth back into the mind of Mr. Collins. Besides, he had been in a foul mood for much of his stay thus far in Hertfordshire, and therefore, had likely not been capable of considering them as anything other than silly and indecorous. Had he not rejected Elizabeth out of hand? And yet, upon closer inspection, he found her fascinating and refreshing – not at all like how he had first perceived her.
Collins’s brow furrowed deeply once again as he nodded slowly. “I can see the wisdom in such a statement,” he admitted.
Darcy pushed up from his chair. “I find I am growing excessively weary. I am perhaps not so improved as I had thought.”
He also wished for a solitary place in which to ponder what his heart was attempting to tell him about the enchanting Elizabeth Bennet. He had promised Anne he would follow his heart, but he could not follow what he could not clearly understand, could he? He spun the ring on his finger once again.
“Oh, one must be cautious,” Mr. Collins said emphatically. “It is a dreadful thing to be out of bed too soon after an ailment. The return of a sickness can be worse than the initial malady. Why, that was just the case with my father. He thought he was well, so he went out shooting, only to be laid up a few days later and expired inside a month.”
“I am certain I only require rest.” And a quiet place to think. His heart was demanding he consider Elizabeth and only Elizabeth as a possible wife he could love, and the room was growing rather warm at such a thought. He needed to escape.
“Yes, yes, most likely,” said Mr. Collins, though there was a hint of skepticism in his voice and a wary look in his eyes.
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy said before moving to the door of the room, “you will still be travelling to Longbourn, will you not?”
“Most certainly. At the beginning of the new week, I shall be on my way. My cousin has graciously accepted my petition to arrive at a more distant time to what was originally agreed upon.”
“That is very good,” Darcy interrupted when the man stopped to draw a breath. “Do you have a curricle or cart?”
“No, no, not yet, though I do intend to acquire some form of vehicle after I marry. I have been laying by a sum for years with just such a purpose in mind. I am very frugal, you see. My lady has commended me on my economy.”
Darcy smiled at how the man stuck his chest out just a bit. “Then, you must allow me to offer you a place in my carriage. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I will be returning to Hertfordshire on Monday next.”
The man’s eyes grew wide, and he bowed himself forward. “You do me a great service, sir. I am most honoured.”
“It is but a little thing,” Darcy assured him. “And,” he added as he stood at the door looking down the hal
l toward Anne’s sitting room and considering once again his promise to her, “it stands to reason that I should care for my aunt’s parson when I can and in such a manner as is available to me. Besides, it is not unreasonable to think we might at some future time be related.” He looked past Collins to Richard and smiled. “There are four Bennet ladies who, as of yet, have not been claimed.”
And with that declaration, as Richard snapped his mouth closed and Lord Matlock once again dissolved into coughing, Darcy exited the room and walked down the corridor to the stairs, pausing for a moment before Anne’s door as he twisted her ring on his finger. He was certain she would have liked Elizabeth. Blowing out a great breath, he silently vowed to Anne once again that he would marry the one lady who had, without his knowing it, captured his heart. Then, with a slightly lightened, comforted heart, he continued on to his room.
Chapter 6
For four days Elizabeth had been confined to the house as rain, often falling in torrents, had created small rivulets in the garden and great puddles on the roads. Not a soul could travel about without running the risk of either getting stuck in the mud or drenched to the bone and catching a chill. November rains were not warm, after all. And though Elizabeth did not mind getting wet in a summer rain shower, the thought of a teeth-chattering soaking in November had been enough to keep her indoors despite her youngest sister’s boisterous displeasure both about Mr. Bingley’s ball being postponed and the rain keeping the officers away.
Elizabeth could not say she was sorry the officers had been kept away. While she would have enjoyed the diversion they would bring, there was one amongst them about whom she felt very uncertain. Mr. Wickham was handsome and charming and had caught Elizabeth’s interest when she and her sisters had happened to meet him and a few of his fellow officers in Meryton. She would not deny that his features drew her to look at him with admiration, nor would she deny that he was a most pleasant conversation partner. He had kept her well entertained while they played cards at her Aunt Philips’s house.
“What are you pondering as you look out on the muddy fields?” Jane asked as she wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders.
Elizabeth smiled at her sister and wrapped her own arm around Jane’s waist. She was delighted that her sister was nearly entirely well. There was only a small cough that remained, and it expressed itself very rarely. “Officers.”
“Officers?” Jane said in surprise. “All of them, or one in particular?”
Elizabeth laughed. “You know me well. I am pondering a particular lieutenant.”
“A handsome lieutenant,” Jane amended.
“He is that,” Elizabeth agreed.
“But you are not considering his looks, are you?”
Elizabeth shook her head and moved away from the window to sit on her bed. “He is everything charming, but there is something amiss. I cannot say what, but I feel there is.”
She had not had such a feeling of unexplained unease in some time. The last time she had felt as she did now, it had been proven just, for the man her father had hired to help with the harvest and who had caused Elizabeth to feel ill at ease had been found not only being entirely too friendly with a tenant’s daughter but had also been caught poaching eggs from the same tenant’s chickens. She doubted that Mr. Wickham was the sort to steal into chicken coops and pilfer eggs, but she would not trust him to be alone with herself or her sisters. He was excessively agreeable and seemed willing to become intimate in conversation on a very short acquaintance.
Elizabeth pulled her feet up under her and scooted to the top of the bed where she propped a pillow behind her back, so she would have something on which to lean. “I was also thinking of Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth huffed softly and rolled her eyes as Jane, wearing a delighted smile, joined her on the bed. Jane had been bringing Mr. Darcy’s name up in their private conversations since the day he had left Netherfield.
“Mr. Wickham painted him as cold and aloof,” Elizabeth continued.
“I know, you have told me.”
“And I, myself, have found him both arrogant and disdainful.”
“You have,” Jane agreed.
“And I do not think I am wrong in saying that he has behaved in such a fashion.”
“But?” Jane prompted.
Elizabeth’s lips pursed as her brow furrowed. Mr. Darcy seemed a complex puzzle whom she had yet to figure out. “I cannot believe that he is wholly without feelings as I once did. He was so…shaken by his cousin’s death.”
Silence reigned for a full minute before Elizabeth continued. “And if what you said about it being odd for Mr. Wickham to be so eager to share information about an acquaintance without much provocation and to someone he had only known for a day, there must be a reason for such odd and improper behaviour.”
“That seems likely,” Jane agreed.
“And since Mr. Wickham’s description of Mr. Darcy was not at all flattering, I must assume Mr. Wickham wishes me to think ill of Mr. Darcy.” She turned and looked at her sister. “But why? That I cannot reconcile.”
“A disagreement perhaps? Or jealousy?”
Elizabeth nodded. She had considered both of those as reasons. “Do you suppose it is true that Mr. Darcy denied Mr. Wickham the inheritance he was supposed to receive?”
“I could not say with any degree of accuracy,” Jane replied, “but I should think that it is true, though it might only be true in part. There may have been circumstances that made it impossible for Mr. Darcy to bestow the living, and Mr. Wickham is unwilling to accept the loss as anything less than completely Mr. Darcy’s doing.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Come, we must prepare for callers. It has not rained in a day, and the roads are surely dry enough for some brave soul to venture forth.”
“And by some brave soul you mean Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said with a laugh.
“Indeed, I do.” Jane’s face lit with a beautiful smile.
“He shall offer for you, and if he does not, I shall declare him to one and all to be the daftest gentleman to have ever walked the earth.”
“Oh, Lizzy, do be serious!”
Elizabeth scrambled off the bed. “I am perfectly serious. I can see how much you admire him, and how could any gentleman not fall in love with you? You are perfection in human form.”
“I am not,” Jane retorted. “And you may ask several near suitors why they never pursued me beyond a call or two. I have not remained unmarried because I have refused any offers.” She stood at the door with her hand on the knob. “Why are you putting on your boots and not your slippers.”
“Mr. Bingley is not calling for me.”
“But he may be accompanied.”
“Yes, by his charming sisters.” Elizabeth looked up and rolled her eyes at Jane. “I shall be devastated to have missed a chance to visit with them, but it is a risk I am willing to take in favour of fresh air.”
“Mr. Darcy might be with them.”
“Why would he be?” Elizabeth asked as she donned her bonnet. “If he has returned, I would not expect a man in grieving to call on neighbours whom he has made clear are beneath him.”
“And what if you are wrong? What if he does call, and he does so to see you?”
Elizabeth laughed heartily at the questions as she fastened her pelisse. “Then you may tell him I have gone to Oakham Mount, and he may find me there, although you might wish to warn him that I will look a fright as I suspect my skirts shall not stay pristine.”
“Mama will scold,” Jane warned.
“Undoubtedly,” Elizabeth agreed. Coming to stand next to Jane at the door, she added, “I do not wish to encounter a particular handsome lieutenant, and if the roads are dry enough for Mr. Bingley to call, I dare say, after the way Lydia and Kitty were flirting with the officers when last we saw them, there will be more than one red-coated gentleman in our sitting room.”
Her comments were met by silent protest in the form of a scowl. In f
act, to show the depth of her displeasure, Jane remained silent as they descended the stairs.
“You are not going out.” Mrs. Bennet stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You will return to your room and make yourself presentable for guests. Oh, my!” She waved her handkerchief with one hand and placed the back of her other hand on her forehead. “How I shall abide it, I do not know. Now, turn yourself about, and do as you have been told! I will not tolerate a word of argument, Elizabeth.”
Her mother rarely used that harsh tone. Something was not right. “What is it, Mama?” Elizabeth asked as she began to unfasten her pelisse.
“Mr. Collins.” Her mother visibly shuddered as she said the name. “He will arrive this afternoon. I just know I shall despise him, and yet, I must pretend I do not.” Her handkerchief fluttered again. “I do not think I am equal to it.”
“Oh, Mama! How dreadful!” Jane’s voice was filled with understanding. “But I have seen you rise to many other unpleasant occasions with aplomb. Did you not take tea with Mrs. Goulding the day after you heard her gossiping about how dreadfully lacking she thought your garden was? And did you not convince everyone there that there was not a thing out of the ordinary? You performed that display very well. So well, in fact, that Lady Lucas still whispers about Mrs. Goulding and her lack of taste.”
“Well, yes,” Mrs. Bennet conceded weakly, “but Mrs. Goulding will not be tossing me into the hedgerows upon Mr. Bennet’s demise.”
Jane placed an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “And neither will Mr. Collins, for I shall do my best to snare Mr. Bingley, and then, I shall place my sisters in the way of many handsome and rich gentlemen, and you shall have your choice of fine estates at which to make your residence.”
Her mother looked almost convinced that she should be ecstatic instead of despondent but then… “Even Mary and Lizzy?”
“Especially Lizzy and Mary,” Jane replied. “I shall see to them first.”
Mrs. Bennet pondered that for a moment and then smiled before turning to Elizabeth. “Why are you still standing there? Be quick. We have a very important guest to entertain. I will have you all looking your best.” She clapped her hands. “Oh, Mr. Collins is not married. He might do very well for Lizzy.”