by Meg Osborne
“It seems to me that she is not the only sister of yours to have secured a beau!” Charlotte said, with a nod towards their friends. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has scarcely looked away from Mary for half a minute since your arrival.”
“Yes, he seemed instantly smitten with her, and it appears she returns his feelings, although she is so shy I can’t help but feel they will need a little more encouragement in finding their happiness.” Lizzy’s eyes flickered with fun. “I shall not allow poor Mary’s shyness to keep Colonel Fitzwilliam away, for having spoken to him a little I find him thoroughly acceptable as a brother-in-law, and his presence seems to temper Mary into a rather more palatable version of herself.” She recounted the few conversations they had had that indicated Colonel Fitzwilliam’s good character, and friendly and amusing attitude, and both Charlotte and Maria declared him an altogether agreeable addition to the Netherfield party.
“But that is not all!” Lizzy said, darting a glance over her shoulder to ensure she was not yet missed. “Ah, look, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley have arrived. I must not tarry long. Will you join us?”
Maria seemed eager, but Charlotte shook her head.
“We are about to leave, so hurry and tell me your news, for who knows when we shall meet again, dear! Life is so busy just at present!”
Elizabeth assumed a comical stance.
“I received a certain proposal of my own, just last evening in fact.”
“Not Mr Darcy?” Maria asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.
“No!” Lizzy laughed. “Do not be ridiculous - although, I confess had the gentleman in question been Mr Darcy this story would not be quite so mortifying to my own pride to retell. My dear cousin Mr Collins has deigned to make an offer for my hand.” She made a not-completely-inaccurate impression of Mr Collin’s snide, sneering tone of voice that provoked still more giggles from Maria, and a slight pursed lip from Charlotte that Lizzy took to be her friend attempting not to laugh too heartily at the behaviour of a gentleman they both knew in his absence.
“Miss Elizabeth...might I pose a question...for you see, it has been suggested to me that I might marry, and seeing that your family consists solely of daughters the matter struck me as most sensible...that is to say, I admire you greatly, and feel so great an affection...” At last, Charlotte’s silence struck Elizabeth as unusual, and she broke off in her retelling to question her on it.
“My dear Charlotte, is something the matter? It is alright to laugh, I give you full permission, although as you can imagine I did not find the adventure at all amusing myself last evening.” She shuddered. “To ask at all, and in such a manner - and at Netherfield, in front of our friends!”
“You refused him?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes, indeed I refused him!” Lizzy shook her head. “How could I marry such a man? How could anybody?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Of course Mama is outraged. She scarcely deigns to speak to me, and argues that I must accept my place and marry him, for the sake of the family. Is it not the most nonsensical thing you have ever heard?”
“No.”
Charlotte’s one-word answer stunned Lizzy to the core, and she quite immediately ceased her amusement, fixing her friend with a curious gaze.
“No?”
“No, I do not think it nonsensical at all. Your mother, and heed me, Lizzy, for I do not often say this, is eminently sensible on this occasion.”
“Sensible?” Lizzy was shocked. “Mama? Charlotte, dear, I do not think you quite understood my tale. Mama is eager that I accept Mr Collins -”
“And she is right to be!” Charlotte insisted. “Lizzy, you might think him a buffoon, but he is offering you a home, and a future. Admittedly he may not be as wealthy as...but in any case, you are one of five sisters, what right do you have to be choosy?”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She could not believe the words that were coming from her friend’s lips.
“I know you have always insisted on only marrying for love -”
“As have you!”
“Yes, but I am old enough by now to know that love is only fit for storybooks. In our present time, a young lady must be practical. Marrying Mr Collins will not only secure your future, Lizzy, but your family's beside. In refusing him, you are being...well, I hate to say it, for I love you almost as if you were my own sister, but Lizzy, refusing Mr Collins simply because you do not like him is very selfish of you.”
Lizzy could not believe her ears.
“There, now, I am done lecturing.” Charlotte at least had the grace to look a little embarrassed to have spoken so harshly to her friend. “I am sorry, I did not mean to speak so plainly, but time is of the essence. I only hope you might still be able to undo the damage. Perhaps if you apologise to Mr Collins, and explain how much his proposal took you by surprise...” She threw up her hands. “I do not know how you might manage it, but I imagine it is not an impossible task. There, Lizzy, your sister is waving. We have kept you too long away from your family. Do, do give my love to Jane and Mary, both. Maria, we are already late to meet Father. Come, let us hurry!”
In one short moment, Charlotte and Maria left the tea room, and in a daze, Lizzy returned to her group.
“How was Charlotte?” Jane asked.
“What a pity you could not convince your friends to join us,” Mr Bingley said. “There is quite room enough for all of us here. Now, let us order some tea.”
The conversation continued around Elizabeth, but she was half in a daze, and heard none of it.
Selfish? Did Charlotte think her selfish for refusing Mr Collins? She did not see the absurdity of his proposal, or the impossibility of a match between them, but instead seemed surprised that Lizzy could contemplate any course of action other than marrying him, when the very notion seemed the impossible thing to Elizabeth herself.
Ought I to heed Charlotte? To heed Mama? She frowned, turning the idea over in her mind. Surely I am my own best guide? Surely I must follow my heart?
“Lizzy?” At last Mary’s voice broke through the chaos of Elizabeth’s thoughts and recalled her to herself. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” Lizzy said, forcing her features into a smile. Her own romantic life might be a disaster, but here she was faced with not one but two sisters who might make truly happy matches. She would do better to think upon that, for now, and puzzle out the problem of Mr Collins later. She lifted her eyes to the rest of the party, and was surprised to see a concerned glance darkening Mr Darcy’s face, but it vanished almost as soon as she recognised it.
Chapter Fifteen
Mary had been enjoying the day far more than she expected to. She was delighted to be able to help Colonel Fitzwilliam in his task, and still more delighted to find him eager to talk to her even once the task was completed. She had feared him attentive only insofar as he wanted her help, but no, it seemed he truly wished to converse with her - her! - even more than her sisters, although he was all politeness in addressing his remarks to both Jane and her, in Elizabeth’s absence. When Mr Bingley arrived, and claimed Jane’s attention almost entirely for his own, Colonel Fitzwilliam had turned to Mary with still more energy, quizzing her on her interest in books and travel, enquiring as to whether she had ever been to the north of the country.
“Mr Darcy's estate at Pemberley is grand indeed,” he said, with a glance towards his cousin. Mr Darcy did not respond nor, Mary considered, did he even hear Richard's comment. His focus was on his tea, just as it had been on Elizabeth, when she was still speaking to Charlotte. Mary missed her own cue in the conversation out of concern for her sister, who was equally as quiet as Mr Darcy. It was a stranger effect on Elizabeth, however, and Mary was curious as to what Charlotte had said to upset her sister so, for it must be something important to cause Elizabeth to withdraw into herself in such a manner.
“Kent, too, is quite beautiful country...although I am sure you have already heard much of my aunt’s estate at Rosings from the lips of your cousin, Mr C
ollins.”
This produced a reaction which startled Mary, for at the mention of “Mr Collins”, Elizabeth flinched, and lifted her eyes to the Colonel, looking momentarily like an animal caught in a trap.
“Forgive me, Miss Mary, I am quite sure I tire you with my talk of grand houses,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, with a slight tone to his voice. “No doubt it is mere misdirection on my part, for I am as yet without a home of my own, and must only admire those I am familiar with as from a distance.”
Mary turned back to him, all apology.
“No! It is interesting to me.” She smiled. “I like to hear you talk, I am sorry for not seeming so.” She lifted her tea to her lips. “Please do continue.”
Thus encouraged, Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke more of Kent, although Mary noticed that, unlike Mr Collins, who was fixed on describing the wealth and elegance of his patroness's home, her new friend was eager to speak to the history of the place. He mentioned funny stories from the past, referring to scrapes he and Darcy had got into as children, which made Mary laugh and turn to Elizabeth, certain that she would appreciate the joke and still more so because it reflected a carefree side to Mr Darcy that neither sister was remotely familiar with.
“Darcy?” Colonel Fitzwilliam prompted. “I’m quite surprised you have permitted me to go so far in this tale without censure. Or are you waiting until we are alone?” He cringed, comically, and at last Mr Darcy looked up at him, momentary annoyance relaxing into an affectionate, enduring, half-smile.
“I have learnt by now there is little point in stopping you once you are started. Besides, I am sure I can trust the Miss Bennets not to spread rumours of my childish misbehaviour far and wide.”
He, too, looked t Elizabeth as if he expected some response, but, again, there was none. Mary laid a hand on her sister’s arm, and Lizzy jerked up, spilling her tea.
“Oh! Mary!” she cried, snatching her hand away and brushing at her dress. “You startled me!”
Mary darted back as if she had been struck.
“I’m sorry!” she muttered.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Elizabeth continued. “My dress is ruined!”
“Not ruined, surely,” Jane began in a placating tone.
Mary heard no more, she stood and excused herself, hurrying towards the kitchen ostensibly in search of a cloth but really to afford her the opportunity to hide her face for a moment from the eyes of her friends. It had been a simple error, she knew, and logically she had done nothing to deserve Elizabeth's response, but still, it stung, just when she thought she and her sister were, at last, becoming close.
She drew in a ragged breath, and readied herself to return, but not before a familiar male voice reached her ears.
“Yes, please, a cloth and some water for our table,” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice sounded distracted. “And can you tell me if a young lady has come this way? She seemed a little upset and -”
“No young lady, sir. Which table was it?” The tired voice of their over-burdened hostess cut Colonel Fitzwilliam off before he could say any more, and Mary sank with relief into the shadows. Now that the moment was over, she felt silly for running away. Of course, Elizabeth had meant nothing by her comment, it was merely surprise, and disappointment at spilling tea on a favoured dress. Mary, as usual, had misread the situation and acted unnecessarily. She scoured the hallway to see if she could find some reason for her absence that she could hide behind. A fresh pot of milk, perhaps? Or a clean teacup for Elizabeth? Before she could settle on her request to the kitchen, the sound of a gentleman clearing his throat startled her back to the presence.
“Miss Mary! I was worried you had run all the way back to Longbourn unaccompanied.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled gently at her, and Mary felt her anxieties melt away. “Do come back to our table, for I have not told you the worst of Darcy’s trouble making yet, and you are by far my most attentive listener.”
TEA WAS FINISHED QUITE soon after that, and the party began their journey back towards Longbourn, albeit in a rather more sombre mood. Elizabeth seemed determined to walk alone, and so Darcy fell into step with his cousin and Miss Mary, a little mollified to be afforded the opportunity to observe the pair together once more and see if his earlier deduction was correct.
He felt some responsibility for his cousin, and wondered idly if he ought to take Richard aside and advise him on the path he seemed set on taking, yet something stilled his hand.
What do I know of marriage, that I might advise him? What do I know of proposals?
“And your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mary said. “The one you bought the music for. What is she like?”
“Anne?” Richard glanced at Darcy before continuing. “She is not unlike you in temperament, I wager, for she is quiet, and not fond of discord.”
They shared a glance that Darcy could not begin to understand, but he let it pass, seeing it as some evidence that his cousin’s affections were not in vain. Mary may not be effusive, but it seemed apparent that she did not dislike Richard. In fact, she seemed abler and willing to speak with him around than Darcy had ever noticed prior.
“She is paler in colouring than either you or Miss Elizabeth,” he offered, feeling as if he ought to contribute at least a word or two to this conversation, being as it concerned a person only he and Richard knew well. “Paler even than Jane, I wager, for her complexion has not the healthy glow afforded by life in the country.”
Mary paused a moment.
“Is Kent so different to Hertfordshire?”
“Not in the least!” Richard smiled. “You misunderstand my cousin. Kent has countryside too, and plenty of it. Many a pretty walk and view surround Rosings. But Anne...” He lowered his voice, as if out of respect for the invalid who was a clear county away and unlikely to be disturbed by being thus discussed. “Anne suffers rather a lot with ill health, and as such is not often out of doors.”
“Oh dear!” Mary seemed utterly concerned, in a way that surprised and pleased Darcy. She was utterly without artifice, although not so able s her sister to hide her feelings when politeness required it. He thought back to her sudden disappearance at tea and wondered if this, too, had been Mary’s only way of managing without breaking down in public. He felt a flare of sympathy, for he, too, did not hide his feelings well, or rather it took a great deal of his energy to do so in a public setting, which was half the reason he so despised public settings! “Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, you ought to visit her soon if she is so unwell. Perhaps she might appreciate some cut flowers - there are a few still blooming in our garden, you might take them today -?”
“I see you plan to dispatch me immediately!” Richard laughed, but Darcy understood his cousin well enough to detect a trace of anxiety behind his good humour. “Have I outstayed my welcome in Hertfordshire already?”
“No!” Mary said, her concern becoming worry. “You are very welcome here. That is, we are very grateful you are here. All of us. Mr Darcy -” She glanced at him, in desperation. “I am sure Mr Darcy is very pleased to have you staying with him.”
“Indeed I am,” Darcy said. “And I believe Miss Mary echoes our sentiments in that we none of us wish you to leave straight away.” He winked at his cousin, certain that the gesture went unnoticed by Mary, who had dropped her eyes to the ground. “Anne was doing well, from Aunt Catherine’s last report. I am sure they can muddle on without you for another few days at least.”
“Then it is decided,” Richard said, beaming at Darcy, and taking on a jaunty step as he walked. “I will not depart immediately, and your flowers might bloom a little longer in the ground.”
Mary laughed, uncertainly.
Sensing the pair would speak more freely without an audience, Darcy nodded at them both and allowed his pace to slow and draw level with Elizabeth, who was walking with purpose, if not a great deal of energy. Her eyes were on the horizon, but Darcy reckoned she did not see a thing of the beauty before them. She was puzzling out some mystery, he guessed, by the s
light crease of a frown in her forehead, and the way her lips were drawn into a tight line.
“I wager you were correct in your earlier assertion,” he said, after a moment’s silent progress.
“I’m sorry?” Elizabeth jerked her head up.
“I startled you: forgive me.” Darcy’s lips quirked. “But at least this time, without the involvement of tea your dress is no casualty.”
Elizabeth’s frown deepened, and then relaxed. She laughed, but it was not the sound Darcy was used to. This was forced, a strange and strangled sound he did not very much care for. Nor did he care for the mood that must have caused it.
“You seem preoccupied, Miss Elizabeth. I hope you are not unwell.”
“No, no.” Elizabeth sighed. “I am quite well, Mr Darcy. Although I must congratulate you on your powers of observation.” This was murmured with hardly any intonation, and Darcy wondered if she was even aware she had spoken the thought aloud.
“Come, come, Miss Elizabeth,” he cajoled, attempting to win back a fraction of the easy style of conversation they had adopted of late. It was an unusual prospect for him, for most often it had been she, rather than he, leading the verbal dance, and he was not entirely sure of his prowess in this new role. “You value perception in your friends, do you not? Surely you wish to know what I have most recently witnessed.”
“It is evident that you wish to tell me,” Elizabeth muttered, but at length, she lifted her eyes to his and smiled, so he felt that all was not lost. “Please continue.”
“My cousin appears utterly smitten. I wager he will wish to see your father before the week is out, if not sooner.” A thought struck Darcy. “In fact, he may even enquire of Mr Bennet this very afternoon. However, my powers of understanding do not extend so strongly to your sister. I believe she cares for him, or may learn to, what say you?”
“I am surprised to see you take such an interest in affairs of the heart, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, glancing towards Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary, all the same, and allowing, with the tilt of her head, that she agreed with Darcy’s assessment. “Is this a new hobby of yours? Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, matchmaker?”