by Meg Osborne
Darcy laughed at that.
“I cannot think of a mode of employment I am less suited to. No, my caring is solely for my cousin.”
“You maintain indifference to your own future?” Elizabeth sighed.
“Indifference? Hardly. But I am not - have never been - a romantic.”
This provoked still another sigh, and Darcy turned with concern towards her.
“You cannot say this surprises you, Miss Elizabeth? Of all the accusations you have levied at me in our short acquaintance, I do not recall “romantic” ever being among them.”
“No, no. I am merely resigned to the fact that perhaps you are right to remain always pragmatic on matters of the heart. Or perhaps that should be matters of the pocketbook.”
Her eyebrows drew together once more, and Darcy felt a strange urge to reach out and smooth the lines that formed on her high forehead. Instead, he waited patiently for her to continue, sensing, somehow, that she wished to and would, given time. His patience was rewarded a moment later, when she spoke once more.
“I am sure you are well aware of the question posed to me by my cousin Mr Collins last evening.” Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured with embarrassment. “I am quite sure by now that half of Meryton knows, for Miss Bingley will take great delight in telling the story wherever she goes.”
“She has gone nowhere today, I assure you.”
Instead of having the soothing effect he had hoped for, this comment merely made Elizabeth’s features fall still further.
“It is of little matter whether she tells people today or tomorrow or a week from now. It seems my fate is sealed.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy began. “I know little of women, although I do have a sister. I am not familiar with marriage, never yet having posed such a question as Mr Collins did to any lady of my acquaintance...thus far.” He hesitated, sure of his sentiment but unsure how to best express it. He was gratified when she lifted her eyes to his and showed by attention that she listened. “But I do know this: it is a question with more than one answer. Simply because it is asked, does not mean that the answer must be yes.”
To his surprise, Elizabeth laughed, the same hollow, bitter sound he had heard just a few moments before, and he berated himself for choosing his words poorly.
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, with a sad smile. “If you think that, you do not know my mother.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mary did not know when she had enjoyed a walk more. She certainly did not recall the journey between Meryton and Longbourn ever passing so quickly, and it was not without disappointment that they drew within view of home.
“Miss Mary,” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, as he, too, recognised the shadow of Longbourn ahead of them. “I must ask you something. It is, I am quite sure, absolutely the wrong time, and I am certain to use the wrong words and utterly mangle the telling, still, I feel that “he who hesitates is lost”, and so I shall not hesitate any longer.”
He frowned in concentration, and in a flash, Mary saw the image of the young boy Richard, who had got into so many scrapes with his wealthier, wiser cousin. He also seemed nervous, something Mary had never imagined him capable of being. Where was the confident, cheerful Colonel Fitzwilliam she had been speaking to moments before?
“Is everything alright?” she asked, anxious of what he was about to say. “Have I - have I done something wrong?” She ran back over her conduct that morning, and further still, to the dinner at Netherfield and dancing, to their very first meeting at Longbourn. She could not identify any action that had been out of place, yet she was so unused to spending time with gentlemen, particularly those as well travelled or worldly as the Colonel that she was sure the fault must be hers.
“You have done nothing wrong!” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, with surprise. “What on earth might you have done that was wrong? No, my dear Miss - and yet, I wish, if I may, to dispense with your title for the briefest of moments. It is too important a question to be posed as if we were strangers still. For we not strangers, are we, Mary?”
Mary felt a flood of warmth to hear her name on his lips without the precursor “Miss”, and smiled, cautiously wondering what was to follow.
“Then I might speak, even though I am sure it is too soon and too sudden and I shall regret it intensely.” He hesitated, then shook off whatever thought had stilled him. “No, I shall regret it more if I do not speak. For whilst I do not leave today, I shall leave soon, and I do so wish to have spoken of this before I do.”
“Then speak!” Mary said, with a gentle laugh that she hoped was encouraging. She was nervous to see him to ill-at-ease, and wished to know what had so unsettled him.
“I speak of - of marriage, Miss Mary.” He paused. “You see, there a title has snuck in once more, for it is a formal request, I suppose, and must be spoken of as such.” He took a deep breath. “Miss Mary Bennet, I have known you but a few days, and yet it feels as if I have known you my whole life. It is as if I conjured the whole of Longbourn and you at your piano that very first day I arrived, for I stumbled upon it like a man upon a mirage. I cannot offer you a great home, or a title, or land, but I have a little fortune accrued from my career, and I think we can be happy together. I know it is too soon to hope you might care for me more than a little, but that little is all I ask. Will you marry me, Mary?”
He might just as well have spoken the words in French, or Greek, or Ancient Egyptian, for all the sense Mary made of them at first.
“You wish to-” she murmured.
“I wish to marry you, Miss Mary. If you will have me.”
Mary glanced around them, to ensure they were far enough away from her sisters that they had not been overheard. Elizabeth and Mr Darcy walked together, and Jane and Mr Bingley had gone on ahead at such a pace that they had left some distance between them.
“You do not wish it.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke in despair as if it were fact, not a question.
“Forgive me,” he continued. “I ought not to have spoken without being sure of your affections. I ought not to have spoken at all. It was too soon, too sudden -”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mary said, finding her voice at last.
“Richard,” he corrected her. “I think we might risk using first names just presently.
“Richard,” Mary whispered, shyly. She felt strange to be using his Christian name, and yet once she uttered it she could not imagine ever calling him by another.
“You cannot truly mean to propose to me, that you wish to marry...me?”
“What other Mary would I address?” His tone was anxious, still, but there was a hint of his old teasing.
“But you cannot mean me,” Mary protested. “I am...nobody. Nothing.”
“You are the sweetest creature I have ever met,” Richard countered. “Kind, and gentle, and precisely the lady I wish to marry. Can you not see our modest little cottage, filled with music - for we shall acquire you a piano. A brand new one, one for every room if you wish it.” He grinned. “And now you see the necessity of a cottage, with but a few rooms. For what little wealth I have shall otherwise go entirely on music.”
“You are being ridiculous,” Mary said.
“Indeed I am. Ridiculous and nonsensical and utterly serious about my feelings for you, Miss Mary Bennet.”
He reached for her hand and Mary was surprised by how gently he held it in his. “You have not yet answered me.”
“Haven’t I?” Mary was honestly surprised, but when she realised she had not yet uttered the one word that would set Richard’s heart at rest, she could not resist holding him in suspense a moment or two longer. “Well, now, I am not sure...”
His features had barely had time to fall before she recanted her intent, and nodded, fervently. “Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I would be delighted to marry you.”
“MAMA!”
Jane raised the cry as the party reached Longbourn. Lizzy haunted Mary’s side, still unsure of what reception she might recei
ve from her mother but also so happy to see her sister happy that she did not wish to let either Mary or Colonel Fitzwilliam out of her sight, lest anything change.
“She has taken herself to bed, dear cousin Jane.” Mr Collins’ voice rose from the parlour, and Jane and Lizzy exchanged a glance.
“You had better go, Jane. If she sees me there's likely to be still more upset and she'll think I am creating this marriage merely for sport!” Lizzy pulled Mary tight to her. “As if I would do such a thing: as if I could have imagined doing such a thing, had it not happened before my own eyes.” She glanced around. “Where is Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
But the Colonel had his own plan, and had knocked smartly on Mr Bennet’s study door. From within, Lizzy heard her father’s weary voice calling “Come”, and taking one last fortifying breath, he pushed the door open and entered. Lizzy had just time to hear Mr Bennet’s warm “Why, Colonel Fitzwilliam! How pleased I am to see you!” before the door was closed.
“I wonder if I ought to have accompanied him,” Mary wondered, chewing her lower lip.
“I would not worry about it, Mary. They will ask for you when they want to see you, I am sure. Besides, you cannot leave me alone with Mr Collins!” Lizzy shuddered, but as if that gentleman had heard his name and considered it a summons, he appeared in the doorway of the parlour.
“Miss Elizabeth! Miss Mary, what has happened? Did I hear Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice? What of your other guests? Pray, do invite them in, for I would dearly like to see Mr Darcy again before my departure for Kent.”
“Oh, Mr Collins, are you leaving us?” Lizzy asked, her voice trilling with hope and relief.
“Well, yes -” Mr Collins began, sending her a strange look. “We -”
He was not given time to finish his sentence, for there was a great shriek from above, and Mrs Bennet’s footsteps sounded heavily on the stairs.
“Mary! Mary, my dear, sweet Mary! Where are you?”
Mary scarcely had time to respond before a whirlwind, disguised as Mrs Bennet, engulfed her fully in an embrace. “You must tell me everything, dear. How did you manage to secure such a man as Colonel Fitzwilliam? Of course, I would not be content with a mere Colonel for Jane, but for any other of my daughters, such a match is to be rejoiced over.” She sniffed at Elizabeth. “In fact, I congratulate you for achieving what your elder sister could not. Where is the dear man?”
“He is speaking with Father,” Mary said, her voice muffled by her mother’s tight embrace.
“Come, come, let us sit in the parlour and you might tell me everything! Do you know, I had a suspicion of his affection for you, but did not wish to speak, lest I spoiled everything.” She laughed. “I knew, given time, he would see your sweet character and be unable to resist. Now, tell me, do you intend to marry here? And Colonel Fitzwilliam will be seeking a home, of course. I hope he will consider securing one in Hertfordshire, so that you might be around family - for I should miss you so, so much if you were wrenched away from us, Mary dear!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes skywards, certain that Mary had never yet received so much attention from her mother as she did at this moment. In fact, Mrs Bennet largely overlooked her middle daughter, little caring whether she was at home at all, provided she was not under her feet.
“We have not decided yet,” Mary said, glancing anxiously towards the parlour door, as if looking for Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Yes, give them a moment, Mama. Father has not yet given his consent to the match. Colonel Fitzwilliam is speaking to him now.”
“Well, that is merely a formality.” Mrs Bennet tossed her head, shooting Elizabeth an angry look before turning pointedly back to Mary. “He understands the importance of duty.”
What was that supposed to mean? Elizabeth could not help but return to Charlotte's words, and, almost by reflex, her eyes sought out Mr Collins who happened, at that moment, to be openly staring at her with what he evidently intended to be a mournful gaze. Unfortunately, it struck Elizabeth as comical, and she looked away quickly, before her laughter betrayed her.
“Jane, dear, I hope your Mr Bingley was witness to this happy proposal!” Mrs Bennet said, exalting over the two of her daughters who had made her most happy and ignoring the one she despaired of. “Perhaps it will encourage him to do likewise!”
“I am sure Mr Bingley will speak when the time is right,” Jane said, with a shy smile. “And in any case, Mama, he and Mr Darcy are waiting just outside, so you must guard your tongue.”
“I must do no such thing! Outside? Why do they wait outside?” She bustled to her feet. “Mr Bingley! You must come in at once and take tea with us, while my husband and Colonel Fitzwilliam see to their business. Oh, and you too, Mr Darcy. Our cousin Mr Collins will be delighted for the opportunity to speak to you once more.”
A masculine muttering reached the parlour but Elizabeth took it for assent, for after a moment or two more, both Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were awkwardly thrust through the doorway to join them.
“Mr Darcy!” Mr Collins leapt to his feet, affecting a deep bow which was far too formal for so small a setting, and served only to make him look still more ridiculous than usual. Mr Darcy lifted his eyes to Elizabeth with a grimace, and again she was forced to look away to keep from laughing out loud.
“You see, Mr Bingley! But one week’s acquaintance and already Colonel Fitzwilliam is conscious of his wants and wishes. That we might all make our decisions so firmly!”
“Yes, indeed, Mrs Bennet!” Mr Bigley laughed, little realising Mrs Bennet’s intention was to urge him to do likewise.
The door to Mr Bennet’s study opened with a flourish, and both gentlemen within came to join the rest of the party crammed into the Longbourn parlour.
“Well, my dear,” Mr Bennet said, patting Colonel Fitzwilliam warmly on the shoulder. “It appears our middle daughter has outwitted us both and made a solid, dependable match, with nary a moment's interference from either parent.” His eyes darkened. “If only the others might be permitted to do the same.”
“All is settled?”
In this instance, both Elizabeth and her mother shared an expression of breathless anticipation. With a fervent, happy nod, Colonel Fitzwilliam set them at ease.
“All is settled. Of course, there are still a lot of arrangements to be made.” He laughed. “Like securing a house, for I cannot ask my Mary to join me in outstaying my welcome at Netherfield.” He beamed at his friends, but his smile faltered a fraction. “And I must keep my pledge to visit my aunt at Rosings. I wonder, Mary, if you might accompany me, for I would like her to know you, and then you might meet my cousin Anne, of whom we were speaking just today. She would love you, I know, and be a kind friend to you.”
Mary hesitated.
“You may bring someone with you of course, for propriety - any one of your sisters, or all of them, for there are rooms a-plenty in Rosings.”
“Oh, indeed!” Mr Collins breathed. “And I can vouch for their style, their elegance, their -”
“Did someone suggest we might take tea?” Mr Darcy said, in a vaguely irritable tone of voice, evidently desiring more to silence Mr Collins than to seek refreshment.
“Elizabeth must go with you,” Mrs Bennet said, with a decided nod, quite ignoring Mr Darcy. “For that will coincide very neatly with your plans, will not it, Mr Collins?”
“Indeed!” He launched forward, securing Elizabeth’s hand almost before she realised what he was doing. “Your father has consented, my dear cousin Elizabeth, and so we might marry without delay. Three weeks in Kent is all we require!”
Chapter Seventeen
“It is some joke, surely? Some scheme Mama has devised to teach me a lesson. She cannot possibly mean to go through with it?”
When the truth of the situation had dawned on Elizabeth she had bid their guests farewell and made a hasty retreat to her room. Jane and Mary were forced, out of politeness and a desire, on Mary’s part, to bid her newly affianced a proper goodbye, to de
lay following her for a few minutes, and when they, at last, reached Elizabeth's room the door had been barricaded closed. It took persuasion, and a promise that they were alone, for Elizabeth to relent and permit them to enter.
“It cannot be true?” Lizzy lifted her face from the pillow it had been buried in and turned first to Jane and then to Mary, who could do nothing but nod, sadly.
“Mama and Mr Collins must have persuaded Father while we were out,” Jane said. “He never would have consented without some argument on their part.”
“They wish you to be happy,” Mary said quietly. “And to be well provided for. I do not think it is malicious.”
“And yet they condemn me to misery my whole life!” Elizabeth burst into tears with such ferocity that Mary was shocked. She had never seen Elizabeth exhibit such emotion, and wished she could think of some way to help her sister.
“And so I must go to Kent and be paraded around as Mr Collins’ bride.” Lizzy shuddered. “Do you know, I actually thought I had misjudged the man, acted too hastily in refusing him. Charlotte accused me of being selfish, but now I think it is Mama being selfish, and Mr Collins too. They do not care for my feelings, only that I am married and Longbourn is safe for the future.”
“You must come to Kent,” Mary agreed, her mind racing. “But you need not come as Mr Collins’ bride. Why not stay at Rosings with me as my guest? Colonel Fitzwilliam has declared I might have one - and I cannot think of a better friend in these days than you, Lizzy.”
Lizzy stopped sniffling long enough to process this idea.
“You will help me think of a way out of this, Mary?”
“Yes.” Mary nodded, stoutly. “Or make it a more palatable option at least. We do not know Mr Collins well, perhaps he is a perfectly fine gentleman -”
Lizzy snorted.