by Meg Osborne
“I only ask,” Lizzy interrupted, desperately. “Because I wish to compare it to the parish church at Meryton. We were well acquainted at one point with the curate there, a Mr Humphrey, although he has moved on of late to a new parish.”
“Oh?” Mr Collins bristled but was soon content to speak again. “I do think it a shame when a curate cannot be compelled to remain in his parish for a length of time. Indeed, it is a long profession, mine. Lasting into eternity!” He laughed. “I think it beneficial to one's flock, to have the self-same minister for some decades, otherwise where is the stability?”
“I do not doubt you are right,” Elizabeth said, politely.
“For my own part, I do not intend on moving from Hunsford for quite some time. Indeed, not until I inherit Longbourn -” He stopped, at least having the grace to acknowledge, too late, the implication of this turn of events. “Although I am sure that will not be for many, many years yet.” He cleared his throat. “How is your father, Miss Elizabeth? And your dear Mother? I hope they will not miss you too much...”
“They shall see me again in but three weeks, Mr Collins,” Lizzy countered. “When they attend the wedding.”
Mr Collins’ eyes lit up, and Lizzy felt an irritable need to squash his hopes once more.
“The wedding of my sister and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Indeed.” His voice was low, and he fixed his attention on straightening the unused cutlery that lay before him. “And might they not have another reason to come to Kent? Some other...” He trailed off.
“I imagine they will enjoy seeing the scenery as much as I do,” Elizabeth replied, feigning ignorance of the reason she knew her cousin hinted at. “And I am sure Mama is eager to meet Lady Catherine.”
“Of course,” Mr Collins nodded sagely. “Such a person. I would be surprised if your parents were not eager to make her acquaintance.”
They lapsed into awkward silence, and Mr Collins searched the table with his eyes, evidently looking for a new topic of conversation. Elisabeth steeled herself for yet more commentary on the elegance of the table decorations, the wonder of the pineapple that sat, untouched, on a bed of flowers in the centre. Lizzy chose not to mention the pungent aroma that wafted from the fruit and indicated it had certainly outlived its usefulness as a decoration and a talking point, and ought rather be disposed of.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she turned to him. “Have you decided yet where you and Mary will make your home? I wager Kent is lovely, but I wonder if you intend on remaining here after you are wed?”
“We shall go north after the wedding,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, after sharing a brief glance with Mary that lifted Elizabeth's spirits. “My brother is there, and of course, there is also Pemberley.”
“Pemberley?” Lizzy glanced automatically at Darcy, and noticed he must have caught the word, too, for his eyes lifted and he looked as if he might rather like to join their conversation.
“Ah, you are acquainted with my cousin's home.” Richard smiled. “Yet I do not believe you have seen it.”
“I am not familiar with Derbyshire,” Lizzy admitted. “Although I hear it is particularly beautiful country.”
“It is,” Richard remarked, with a happy sigh. “I would not be disappointed to make my home there. Although, of course, that will depend on Mary's wishes.” He bowed his head in deference to his partner. “Mary will no doubt wish to be near to her family, and so we may find ourselves returning to Hertfordshire.”
“Not necessarily,” Mary protested. She shot Elizabeth a particularly unreadable glance. “For you are assuming, Colonel Fitzwilliam, that my family all intend on staying in Hertfordshire.”
Before Elizabeth could question her sister on her remark, Mr Collins found a means of inserting himself back into the conversation.
“I do not doubt, Miss Mary, that your sisters are fond of their home. I wish to reassure you, both of you, that no matter what should come to pass between myself and Miss Elizabeth - that is, whatever the future holds -” He paused here, and smiled so widely at Elizabeth that his features seemed to disappear into one another. “Whatever the future holds, Longbourn will always be a refuge for you.”
AFTER THEIR MEAL, EVERYBODY removed to the parlour.
“Miss Mary, will you play for us?” Lady Catherine had the grace to speak softly, so that her request of Mary was met with a shy nod, and she gave up her seat next to Elizabeth to cross the wide room towards the piano.
Richard watched her progress, meeting her eyes briefly and smiling in a way he hoped was encouraging. The first few notes she played faltered, but she gained confidence as she played, and Richard risked a glance at his aunt, whose lips curved up ever so slightly at the edges, indicating she approved of Mary’s choice of piece, of her playing, of Mary herself.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
“Mary is quite charming, Richard,” Anne whispered, leaning closer to him so as not to disturb anyone else’s enjoyment of the music. “I can see why you chose her.”
“I was not conscious of there being a choice!” he confessed. “We met purely by chance, but I am minded to consider it the hand of providence.”
Darcy snorted, to his left, and Richard smiled, shaking his head in acknowledgement of his cousin’s despairing attitude.
“I am well aware of how I sound, cousin, you need not fear me lost to romantic nonsense.” He turned back to Anne. “But I trust you will both indulge me, for now, to acknowledge I am truly the happiest I have been in...well, a very long time.
“You deserve it.” Anne’s face seemed suddenly serious and when Richard looked at her, he thought her eyes seemed momentarily full. She blinked, and the emotion, whatever it was, seemed to pass. “Now, tell me yourself, are you recovered from your illness? Mama has been very concerned. We both have.”
Richard was touched at this rumoured affection from his aunt, who was rather less affectionate in person. He fancied, of the two, the true depth of anxiety for his health came from his cousin, but regardless, answered the question with a warm smile.
“I am quite well, though I thank you for your concern.” He patted his chest. “There’s not a great deal can keep a Fitzwilliam down for long.”
“It does us good to have you here,” Anne agreed. She angled herself, slightly, to include Darcy in their conversation. “Both of you. And Miss Elizabeth and Mary. What a party you make!”
“I hope it does not unduly disturb you, cousin?” It was Darcy who spoke, and Richard resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why would the presence of friends and family disturb Anne, when, to his mind, she otherwise longed for company?
“That is the second time you have suggested such a thing,” Anne said, with a patient sigh. “If not the third, and you have not yet been here a day. Please, William, do not consider yourself imposing in any way. In fact, I am glad to have you both here, for Mama...” She trailed off, darting a glance up towards Lady Catherine, whose attention was fixed on Mary's performance. “I am sure it is a trial enough for you to be here, William,” Anne continued, addressing Darcy. “For Mama is increasingly eager for - for a wedding.” She laid a hand on Richard's arm. “At least now she may have her wish, albeit from rather different quarters.”
“You mean you do not have your own wedding planned and neglected to mention it?” Richard strove for levity but was surprised to see Anne's lips tighten in something that might have been anger or disappointment. He hurried to change the subject. “I fear my wedding is not the only one Aunt Catherine wishes to invest her time in.” He nodded towards Mr Collins, who was angling himself ever closer to Elizabeth. Elizabeth, for her part, kept her attention rapt on Mary and tried not to notice the gentleman seeking to catch her eye.
“Oh! I was under the impression that the marriage was settled.” Anne frowned. “Did not Mr Collins propose?”
“I rather believe Miss Bennet refused him,” Darcy said, drily. “Alas, he seems not to have taken the hint.”
&
nbsp; Anne’s lips drew together in a line.
“In that case, I fear my mother may aid him in his delusion. She is adamant he must marry, and soon. When he told of a family of cousins, and explained the intricacy of the situation: that marrying one of the Bennet sisters would secure their right to remain at Longbourn, my mother was enthusiastic that this would be his duty not only as a gentleman but a Christian. I am afraid neither one of them entertained the idea that any of the young ladies might not wish to marry him.”
“I rather think, if Mr Collins knew Miss Bennet a little better, he might not wish to marry her,” Darcy muttered, under his breath.
Anne’s mouth fell open in surprise, and Richard shot a sharp glance at his cousin. Darcy might disagree with Elizabeth almost for sport, but did he really think her so dreadful a prospect? His eyes narrowed. Have I misunderstood you so completely? Fortunately, Anne posed the question before Richard could form one.
“Is she so disagreeable?” She had looked at Elizabeth, then back at Darcy with wide eyes. “I confess, I have spoken to her only briefly, but she seems to me eminently pleasant, intelligent -”
“That is precisely my point,” Darcy said, shortly. “Miss Elizabeth is clever, far too clever to happily suit a man like Collins. She knows her own mind and will not be easily dictated to. How could he conceive of marrying her, when he is so obviously not her equal? The idea is -” He stopped speaking almost as suddenly as he began, and Richard was amused to see his cousin’s cheeks reddening, ever so slightly, so that it might be perceived to be the influence of their proximity to the fire, only, had Richard not understood his cousin so well.
“It is a poor match,” he finished, lamely. “I cannot imagine it proving a happy prospect, for either of them. Excuse me, I wish to refill my glass. May I fetch some refreshments for you, cousin?”
The question was only addressed to Anne, but Richard handed his own glass up.
“If you are going, cousin, you might refresh mine. I wish to hear more of your opinion of the second Miss Bennet, Anne. Tell me, what pleasant things have you deduced concerning my Mary in your short acquaintance?”
Richard could scarcely keep the smile from his feature as he referred to Mary with that tiny preposition in front of her name. Mine. I may rejoice that she will very soon be, for in but three weeks we will be married, and any uncertainty behind us. He may have listened attentively to Anne’s pronouncements, but his eyes lingered on Darcy. If only the same could be said of his cousin. He was convinced, now more than ever, of Darcy’s affections for Elizabeth, and still surer that she might return them, if given the slightest encouragement. How, then, to accomplish this?
Mary finished playing with a flourish, and Lady Catherine burst into enthusiastic applause.
“My dear, that was wonderful. Do play another. Anne, dear, was not Miss Mary’s playing most elegant indeed?”
“Indeed it was, Mama.” Anne stood, and crossed to the piano. “Here, you must look through my music and choose something to play. I am sure to have some pieces that are new to you, and I wish to hear them interpreted by someone with real talent.”
Lady Catherine tsked, dismissing Anne’s self-deprecating comment.
“You must not confuse my daughter’s modesty for truth, Miss Bennet.” She turned to Elizabeth. “As you shall see later this evening, my own daughter is also very skilled at the piano.” She sighed, wistfully. “I fancy I would have been, also, had I the opportunity to learn in my youth. As it is, I congratulate myself on my very fine ear for music.” Her eyes lifted momentarily to Mr Collins before returning to her conversation. “And you, Miss Elizabeth? Do you consider yourself musical?”
“Not in the least!” Elizabeth said, with a laugh. “Although, like you, I appreciate hearing it played, and played well. Mary, do play again. I enjoy hearing you, and truly, this piano is a marvel compared to our old instrument at home.”
“You do not have a very fine pianoforte of your own?” Lady Catherine's eyebrows lifted.
“No, indeed! We have not the money for such extravagance.” Elizabeth stood, curtseying slightly. “Please excuse me, Lady Catherine. I am rather overheated so close to the fire. I think I will stand a while by the window, if you will permit me.”
Lady Catherine nodded, the tiniest of dismissals, and Elizabeth took her leave.
Richard had watched the exchange with interest, and could not help but note the superior glance Lady Catherine exchanged with Mr Collins. Was it possible his aunt, too, did not approve of the match between her curate and Elizabeth Bennet? Yet even if that is the case, he reasoned, with a heavy sigh. She would surely not approve of a match between Elizabeth and Darcy. How, then, might we ever proceed towards it?
Chapter Seven
Elizabeth squinted out of the window and into the darkness, the hushed voices and lyrical accompaniment fading to a comforting haze in the background.
Why did I come here? she thought, tracing the light of her reflection in the dark glass. I certainly do not seem to be helping Mary, as I had intended. In fact, I seem to be doing her more harm than good, in forever finding myself opposed to Lady Catherine! Elizabeth sighed. Their hostess certainly did not seem to approve of Elizabeth, although fortunately, her opinion towards Mary seemed sanguine enough, and Elizabeth knew, given the chance, her sweet-natured sister would win her over. Where Mary had before been liable to be prickly, she had softened, almost overnight. Lizzy could not tell whether it was the influence of love on her sister, or whether, in repairing their own fractured relationship, Mary had found a confidence in being herself that left her less likely to find offence where none was intended. She was taking herself less seriously, too, or was it just that Elizabeth gave her enough attention to recognise the humour in her words that had always been there?
A shadow moved in the reflection in the glass, and Elizabeth started, settling when she recognised Mr Darcy’s footstep.
“I ought not to turn my back, Mr Darcy, for that is twice you have caught me unaware, and startled me out of my thoughts.”
He said nothing, but bowed, by way of apology.
“I hope you are enjoying the evening, Miss Bennet,” he remarked, after a pause.
“Enjoying?” Lizzy questioned his choice of word, but glanced over his shoulder towards Mary, who had been joined not only by Anne but by Richard too, and her smile, when she gave it, was a genuine one. “I am happy that my sister is happy.”
“I, too, in seeing my cousin so content.” Mr Darcy’s lips quirked. “Both cousins, for I suppose I must include Anne in my assertion.”
“She seems to have taken to Mary straight away.” Elizabeth sighed, wistfully. “I am glad, for Mary’s sake.”
“They are similar, I fancy. And yet, you do not, I hope, feel at odds here?”
There was an unspoken depth to his question, and Elizabeth was surprised to see real feeling in his eyes.
“I...wonder at the wisdom of my coming,” she confessed, surprising herself with so candid an answer. Mr Darcy said nothing, allowing her space to speak more, should she choose to, and at that moment, Elizabeth found his reserve encouraging. “It is important to me that Mary feels at home here. She is to be married, and I dearly wish her to be welcomed into Colonel Fitzwilliam's family: into your family!” Lizzy raised her eyebrows. “I fear the same cannot be said of me.”
Mr Darcy nodded, slowly.
“My aunt can be...a little caustic at times. You must not take her words to heart, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I rather fear she believes me to be what I am not.”
“And what is that?” Mr Darcy’s lips quirked in amusement.
“About to marry Mr Collin.” Lizzy words were scarcely a groan, yet somehow Mr Darcy distinguished them. His amused smile faltered into a frown.
“Oh, do not tell me what I know you must,” Lizzy said, reading criticism into his shifted stance. She held up a hand. “You need not list all the reasons why I am foolish to refuse a proposal of marriage. I have heard t
hem already, from my mother, or my youngest sisters, or even my dear friend Charlotte, who points out precisely how short-sighted, how selfish I am being in refusing a sensible match.” She could not help but squirm at the word. “Alas, Mr Darcy, I rather fear I am not at all as sensible as I once thought myself. You see, I cannot marry him. I cannot marry where I do not feel affection - yet, no, at present I do not even think that is precisely it. I am a rational creature, sir, do not doubt me. I can well understand that romance outside of novels is not the common way. I can even understand marrying for security or the security of others, but -” She sighed. “Must it mean marrying someone you dislike? Might it not at least be a friend?”
She stopped, then, suddenly recalling where she was and to whom she was speaking.
“Forgive me, Mr Darcy.” She dropped in a polite curtsey. “I did not mean to speak so freely, nor of such a topic.” Her cheeks flushed with heat that could not be in any way related to the warmth of the room, for they were standing in quite the coolest corner of it.
Foolish Elizabeth! she ridiculed herself. If he did not already despair of you, certainly he does now! She did not have emotion enough to reason out why it concerned her so very much at that particular moment what any gentleman thought of her, particularly the one gentleman standing before her, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach to see Darcy’s frowning face turned towards her.
“I think - I think perhaps I am a little fatigued after all,” she said, forcing her features into a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Perhaps the journey is catching up to me now, and punishing me for not seeking to rest earlier, as my sister and your cousin did.”
“Perhaps some refreshments?” Mr Darcy asked, finding his voice at last. “And returning to your seat will permit you at least a little rest. See, my cousin shall play now. Might I fetch your sister?”