Only a Heartbeat Away: Pride and Prejudice Novella

by Dixon, P. O.

  “Sir, I beg you to refrain from expressing such harsh sentiments about someone whom I consider a dear friend, even if our acquaintance is of short duration. You may very well have differences with Miss Darcy, but that can have nothing at all to do with me.”

  Respecting her wishes, the gentleman spoke no more on the subject of Georgiana Darcy; however, his sentiments towards her brother simply would not be repressed, such had been the magnitude of Mr. Darcy’s offences against him. The more he talked, the more she listened—even encouraged, for she considered that both Pemberley’s housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, and Mr. Wickham had spoken words along a similar vein, the difference being the former’s commendations were fashioned by loyalty, and the latter’s recriminations were wrought by injustice. All in all, Mr. Wickham had given a pretty good account of things. In fact, his words carried more weight as he and Mr. Darcy were reared together and were once considered friends. Surely one’s childhood friend is more privy to certain unflattering aspects of one’s character than a household servant whose very existence depends upon blind loyalty.

  Before they parted for the evening, Mr. Wickham remained of a mind to discuss the gentleman from Derbyshire. “I wonder whether Darcy is likely to return to the country in the foreseeable future.”

  “Do you refer to the upcoming Netherfield ball, sir? I am aware all of the officers are invited. Will your plans to attend be affected by the possibility of his being in attendance?”

  “I see no reason for my plans being adversely affected by Darcy’s presence.” He took her hand in his and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You must save room on your dance card for me, or I shall be sorely disappointed.”

  How it pleased Elizabeth to be so adored. She could think of nothing other than Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way to Longbourn Village. His tale of the injustices of Mr. Darcy told her a couple things. Were the lieutenant a man in want of a wife, the chance she would be a viable choice was small. Unless she had read him completely wrong, a man of his habits of taste would likely require a wife with her own fortune. She might enjoy his smiles and his charming and amiable conversation, but she still had the task of finding and accepting her own husband before it was too late.

  I am growing increasingly concerned that my time is running out!

  Chapter 4 ~ In Defiance of Everything

  Elizabeth walked around much of the following days with her head full of the dashing Lt. Wickham. The weight of Mr. Darcy’s injustices towards the gentleman burdened her as well.

  Had Mr. Darcy honoured his father’s intentions for the gentleman, then Mr. Wickham might well be a vicar in the idyllic town of Kympton. Instead, he is consigned to life as a mere footman. How magnanimous he is in not exposing Mr. Darcy when it was made clear that he has found in the people of Hertfordshire a willingness to be pleased by anything he might say in support of their own objections against the proud man.

  I have not added Mr. Wickham’s name to my list just yet, but more and more, I believe I should. It is not a crime to lack wealth and connections, and, besides, neither of those attributes is on my list of requisites.

  How blessed she had been to meet a man who possessed such goodness, such charm, and integrity. Above all, he was amiable. How he had flattered her ego by sitting with her for so very long when it was obvious so many of the other women in attendance at the Phillipses’ dinner party were eager for their share in conversation with him, and none more than her two younger sisters who surely admired any gentleman in a red coat.

  I only wish all the offices in Colonel Forster’s regime are as upstanding as Lt. George Wickham.

  Soon the evening of the Netherfield ball was nigh. The eagerly anticipated occasion proved a very happy one for everyone it seemed. Everyone save Elizabeth. Mr. Wickham had failed to arrive at all. His asking me to save room on my dance card was as good as a promise that he would be there. Her pursuant disappointment had been assuaged by her certainty that matters of great important had waylaid the gentleman. Her cousin saw to it that she had her own share of concerns. Mr. Collins had announced his intentions to remain close by her side throughout the course of the evening, and he made good on his promise. There was but one saving grace as far as Elizabeth was concerned: much to Miss Bingley’s poorly disguised dismay, Mr. Darcy did not return from town to attend the ball. By every indication, Miss Bingley had been counting on his being there.

  Had he been in attendance, he would have seen the most hideous display of lack of decorum by her family: Mr. Collins’s obsequiousness to everyone he thought was anyone, Mary’s poor exhibition on the pianoforte surrounded by a crowd of astonished listeners praying for their chance to outshine her, her father’s admonishment that she should give the other ladies a chance to exhibit, and the two younger girls’ shameless flirtation with every redcoat in the room. All that she might have endured with ease, but it was her mother’s boasting that soon there would be a wedding between her eldest daughter, Jane, and Mr. Bingley that embarrassed Elizabeth most and displeased the Bingley sisters exceedingly.

  Elizabeth gathered her things and headed towards the door. Only a solitary stroll to Oakham Mount would soothe her weary nerves that morning. The warm sun was delightful against her face. The fresh autumn air was divine. Before long, the unwelcomed sound of hurried footsteps disturbing the path she had chosen caught her attention.

  “Miss Elizabeth! Oh, Miss Elizabeth!” Loud panting accompanied the garish pleas.

  It cannot be! She hastened her steps.

  “Miss Elizabeth!” She raised her hands to her face and covered her eyes. There was nothing else to do but stop and wait. Mr. Collins was completely out of breath by the time he reached her side. She surmised some sense of decorum prevented him from reaching out his arm and resting it upon her shoulder in an attempt to steady himself.

  “Miss Elizabeth, I am delighted to have time alone with you this morning, away from your family.”

  “Pardon me, sir?”

  “Indeed. What I wish to say to you requires a private audience.”

  This sounds very bad. Elizabeth’s worst fears, born of the certainty that she was her cousin’s choice for his wife owing to her mother’s insistence that Jane was already spoken for, was about to be realised.

  “I am afraid, Mr. Collins, that you can have nothing to say to me that would require a private audience. Certainly nothing I would wish to entertain.”

  “I am afraid you are mistaken, for what I am about to say must undoubtedly please you as well as your family. Indeed, I have your mother’s blessing. It is her favourite wish. It is also the wish of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, that I should choose a wife, and I am happy to say that I have singled you out from amongst your sisters to be my bride.”

  Elizabeth was glad she had forgone breakfast that morning. “Sir, I am obliged to thank you for the great honour you have bestowed, but I cannot accept an offer of marriage from you.” There, she had declined his proposal, and she now wanted nothing more than to flee his presence.

  He had other ideas. “My dear cousin, I am aware it is the habit of young ladies to suspend a gentleman’s pleasure before ultimately accepting his proposal. However, in such a case as yours and the unlikelihood of your ever receiving a similar offer, I would advise you to dispense with said practice.

  “The sooner we are engaged, the sooner we shall be married. Thus, resolving the situation of the entail in a manner agreeable to the Bennets as well as myself. Most important, my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, will be pleased.”

  “Sir, trust me when I say I do not accept you.”

  “I beg you, cousin, do not be foolish. Whilst I confess to being slightly amused by your impertinence, I dare say it is but one of your qualities that will not recommend you to Lady Catherine. I am certain you will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; however, your wit and vivacity absolutely must remain tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite.”<
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  “You, sir, are ridiculous! What cares have I of what Lady Catherine de Bourgh may or may not think of me?”

  “My dear cousin, I must put a swift end to this conversation. Your attitude is not merely insolent, but it begs serious reproach. As my wife, I may allow you certain liberties as regards your free flowing wit in the privacy of my humble abode, but never as it pertains to Lady Catherine.”

  Mr. Collins straightened his neck and tugged at his coat. “I have all but promised your excellent mother that I would offer you my hand in marriage. Mrs. Bennet assured me you would be agreeable. Must I speak with your father?”

  “Sir, there is no point in this discussion. It is just as well that your noble patroness might find my impertinence objectionable, for I will not have you!”

  Collins reached for and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. She looked at the large hairy hand attached to her person. She glared at its owner.

  “Unhand me, sir!”

  Contrition marred his countenance as his hand fell slowly to his side. Elizabeth stormed off determined not to look back for fear of giving him hope. She had to have known this moment would come—that she would find herself in the position of declining Mr. Collins and in so doing, disappoint her mother. Still, it vexed her exceedingly to be singled out as the object of her cousin’s esteem and even more to be painted as possibly objectionable by the likes of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. True, she had yet to meet the proud woman and form her own judgement, but Mr. Wickham’s testimony of her character combined with Mr. Collins’s admonishing declaration had been enough to seal her opinion. Elizabeth would much rather take her chances with the prospect her father had chosen.

  She could feel her temper rising. That foolish, foolish man. Does he think so highly of himself to suppose I would be flattered by his proposal, or does he think so little of me?

  Elizabeth took longer than usual to return to the house. Reaching for the door handle, she braced herself. Whatever awaited her on the other side could not be good.

  Her mother stood there with her hands on her hips and her countenance grim. “What on earth have you done to Mr. Collins? He is inside the library as we speak. He has proclaimed that he has changed his mind, and he will not have you as his wife. What have you done?”

  “What have I done?”

  “Do not pretend you did not break his heart when all he ever meant to do was make amends to our family. He is with your father as we speak withdrawing his proposal of marriage to you.”

  “Mamma, you do not know me at all if you supposed I would entertain the notion of marrying Mr. Collins for even a second.”

  “I know you very well, young woman. You are stubborn and selfish, and you do not care one fig about the future of Longbourn, of me and your younger sisters. Well, I suppose you know what this means. As no other gentleman is likely to request your hand in marriage, you will be obliged to marry Mr. Caseman when he calls upon Longbourn in the spring to honour his father’s agreement with Mr. Bennet. Your father and I have discussed it, and he and I are of one mind on the subject. Now I can only pray it is not too late to induce a promise from Mr. Collins to ask for Mary’s hand in marriage, for she is the next in line.”

  Mary chose that particular moment to enter the room. Either she did not hear what her mother had said, or she did not find the prospect the least bit objectionable. She said nothing and took a seat by the window.

  Mrs. Bennet narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth. She was about to say something when she heard Mr. Collins’s voice in the hallway. She ran out to meet him. “Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins! Might I have a private audience with you?”

  “I am obliged to attend your every wish, madam; however, a prior obligation prevents me from doing so at this moment, for I am expected at Lucas Lodge for dinner. I shall make every effort to attend you upon my return.” With that, he bestowed an awkward bow and bid Mrs. Bennet adieu.

  ~*~

  Charlotte visited Longbourn a day or so later and requested a moment alone with Elizabeth. Few words were exchanged between them until they came upon the small garden. Such uncharacteristic behaviour from my dear friend does not bode well. What can be the cause of her reticence?

  Her usual self-assuredness gone, Charlotte reached out and touched Elizabeth’s hand. “Pray, Eliza, you will hear what I have to say and not judge me too severely.”

  “What is it you wish to tell me, Charlotte?”

  “I am engaged—to Mr. Collins.”

  Elizabeth drew a quick breath and then twisted her lips. “Mr. Collins?”

  “I begged you not to judge me, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth endeavoured to view her friend’s acceptance of Mr. Collins’s proposal on the heels of his proposal to her as reasonable. “It is not you whom I judge but Mr. Collins! The man is ridiculous as well as uncouth!”

  “You might well regard him as such if that is your wish. I prefer to consider him in a more optimistic light than that. I see him as a decent respectable man with a good living and a nice home. I will be well provided for.”

  Elizabeth looked at Charlotte as if she had spoken gibberish.

  “For heaven sakes, Lizzy, I am twenty seven years old and already a burden to my family. This engagement is more than I dared ever to allow myself to hope for. Please try to be happy for me.”

  Happy? How can I be happy when you are giving up every chance of dignity for the sake of security? Elizabeth took a measured step back and gaped at her friend as if seeing her for the first time. Does she not comprehend what a life with the odious man entails? She will have to touch him. He would be forever touching her! Elizabeth shuddered. Lingering traces of Mr. Collins’s steely hands on her arm festered on her skin. No one had ever handled her thusly.

  Suppose there is an ugly shade in his character. Do I dare mention it to Charlotte? Elizabeth persuaded herself to the contrary. He is ridiculous, but he is also a vicar, which must certainly render him decent and honourable.

  Hours later, Elizabeth sat in her eldest sister’s room, still not accustomed to the idea of her intimate friend having accepted Mr. Collins’s proposal.

  “Jane, it was but days ago that he made an offer of marriage to me.”

  “Pray, Lizzy, is that what has got you concerned? Have you any regrets for spurning Mr. Collins’s proposal?”

  Her mouth opened wide. “Do not be ridiculous, Jane! It is not that at all.”

  “Then what is it? Charlotte is practical, is she not?”

  “I always suspected Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony was not the same as my own, but to sacrifice so much dignity and esteem for worldly advantage—how disgraceful! I should never imagine she will be happy with her choice.”

  The two sisters continued in that fashion until Elizabeth retired to her room. Alone, she sat at her writing table and pondered her list. Lt. Wickham. Mr. Caseman. I fail to see why not … my prospects do not look very promising. Mr. Wickham freely admits he possesses no wealth to speak of. She chewed on her lower lip. That in itself is no reason to dismiss him. Then, there is the second gentleman whom I have yet to meet. I suppose he might just be the one. The theretofore never met gentleman, Mr. Justin Caseman, was a first son and the heir of a respectable fortune of nearly three thousand pounds a year. An alliance with the Bennets was truly for the convenience of the elder Mr. Caseman’s longstanding friendship with Mr. Bennet, whose fortune was roughly equivalent, save the entail on his estate.

  A startling thought occurred to her. Am I obliged to add Mr. Collins’s name simply as a matter of record, even though I would have never considered him for the life of me? He had made her an offer. She held her breath and scribbled his name in very tiny letters. Still, it was too much. She immediately drew a heavy line through his name. Even that was not quite sufficient to rid her pristine list of the pursuant degradation. Elizabeth balled the list and tossed it in the fire. She took out a fresh sheet of paper to begin anew.

  ~*~

  Two weeks had passed, and Mrs. Bennet’s disappointment with h
er least favourite daughter had not abated. Gone was the prospect that one of her daughters would be marrying the heir of Longbourn and thus the certainty that she should always consider it her home. The arrival of spring and hence Mr. Caseman could not come fast enough for her. Until such time as he would arrive and take Elizabeth off her hands, Mrs. Bennet contented herself with the strong assurance that Mr. Bingley would soon request her Jane’s hand in marriage. When she was not counting her blessing in that regard, she was cursing the misfortune of having an acquaintance such as Charlotte Lucas, whom she accused of being a traitor lying in wait for Mr. Collins when she knew full well that he was intended for one of the Bennet girls.

  Elizabeth had endured quite enough of her mother’s chastisements and her ever constant reminder of what the fruition of her father’s scheme portended. The arrival of her Aunt and Uncle Gardner for Christmas did not come soon enough for Elizabeth. She made certain that not long thereafter, she and her favourite aunt found a quiet area to talk.

  “Lizzy, your uncle and I would like little more than to have you come for a visit in town, especially if it will be the means of throwing you in the path of respectable young men. However, I must say I have met the Caseman family. They are decent and hardworking people. I have not met the young man for whom your father has plans—whom even before his birth, it seems, has been predestined for one of the Bennet daughters.”

  “I do not object to the fact that my father has taken such extraordinary measures to see one of his daughters well-settled, regardless of how archaic I find the notion of arranged marriages. Rather, I object to being told with whom I should fall in love.”

  “I do not believe your father was concerned with love when he and his friend devised the scheme, but rather the security of any daughters he might sire. There are few choices for a gentleman’s daughter or any woman for that matter: marriage or spinsterhood.”