Darcy Steps In

by Nicole Goodall

  She turned around and shivered at the sight of a familiar squat figure approaching her on foot. Mr. Collins. Lizzy started back towards Longbourn at something approaching a run, eager to avoid another audience with the great clergyman.

  Sure enough, when she drew closer to him, he smiled widely. ‘Miss Elizabeth. I was just coming to find you.’

  Lizzy stopped and curtsied. ‘How kind of you, Mr. Collins. I must apologise—I walked for longer than I anticipated. I’m needed at home to take care of matters relating to the—’

  ‘Miss Elizabeth,’ he urged as she began to move away. ‘I must speak to you. We must settle this matter at once before—’

  She knew it was impolite but she cared not at that moment. Lizzy hurried as fast as she could.

  The strange quiet struck her again as soon as she entered the door. ‘Where is Jane?’ she asked Mrs. Hill.

  The housekeeper pointed upstairs. ‘Raced up there like there were a wild boar at her heels,’ the stout woman said.

  Lizzy’s heart fluttered in her chest. She dashed upstairs, wondering what on earth could have caused such a reaction in her mild mannered sister.

  On entering their room, Elizabeth was alarmed by the sight of her sister lying prone on the bed. ‘Jane,’ she gasped, throwing herself across the room with little regard for her own health. ‘What is it? Have you succumbed to the same symptoms as father? We must send for the apothecary at once.’

  Jane rolled onto her side before Lizzy could reach her. ‘No,’ she said miserably. ‘No, I’m not ill.’

  Lizzy came to a sudden stop. It was unlike Jane to display such emotion. ‘Oh, Jane,’ she whispered. ‘I’m terribly upset about Father too. Whatever will we do?’

  Her words set off a fresh flow of tears from her sister’s eyes. Lizzy sat and patted her head, making soothing noises as best she could.

  ‘What sort of a person am I?’ Jane said finally, in a crackling voice that sounded nothing like her own.

  ‘You’re a daughter,’ Lizzy reassured. ‘Mourning our father.’

  ‘But that’s the problem,’ Jane said, pushing herself up. It was then that Lizzy spotted the crumpled paper in her sister’s hand.

  ‘What is?’

  Jane let out a racking sob. Lizzy had never seen her so distraught. ‘Lizzy, after what happened to father.’ She stopped and swallowed when her voice cracked. She held up her fist and smiled softly through her tears. ‘One would think I might have more concern about that than the presence or absence of Mr. Charles Bingley at Netherfield.’

  Lizzy sucked in a deep breath. ‘What does the letter say?’ Lizzy knew the depth of her sister’s feelings, even if they might not have been obvious to others. She prayed silently that Jane hadn’t received devastating news.

  But it was as she’d feared.

  ‘A letter from Caroline Bingley,’ Jane said, voice high and faltering. She unfurled the paper, which had been rendered almost illegible by the tears that had fallen on it. It mattered not—Jane appeared to know the contents from memory. ‘Mr. Bingley has departed for London and his sisters have decided to leave. Without any intention of coming back again.’

  Lizzy nodded, pretending to absorb this information. In reality, she was assessing the situation. Though surprised by the suddenness, she saw no disadvantage in the Bingley sisters’ removal. She patted Jane’s hand. ‘Do not worry, sister. I own that it is surprising news given our situation, but Mr. Bingley will not be detained long in London.’

  Jane shook her head and began to recite the letter in a faltering voice. It was as Lizzy suspected—she had committed its contents to memory.

  ‘It is evident by this,’ she concluded, ‘that he returns no more this winter.’

  Elizabeth bit her lip. She wanted nothing more than to reassure her sister that Mr. Bingley would not forget her; that a few months’ absence mattered not.

  Except that was not the case.

  With their father dead, Mr. Collins could hardly be prevailed upon to allow them to remain at Longbourn until such time as Charles Bingley deigned to return to Netherfield. Lizzy hadn’t mentioned her fears to her sister, but she was not as assured of Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst’s goodwill as her good-natured sister. She suspected that his return wouldn’t be quite as imminent as the Bennet girls might have hoped.

  ‘Lizzy?’

  Elizabeth Bennet only half-heard her sister’s words. Her mind was working furiously to reconcile her to the fact that her father had been correct: she was the only hope her family now had.

  5

  ‘Lizzy,’ Mrs. Bennet wailed as Elizabeth gently opened the door and popped her head into her mother’s dressing room.

  ‘Mama,’ she said quietly, watching the older woman intently. She seemed more lucid now, as if the draught’s effects were wearing off.

  Mrs. Bennet sniffed. ‘You see what you drove him to?’

  ‘Mama, I…’ Lizzy was shocked into silence. Could it be true? Did her mother truly believe it was her fault? ‘He was taken ill. The apothecary…’

  ‘He died of a broken heart. That poor man.’

  ‘But,’ Elizabeth frowned, ‘how was he to know? I heard your screams moments after Mr. Collins proposed marriage.’

  ‘A father knows,’ Mrs. Bennet said primly. ‘He must have heard my reaction. Oh, the audacity. Fancy turning him down? A respectable man with such good connections?’

  In her heart, Elizabeth Bennet knew it was her mother’s nerves speaking. But her words cut deep. One thing she knew for certain—there was no way they could broach the subject of Mr. Bingley’s departure now.

  ‘Oh, Lizzy,’ Mrs. Bennet said faintly, clasping her hand to her breast and rocking slowly back and forth. ‘What’s to become of us? He was such a stubborn man. Many times I implored him to remedy that entail that seemed to curse us. And now look! We’ll be run out of here like peasants!’ Mrs. Bennet’s voice had risen to a high-pitched shriek.

  Elizabeth closed the door quietly lest the servants—or Mr. Collins—overhear her mother’s fit of panic.

  ‘It’s true, you know,’ Mrs. Bennet cried. Then a sense of calm seemed to wash over the woman and a dreamy look clouded her eyes. ‘Mr. Bingley. There’s still hope. My Jane—at least one of you wretched girls has sense.’ Her eyes moved rapidly to and fro, as if she were formulating a plan in her mind. Lizzy caught the words ‘Netherfield’ and ‘call’. Her heart sank as she began to wonder if her poor mother would survive the shock of hearing the news of Mr. Bingley’s departure.

  ‘Mother, it hasn’t been settled. Don’t you think—?’

  Mrs. Bennet’s eyes took on a wild look. ‘What do you mean, Lizzy? Of course they will. Mr. Bingley’s a good man. A fine man. Five thousand a year? I’m sure he’ll see us right. Just think,’ she said, calming again. ‘At least if we can’t have Longbourn we’ll have Netherfield. I’m sure Jane can prevail on him to purchase it.’

  Realizing her mother would not see sense, Elizabeth simply nodded and left the room. She hurried out of the house before anybody else could stop her.

  The gardens offered none of their usual peace and tranquillity. If anything, Lizzy became more anxious at the sight of everything her family must now forfeit. Oh, she wasn’t a person driven by material things, but what a change they were about to experience! At best, her aunt Philips might see fit to take them in. Or they might seek refuge in London with the Gardiners. But how? A widow and five unmarried daughters? It was hardly an easy thing to ask of somebody.

  Lizzy shivered. A deep unease had begun to spread in the depths of her chest. She had tried in vain to think of an alternative to marrying Mr. Collins and she finally landed on the truth. As unpalatable as it was, there was no viable alternative.

  6

  Elizabeth Bennet swallowed back the indignation she felt on seeing Mr. Collins seated in her father’s library, perusing a volume on the notable buildings of Hertfordshire. How, she wondered, was it possible that a man of the church could show such impropriety?
But that did not matter. At least, she reassured herself, the man was not a cad or a bounder. No, she observed with a wry smile teasing her lips, she fancied he should seldom have the time to pursue such activities when the majority of his days were taken up with smug self-congratulation.

  Pushing her feelings aside, Elizabeth sighed deeply but silently and rapped softly on the open door frame.

  Thankfully, he looked up before she could trouble herself with further thoughts of the type of man she was about to condemn herself to forever.

  ‘Miss Elizabeth,’ he said grandly. ‘I was just indulging in some quiet reflection. I must say, though Netherfield is a rather fine building, it really pales in comparison to the structure at Rosings. Lady Catherine has done a most impeccable job of restoring the façade.’

  Elizabeth smiled tightly and slowly entered the room. ‘I can only imagine. It is to your great fortune that you have come to know so intimately such a great woman as Lady Catherine.’

  If Collins noticed her sycophancy, he made no outward acknowledgement. In fact, his eyes lit up on hearing Elizabeth touch on one of his favourite topics.

  ‘Indeed, Miss Elizabeth. I reflect on my good fortune every day. I fancy that I pass on my fortune to my parishioners in the form of guidance and wise counsel.’

  Elizabeth smiled wanly. ‘Indeed. The parish of Hunsford is lucky to have you.’ Though she tried to focus her attention on him, she couldn’t help but be distracted by the window behind him. Winter had stripped the trees of their leaves, making them look wretched and bare against the vibrant blue sky.

  There was something to be said for duty; for family. Elizabeth felt another pang of loss for her dear father—how would she tolerate this awful man without her beloved father’s mutual amusement and conspiracy?

  Mr. Collins seemed not to notice her inner turmoil. Glowing with smug self-satisfaction, he eased back in her father’s chair and regarded her. ‘Miss Bennet, I am a serious-minded man. Now, I’m as accustomed to indulge the fancies of a silly young lady as the next gentleman, but I must tell you I will not tolerate that in a wife. For how am I to lead the parish by example if my own wife can not manage the household. As for Lady Catherine,’ he cried, his eyes widening as he uttered that venerable woman’s name, ‘my future wife must have the grace and manners to satisfy that great lady!’

  Elizabeth fought the urge to smile. Instead, she cleared her throat and curtsied. ‘Of course, Sir. That much is to be expected from a man of your stature in society.’

  Mr. Collins nodded with satisfaction. Elizabeth suspected that the matter was not to be raised again; that he had seen it as settled all along. He was watching her closely, regarding her as if she were a piece of chattel that formed part of the Longbourn estate.

  At least I won’t have to engage my mind, she thought with equal parts relief and regret. All that will be required is a look that expresses my deep appreciation at his teaching and guidance.

  Elizabeth had indulged in idle daydreams about her future life as a married woman; of course she had. Like most young ladies of Meryton—with the possible exception of Miss Mary Bennet, who professed no interest in anything of the sort—Elizabeth had passed time with one eye on her needlework and the other on the future, imagining herself walking in vast country estates with a kind and noble gentleman. It was only now that she realised that the gentleman of her dreams had been one who sought to engage her mind and not just mould it as he wished.

  But it was too late for daydreams now—Elizabeth had work to do.

  ‘I must attend my mother,’ she said quietly, nodding before she turned and left the oppressive silence of the room she had once loved.

  7

  Her daughter’s second visit of the day found Mrs. Bennet in even lower spirits than before. She looked blankly towards the door as it opened, and Elizabeth had to swallow a great sense of sorrow for her mother.

  Having already decided this was the course of action she was going to take, Elizabeth closed the door and walked decisively across the room. Even in her fug, her mother must have sensed that Elizabeth was bent on some course of action that was controversial to say the least.

  ‘Oh, Lizzy,’ she complained. ‘What have you come to announce? Please; my poor old nerves won’t take it. Whatever it is, why can’t you forget it? Marry Mr. Collins instead of burdening me with your wilfulness.’

  Lizzy could have laughed at that statement.

  ‘Mama, I need your advice,’ she said, easing herself onto the floor in front of her mother’s chair. Mr. Collin’s may not have paid much heed to her words, but the same could not be said for Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth knew her mother would be scrutinising her for any hint of mockery. No matter that her intentions—at least that day—were thoroughly honourable.

  ‘Oh?’ Mrs. Bennet said, her face sceptical.

  ‘I…’ Elizabeth found it was not difficult to infuse her voice with sorrow, for her heart was drowning in sorrow at that moment. ‘I fear I have been mistaken in turning Mr. Collins’s proposal down.’

  Mrs. Bennet exhaled sharply. ‘Of course you were, you foolish girl. Too headstrong; too wilful.’

  Elizabeth nodded as plaintively as she could. ‘I know, mama. Once I realised the error, I went to speak to him at once.’ She buried her face in her hands though her eyes were quite dry. ‘But… but he did not ask a second time. Oh, mama. I don’t know what to do. What if he no longer wishes to marry me? Of course, I didn’t raise the topic myself.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ Mrs. Bennet said severely, reproaching her most spirited daughter for merely contemplating such an abominable folly. ‘At least in that sense I see I’ve done some good for you, girl.’

  Elizabeth watched her carefully through the gaps between her fingers. Mrs. Bennet had already perked up somewhat, and the colour seemed to be returning to her pallid cheeks. Within moments, she was standing and dusting off her skirts. Elizabeth even fancied she saw the hint of a smile on her mother’s face.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Lizzy,’ Mrs. Bennet cried as she made haste to the door, ‘don’t you worry. I’ll have this matter settled before you know it.’

  She bustled gaily out of the room, leaving Lizzy sitting on the floor. This time, she had no need to need to feign upset—her tears were all too real.

  8

  ‘Lady Catherine will be pleased,’ Mr. Collins said primly, nodding approvingly at his future bride. ‘Of course, you’ll need to meet her before the wedding.’

  Elizabeth played with a jagged nail as she thought over the implication of this statement. She stopped herself a moment later—something she’d grown accustomed to doing before Mrs. Bennet noticed and chided her. She stared across the table, lacking the energy to form a response.

  Thankfully, her mother responded for her. ‘What’s that, Mr. Collins? You wish for Lizzy to meet Lady Catherine before we begin to plan for the marriage?’

  In any normal circumstances, this might have filled Lizzy with untold relief. But that was not the case now.

  ‘Of course,’ Mr. Collins said severely. ‘Mrs. Bennet, I am a man of my word. It was always my intention to marry one of the Bennet girls. I trust Lady Catherine will find Miss Elizabeth most suitable.’

  ‘I trust the same,’ Mrs. Bennet said, digging her elbow into Elizabeth’s waist in a move that could not be seen by Mr. Collins, but whose meaning was not lost on Elizabeth.

  ‘Of course,’ Elizabeth nodded.

  ‘It would be prudent to wait some time to celebrate the marriage,’ Mary said from the other end of the table. ‘Given we are in mourning.’

  That statement drew the first signs of life from Kitty and Lydia that had been seen since the unfortunate news of Mr. Bennet became known.

  ‘Indeed,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Naturally I am eager to be married, but out of respect for my dear father I must own that a wedding in spring would be most preferable.’

  Mrs. Bennet looked carefully at her daughter’s intended. ‘Mr. Collins? What say you?’
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  The clergyman looked ponderous; troubled even. ‘It was Lady Catherine’s wish that I be married at the utmost haste.’ He looked around the room, seemingly dismayed to find the younger Bennet girls entirely distracted by their talk of Meryton and the regiment. He continued after a fashion, ‘I do suppose that she might be prevailed on given the circumstances.’

  Mrs. Bennet smiled encouragingly.

  Lizzy glanced up to find him watching her.

  ‘Why,’ Mr. Collins continued, ‘even if the marriage is delayed, you must come and be presented to Lady Catherine.’

  Mary gasped. ‘Why, such a thing would be improper.’

  Mr. Collins gave her such a look of reproach that Mary ceased speaking at once and returned her attention to the mutton on her plate.

  ‘Naturally, Miss Elizabeth shall be accompanied. Goodness, that you suggest such a thing. The rector of Hunsford, with a lone female guest. I have never heard of such a thing.’

  Mrs. Bennet’s smile was syrupy sweet. ‘Of course, Mr. Collins. Mary, you foolish girl. I shall write to my dear sister at once.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Mr. Collins nodded triumphantly as if it were settled. ‘My dear Miss Elizabeth, you shall be so enchanted by Rosings Park. Lady Catherine herself often condescends to stop by my gate. I fancy we might even be invited to dine there. What an honour for you.’

  9

  ‘What?’ Jane Bennet gasped. It was the most animated Elizabeth had seen her all day.

  Lizzy nodded. ‘Yes, it is true. I am to be married to Mr. Collins.’

  ‘But Lizzy,’ Jane whispered, sitting up. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but now it was marked with patches of red and areas of swelling. It appeared that Jane was as pessimistic about the likelihood of Mr. Bingley’s return as her sister was. ‘You find the man truly repellent. What could have… ah.’