by Suzan Lauder
No! That would not do! If Mr. Darcy wanted to talk of his sister, he had good reason for it, and I was determined to find out why. Although I faced Mama when I spoke, my words were really for Mr. Darcy. “I welcome Mr. Darcy if he would like to accompany Mr. Bingley when he calls.”
Mr. Darcy opened his mouth to speak, but my cousin interrupted as he glanced between my mother and me, his forehead creased. “Why should Mr. Bingley call? He has no business at Longbourn.”
My mother looked directly at my cousin as she attempted to edify him. “Soon after he hosts a ball, a gentleman is obliged to call upon the ladies he danced with, sir. It speaks strongly to his honour.”
Mr. Collins’s manly brow furrowed as his flawless lips were pursed to one side of his sculpted face. “Then I must do the same to show I am as proper as Mr. Bingley. I must call on each of the ladies I have danced with. But how am I to do so and not allow Mr. Bingley to take over Miss Bennet on the morrow? I believe my hand has been forced. Mrs. Bennet, may I have a private audience with Miss Bennet early in the morning?”
Mama panicked. “No, you may not!” As she had told Lady Lucas, she still wanted Mr. Bingley for Jane.
I intervened. “Jane is not an early riser. Perhaps you will give her the comfort of having breakfast before your discussion? And you must clear the path with both my parents first, sir.”
Mama, not wishing for her plans to go awry, leaned towards Mr. Collins and added, sotto voce, “You may not speak to Jane in private, but you may speak to Lizzy.”
“Why would I speak to Miss Elizabeth?” my cousin sputtered, red faced. “Mr. Darcy will be calling on her.” Mr. Collins eyed the gentleman across from him, and his face changed into a strange, calculating, steely smirk. “Perhaps he wishes a private audience. I cannot interfere.”
Mr. Darcy choked on his mashed potato. I wished I could choke on mine and die on the spot. No, I would be choking on beetroot to match my skin colour from head to toe as I was certain my complexion must have the most horrid blush. To accuse Mr. Darcy of intentions towards me was unkind to both of us. What was my cousin about?
Sometimes relief from an awkward situation comes from an unexpected quarter, and I am not certain whether the mortification of my cousin’s suggestion or my family’s accomplishments in making a spectacle of themselves was worse. Mary’s performance on the pianoforte and Lydia and Kitty drunkenly tormenting the officers were bad enough, yet my father chose to chastise Mary in public, causing her great humiliation. My embarrassment in front of Mr. Darcy was made worse when Mr. Collins stood and made a speech about his inclination to preach rather than study music, and he finished with a lecture on how children should be seen and not heard.
I sneaked a peek at Mr. Darcy during all of this, and the expression upon his face was as if he had smelled something foul. A moment later, I realized that a person in our vicinity had passed wind. Who could it be? Mama and Mrs. Lucas paid no heed to my cousin and were gossiping once more. My cousin was still making his speech, but his ear tips were stained red and his eyes were shifting around as if to evade the gaze of anyone nearby. Yes, he had caused the smell. Marvellous outside, ridiculous and now gaseous inside. In his case, the inside should stay inside!
At the same time, with his frankness in regards to Mr. Wickham, I saw Mr. Darcy in a more favourable light than I ever would have imagined. What was this confusing man about?
Oh! Mr. Darcy would probably join Mr. Bingley when he called today!
Goodness, there was no time to lie abed lamenting the previous evening’s horrors or confusion. I had to ready myself for his call, and I had to do it before Jane waylaid our lady’s maid for herself.
I took as much care as time allowed in preparing because I had a desire to look well in comparison with the fine ladies Mr. Darcy must have among his acquaintance. However, my delay meant that Jane was already up, and somehow, despite a certain need to fuss over her appearance for Mr. Bingley, she managed to get ahead of me. I wanted to blame Sally, but Jane did most of her own toilette, and with ease, she was turned out twice as lovely as I was. I scrambled to follow her, but I tripped on my skirts and needed a last-minute repair.
Once the loose hem was stitched, I hurried down the stairs. Upon entering the breakfast room, I encountered the strangest conversation I had ever heard in my life. The two silliest people in England were in the midst of an argument. Jane was watching them, her head jerking from side to side and her face crimson because she was the topic of their folly. I filled my plate and sat beside her as my cousin explained his affection for Jane to my mother.
Mr. Collins gave me the slightest nod and continued addressing Mama. “Her portion does not sink her in my esteem.” My eyes must have bulged out of my face. “You can be certain that, when Miss Bennet and I are married, I shall make no mention of it.”
“You are too hasty, sir,” Mama cried, “You forget that I have not given you leave to speak to her.”
Jane leaned over to whisper to me. “It has been this way for a good five minutes. When I came upon them, Mama was sitting there silent, stunned at his impudence. I believe your entrance awakened her.”
I spoke quietly in Jane’s ear. “What did I miss?”
She commenced a quiet discussion between the two of us whilst Mr. Collins and Mama debated. “Mr. Collins explained his reasons for marrying. He spoke of Lady Catherine, the church, and the other nonsense he speaks of all the time. It was a long speech.”
“Papa is in his library?”
Jane nodded. “He was up early and finished his breakfast as I entered.” My father had taken to avoiding our cousin whenever possible.
Mr. Collins waved away my mother’s comment, saying that a mother would withhold her permission in hopes of sweetening the offer.
“Whatever can he mean?” I asked Jane, whose expression indicated she did not know either.
“I have spoken favourably of Miss Bennet to Lady Catherine and that she learned her modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications by your example.”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins, praise of me is unnecessary.” Mama’s voice was frustrated and shrill. “However, you must consider changing your direction. I wish you happy and rich, but if you are sincere in your wish to satisfy my family when you take possession of Longbourn, you would choose one of my younger daughters.”
At this, I tried to remain unnoticed. Mr. Collins had already insulted my athletic figure.
Thankfully, Mr. Collins stood and gave a final address to my mother. “When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I hope to receive a more favourable response.”
Mama would not be cowed. “Really, Mr. Collins, you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said was taken as a form of encouragement, you are mistaken, and I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may persuade you of its being one.”
“You must give me leave to believe that your refusal of my petition is merely words, dear Cousin. I cannot convince myself that my hand is unworthy of acceptance or that the establishment I can offer would be anything other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of de Bourgh, and my superior form and face are circumstances highly in my favour. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense according to the usual practice of elegant mothers. Indeed, I shall apply to the express authority of Mr. Bennet.” With that, he quit the room.
My mother rolled her eyes. “How I wish he were not an early riser. Stop your smirking, Miss Lizzy Bennet. You should be the one saving Longbourn, not your sister—though she will save the family by an advantageous marriage of a different sort. How long until proper calling hours? I am certain we can expect Mr. Bingley.”
I wasn’t thinking when I added, “And Mr. Darcy.”
Mama ceased chewing her toast and frowned. “What?”
“Oh! Nothing of import. I hope Mr. Bingley applies to you as Mr. Collins has.” I smiled, hoping to redirect her thoughts.
“I hope that proud man does not come. He will be in Mr. Bingley’s way. Oh, how tiresome he was last night with his talk of gentlemen he knew in the past. Each was worse than the last, and you know he was describing them to make himself appear the better man. If he comes, Lizzy, you must make certain to distract him even though you dislike him. Your bookish ways will suit a man such as Mr. Darcy as you are both too intelligent for your own good and speak above the rest of us. That way, Mr. Bingley will be able to converse with Jane.”
I relished the job of distracting Mr. Darcy as I had many questions to ask him regarding the one gentleman he had been hinting at.
But long before that occurred, a fuss took place in my father’s library. The shouting distracted those of us at breakfast, and we rushed to see what had developed.
“Out! Out! And do not ever presume you can disturb my quiet again!” Papa’s face was crimson, and he wore the worst glower I had seen in a long time.
“But sir!” my cousin bleated. “After the many times we enjoyed one another’s company, you must be willing to hear my—”
Papa would not let him finish. “You must mean the many times I endured your company! I have heard plenty!”
“I require a word related to Mrs. Bennet’s refusal to allow a private audience with Miss Ben—”
“Jane! Are you eagerly anticipating addresses from this…this…Mr. Collins?”
Jane’s eyes were huge, and her round cheeks were flushed yet again as she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head.
“But, Miss Bennet, Jane, dearest, look at me!” Mr. Collins attempted the facial expression he had employed to manipulate her the night before. But now, it carried a certain air of worry and was more akin to a forced pout than true feeling, yet the man still was undoubtedly more comely than Mr. Bingley.
My father growled, “Do not address my daughter so informally, sir! You are not engaged to her.”
Mr. Collins huffed and left for the entrance hall. “You will be sorry you insulted William Collins! Wait until Lady Catherine hears of this travesty. She will explain it to you!”
“Do not leave, Mr. Collins!” My mother ran after him. We all followed, too curious now as to his plans.
He gave her a haughty glare as he donned his hat and coat. “Do not attempt to detain me, madam. I wish to spend my morning with friends.”
As the door closed behind him, Mama wailed.
Jane came up beside me. “Where could he be off to?”
I had no idea.
Mr. Bingley’s expected call did not come. Instead, a letter from Miss Bingley arrived for Jane. The missive stated that the entire Netherfield party had quit the county and departed for town and even implied that Mr. Bingley had a romantic interest in Miss Darcy. Miss Darcy? As I understood, she was but Lydia’s age, so I doubted Miss Bingley’s truthfulness—but maybe that was what Mr. Darcy meant to warn me of. Yet, on this point, I agree with Mr. Collins—neither is old enough for the seriousness of courtship. Mr. Darcy is unlikely to think much differently, and the match is undoubtedly the wish of Miss Bingley in order to get her clasping hooks closer to her prize: Mr. Darcy.
My cousin returned in time for dinner and did not give any indication of where he had been. Kitty and Lydia reported seeing him speaking to Mama shortly before we sat down. He was silent during the meal—that is, if one did not count the sighs and longing gazes at Jane and glares at my father.
In past evenings, my poor father had been left with the sullen man after dinner while the ladies withdrew, but tonight, Papa announced there would be no separation of the sexes, and he would go to his library alone. Mr. Collins dallied behind us; then he went back into the dining room, mumbling he forgot his watch. Why would he take his watch off its fob? My mother…
My mother! Oh no! Before they left the dining room, she had whispered to Jane that Cook had set aside an extra dish of pudding for her. The truth was now obvious: Mama had arranged for my poor sister to be left alone with Mr. Collins.
Jane would accept the baboon! She was far too kind and accommodating to hurt his feelings. And I was certain he chose this particular time because he knew Jane loved her pudding, and she would remain behind for another helping of this especially lovely dessert made with carrots, suet, treacle, currants, and the best spices in Cook’s kitchen steamed together and served with a sweet sauce.
Yet what could Mr. Collins have said to my mother to make her change her mind? It made no sense. But often, my Mama made no sense! Mr. Collins’s tenacity in pressing his intentions with my mother held less ability to change her mind than the contents of Miss Bingley’s letter and the “loss” of Mr. Bingley.
The instant my mother was no longer paying me notice, I sneaked back to spy on them, and I could not have been more correct. The large, heavy door was ajar, so I positioned myself at the corner to see through the crack between the brass hinges.
Jane was seated, dipping her spoon into the sweet, cake-like mound, swirling it around in the sugary sauce, and placing it on her tongue with an expression of pure ecstasy, completely disregarding every word Mr. Collins said. His form came in and out of my field of vision as he paced the room, droning on and on about marriage being a part of life.
I believe he must have stopped at one point because he was out of my sight. I knew him too well. The pause was to make an adjustment to his appearance—whether to twirl a lock of hair over his brow so it fell in exactly the right fashion, to brush the tiniest bit of dust from his shoe, or to examine his fingernails or the sleeves of his fine blue coat for inconsistencies. Mr. Collins was always taking a moment within his speeches to groom himself lest his appearance fall into that shady area of particular shame merely called tidy. Whilst he was out of my view, Jane stood and also moved out of sight. She shouted “Oh!” but the rest after that was muffled.
“Lizzy!” Mama was flapping her arm for me to move away from my spying position. Her glare chastised me for my curiosity, and I gave up my spot.
Less than two minutes later, Jane rushed into the drawing room where my sisters, Mama, and I were busy reading or doing needlework. “I may have killed him!”
Several voices spoke at once:
“What?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Whom?”
Jane was wringing her hands. “Mr. Collins! I may have killed him!”
Mama took Jane by the elbow and ushered her to a sturdy chair. “There, there, dear. I am sure he is just being dramatic and it is not so bad. Kitty, call for fresh tea.”
We crowded around, and Mama asked us to take our seats to give Jane some air. Jane was flushed and breathing as if she had run up Oakham Mount. Mama stroked her hair and murmured soothing words to calm her.
“Should we go see how Mr. Collins fares?” I asked.
Mama shook her head. “First, we must speak with Jane and understand the situation. Now, darling, quickly, tell us what happened.”
“Oh! It was awful! I was eating my dessert, and he approached me. He paced and chattered for a while, but I paid no attention. Suddenly, he went down on one knee and proposed against your and Papa’s instructions.” Mama had the grace to colour. “I told him that he must not speak of marriage in the face of your disapproval, and he replied that I was of age and did not require your permission.”
Mama clasped her hands before her breast. “Of course! I am so happy for you!”
Jane’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I told him no!” Her voice was incredulous. “And how could you support it after what you said this morning?”
“Darling, your cousin will inherit Longbourn when your father passes.” Mama’s vo
ice was gentle as she explained. “If you do not marry him, he will throw us out with nothing. He will take everything—even the china dishes—and leave us in poverty. Your uncles cannot afford to support us. Mr. Collins told me so and a great deal more.” By the shocked faces around the room, her change of heart astonished everyone.
“But I thought you told him…I danced two sets with…I thought you wanted…it would not matter if…” Jane clearly did not want to say she expected Mr. Bingley to propose, yet we believed Mama wanted him and not my cousin for Jane.
“You cannot count your chickens before they hatch, Jane. No one called this morning as expected, and if you recall, the Bingleys departed Hertfordshire for good. Mr. Collins assured me of his affection. I fear he is as good as we can expect.”
“That is what Mr. Collins said to me! He claimed that, if we were in love, no one could stop us. But I love Mr. Bi— I do not want to marry Mr. Collins, Mama.”
My sisters and mother began talking all at once.
“But he is so handsome!” Lydia feigned a near swoon.
“How could you not want to marry him?” Kitty’s expression became dreamy. “Everyone wants to marry him!”
“And a clergyman has a good situation.” Of course, Mary would address the practical side of the situation.
“But I do not love him, nor does he love me.”
“You must love him. He is handsome!” insisted Lydia, and my younger sisters nodded.
Jane’s reply was soft. “Mr. Bingley is almost as fine in looks.”
Until Jane’s reply, the banter had been so fast, it was hard to follow. I reacted quickly without thinking. “He could never be as fine as Mr. Collins. My cousin is far more fetching. He—” I clapped my hands over my mouth at my too-honest comment, which would not help Jane. I changed my course. “Jane loves Mr. Bingley.”