A Most Handsome Gentleman

by Suzan Lauder

  “To insist upon having such a report universally contradicted at once.”

  “Your coming to Longbourn to see my family,” I said with astonishment and disdain, “will be rather a confirmation of it, if indeed such a report is in existence.”

  “My rector’s letter was dated not four days ago. He planned to propose that same day. No woman would deny such a man. No one.”

  A horrid noise came from her side as Miss de Bourgh began to wail. “He was supposed to marry me!”

  “Ridiculous!” shouted her mother. “Do you recall my instructions to him?”

  “Mother, we argue and argue this point. You are too old to marry him.”

  I offered my understanding of the situation. “Mr. Darcy has proposed to no one. My sister and Mr. Bingley—”

  Her wails became louder. She pulled out a handkerchief and blew into it with a sound resembling a horn. “I cannot marry my cousin! I love William!”

  My confusion grew. Was this a nickname for Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy’s given name? Or was Mr. Wickham incorrect, and it was a different cousin Miss de Bourgh was supposed to marry? Perhaps the army colonel he had mentioned? But I was unnerved by the idea that she loved Mr. Darcy.

  I tentatively asked, “Do you mean Mr. Darcy?” as I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. As usual, the man had been reticent throughout the discussion, yet he appeared as baffled as I was. But why? He knew the answer—at least, he should know.

  Lady Catherine must have heard my timid question as she replied in a boisterous tone, her mouth twisted in a frown, “Mr. Collins is the man of whom we speak. Anne is foolish in her infatuation.”

  What a contrast between Mr. Collins and Miss de Bourgh! Her features were at best ordinary. She had pale, greyish skin and thin brown hair that was so lifeless and dull it could not sustain pin curls by her face. A few limp strands clung to her forehead with a topknot akin to a dead animal gracing her head. Only her expensive clothing was fine, but even that was in lacklustre colours.

  Lady Catherine grimaced and crossed her arms over her abundant bosom. “Stupid man! I gave him distinct orders to come here and make amends with his family in order to have the opportunity of viewing his inheritance. Once that was completed, he was to marry a sturdy, mature, rotund daughter of a peer. It seems he took my ‘olive branch’ idea and confused it—confused all my instructions. No harm will be done if you release him, Miss Bennet.”

  Jane protested the accusation. “But I am not engaged to him!”

  Lady Catherine seemed pleased. “And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”

  Jane was clearly relieved. “I shall. I promise. I am engaged to Mr. Bingley. Mr. Collins is engaged to Charlotte Lucas, who matches your description for form and maturity in the best sort of way, for she is both full of sense and voluptuous. Her father, Sir William Lucas, is a knight.”

  Miss de Bourgh’s wailing increased in volume yet again—considerable noise for her tiny body. “He cannot be! He is mine!”

  “Hush, child,” Lady Catherine scolded her daughter. “You are not his sort of lady. He does not care for young, thin women.”

  “But I am not too young! He thought I was due to my size, and that is why he praised you for keeping me indoors all the time. But I am three and twenty, Mama, and old enough to choose. I choose William! Oh, his kisses make me feel grand!” She addressed Jane and me: “I cannot begin to properly describe to you how wonderful it can be to kiss such a handsome man.”

  I had to close my fish mouth once again. Mr. Collins shared his kisses rather liberally if he had been kissing this woman and now Charlotte. And what sort of a lady would share her kisses so freely and report it to strangers?

  Miss de Bourgh became fierce, gnashing her teeth and waving a small finger. “I will fight for him! Find me this Lucas woman and a set of pistols.”

  Oh, that kind of lady.

  To protect my friend’s interests, I pleaded with Miss de Bourgh to change her mind in what seemed the best direction: to discourage her affection. “I am sorry, Miss de Bourgh, but a man whose heart is so fickle should not be one with whom you insist upon joining.”

  “Fickle? Not William. I am certain you are mistaken,” she replied, crossing her wee arms over her small chest.

  Her mother spoke just as my father opened the front door of Longbourn, clearly curious as to why a large, expensively dressed, unknown lady was in an uproar on his lawns. “However insincere Mr. Collins may choose to be, you will not find me so, and that is why I am his best match. You are to marry Darcy, and that is the end of it. I am tired of this argument.”

  Mr. Darcy tried to speak. “Lady Catherine, Anne and I told you—”

  “This is not to be borne! You are not old enough to argue with me. You are engaged to my daughter. I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment.”

  My father spoke up. “Madam has come to my home with a determined resolution of carrying her purpose and is not afraid to speak plainly,” he said with a definite twinkle in his eye. The situation was amusing to him!

  “My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in such a moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. I am not used to submitting to any person’s whims; therefore, I will not be dissuaded.” She recovered from her speech long enough to realize she had not been introduced to this man who smiled as he goaded her agreement. “Who are you?”

  Mr. Darcy rushed in to do the honours. “Aunt, this is Mr. Bennet, the master of Longbourn. Mr Bennet, my aunt Lady Catherine and her daughter, Miss de Bourgh.”

  “Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh.” Papa made a deep bow with a flourish, and Lady Catherine returned a stiff curtsey while Miss de Bourgh bobbed ever so slightly as she already was so low to the ground. “I knew as soon as I cast my eyes upon you that you were a woman of some distinction. Would you prefer to come into the house for refreshments and continue your discussion in comfort?” My father waved his hand for her to proceed ahead of him.

  “Indeed, sir, I would.” At that, her ladyship took on a regal posture as she marched into Longbourn.

  A moment after she entered, I caught a glimpse of Charlotte’s round figure running back to Lucas Lodge, her lace tucker in one hand and her hair askew. Peeking from the shrubbery was Mr. Collins in his shirt sleeves with his cravat untied and waistcoat unbuttoned. No wonder everyone was fighting over him. In his nearly unclothed state, he almost made me swoon until I reminded myself that, sooner or later, the man would speak again, and the stimulating image would be tarnished. I had to ensure Miss de Bourgh did not glance in his direction, so I pointed out some bedraggled flowers and babbled about their lasting through the cold spell.

  When we entered the house, the pedantic tones of Mary’s practising the pianoforte and Mama’s high pitched voice praising her reached our ears. Our outer garments were taken, and Lady Catherine said to Anne in a loud whisper, “You would have been much more proficient had you learnt to play.” Thank goodness we could offer them hospitality at the other end of the house.

  Once seated in our drawing room, Lady Catherine made a fuss over Mr. Darcy’s absence. Indeed, what had happened to him? My comfortable walk with him made me sympathetic, and I did not begrudge him for hiding rather than facing these ladies. But I knew Mr. Darcy would not do such a thing, and he must have been delayed for good reason. Until he arrived, I could attempt to distract them. “Would you care for tea? I shall ring for refreshment.”

  “Make sure those tea cakes are on the platter,” my father instructed and then addressed Lady Catherine. “Cook makes the best tea cakes. Far more currants than most, and our Longbourn butter makes them as rich as any lady could desire.”

  “I do enjoy my sweets.” Lady Catherine’s expression almost mimicked a smile.

  When I approached the bell pull, I spied Mr.
Darcy through the parlour window. What was he about, sneaking away from his aunt? I could not blame him, but his companion of choice was…Mr. Collins? Yes, he was with Mr. Collins in the shrubbery!

  My cousin appeared to be chattering away as usual. His hands were waving wildly, and his finely shaped lips were turned down in a way that showed he was apprehensive. So Mr. Collins was not his usual confident self around Lady Catherine! She must be the reason that his neatly groomed brows were tilted up in the middle.

  Mr. Darcy’s steady hand upon my ashen cousin’s uncloaked arm seemed to reduce Mr. Collins’s distress, and he ceased his frantic hand-flapping. My surprise was doubled. I never anticipated Mr. Darcy would behave in such a caring fashion. He seemed almost fatherly as he patted Mr. Collins’s shoulder.

  A warm sensation filled my chest at this new aspect of Mr. Darcy’s character. My throat tightened a little when he brushed the dried grass from my cousin’s coat then helped him into it. He was acting as valet for a clearly worried Mr. Collins! Mr. Darcy’s lips were moving, and as Mr. Collins listened, the lines on his countenance became more relaxed. By now, Mr. Darcy’s face was a mask of concern for my cousin, and there was softness in his chocolate eyes.

  What were Mr. Collins and Charlotte up to if his entire costume was out of order and covered in grass and twigs? Yes, they were engaged, but she had accepted the foolish man merely to save her from certain spinsterhood. Charlotte was a woman who could see past physical attraction and value the person within, but Mr. Collins had little of value beneath his skin. Would this not make it more difficult for her to develop a warm enough regard for my cousin to indulge in baser intentions? But their amorous embrace had shown me that she was not as indifferent to his charms as I had expected her to be.

  Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, showed he had a caring nature beyond what I had learnt of him, for many reasons.

  My attention was called back into the room as the sniffling Miss de Bourgh whinged to her mother to retrieve Mr. Collins and force the decision of whom he wanted. Another glance out the window brought on a sentiment I do not quite understand; at that moment, my heart clenched in my chest, and I had an irrational urge to flee the room to see Mr. Darcy.

  It became clear to me that my determination to dislike Mr. Darcy was at an end, and tender feelings had developed towards the man who was calming my cousin. I had best stifle them because, even though he had shown himself as the kind of gentleman who would best suit me, there were many reasons to protect my heart—not the least being the difference in our stations in life.

  I rang for refreshments for my guests and seated myself, anticipating the arrival of the two men: one better than any other on the outside and one better than any other on the inside.

  Lady Catherine murmured something calming to Miss de Bourgh, and both ladies became silent; however, they sustained disgruntled frowns and avoided looking at anyone else in the room as one studied the floor while the other’s eyes were turned to the ceiling in disdain. Meanwhile, my father persisted in his smiles of amusement as he glanced from one to the other. At least, it seemed there would be quiet until Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy returned.

  The turmoil in the parlour had settled down, but Hill appeared and announced unexpected visitors. “Captain Carter, Mr. Chamberlayne, Mr. Denny, and Mr. Wickham.” Just what I needed! More cats among the canaries.

  Chapter 10

  By the time refreshments arrived, the anxious mood in the room was broken by the officers’ cheerful chatter. I whispered a little prayer that my youngest sisters would not return whilst our visitors remained as their flirtation was the last thing we needed amongst all the drama. Indeed, if Mr. Collins objected to young women in public, what would his patroness think?

  Mr. Wickham wasted no time situating himself near Miss de Bourgh and complimenting her. What he said to her is a mystery, but the dull lady brightened a great deal even though the reddened eyes and nose on her wan face were a testament to recent tears. It vexed me to no end since I was reminded of the unfortunate young girl with whom he had once intended to elope.

  The remainder of the room’s occupants were paying attention to Mr. Denny, who was telling a joke, when Hill announced Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins. It did not take Mr. Denny long to realize that the room had gone silent. No one was laughing except the officers, who had no idea of the drama that had taken place not twenty minutes earlier, and all of us were far more interested in the new arrivals. My father grinned as if he had arranged the entertainment himself. He was enjoying the sense of dread that filled the room as he anticipated a diversion from the characters he had invited into his home. Hats in hand, the two men entered the west parlour and stood alongside the door as all the seats were taken.

  “I can never attract the usual interest in my humour when you are around, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Denny said in a light-hearted way. “Your handsome face distracts not only the ladies but the gentlemen as well. You leave no hope for the rest of us.”

  “Well said, young man.” My father had a twinkle in his eye.

  “I thank you, sir.”

  Lady Catherine was not interested in genteel conversation and spoke in a forthright manner to my cousin, ignoring everyone else in the room. “Mr. Collins, I understand that, in your confusion, you foolishly placed yourself in an indelicate situation. Fortunately, my sentiments towards you are unchanged, and the strength of the de Bourgh name will support you, not only as rector at Hunsford but as a gentleman soon to have interest in a great estate.”

  My father spoke to his own interests. “Madam, you are as kind as my dear Mrs. Bennet in your hopes for my demise, but may I remind you that I am in good health and do not intend to pass on Longbourn to Mr. Collins until I am dead?”

  “I did not refer to Longbourn, sir. I refer to Rosings Park. Your estate is insignificant in comparison to Rosings’s grandeur. Indeed, Longbourn could never be termed great. Mr. Collins, I am here to extricate you from this so-called engagement. Therefore, you are free to marry where you choose.”

  “Yes,” added Miss de Bourgh, “since Rosings can be inherited through the female line, I am its heiress. You can see a definite advantage to jilting this country nobody.” Mr. Wickham was no longer at her side. Where had he gone? A glance around the room found him almost hidden by the draperies opposite Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins, his face flushed and his eyes averted as though ashamed. At least now I knew why he would do such a thing in Mr. Darcy’s company.

  “I refer to a union with the daughter of an earl who rightfully resides within and administrates that great estate,” contradicted her mother. I do not quite know who gasped when Lady Catherine made it abundantly clear that she had aspirations to become Mr. Collins’s bride, but most of us were shocked.

  Mr. Collins addressed them with his eyes downcast and his shoulders sagged slightly. “I do not wish to disappoint you, my lady. Your bounty and beneficence have been generously shared with the preferment of the Hunsford rectory, and you allow me to demean myself with grateful respect to your condescension. But as a man, I must stand up for what I wish. I shall not make changes to my situation. I am betrothed to Miss Lucas and intend to bring her to Hunsford as my bride. We can wait for our inheritance.”

  “Nonsense.” Lady Catherine’s frown was as deep as her bosom. “You speak as a fool. Listen to me. When has my advice ever done you harm?”

  Mr. Collins whispered something to Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy whispered back. My cousin stood taller and looked his patroness in the eye, his brilliant blue eyes flashing with resolve. “The olive branch of marriage in the Bennet family was rejected, and I am glad for it. Miss Bennet is a wise young lady who demonstrated how ill-suited we were by her resolve to marry for the deepest of love, and though I have loved other ladies in the past, I did not know what it meant until now.” He shared a smile with Jane, and I was rather shocked at how sound and unselfish his comments were, never mind
that he recognized my sister’s good sense. “To my great fortune, I had to search no farther than the nearest house to find what I had long desired but found wanting in every lady I met. Dear Lady Catherine, my Charlotte has no match. She has pure taste in apparel that you will admire. She is not young, and I humbly bow to your better judgement regarding that recommendation. Most importantly, we share an incalescent love that makes me feel as if I have a severe fever. Her generous form excites me in ways no other can, and my destiny involves enslavement to her every whim from now until we are parted by death. Everyone within this room is aware how all women want me, yet I have never been so moved by a lady before my Charlotte.”

  “What about me, William?” Miss de Bourgh leaned forward. It was all the exertion her tiny body could manage after all that crying. Indeed, she dramatically dabbed at her eyes with the sodden handkerchief that told the tale, though all that were left were crocodile tears. “What of our kisses? I was first! Does that not mean you must marry me?”

  “Miss de Bourgh, Lady Catherine, you have both been generous in permitting me to compliment you, smiling affably upon my allusions that recognize your kindness and condescension. Miss de Bourgh, I humbly regret allowing you to kiss me. My reception was with the best of intentions as I believed myself in love with you at the time. I now know that our amorous encounters were nothing more than a chaste display of friendship, and I regret they led to expectations that I cannot fulfil. I hope one day you will know the fire of a lover’s kiss.” That Mr. Collins had been in love so many times and shared his kisses was a bit of a surprise. However, any slight expression of affection from such an extraordinarily handsome man would surely have ladies losing their heads and tolerating his attentions—ladies other than myself, that is.

  Miss de Bourgh did not take his declaration well. She exhaled a burst of air and her eyes rolled back in her head before she collapsed to one side in a dead faint. I rushed over to support her before she fell off her chair. For a short, thin woman, she was either rather heavy or faking the swoon and intentionally leaning upon me.