An Engaging Friendship

by AmyJ

  Throughout it all, Elizabeth did her best to keep from laughing outright. The Lady Catherine she remembered did not fit Mr. Collins' description at all. What Mr. Collins described as condescension and generosity, Elizabeth remembered as imperious officiousness. What he labelled as grandeur, she viewed as

  ostentation. The only part of the man's descriptions that rang true was his comment on Miss Anne de Bourgh's health.

  Elizabeth glanced at her father, wondering what his reaction to it all was.

  Would he correct his cousin's conjectures? The napkin strategically held

  against his lips told her he had no intention of doing so, and that he too was sharing in her amusement.

  Despite this display of inanity, Elizabeth was still unprepared for the moment Mr. Collins declared the purpose of his visit. "As my dear cousins are aware, I am to inherit the Longbourn estate should anything happen to my dear cousin Bennet." He waited for a reaction but received none. "Under the advice of my esteemed patroness, I have decided to take a wife. Since I am to inherit this fine estate, and as a means to heal the breach between our families, I have decided to select a wife from amongst you, my dear cousins."

  Elizabeth looked to her father, wide-eyed. Would he truly consent to one of them marrying such a half-wit? The look her father returned did nothing to

  mollify her. Sadistically, she amused herself with thoughts of Lydia or Kitty being married to the man. If the man could tame either one, he could gain her respect. Short of that, she could think of nothing that could prompt her to condone his marriage to any woman.

  Noticing the silence that had engulfed the room, Elizabeth spoke. "How kind of you, Mr. Collins. Pray, enlighten us. How will you decide which of us is to become your wife?" She glanced first at her father, and then at Jane, with a mischievous smile.

  "My dear cousin," Mr. Collins waxed, "I would not make such a monumental decision without having consulted both of your dear parents. We shall discuss it and I shall be able to answer you perhaps as early as tomorrow."

  The solemnity with which Mr. Collins spoke was almost Elizabeth's undoing.

  She bit her lip and swallowed the bark of laughter that threatened. What a

  ridiculous situation! Once again in control, Elizabeth rejoined, "Whichever one of us is chosen will no doubt be extremely grateful for not having to make such a critical decision ourselves." With that, she decided she was done with the matter. She would take no further part in it, except to do her best to maintain a civil tongue with their guest.

  Mr. Collins returned a befuddled look, but then began speaking again of the beauties of Rosings or something of that nature. Specifically what was said, Elizabeth was uncertain; she had tuned out the man's ramblings for more

  amusing thoughts. What would Lady Catherine say if Elizabeth was to become

  her rector's wife? She had no doubt of Lady Catherine's opinion of her. 繕

  ncivilized, ill mannered, country ruffian' Elizabeth recalled Lady Catherine's often repeated invectives. Her wild imagination allowed her to envision Lady Catherine sputtering about and turning purple at the introduction, and Mr.

  Collins bowing and scraping, trying to apologize for his ill choice. She pressed her hand to her lips to keep a chuckle from escaping. She took comfort in the fact that not even her mother would be as daft as to agree to a match between the two of them.

  After dinner, the family suffered further, as Mr. Collins fumbled his way

  through passages of Fordyce's Sermons. Finally, Elizabeth was able to take her leave.

  She went to sleep that evening pondering whether it would be Kitty, Lydia, or Mary matched with Mr. Collins. She knew her mother would not permit Jane to marry the man; not with Mr. Bingley still in the neighbourhood. Perhaps mother will for once show some wisdom and match him with Mary; not that I would wish that man on any woman. She fell asleep to the amusing prospect of Mr. Collins trying to control Lydia or Kitty.

  The following morning, Elizabeth was surprised to see the family already

  awake when she returned from her morning walk. Usually, she had another

  hour before the first stirrings were heard. Then recalling last night's dinner, understanding settled. Her sisters were most likely too preoccupied to sleep in, wondering what Mr. Collins and her mother had decided.

  She rolled her eyes at the prospect of once again having to suffer Mr. Collins'

  droning. As far as she was concerned, the sooner the man made 蘇is decision'

  and returned to Kent, the better. She preferred Kitty and Lydia's bickering over Mr. Collins' diatribes.

  She took her usual seat at the table and participated in the small talk that ensued. Noticing Mr. Collins had yet to make his appearance, she amused

  herself with thoughts of him being lost or suddenly recalled by the illustrious Lady Catherine.

  Unfortunately, neither occurred, and the man made his appearance, entering

  with just as much self-importance with which he had arrived at Longbourn. He stood by Mrs. Bennet, waiting for the eyes of the room to turn towards him.

  Elizabeth noticed his entrance, but gave it no heed. When he was ready, she reasoned, he would no doubt speak. It seemed her sisters were of the same

  mind.

  Mr. Collins might still be standing there had Mrs. Bennet not crooned loudly,

  "Girls! Girls! Mr. Collins has an announcement to make." She looked significantly first at Jane, and then Elizabeth. Elizabeth hid a smirk behind a well placed goblet and looked down at her plate. How she would be able to

  keep her composure throughout the ordeal, she did not know.

  "I own I was first enraptured over the beauty of my dear cousin Jane," Mr.

  Collins began. "But your mother informed me that you were expecting another offer soon. I congratulate you."

  Elizabeth felt a mixture of elation and disgust. She was relieved Jane would not have to be tethered to that man. Of all her sisters, Jane deserved a better life than being Mrs. Collins. At the same time, she could not help the distaste

  towards her mother's presumption that Mr. Bingley would propose marriage.

  Hearing her name uttered, she turned her attention again to Mr. Collins. "Being the next in line, I have decided my offer should be to you, my dear cousin

  Elizabeth."

  Elizabeth stared. She waited for Mr. Collins to continue and state the reason why she too had been deemed unacceptable. None came. As the silence

  continued, she looked first to her mother and then her father. Their faces

  confirmed that she had heard correctly. She looked to escape the sudden

  nightmare, only to find Mr. Collins standing next to her. "You cannot be serious, Mr. Collins!" she finally exclaimed.

  Mr. Collins' face turned from smug to utter confusion. He took a step back and looked first to Mrs. Bennet and then back to Elizabeth. "But... but..."

  Elizabeth was not about to wait for any of his comments. With as much

  indignation as she could muster, she said, "Mr. Collins. I do not love you, and you could not possibly have fallen in love with me in the short number of hours in which you have been our guest." Mr. Collins looked as if he might say something, but Elizabeth was not of a mind to hear anything he might have to say. "No, Mr. Collins. I will not marry you."

  "Of course you will, Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet shrieked. "You will marry whomever I say you will marry, you ungrateful girl!"

  Elizabeth glared at her mother and then turned to her father, who was shaking his head. At least she knew her father would not force the marriage. She sat back in her chair, her body straight and rigid. "You can not make me marry, and I will never accept him." Elizabeth shot back angrily to her mother. She stood and glared icily at her cousin. Slowly and succinctly, she said, "Know this, Mr.

  Collins. You are the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry." Before waiting for any further reaction from anyone, she stalked out of the room. She was only briefly awa
re Mr. Collins was speaking again. What he said, she did not know, nor did she care.

  That same morning at Netherfield, Darcy rose with the sun, per his wont. The house was not yet awake, so he took the time to catch up on some

  correspondence. He owed a letter to Wesley, and more importantly, one to

  Richard. He was fairly certain Georgiana's improvement was not temporary,

  and he could not wait to relate the news.

  As he took out his stationery, quill and ink, he let a sigh. It had only been two days since the Bennet sisters had returned to Longbourn, and yet Netherfield did not seem the same. The warmth that had infused the house the previous

  week was missing.

  Conversation at meal times and after dinner was cordial, but not jovial. Even Bingley seemed less like his cheerful self. Worse, Miss Bingley's attention to him seemed to increase. Music had become the only welcome distraction in the evening, and it was often too short lived. In fact, the only benefit of the departure of the Miss Bennets was Miss Bingley's tongue seemed to be less

  sharp.

  He recalled, with not a little disgust, the advice Miss Bingley attempted to impart the day the Bennets returned to Longbourn. "Mr. Darcy, I am concerned with the amount of time our dear Georgiana is spending with that Miss Eliza.

  Georgiana needs the example of ladies from her own social sphere," she had said.

  In the next moment, he chuckled, recalling the way Caroline's face had screwed up into a mixture of anger, jealousy, and confusion at his reply. "Then thankfully the lot of my sister's guardianship does not fall to you. I can not think of a better confidante and example for my sister than Miss Elizabeth. I could not be more pleased with the way Georgiana has blossomed under

  the sincere friendship Miss Elizabeth has offered her."

  He pushed his thoughts aside. Today, he, Bingley and Georgiana were to visit Longbourn again. He was inexplicably anxious to be under way. It may have

  been forgoing his usual morning ride in favour of attending to his

  correspondence that caused his restlessness. Or perhaps it was the welcoming and happy air that always seemed to be present at Longbourn - even if some

  people were a bit too loud and in need of some discipline.

  Just over a month ago, he was dreading this trip into Hertfordshire. Now, he could not be more thankful for Bingley's decision to lease Netherfield.

  Elizabeth's forgiveness, kindness, and sincerity had been salve to his own soul, and she had worked a miracle with Georgiana.

  With a brisk shake of the head, he focused once again on the blank pages in front of him. Before going anywhere today, he needed to post these overdue

  letters. He dipped his quill into the ink jar and began writing.

  Richard,

  Hertfordshire has been nothing I expected.

  Do you remember Miss Elizabeth Bennet? We used to call her Baby

  Betsy when we wanted to make her angry. Perhaps you will recall

  her father's estate is here in Hertfordshire. As a result, we have

  become reacquainted.

  Despite our ill parting several years back, she has become a friend to Georgiana, and for that I could not be more thankful. Under

  Elizabeth's friendship, Georgiana has matured and is learning to

  come out of her shell. She still suffers the effects of the past summer, but is no longer in a state of constant melancholy.

  The next time you see her, you will no doubt be surprised by the

  marked improvement. I wish I could claim responsibility for this, but

  I can not. For this reason, I am hesitant to leave Hertfordshire

  anytime soon. However, should you wish to witness Georgiana's

  transformation in person, I am certain Bingley will extend you an

  invitation to Netherfield.

  Until then,

  Darcy

  He sanded the letter, then sealed and stamped it. He smirked as he imagined his cousin's reaction. Then, picking up a new quill, he dipped it in the ink and began anew.

  Wesley,

  I apologize for missing your annual hunting party. Bingley has taken

  up an estate in Hertfordshire and has requested my assistance in

  joining the ranks of the landed gentry.

  My time in Hertfordshire has been well used. I have become

  reacquainted with an old friend whom you may recall. You will most

  likely remember her as Betsy Bennet, or Baby Betsy as I called her to

  make her angry. (I recall an incident involving you, pirates, a plank,

  and her landing in Pemberley's pond.) She now answers to Miss

  Elizabeth Bennet.

  I shall return to London before Christmas to do a little shopping.

  Georgiana will not forgive me if I do not. Aside from that, I have no

  intention of leaving Hertfordshire anytime soon.

  Before your imagination gets the better of you, Miss Elizabeth

  remains only a friend. She has become a particular friend to

  Georgiana, and I am hoping to encourage that bond.

  Write me your plans for travelling north and of the holiday season.

  Your friend, &etc.

  Darcy

  His letters now complete, Darcy went downstairs to break his fast. He would depart for Longbourn soon after.

  After Mr. Bennet's refusal to force the marriage between Elizabeth and Mr.

  Collins, Mrs. Bennet was left with few options. To this end, she spent her

  morning following Elizabeth throughout the house trying to impress upon her that it was her duty to accept Mr. Collins. When that failed, she used a method of persuasion with which she was more familiar. Her shrill voice rang

  throughout the house as she hurled any number of insults and accusations,

  demanding Elizabeth beg for Mr. Collins' forgiveness and accept his marriage proposal. It came as no surprise to anyone then, that the moment Elizabeth had completed her chores, she fled Longbourn.

  The moment she escaped the confines of the house, Elizabeth ran, not paying any heed to her direction. All she cared was that her mother's voice and biting words were waning. It was with some surprise then, that when she finally

  looked up to determine her location, she found herself nearing one of her

  favourite haunts, the banks of the stream that flowed just on the outskirts of town. Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, she sat down against a large oak tree, letting the serenity of the area seep through her. She threw off her bonnet and gloves, and closed her eyes.

  Unbidden, hot, angry tears began to fall. Whether her mother's words were true or not did not matter; they stung just the same. Her mother and she often

  clashed; over the years, Mrs. Bennet had become an expert at finding fault with her. Elizabeth was criticized for any number of things, including the books she read, and the manner in which she walked, dressed, or talked. Mrs. Bennet's criticisms for her were to such an extent that it had become a simple fact that Elizabeth was her least favourite. Everyone in the household accepted it,

  including her and her father.

  She pitched acorns into the nearby stream as she wondered how her mother

  could have agreed to a marriage between her and Mr. Collins. Surely, everyone knew they were very unsuited for one another. The thought occurred to her that her mother had granted Mr. Collins her permission simply to be rid of her; that only made her cry harder.

  At times like this, she wished she could be like Jane. Jane would have accepted the offer without question, for no other reason than the good of her family. Jane would have been able to see redeeming qualities in the marriage and in Mr.

  Collins. Try as she might, Elizabeth could do neither.

  Her thoughts and her anger turned towards her father. He had done nothing to stop her mother's cruelty. Like many other things, he had simply excused

  himself from the situation and hid behind the heav
y oak door to his study. He had taken the same approach with the family finances. Though never allowing something catastrophic to occur, he had also done nothing to curb her mother's

  spending. As a result, they had little savings to live on should he meet an untimely demise.

  She took out her frustration on a few more acorns, hurling them into the muddy banks and water.

  With a snort, she realized the late Mr. Darcy had done more for her family than her own father. By bequeathing her a small house in Bath, the former master of Pemberley had ensured they would at least have a roof over their heads.

  With no more acorns within easy reach, she dried her eyes and then again

  leaned back against the tree. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, cherishing the silence. She knew her mother's ranting would begin again when she stepped foot inside the house. A few more minutes alone though, and she could

  withstand the barrage until it was time to retire for the night.

  She was startled by the loud crunching of leaves. Her eyes flew open, and she saw a horse and rider nearing. She scrambled to her feet and attempted to

  reassemble herself. The last thing she needed was for her mother to hear she was inappropriately attired in public.

  "Miss Elizabeth!" the rider called. She recognized the voice as Darcy's and smiled. As she watched him approach, she could not help but notice the fine figure he made atop his steed. No wonder Caroline and the other ladies of the Ton are pining for him. She let out a light chuckle.

  "Li'l Beth," Darcy said, as he dismounted. "Are you well?"

  "I am perfectly fine. Why do you ask?" Elizabeth replied, trying to appear as though nothing was amiss.

  "You were not at Longbourn this morning, and your sister told me you had run off in distress."

  Elizabeth closed her eyes in regret. In the uproar, Darcy and Georgiana's visit had slipped her mind. "Forgive me. I had forgotten."

  "Have you been crying?" Darcy asked, noticing her red eyes and tear stained cheeks.

  Embarrassed, she turned away and stared at the ground. "It is nothing. I am fine now."

  "Li'l Beth, pray, what has you in tears?" When Elizabeth hesitated, he added gently, "I will keep your confidence."