Darcy began to regret revealing his conflicted feelings. “You are right, Miss Lucas,” he said, looking up to Sir William’s end of the table, where Elizabeth sat next to Mr. Collins, quietly buttering a bread roll. “Perhaps my compassion should not be restricted to one or two persons but bestowed on the gender in general. Women’s choices in life have always been constrained,” he murmured. Then looking at Charlotte Lucas directly, he asked, “Could you tell me why Miss Elizabeth was reading books on agriculture?”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But first you must understand that Lizzy is the sort of person who has never sat back and just accepted her fate. Instead of Jane or herself being forced into marriage, she was hoping to be able to give them all a small measure of independence: either through increasing crop yields or diversifying into some other, more profitable form of agriculture at Longbourn. The research looked promising but she told me that a discussion with her father ruled out any increase to their income through that means - even though he is applying some alternative methods to do with fertilisers and crop rotation that she discovered during her research. It appears that Mr. Bennet expects to see a fall in the price of corn in the near future and, as far as diversifying is concerned, they just do not have the ready funds with which to speculate. That is why Elizabeth has finally accepted that marrying Mr. Collins is the family’s only realistic option.”
Chapter 13
“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds, cannot change anything.”
George Bernard Shaw
It being eleven o’clock, morning, tea was being served in the ladies’ parlour where Mrs. Bennet and her three daughters were valiantly attempting to entertain Mr. Collins.
“So Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet, turning to her daughter and subjecting her to a piercing look, “Why was it that I heard nothing about you having met Mr. Bingley and his friend Mr. Darcy previously? Why did I have to wait until Lady Lucas told me about it yesterday?”
“If you will recall, Mama, you have been ill for almost three weeks. It was in passing, during a visit to the Circulating Library, that Charlotte introduced us to the two gentlemen. To be honest, we didn’t think it important. We knew that the acquaintance wouldn’t be followed up by Papa. Anyway, our circumstances being what they have since Lydia’s death, it really couldn’t make any material difference to us,” she said, looking down at her hands which lay modestly folded on her lap.
Mrs. Bennet heaved a sigh. “That is true, I suppose. Time was that I would have insisted that your father pay his respects to two bachelors newly arrived in the district. In fact, I think that I did mention it to him on hearing about Bingley. But for once you are right: there is nothing for us in the acquaintance at all.”
“Except that I was able to introduce myself to Mr. Darcy, Ma’am. It’s not every day that one can claim a nodding acquaintance with such an important gentleman,” said Mr. Collins ponderously, conveniently forgetting just how badly he had been snubbed.
“And,” here he looked a little coy, “it is quite possible that my having the honour of his acquaintance might one day be of benefit to you and your family.”
Mrs. Bennet studied Mr. Collins thoughtfully. “This Mr. Darcy seems full young to be so important. Exactly who is he, Mr. Collins?”
“Mr. Darcy is in his late twenties, I believe, so he is no greenhorn, ma’am. He is nephew to Lady Catherine De Bourgh and the master of a very large estate in Derbyshire - amongst the biggest in the country if the stories are to be believed. He numbers two bishops in his family and already has several livings in his gift. He could be of great assistance to someone like me. But his fortune does not end there. He has estates in Ireland and Scotland and then there is the probability of a betrothal to Lady Anne de Bourgh. Lady Catherine says that if the de Bourgh and Darcy estates join, there will be few in all of Britain to rival Mr. Darcy in power and wealth. A formidable man, if I may say. I was honoured to be noticed at all”
Elizabeth sat with her eyes downcast, listening to Mr. Collins’ words and uncomfortably recalling every disastrous argument she had waged with Darcy. She had been wary of the man since the day they met and the disdain that he had shown that first day at the library had stayed with her. So, whilst he was extremely attractive, she had never let herself forget that his social standing was probably far above hers.
Now, on hearing this recitation of the man’s importance, she became even more aware that their dealings with each other had been inappropriate. They should, by rights, have remained entirely superficial and so they would have been; if not for Bingley’s interest in Jane. Darcy’s protectiveness of his friend had meant that almost every meeting between the two of them had been characterized by absurd confrontations, which escalated into irrational responses that neither of them seemed able to control.
If his frequent attempts to apologise were evidence, Darcy was aware of the bizarre nature of his behaviour. But here Elizabeth had to admit that she too had contributed to their discord. For some reason, she could never bring herself to ignore or forgive him. Something in her seemed determined to maintain and even ratchet up the tension. And even though she was aware that her hostility was a challenge to him; it was a form of defence that she was loath to abandon. It had worked on the occasion of his visit to Longbourn, when he had amused himself at her expense by kissing her hand. He was presumably well versed in the art of dalliance and on that occasion, had she not been determinedly hostile, she would have been defenceless against him. As it was, he had succeeded in putting her to the blush.
She would keep these arguments with Darcy to herself of course; but it was certain that when Collins married her, he could hope for nothing from that gentleman. Yes, she had made a mistake there: she would have done better to ignore the man entirely, no matter how he provoked her. But how could she have known that it would come to this? She couldn’t have known that Darcy was quite so powerful, or been aware of the close connection between him, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and therefore her cousin. With a sinking heart, Elizabeth realized that she might already have had an irreversibly damaging effect on Mr. Collins career. Sometimes her mother was right. She must learn to curb her tongue, particularly if Mr. Darcy was to play a role her future when she married.
These unpleasant musings were interrupted by the sound of Mary’s voice. It seemed that her sister was speaking; or rather quoting in response to Collin’s obvious veneration of Darcy’s wealth:
“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also,” Mary recited, throwing a challenging look at their guest.
There was a deathly silence.
Mrs. Bennet, aghast at this rudeness from a daughter who was usually so reserved, opened her mouth to scold, but before she could, Mr. Collins, who looked unusually struck, observed:
“You are quite right to correct me, Miss Mary. As a clergyman, I am well acquainted with Matthew’s sentiments on the topic. I should not have made Mr. Darcy’s wealth and social position a consideration in my attitude toward him. Of course I owe him the courtesy due to any gentleman, but I can have no excuse for offering him more attention or deference than that which is due to any of God’s creatures. That was not well done of me.”
Mary sat back in her chair, looking a little relieved and perhaps rather smug at her small victory.
Now this is interesting, thought Elizabeth. A humble, albeit pompous Mr. Collins! A contradiction in terms one would think. But perhaps Jane and I misjudged the matter a little? He might be insensitive but it seems that he has morals and Mary has reached him with her sanctimonious attitude and biblical quote. Perhaps he will not be the tyrant we imagined.
She studied him coolly as he took a large bite out of a slice of fruit cake. The man wasn’t totally repellent
. Even though his teeth were very large and there did seem to be rather a lot of saliva involved when he chewed.
Prior to this, Elizabeth had not had the heart to do anything more than submit to her mother’s instructions in the matter of fixing Mr. Collins’ attention. She knew she could do more, but she would have to shut her eyes to his stupidity and throw herself into it. Moreover, it seemed from what had just occurred that there was a way of managing Collins if they married. For the sake of her family, she was going to stop feeling sorry for herself and make more of an effort to charm the man. After all, people married for convenience every day and she could train him to eat with his mouth closed.
“More tea, Mr Collins,” she asked, smiling sweetly as she lifted the pot and made a start at turning over a new leaf.
Chapter 14
“We don't stop playing because we grow old;
we grow old because we stop playing.”
George Bernard Shaw
The next morning, Elizabeth was, as usual, up before everyone else. Leaving the stale silence of the sleeping house behind her, she stepped out into the bright early morning light and breathed deeply.
Unlike most girls of her age for whom a season in London would have been sheer ecstasy, Elizabeth had never wanted to leave the countryside. It was true that she sometimes felt the pull of the bookshops and museums she had visited during her brief stays in the capital, but she knew their attraction would soon pall, while she never tired of this. And with her marriage this: this Longbourn; this beloved countryside; these trees and fields would remain forever part of her.
Elizabeth had persuaded Jane that, of the two of them, she could more easily shoulder the burden of a marriage of convenience. However, much of what she had said at the time had been aimed at encouraging her sister to leave for London. The truth was that she had found it just as difficult as Jane had to think about her future with composure. She had put it out of her mind until their cousin’s arrival, but even then there had been no real resolution except that - with his presence - the unimaginable had become slightly clearer.
But yesterday at tea, she had begun to see a way forward. Yes, it might be impossible for her to respect someone as pompous as Collins, but she could now see that if she was prepared to manipulate him quite shamelessly (using the approach that Mary had demonstrated) she and her sisters would be able to maintain some dignity. She comforted herself with the idea that there would be no real deception. She would only be working to Collins’ advantage by ensuring that he remained on the right track.
As for their more intimate relationship (here she shuddered) she would do her duty. Collins could not expect much more, as he was well aware that their marriage was one of convenience. For her part, she could and would dedicate herself to supporting him. Sensible advice, as well as the different perspective she would provide, would be beneficial to his ministry. So, while she might not love her future husband, things could be worse. At the very least, there would real purpose to her life if she spent it in the service of others. With this last thought came acceptance… a weight had lifted from her shoulders.
Then too, Charlotte Lucas had stopped by yesterday with a surprising insight into Darcy’s character. It seemed that he had overheard her mother finding fault with her at dinner the night before and had been moved to anger. He had intimated that he respected her intelligence and had even defended her right to education. Elizabeth was stunned as well as puzzled by this new information. The question remained that, if Darcy respected her, why did he constantly attack her? However, she would put that to one side. For the moment this was positive news as it seemed that she might not necessarily have Darcy ranged against her and Collins when she married.
Elizabeth walked out through Longbourn’s gates and shrugging off her cares turned into the lane. A heavy rain the night before had washed the foliage clean and her spirit exulted in the brightness of the sky, the freshness of the air and the lush greenery that crowded in upon her from all sides. What a heavenly day! She became almost delirious with the scents and sensations that washed over her.
The lane along Longbourn’s boundary had always been a childhood spot for puddles and pleasure and, as she moved through the fresh morning air, Elizabeth’s giddiness led to her spontaneously replay a time-honoured game of leaping from stone to stone: a pleasure that she hadn’t yet learned to despise. It was a game that she had invented long ago in order to avoid dirtying her boots and now it continued to offer a small challenge to a young woman who had always been secretly addicted to the idea of testing herself and triumphing against the odds.
Ahead, the road sloped downwards, curving to the right to join the broader lane to Oakham Mount. Lizzy knew that just after the curve there was a natural hollow in the road and that there her agility would be tested by a particularly large puddle. She was right of course, but on rounding the corner she saw that the heavy rains had made the puddle larger than it had ever been. Usually there were two rocks to use as stepping stones; today only one broke the expanse of muddy water that stretched almost from one side of the lane to the other. This meant that the second and flatter stone must be submerged beneath the surface. She pondered this, but it made no difference as, according to her own rules, she could not go around if there was any possibility of a dry crossing. She had to accept the challenge otherwise there was no point to the game.
The stone she was to land on lay a little to one side but was otherwise just a touch beyond the centre of the puddle. It was conveniently overhung by a branch and looking at it, she thought that she could just manage the leap onto its surface. She would then hold onto the branch to steady herself for the slightly shorter leap to the other side.
Jane, had she been with her, would have urged caution, but it would have made very little difference to Lizzy. She leapt and landed on a jagged point upon which she swayed and teetered, her arm stretched out to grasp the nearby branch. She felt herself beginning to lose balance and, as her arms wind-milled wildly around her, she made contact with the bough she sought, only to have it snap beneath her hand.
An urgent voice shouted close behind her, “Let me assist you there, Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Darcy! She swayed crazily on her stone as she heard splashing behind her. She felt his hands grab at her waist, just in time to prevent her from falling into the water. Then she froze. A million thoughts raced through her brain. No doubt, he had been watching her leaping about like a lunatic prior to this. She hated him! She hated herself! Her mother was right to say that her behaviour was juvenile. She would never play this stupid game again - only please let him show some compassion! Please let him just walk away and leave her alone to sort herself out. A face full of mud would be nothing compared to this humiliation.
But suddenly she was lifted off her feet. She could feel the heat from his hands at her waist; could hear his breath and the swish of water against his boots as he waded through, carrying her across to dry ground. But worse was to come. His grip was causing the light muslin of her dress to slip against the thin fabric of her chemise and, as he strode forward, the material bunched even more. His hands were sliding inexorably upwards and there was nothing to be done – nothing, until they came to a stop beneath her breasts.
Lizzie felt her face burn. Her feet hit the ground and Darcy stepped back, immediately releasing his grip.
“Miss Elizabeth. My apologies, I meant only to help…” he began.
The world around Lizzie had become a blur of mortification. She could only think that his touch had been far too intimate. If anyone had been watching there would be a scandal - even had she not been Lydia Bennet’s sister! She looked around. There was no one in the lane. No one had been witness to the event and Mr. Darcy would surely not talk of it. She must act quickly to remove herself from his vicinity.
Her embarrassment was profound. She could not even bring herself to raise her eyes.
“Thank you for your assistance, sir. I am sorry if your boots are ruined. It is rather too wet
to be walking out. I should be returning home. Good day,” she gabbled. And leaving the road, she cut the corner, pushing blindly through the mud and bushes to head back in the direction from which she had come.
______________________________
Darcy had also been headed for Oakham Mount and although he continued on, his pace slackened as he grinned and considered his last glimpse of Elizabeth Bennet walking away with her hair awry and a large twig sticking out from above her left ear.
He had seen her turn into the lane ahead of him earlier and had watched her hopping from stone to stone, realising that she was unaware of his presence. Her childish behaviour was somewhat endearing but - knowing her pride as he did - he had kept back, as he was certain that if she knew she was observed, her mortification would be intense.
He saw her hesitating at the edge of a very large puddle and thought that she would surely go around it. Yet no! Unlike any other young lady that he had ever met, Elizabeth was ready to face the challenge and after a minute or two leapt onto the rock in the middle. From a distance he saw immediately that her footing was not secure and began to run.
Her arms were swinging wildly and in the blink of an eye he had waded through the water and had grasped her at the waist. The yielding flesh beneath his hands told him that she was not wearing a corset and he would have let go at once but it was too late. If he removed his hands, there would be nothing to save her from an ignominious mud bath. He lifted her and began rushing forward; splashing through the puddle. But with every step he took, he felt the muslin beneath his hands slip inexorably upwards and over her ribcage, before finally coming to rest under the fullness of her breasts.
The Golden Apples of the Sun Page 10