If I Were Mrs Darcy

by Sophia Grey

  “Mama,” Elizabeth said quickly. “Jane is waiting for us in the carriage. It is time to go.” It was not entirely a lie, but Elizabeth had seen her sister and Mr. Bingley walking toward the hallway as the musicians had begun to pack up their instruments. It would be reasonable to assume that Jane would wait for them at the front doors.

  Reasonable enough.

  “Mama, please,” Elizabeth begged. Mrs. Bennet seemed to finally realize that the ballroom was almost empty and that some of the women standing around her were doing their utmost to disguise their tiredness behind their fans or gloved hands.

  “Very well, Lizzy, you can be so persuasive,” Mrs. Bennet sighed loudly. But what Elizabeth’s mother did not notice was that everyone in her immediate vicinity had heard everything that she had uttered previously—Mr. Darcy had heard it as well. Elizabeth’s face burned with embarrassment as her mother and sisters made their way down the hallway toward the waiting carriages. Lydia complained of having to leave so soon, convinced that she could have persuaded the musicians to play for another hour at least.

  After much negotiation and bargaining, Elizabeth was finally able to successfully herd her family out of the ballroom. As she had expected, Jane and Mr. Bingley were waiting by the front door as they tumbled out of the ballroom. Lydia and Kitty ran ahead, and Elizabeth could only assume that Mary had departed earlier with their father. She felt a brief stab of guilt that Mary had not said anything before she had left, but what was Mary’s way, and Elizabeth knew with some measure of embarrassment that she was most probably otherwise occupied at the time.

  Thankfully, there was no one to be seen in the hallway save for Jane and Mr. Bingley, and Elizabeth did her best to keep her pleasantries brief. Mrs. Bennet, however, spent an inordinate amount of time thanking Mr. Bingley for his efforts in regards to the evening’s entertainments. But, to his credit, Mr. Bingley deflected much of the praise for the success of the ball upon his sisters.

  “Mrs. Bennet, you are too kind,” Mr. Bingley said graciously. “I confess that my own role in this entertainment is very small. I will be sure to pass along your compliments to my dear sisters who have taken so much pride in creating everything you see here tonight.”

  “Indeed, I can see their hands upon it,” Mrs. Bennet declared. Before she could say anything more that might embarrass them, Elizabeth steered her mother through the doors toward the carriage that waited in the courtyard. “I do think that Jane will have a much more delicate touch with her own decorating,” Mrs. Bennet said loudly. “Miss Bingley has too much fondness for new fabrics, there is no charm of history in her decor.”

  “Mama, do lower your voice,” Elizabeth said for the second time that evening.

  “Are you afraid I shall be overheard, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet said even louder. “I am not afraid of anyone, do not scold me as though I were one of your sisters. I daresay that when Jane and Mr. Bingley are engaged there will be no one in Hertfordshire who would dare try to quiet me!”

  “Be that as it may, Mama, tonight we are still very much the same as we were yesterday,” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth, “and you must be mindful of what you say.”

  “Oh, you fuss too much, Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet laughed as she stepped up into the carriage where Mary was already seated and waiting with a sour look upon her face which Mrs. Bennet commented upon immediately. Elizabeth ushered her younger sisters into the carriage after their mother—Lydia, pouting and crying over having to leave sooner than she wanted, and Kitty, pink-cheeked with happiness at the events of the evening and the attention she had received.

  Elizabeth stood at the carriage door and looked back to where Jane stood talking quietly with Mr. Bingley. He had barely left her side all evening, and seeing them together made her heart feel light. However, behind them stood a shadowed figure that could only be Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was not ashamed of how she had spoken to him earlier—he had deserved every word of it and she would not be intimidated by the threat of losing his good opinion. In her mind, he had never earned hers, and she would not mourn the loss of his.

  Jane turned from Mr. Bingley reluctantly and walked quickly toward the carriage, Elizabeth smiled as her sister approached, and she could see a happiness in Jane’s expression that she had not seen there before. At long last.

  “Oh, Lizzy,” Jane said breathlessly. “What a wonderful evening.”

  “It really was,” Elizabeth agreed as they climbed into the carriage. There was no doubt that it had been a wonderful evening for Jane, but as Elizabeth looked out the window and stared back at the dark figure that stood in the doorway beside Mr. Bingley’s waving silhouette. She frowned and sat back against the cushioned seat and tried to ignore the arguments and excited chatter of her younger sisters. Lydia was making a detailed list of every officer she had danced with while Kitty was doing her best to add her own names to the conversation. Jane was sitting in silence with a small smile upon her lips, and Mary stared sullenly out the window at the dark trees that swept past.

  All Elizabeth could think of was how glad she would be to never see Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s angry face ever again. If he left Hertfordshire for good tomorrow she would not be displeased in the slightest.

  Elizabeth had lain awake far longer than she had intended that night, but her mind was a whirl of ‘what if,’ and it did not help matters that Lydia and Kitty carried on shrieking and laughing until the earliest of hours with their excitement. But Elizabeth’s newest problem, was that the regret she had refused to allow to taint the memory of her words and actions had begun to creep in. What if what she had said to Mr. Darcy would cause him to counsel his dear friend Mr. Bingley to second-guess his affection for Jane? If Mr. Bingley were to hear what she had said, would he think ill of her as Mr. Darcy most certainly did?

  Elizabeth’s stomach had twisted in frustrated agony while she pondered this, and it was only as the early dawn light began to break over the tops of the bare trees that she was finally able to sink into an unsettled sleep.

  She awoke not long after as Jane laid a hand upon her shoulder. Elizabeth groaned and rolled out from under the warmth of her coverlet to answer the soft knock at their chamber door. She greeted the scullery maid quietly and the girl entered the room with a bowl of steaming wash water.

  “Did you not sleep well?” Jane asked as the girl left the room with their washing.

  “Lydia and Kitty were up so late,” Elizabeth replied as she dipped her hands into the water. “It was impossible to sleep. I don’t know how you do it every night.” Jane merely smiled and lifted an eyebrow as she reached into the wardrobe they shared to select a fresh dress for the day.

  “Since you had such a wonderful time at the ball,” Elizabeth said casually, “do you have any further insight into your affection for Mr. Bingley?”

  “I fear I shall not be able to speak about such things,” Jane said with mock severity. “It is too early to tell what might happen.”

  “Oh, come now, Jane, that it most unfair!”

  But Jane was adamant. “I shall not lay my hopes upon something so important at so early a date,” she said with a smile and Elizabeth saw her sister’s cheeks redden with embarrassment. “If it not to be then I shall not be so disappointed when nothing comes of our acquaintance. I am content to let it be so, and so should you be.”

  “You know very well that Mama will have the same questions for you come breakfast,” Elizabeth scoffed. “You had best prepare something more convincing to say to her.”

  “Oh, dear,” Jane said mournfully, “Mama has been quite focused upon this has she not…”

  “More so than anything else in recent memory,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “I daresay it is her favorite topic of conversation. Lady Lucas must be quite tired of it by now.”

  “And poor Charlotte, she was the first of us to be introduced to Mr. Bingley, I suppose Lady Lucas had some hope that she would catch his eye—”

&
nbsp; “Charlotte Lucas could not hope to outshine you, dear Jane,” Elizabeth said briskly. “And it is not unkind to speak the truth, so do not scold me. Our Charlotte will find herself a husband more suited to her temperament at some stage, of that I am certain.”

  “I do hope that you are correct,” Jane sighed and then she brightened. “But what of your own evening? Do you not have any thoughts about your dance with Mr. Darcy?”

  Elizabeth let out an incredulous breath. “As much as you would like to avoid conversation about Mr. Bingley, so I would like to do the same for Mr. Darcy.”

  Jane laughed and shook her head, but she did not ask any more questions, and Elizabeth was silently grateful for the fact that her sister understood her so well.

  * * *

  The house was silent as they descended the stairs and Elizabeth called out for their mother cautiously, but there was no answer.

  “I shall check the parlor,” Jane said quietly. Elizabeth nodded and as Jane disappeared down the hallway, Elizabeth walked toward the drawing room. As she approached she could hear a male voice speaking in low tones. She paused momentarily, trying to place the sound, but whoever was speaking did not sound like her father. Elizabeth took careful steps, trying her best not to make any noise that might announce her presence.

  “My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances, like myself, to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, that I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness.”

  Elizabeth froze in mid-step.

  It was Mr. Collins. But to whom was he speaking so earnestly?

  “Twice now Lady Catherine has condescended to give me her opinion on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford between our pools at quadrille.”

  Elizabeth came to the doorway and peered inside to see Mr. Collins, dressed very carefully in his dark frock-coat and white stockings, pace the room with some measure of agitation. She scanned the space quickly and noted that he was alone—speaking to himself. Rehearsing, perhaps? But why?

  Mr. Collins cleared his throat and tugged at his jacket, which Elizabeth noted was a little snug around his waistline. He had clearly enjoyed one too many fine suppers at Rosings Park, and it was beginning to take its toll upon him. “While Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's foot-stool,” he continued, “that she said, ‘Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her—’”

  Elizabeth gripped the doorframe tightly. Did he mean to make some sort of proposal? And to whom? The floor creaked under her feet, and Elizabeth groaned inwardly as Mr. Collins spun around to see her standing there.

  His cheeks colored slightly and a broad smile spread across his wide face. “Cousin Elizabeth,” he said warmly. “Do come in, there is something I have been long wanting to discuss with you.”

  Oh, no.

  Elizabeth felt a pale terror steal over her. “I— I beg your pardon, I was looking for my mother, have you seen her, Mr. Collins?”

  “Indeed I have not,” he said. “The frivolities of last evening have rendered the house very quiet this morning.”

  “Yes. Quite,” Elizabeth replied awkwardly. Where was Jane? She had to find Jane. “If you will excuse me… I must find Jane—”

  “Cousin, I have been waiting to speak with you,” he said firmly and Elizabeth’s fingers fell away from the doorframe to grip the fabric of her dress tightly.

  He did not wait for her reply, but simply began speaking. “Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected mother's permission for this address. My attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered this house I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying—and moreover for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.''

  Oh, no. He had been rehearsing.

  “Mr. Collins, surely whatever it is that you have to say can be said in front of Jane… if you would but wait a moment—”

  Mr. Collins took a deep breath as though to fortify himself and straightened his coat once more. Elizabeth noted again how the buttons strained over his chest and she bit her lip as her mind conjured up an image of his buttons breaking free and flying across the room. “My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances, like myself, to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, that I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—”

  “Mr. Collins, I must beg you to stop,” Elizabeth cried. She had already heard him say these words, and she had no desire to hear them again. “I must confess that I am in no position to accept any proposal—”

  “I am not now to learn,'' replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

  “You are too hasty, Sir,'' Elizabeth said vehemently. “I cannot be any plainer in my response. Please, I beg you to accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me, I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline them.'' She shook her head at the shock of it all. “I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies, if such young ladies there are, who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. While you are certain of your own happiness in this match, I am also very certain that you could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.”

  Mr. Collins smiled indulgently and Elizabeth was sure that he was about to launch into another speech about the delicacy of certain young ladies, but she was in no mood to hear it. The lack of sleep and the exhaustion, both physical and mental, from the night before had set her on edge, and she was unable to keep her words to herself.

  “In making me the offer of marriage, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore, as finally settled.” Elizabeth turned to leave the doorway, for she had not yet entered the room when Mr. Collins cleared his throat sharply.

  “When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me. I can assure you, Miss Elizabeth, of the violence of my affection, and all that have even now said as much to encourage my suit.”

  Elizabeth let out a furious breath. Was there really no way to convince him of her sincerity? “Really, Mr. Collins,” she said with a laugh. “You puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, then I know not how to express my refusal in any plainer manner. I will not accept your proposal. I cannot and I will not. You may ask it a hundred times and I would still give you the same response. I pray, save us both the vexation and accept my refusal!”

  Mr. Collins blinked at her, but his smile did not falter. “You m
ust give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. You will forgive me, but It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in its favor; and you should take it into consideration that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you—”

  “Mr. Collins, I really must protest,” Elizabeth cried. “You have stepped from flattering insult with such speed that I can scarcely catch my breath. I will say in no plainer terms that your offer of marriage is an unwelcome one, and I shall never hear you speak upon it again. I wish you every happiness with whomsoever is wise enough to accept your proposal, and I bid you good day!”

  “Lizzy? Lizzy where have you gone?” Jane’s voice floated down the hallway as Elizabeth turned on her heel and marched away from the drawing room and Mr. Collins’ confused countenance. Her heart pounded in her chest and though she felt certain that she could not have made a more correct decision, she also tasted the terror of the fact that she may have doomed her family to Mr. Collins’ unwilling patronage when their father died.

  Her mother would accuse her of being selfish, and her father… Elizabeth smiled, she knew that her father would understand. He had shown nothing but the barest hint of disdain for Mr. Collins, which, to anyone who knew him, meant that he loathed the man.

  “Mama is looking for you, she says that you must speak with Mr. Collins—”

  “I have no desire to speak to Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said shortly.