Mr Darcy and Mr Collins's Widow

by Timothy Underwood

  Instead of pleasure the recollection now gave Elizabeth a stab of anxiety: why they had behaved as a couple forming an attachment. An unpleasant feeling tightly clenched Elizabeth’s stomach, she did not plan to ever remarry. She did not want to. She did not want to form an attachment with anyone. To be with her sisters and to care for them was everything she desired.

  Elizabeth let out a deep breath and focused on that thought — she planned to never marry, she planned to never marry, she had always planned to never marry. There was no reason for her to marry. Slowly the anxiety let go, and Elizabeth began to feel tolerably cheerful again.

  Then her far too clever mind pointed out she was being stupid. Anxiety and an instinctive repugnance to the idea were not a sound basis to plan her future life upon. Maybe it would be best to never marry again — but she should think rationally on the subject before deciding.

  She liked Darcy. She liked him a great deal. He was handsome and clever and always showed her the greatest respect. He seemed perhaps the exact opposite of Mr. Collins.

  At that thought the anxiety exploded again in her chest and Elizabeth set off again, walking over the dirt pathways as fast as her feet could carry her without breaking into a run. Once she stumbled over a rock in the path, and nearly fell, but hurried on without pause as soon as she regained her balance. She desperately tried not to think as she felt pulsing stabs of anxious pain radiating from her chest into her throat and arm.

  After more than ten minutes Elizabeth clambered up a steep hill set in a meadow, and leaning against an oak tree at the top sat breathless, watching the clouds of mist from her pants dissipate into the air. It was not as though he loved her in any case.

  This at last was a thought which relieved the tension. Elizabeth felt a pleasant warmth as her anxiety began to dissipate. Fitzwilliam Darcy, grandson of an Earl and possessor of an income of ten thousand a year, and very likely more, thought much too highly of himself to ever stoop to marry a country girl with a modest estate whose uncle was in trade. Certainly, he did admire her — as was natural: they were excellent friends, and Elizabeth knew herself to be a handsome woman. But, she was not the sort of woman whose mind leapt from admiration to love, and from love to marriage in an instant.

  Besides, and Elizabeth smiled in relief at the cows meandering the meadow below her, she did not love him either. Oh, certainly he was handsome. And certainly he was clever, and certainly he was an excellent friend. But that did not make love.

  After all, if she loved him she would not be terrified at the thought he might love her. In any case, she could not possibly be attached to a man who would disdain the connection to her dearest aunt and uncle. And, genuine love was shown by two persons who stood together and whispered happy pretty words to each other. And in its maturity love looked like what Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had, an awareness of each other’s mind and a love of their presence combined with a happy tolerance for their faults.

  No, Elizabeth had seen no couple behave as she and Mr. Darcy did. With their sharp clever debates and word games, and the way he could make her laugh so hard it hurt with his wry manner. No, what they had was a very good friendship.

  Elizabeth gave a small laugh as she stood, stretched and looked over the neighborhood. She saw bits of movement in the distance as people began to wake and go about their business. Elizabeth turned towards home with a smile. Though she did not like the necessity, she ought to be somewhat more reserved in Mr. Darcy’s company, to ensure he did not gain any false idea about her feeling more than she did.

  Chapter 7

  Over the next days Darcy’s concern for Bingley’s heart was overtaken by concern for his own. Each morning he sat by the window in the first floor sitting room and eagerly awaited the sound of Elizabeth’s horse or carriage. In the midst of writing a piece of correspondence he would suddenly realize the past five minutes had been spent contemplating the curve of her neck and the shape of her chin. Elizabeth rarely left his mind.

  Elizabeth Collins was everything he desired in a wife: she was witty and beautiful; she challenged him and made him feel as though he were a better version of himself as they spoke. The brightness of her smile made Darcy’s stomach flip every time she turned it on him.

  Elizabeth was perfect, except — her connections were deplorable. A Darcy with relatives who lived near Cheapside, in sight of their own warehouses?

  Never.

  It was impossible. Perhaps, if he thought it possible to avoid them after a marriage, but he knew Elizabeth would never distance herself from relatives she praised so highly. If he married Elizabeth he would have no choice but to be as intimate with Elizabeth’s uncle as he was with his own.

  So Darcy felt the acute danger of paying too much attention to Elizabeth and thinking too much of her. In fact he already did. He ought to turn colder, and speak with her less. He should make it clear through his behavior she could have no expectations from him. But — they were friends. He could not treat her so.

  She was not merely a woman Darcy found deeply attractive, yet unsuitable. She was one of the most challenging conversationalists Darcy had ever encountered, and she was by far the most interesting person in Hertfordshire. Bingley was an excellent friend and always good company, but he hated argument. His conversation was pleasant, but never a joyous challenge. Elizabeth though would always happily take the other side of an interesting question merely for the fun of the conversation — to keep up with her agile mind brought out the best in Darcy.

  Darcy did not wish to stop speaking to her. And — were he to treat her as he ought, she would be hurt. He could see Elizabeth enjoyed their conversations and depended on their friendship as much as he did. The thought of the unhappiness in her eyes were he to withdraw made it impossible.

  For more than an hour Darcy wrestled with this conundrum before he saw his path forward: if Elizabeth knew he had no intentions towards her it would be safe for them to continue to act as they had. What made too close conversation with an unmarried woman potentially dishonorable was that a man could arouse unwarranted expectations. If Darcy made it clear to Elizabeth they could only be friends, then they could be as close friends as they chose.

  Though he did not say it to himself, Darcy strongly felt that if he told Elizabeth he would not marry her, it somehow would reduce his desire to. He was too tempted. He needed an additional barrier.

  Later that day after dinner Darcy took a stroll around the gardens with Elizabeth. They walked arm in arm admiring the better specimens of flowers the grounds displayed. It was winter, but the excellent gardener at Netherfield had a variety of late blooming flowers — and many of the hedges were evergreen.

  While Elizabeth bent forward to more closely examine a plant cut into the shape of an elephant, Darcy recalled his thoughts of the morning, and decided to now make it clear he was not contemplating a closer connection between them. “I recently thought about how you very openly acknowledge your relatives in trade,” Darcy said bringing up the conversations in which she had mentioned them.

  “Oh!” Elizabeth straightened and turned to Darcy, “and toward what end did these thoughts turn?”

  “Merely that, whatever their virtues, such a close connection must have many associated disadvantages.”

  Elizabeth laughed, “In what way am I supposed to be disadvantaged by my relationship to Mr. Gardiner? In fact, in purely monetary terms, I am ahead. If I wish to move in London society I daresay I would be sneered at for who my uncle is, but I would also be sneered at for the smallness of Longbourn. Here around Meryton I certainly lose nothing for it.”

  “Yes, but such a connection must materially reduce your ability to marry a man of consequence in the world.”

  “Which would be a great disservice to me,” Elizabeth replied with a smile, “had I need to marry — but, one turn about the married state left me with a fine estate to manage. I have told you before, I hardly need, or wish, to tempt the state a second time.”

  Elizabeth drew her ar
m around Darcy’s again, but maintained a silent, absent frown as they strolled. Darcy, in no hurry to interrupt her thoughts, remained quiet as well. Suddenly, with surprising violence Elizabeth’s hold on his arm became viselike and she dragged Darcy to a more secluded pathway, which could not be seen from the main house.

  When her eyes grabbed his, their intensity unnerved Darcy, “if you mean to say your friend Mr. Bingley will not offer for my sister due to her poor connections, speak plainly.” Darcy’s mouth fell open, surprised by her manner and that she had drawn such an implication from his words.

  Darcy could not immediately reply due to his surprise, so Elizabeth continued with her eyes clinging to his, “My sister likes your friend a great deal. A very great deal — she may hide it when in company, but to someone who knows her as well as I it is very clear that she feels deeply. I have given up too much for Jane’s happiness, far too much, to see it wrecked by a superior gentleman who finds it entertaining to flirt with a poor country maid when he has no intention to make an offer.”

  The fury in Elizabeth’s eyes reminded Darcy of a story he read in a school primer about the fierceness with which a lioness would protect her cubs. She had never seemed so beautiful. It was impossible for Darcy to organize his thoughts in response to this unexpected question quickly. So he stood dumb and looked at her with wide eyes. After a pause Elizabeth’s face fell, “Please Mr. Darcy, we are friends, I trust you. If this is just a flirtation for your friend, please, I beg you: tell me.”

  Elizabeth’s distress prompted Darcy to speak, and with all the seriousness required by the situation Darcy replied, “Bingley had not at all been in my mind when I spoke. I know my friend well enough to know your connections with trade, and Jane’s small dowry, will be no issue for him. He has relatives in the north who still are in trade, and he is but one generation removed from it himself.”

  Darcy took a deep breath, as Mrs. Collins lost some of her tension at his reply, “I do not know how serious Bingley is — he often flirts, but I have never seen him so intensely interested before. His concern, especially in these past few days, is unprecedented. My friend is a good man — I can assure you he would never knowingly lead a woman to believe his intentions more serious than they were. But it is possible for a man on accident to imply more than he intends. I will speak with Bingley to make sure he knows what he is about.”

  The tension flowed out of Elizabeth, and she closed her eyes for a moment and breathed slowly in relief. “Thank you,” she said. Then Elizabeth opened her eyes and her face went very red as she clapped her hand over her mouth, “I should not have spoken to you so, I am —”

  Darcy stopped her with a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, “Do not apologize. I —” Darcy felt choked with emotion as he said, “I have a beloved sister as well.”

  Their eyes met and then Elizabeth smiled in a manner which Darcy felt through his chest, and took his arm again, “Do note, I only wish for Bingley to be serious, not for him to be certain. Marriage is a most serious business, and I think the two barely know each other well enough to decide upon it. If Mr. Bingley found on further acquaintance he did not believe he would be happy with Jane, it would do no one any favors to force them to marry. Neither would it make Jane happy for him to avoid her because he is not yet certain.”

  Darcy gave a small laugh, “You have chosen to give me a most difficult task I must navigate between the Scylla of the scaring my friend off, and the Charybdis of not focusing him at all.”

  “Maybe you should say nothing. So long as you are certain your friend does not intend to trifle with my dear Jane it may be best to leave them to their own devices. Marriage not only is a serious matter, it also is one perhaps best managed by the parties themselves. However, you know your friend best.”

  The two fell silent again, Darcy was aware of Elizabeth to his side. She appeared contemplative. Darcy felt tense. His attempt to hint that he would not offer for her had failed. But he could not be sorry for it, as without the information about Jane he might have made a serious mistake. He had no doubt that Elizabeth was correct about Jane’s feelings — she would know far better than he.

  Darcy did not want to attempt another hint to Elizabeth. He thought he should. Nothing had changed. He had not found the words, or even the intention, when several minutes later Elizabeth turned to him, and said, “I apologize, but I really ought to return to Longbourn.”

  Darcy nodded, and they parted.

  * * * * *

  The scene played in Darcy’s mind again and again. That Elizabeth misunderstood his intentions in such a way disconcerted Darcy. But it surprised him not at all that a woman with Elizabeth’s goodness would care more for Jane than herself. What lingered in Darcy’s mind was the intensity of that moment, Elizabeth’s desperation, and her words “I have given up too much for Jane’s happiness.”

  Her words confirmed what Darcy already surmised: she had suspected Mr. Collins would be as poor a husband as he subsequently proved to be, and married him to protect her sister. Darcy wished to know more. However, he knew her husband was a subject which distressed Elizabeth, and thus he could not bring it up.

  The day after Miss Bennet had recovered sufficiently to return to Longbourn Darcy and Bingley went shooting for birds with several of the local gentlemen. Darcy took this opportunity to see if Sir William Lucas could satisfy his curiosity.

  “I heard something which made me wonder about how Mrs. Collins’s marriage to her late husband came about. As both were unattached it would be expected that Mr. Collins would have married the elder Miss Bennet.”

  “I daresay that is correct. There had been an expectation he would marry Miss Jane. I do not know the full story, Miss Elizabeth may have told my Charlotte, but if Charlotte knew how it came about she kept in confidence. Mrs. Bennet told us Mr. Collins, and Miss Jane were as good as engaged a few days before it was announced he would marry Miss Elizabeth. It was a great surprise to learn of the switch. “

  At that moment a flight of birds and a minute of shooting interrupted the conversation. Once the two pheasants which the hunters had successfully hit were collected by the dogs, and then placed in the brown leather bags Darcy turned again to Sir William as they reloaded their guns, “Was Miss Jane disappointed by this? She ought to have been the mistress of the estate.”

  Sir William hesitated before he answered, “Mr. Collins was not, oh, how should I put it, he was not the sort of young man to attract a young lady’s fancy. His features were quite poor, which of course is no disgrace upon him, and his manners were — not of the highest breeding. I do believe Miss Elizabeth thought she did her sister a favor by attracting his attentions away.”

  This confirmed what Darcy thought, but he wished to know more about Elizabeth’s evident unhappiness at his memory. She thought he had been a tyrant. How had he tyrannized her?

  After another round of shots, as Darcy busied himself with examining his gun he said absently, not looking at Sir William so as to hide the depth of his curiosity, “What manner of marriage did they have?”

  “Oh, ho!” So William said with a laugh, “You are curious about our Mrs. Collins. She is a quite attractive woman, I do understand.”

  Darcy felt his face heat as he looked at the older man who had discovered his brief subterfuge, but he quickly brought his embarrassment under control, and said haughtily, “I only wish to know more about a friend, I assure you I have no intentions in that direction.”

  Under Darcy’s stern look Sir Williams humor fled, and he nodded, “Indeed, I see, it is likely for the best. She has never shown any interest in the gentlemen who have tried to court her — you see,” he said more solemnly than Darcy had ever seen the jovial gentleman speak, “While one should not speak ill of the dead, and — though he had many virtues, I cannot believe Mr. Collins was a good husband. Miss Elizabeth you see was a very merry girl of just fifteen, who delighted in society and music and dance. Mr. Collins expected his wife to at all times be somber and solemn and
maintain a certain dignity. I recall he would not allow Eliza to visit my Charlotte alone, and she was never allowed to attend any balls.”

  “She simply followed his dictates?” It was hard for Darcy to imagine Elizabeth without her laughter and playfulness.

  “She did,” Sir William rubbed at his face uncomfortably, “in fact she eagerly fulfilled his every whim.”

  Darcy felt a stab of fear at that. He remembered the conjecture he made during the dinner party at Longbourn that she had been abused, “Do you think he — beat her?”

  Sir William took some time before he answered, “No. In fact, several of us observed her carefully to see if we could find any signs of it. Miss Elizabeth had grown up around us, if we thought Mr. Collins was mistreating her in that manner we would have endeavored to make things uncomfortable for him.”

  A call signaled that the next flight of birds was about to be released, and both gentlemen shouldered their guns again. After they had fired, Sir William said, “I think, he threatened to throw her family out of Longbourn if he did not stay pleased with Miss Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet had only a few thousand pounds to her name, and she would have been desperately unhappy if forced to live on it.”

  Darcy tried to imagine Elizabeth’s marriage. She would have been Georgiana’s age. Darcy pictured Georgiana under the control of a man who forced her to forgo every pleasure. He shivered, as he always did, when he imagined what might have happened to his sister had he been a day later. But he found it difficult to imagine Elizabeth as that girl. The woman he knew always appeared too confident and capable for him to see what she had been like as a helpless girl.

  Chapter 8

  Just as the scene in the Netherfield gardens played in Darcy’s mind, Elizabeth’s mind lingered on how she behaved. She could not regret her behavior: she would do anything for Jane. Still it had been most improper. She ought to have found a more polite way to demand Darcy’s meaning. As Elizabeth turned the moment over and over in her mind to determine how she best could have handled it she realized what Darcy had really wished to say.