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Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet find their lives greatly affected

When one false step causes startling consequences

The Expanded Edition combines A Fortuitous Fall with the sequel novel, The Enigmatic Mr. Collins, in one convenient book.

A Pride and Prejudice Variation

By Laraba Kendig

Chapter 1

Netherfield Hall was ablaze with lights, and Mr. William Collins, heir to the estate of Longbourn, rector to Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings, smiled with delight as he exited the carriage. A moment later, mindful of his duties, he turned back to hand his chosen bride out of the carriage. He had not yet offered for Miss Elizabeth’s hand, but the time would come, and soon. Perhaps tomorrow?

Miss Elizabeth took his hand with winsome hesitation; she was a delicate flower, his fair cousin, beautiful and very clever. He had never imagined, while still a youth living in a dreary house in Kensington with his miserly father, that he would have a handsome gentlewoman as his bride. But here he was, rector of Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself and heir to a small but well-tended estate.

His future was wonderfully bright.

The Bennet family, the father, mother, and five mostly handsome daughters, wended their way to the front door of Netherfield with Mr. Collins, oddly enough, in their wake. He had meant to stay close to the woman who would soon be his wife, but she was quick on her feet, Miss Elizabeth, and he found himself briefly distracted by the front edifice of Netherfield. The building had been designed with a neoclassical style vaguely reminiscent of the early designs of the architect John Nash, who had …

But no, that was of no importance at all. Architecture was the concern of the upper classes and royalty, not Mr. Collins of Hunsford parsonage.

The foyer of Netherfield, with its receiving line, also had its distractions. Various paintings and sketches adorned the walls, including one which was quite definitely an early work of J. F. M. Turner. What was such a precious object doing in a leased home?

No, that was of no importance either! He must focus on the matter at hand!

“Welcome to Netherfield, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bingley, the master of Netherfield, said with a friendly smile. He was a pleasant chap, Mr. Bingley, and destined to wed Miss Jane Bennet, the eldest of the Bennet sisters. Collins would have chosen Jane if she had not been already spoken for; she was even lovelier than her sister Elizabeth. But Collins knew it would not do to poach such a handsome woman from another man.

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” he replied exuberantly. “It is truly my delight to be here this night. You are so kind to invite me when I am not well known to you at all. It reminds me of the gracious condescension of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”

He would have continued in this vein if he had not observed Miss Elizabeth slipping away down the main hallway toward a cacophony of noise. She had agreed, with becoming modesty, to dance the first set with him, and he must be there when the music began.

With a lengthy apology — it would not do to insult his host and his sisters, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley — he darted as quickly as his ponderous form would allow in pursuit of Miss Elizabeth.

The ballroom was large and already full of men and women in their finery. There was a cluster of red coated officers from the local militia in one corner, with a bevy of young women in their ball gowns swarming around them like bees to honeysuckle.

A trio of musicians was setting up at one end of the large, vaulted room; the pianoforte and its master dominated the group, with a violinist and flutist standing nearby. It was not yet time for the music to start, which was well since Miss Elizabeth had disappeared into the crowd near the edge of the room next to the refreshments.

The clergyman took a few steps forward and craned his head. Miss Elizabeth was a petite woman and he still could not see her, but his eyes fell on the figure of a tall, handsome gentleman who was standing, looking haughty, near a spiky potted plant. Collins hesitated. He was quite certain he had not met the gentleman before, but somehow his bearing was that of the glorious and condescending Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

A moment later, the gentleman moved forward briskly and Collins watched him as he approached, yes, it was Miss Elizabeth! How delightful that Collins had found her! He walked with stately dignity toward the two and heard Miss Elizabeth state gravely, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, my sister is indeed much improved in health.”

The beautiful second Bennet daughter turned toward the rector, her face calm, and he beamed at her. Mr. Collins had found Miss Elizabeth just in time, as the violinist was playing a few last practice notes and the various couples were making their way onto the dance floor. He held out an arm and captured his fair maiden. She really was such a delightful woman, Miss Elizabeth, and so very modest! Lady Catherine would be pleased.

They proceeded to the dance line and faced one another. The initial strains rang out and the dancing began, men and women twirling and stepping and bobbing in time with the music. Mr. Collins twirled and stepped and bobbed with the worst of them; he found himself in the wrong place much of the time. He had very little experience with dancing, unfortunately.

There was a sudden bump behind him from another gentleman, and he stepped forward hastily to get away, which entangled him in Miss Elizabeth’s gown. She drew back a step quickly and he jerked his foot, but his heel caught in the fabric and he was falling backwards and …

Everything went black.

***

Mr. Darcy was standing gloomily in the corner staring at the dancers when the catastrophe occurred. The object of his absurd obsession, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had been dancing with a lumbering man, a clergyman based on his attire, who obviously had no business being on the dance floor. There was a sudden collision between the fool and Bingley, Miss Elizabeth jumped back and the idiotic clergyman fell down with the accompanying sound of ripping fabric.

There was a cry of distress from someone and Darcy rushed forward in horror. Miss Elizabeth!

He heaved a sigh of relief as he reached her side. She was well. The lace at the bottom of her gown had ripped, but she was still modestly attired and unharmed. Her dismayed gaze was on the individual lying supine on the floor, his eyes closed, a lock of lank hair in disarray across his forehead.

Darcy knelt down next to the man and gently shook his shoulder, but Eliza … Miss Elizabeth’s partner did not move. Pemberley’s master quickly touched the man’s wrist and was relieved to find a pulse. He was not dead, at any rate.

“I say, Darcy, is he all right?” Bingley asked worriedly, kneeling down next to the recumbent form.

“He is alive, but he is unconscious. We had best get a couple of footmen to carry him upstairs to a bedroom, and you should send someone to fetch the local apothecary, Mr. Jones.”

“I will do so, but perhaps we will need three footmen,” Charles agreed. “He is a tall fellow.”

He was also rather plump. The unknown individual was well fed for a member of the clergy.

Darcy rose to his feet and turned to face Miss Elizabeth, who was standing a few feet away, her lips parted in distress. At her right, her arm wrapped protectively around her, stood the handsome eldest Miss Bennet, whose face had lost much of its usual placidity.

“Is Mr. Collins all right?” Elizabeth asked in concern.

“His pulse is strong, Miss Elizabeth, but he is unconscious.”

“Oh dear! I do not know what happened!”

“Lizzy, what happened?” a new voice demanded.

Darcy sighed inwardly and turned toward the excitable, garrulous, and vulgar Mrs. Bennet, who was always loud and would no doubt be even louder in the midst of a crisis.

“Mr. Collins fell, Mama,” Elizabeth explained in a repressive tone.

“Oh, dear me! Poor Mr. Collins! Will he not wake up?”

“He is unconscious, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy replied gravely. “The apothecary is being called.”

“How could you have allowed him to fall, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet demanded irascibly. “How is he to make you an offer of marriage if he is unconscious?”

Darcy felt his heart lurch in his chest. Miss Elizabeth to be married to that ... that oaf?

“Mama, this is hardly the time to discuss such a matter,” the girl hissed indignantly.

“I believe that Mr. Collins and Mr. Bingley accidentally collided on the dance floor,” Darcy stated. “It was a mere accident.”

Elizabeth shot him a grateful look and Mrs. Bennet’s peevish expression relaxed.

“Perhaps he will die,” she mused aloud. “If he does, I wonder what will happen to the entail on Longbourn? Perhaps we will be able to keep our home when your father passes on, girls!”

“Mama!” Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth cried out together in embarrassed anguish.

Darcy decided to have mercy on them and retreat. Surely this Mr. Collins, presumably the heir to Longbourn, would wake up soon.

***

“Mr. Collins is still unconscious this morning,” Bingley stated, taking a hasty sip of his coffee and grimacing as he scalded his throat. “Mr. Jones says he has sustained a concussion at the very least and must be kept quiet.”

To Darcy’s considerable surprise, Miss Caroline Bingley was at the breakfast table. Miss Bingley was rarely up early, and given that she had been hostess to a large ball, it was even more surprising that she had risen from her bed at this hour.

“He should be sent back to Longbourn,” she insisted, her lips tight. “Surely we have no obligation to care for yet another sickly Bennet.”

“He is not a Bennet, Caroline,” Bingley replied calmly. “He is their distant cousin and his name is Collins.”

Caroline shook her head, “It matters not. He is a relation of the Bennet family and must return to Longbourn.”

“And I say he cannot,” her brother retorted. “Mr. Jones insists that he not be moved. He was injured during a ball held at Netherfield and I feel responsible, especially since I am the one who collided with him.”

“He was out of position, Bingley, not you,” Darcy pointed out mildly.

“Yes, it was the clergyman’s fault!” Caroline agreed with a satisfied glance at Darcy. “Mr. Darcy agrees with me that you have no responsibility for the man.”

“I did not say I agree with that, Miss Bingley. I was merely making it clear that Bingley is not to blame. Given that he is unconscious and the apothecary says he cannot be moved, he should stay here at Netherfield.”

Caroline bit her lip, her expression outraged, but fell silent.

“I had planned to go to London, today,” Charles said cheerfully, “but given that we have an injured guest, I will stay home.”