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B ennet looked up at Elizabeth. If he hadn’t been certain that these would be the last days of her company, he might have been irritated. But she looked both distressed and angry.

“We have five minutes before we need to go through for breakfast, my dear. Tell me what has transpired.”

His favourite daughter — he would always think of her as his daughter — huffed impatiently and threw herself into the chair.

“Careful, Lizzy. The springs are quite overused with your anger of late.” He smiled encouragingly.

“Mr. Collins disturbed me in the sitting room just now, Papa. He shut the door, and when I objected, he overrode me and told me there were occasions when greater privacy was necessary and that as I was becoming betrothed, greater allowances would be made for me.”

She sat forward. “Papa, please do not allow him to make another offer, I cannot bear it.”

“What did you say to him?” Bennet tamped down his temper.

“I asked if he’d spoken to you and he said …” she drew herself up and quoted,

“Of course not. I will first gain your joyful consent and then I will tell him what I have decided.”

She shivered.

“I told him he must get your permission first — which would not be granted — as I have not yet attained my majority.”

“Then?” Bennet raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he said I was quite wrong, that he must tell me that he was the happiest of men, and his reasons for marrying.” Elizabeth fidgeted in her seat. “He wasn’t concerned at all about me. While he was lumbering around to go on one knee, I escaped out of the other door and came here.”

Bennet nodded. If Lizzy had to go back to town, and he was certain she would, then he could not keep Collins here. The other girls might attract his lecherous attentions.

At that moment, there was an imperious knock on the door. Bennet glanced up, smiling.

“It appears he has now managed to lever himself to his feet. Go out of the garden doors if you wish to avoid him, Lizzy, and I will see you at breakfast.”

She was gone in a flash, and he answered the knock. “Enter!”

He sat back to observe his heavy-set cousin as the man bustled self-importantly into the room. Mrs. Bennet followed him in, speaking so fast he could hear only the words hedgerows, ungrateful girl, and other complaints in the shrill voice that battered against his reserves.

Bennet didn’t rise; he didn’t respect the man enough, and he glanced only briefly at his wife. If he had wished enough to have shaped her character, he should have begun many years earlier.

“Mrs. Bennet, let me hear Mr. Collins. I do not mind if you remain in the room, but I must hear what he has to say.”

Collins was irate, but confident. “Mr. Bennet, I am glad that part of my duty as a clergyman is to instruct my parishioners where I know they are in error, so …”

“Then it’s fortunate that I am not one of your parishioners,” Bennet punctured the man’s words dryly. “Continue with only what is relevant, Mr. Collins.”

His cousin scowled. “You ought to listen to my words, or you would have to live with the regret of failing to control Cousin Elizabeth’s temper and manners. She will cause great disgrace to Longbourn. It is not to be tolerated!”

“Then I give you my permission to leave Longbourn, as it is not yet any concern of yours, Mr. Collins.” Bennet stood, angry enough with the disruption to all their lives — he would not accommodate the man any longer.

Collins gaped at him. “You misunderstand me! I intend to grant Cousin Elizabeth the honour of becoming my wife, and then the remaining tenure of Longbourn will be of much comfort to you before your decease.”

“Thank you for your confidence in my imminent demise, Mr. Collins.” Bennet was enjoying himself. “But what was all the commotion a few minutes ago outside this door? I beg you be brief, for I am — was — anticipating my breakfast.”

“Why, did you not hear?” his wife pushed forward. “That ungrateful girl would not even listen to Mr. Collins’ proposal.” She fanned herself. “Oh, what is to become of us?”

Bennet drew himself up, thankful he was taller than Collins. “You importuned Elizabeth without having asked me whether you could approach her? Elizabeth has not yet reached her majority. You acted utterly without the decorum which ought to be part of being a clergyman!”

Collins gaped at him again. “But it is important to gain the consent of the young lady first before approaching the father for his blessing!”

“You have not listened — again!” Mr. Bennet raised his voice.

“Elizabeth is not yet one and twenty. The law considers she cannot give her consent; that is for me to do. I am telling you now that I have been disgusted with your manners, and your lecherous gaze at all my daughters. You could not be a good husband if you tried.” He leaned forward.

“I do not give my consent for you to marry any of my daughters, and I now think none of them are safe with you in the house. Go and pack your bags. I will send to Meryton to hold the post, and ready the cart to convey you thither in fifteen minutes.”

“But … but … my breakfast,” Collins protested.

Bennet raised an eyebrow. “Yours would quite spoil mine. I will get our cook to prepare a packet for you to consume on the post coach. Now go to pack your belongings. You are not welcome here.”

He turned to his wife. “Fanny, you need to wait here a moment. I need to have a brief word about what we ought to say to our younger daughters.”

When Collins had left the room, still spluttering indignantly, he turned to his wife, who looked more curious than distressed.

“Thomas, what are you about? You know Mr. Collins ought to marry one of our daughters, and Lizzy could keep him in line very well indeed.”

“But would she be happy, my dear?” Bennet was suddenly filled with guilt; his own wife did not seem happy in their own marriage. He approached her and took her hands in his.

“Fanny, you are still young. I know after Lydia you have not felt able to consider another disappointment. But if I told you that our girls would not suffer any loss to their portion if we did have a sixth daughter, might you be willing for us to try again for a son? Collins is, after all, only the heir presumptive, and I think he presumes too much.”

She looked up at him, hope in her eyes. “It would not affect their fortunes?”

He shook his head. “I have been able to put aside a little extra outside the estate, this last year or two.” He smiled down at her. “It is your decision, my dear. I will respect whatever you decide.”