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BUT THE NEXT morning, soon after breakfast, she found herself cornered by Mr. Collins, who would not be put off, even though she attempted to escape him and to say that he could not have a private audience with her for there was nothing that he could say to her that he could not say in front of everybody.

The proposal was quite awful.

He organized it like a sermon, the kind of sermon wherein there is one point and three supporting details, like, “We know that God loves us, and we know it because of his grace, his mercy, and his sacrifice,” and then with a number of verses to illustrate each point.

It was a lot like that.

He thought having a wife would “greatly increase his happiness.”

He also thought parsons should have wives.

And thirdly, Lady Catherine had told him to do it. (Lady Catherine had apparently said, “Find a lady and bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.”)

Elizabeth let him go on. And on. And on.

He went on for quite some time. It was a very long recitation, and he delivered it as if speaking to a vast congregation of many.

He looked about the room, gesturing with his hands as he made points, pacing a bit, clasping his hands behind his back at points.

Rarely, however, did he seem to look at Elizabeth herself.

Eventually, solemn, quite pleased with himself, he stopped speaking.

And she squeaked out, “May I have some time to think about it?”

He seemed startled that she should say such a thing.

But then, nodding, he said, “Oh, indeed, I am sensible to the fact that women sometimes enjoy drawing out the experience by asking for time to think or even refusing. They hope that the man in question will continue to plight his troth, and I, of course, am not deterred. I shall be happy to give you a bit of time, then, madam.” He winked at her, giving her a smile that was so self-assured and, frankly, lascivious that she was seized with a fresh wave of horror.

She knew then what she would do.

It was beneath her. It was wrong. It was all based upon falsehoods and Elizabeth’s own terrible abilities to sway people to her own will.

It would lead to a great deal of suffering for Mr. Darcy when he discovered that she was completely different than the woman he thought she was. It was an ill-advised idea all round.

But she could not marry Mr. Collins.

She simply could not.

And she similarly could not refuse Mr. Collins and then live here, in Longbourn, knowing the entire estate was gone and that her mother hated her and that she would likely never get another marriage proposal, because Caroline would never bring her to London if she did not fall on her sword and marry Mr. Darcy.

And what was she saying, anyway? It was hardly falling on her sword. He was… well, it would be no hardship to be married to that man. It was a fantasy come to life, in fact.

So, she sent a letter with a servant to Netherfield.

Not to Mr. Darcy, of course, because they did not have the familiarity to warrant it.

But instead, to Caroline, instructing her to loudly mention in Mr. Darcy’s presence that Mr. Collins had asked for Elizabeth’s hand and that she had begged him for more time .

She sent the letter off at around eleven o’clock.

Mr. Darcy was knocking at the door at half past one.

Everyone was in the drawing room when he arrived. He made his greetings, polite, and then he asked to speak to Elizabeth alone.

“Lizzy, you little minx!” cried her mother, getting up from her chair.

“No wonder you behaved as you did this morning. Why, I had no idea.” She looked Mr. Darcy up and down.

“You, sir, I must say! I knew it would be this way, though. Once Jane got herself with Mr. Bingley, he would bring my other girls into the paths of other rich men. What a thing, indeed, I am all a-flutter!”

Her mother actually said “rich men.” Not wealthy men, which would have been bad enough. Not something materially better, such as, “men of consequence.” Rich .

Mr. Darcy reacted, his eyes widening, even as Miss Bennet chortled to herself and shooed out the others.

“I’m ever so sorry,” said Elizabeth. “You must not have really paid much mind to my family last night.”

“Your sister, Mrs. Bingley, is everything an accomplished wife should be,” said Mr. Darcy. He shrugged. “However, I must say, it is a rare thing to be truly accomplished. I likely only know a half-dozen truly accomplished women, wives or maidens, in all of England.”

It was Elizabeth’s turn for her eyes to widen.

She coughed. “Half a dozen, you say.” Oh, my, this was off to a terrible start.

This man, she did not know this man. He did not know her, and she did not know him.

But how could he say such a horrible and prejudiced thing? How could he be so casually dismissive?

Well, she had to say, perhaps it was a sign. She did not feel nearly as bad about manipulating him, after all.

“You know why I am here, of course,” he said.

“Indeed, sir,” she said.

“I am resolved to do it, of course,” he said, letting out a long and noisy breath. “Though it is does look different in the light of day than it did last night, I may say. You predicted that it would, and you were correct. ”

Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, of course he was going to attempt to back out of it, wasn’t he? She was going to have to talk him into it again, and inwardly, she fumed.

“It is true that you are not the sort of woman that I likely should marry,” he said.

“You are not very well connected, truthfully, and you have little in the way of a dowry, I understand. Which is no worry. Certainly, I have no need for such things, and and—at any rate—the dowry would be kept for your own use after my death, of course, and I shall be well equipped to see to that, to your welfare. You have no need of worry. But when people hear of the match, that is all, it will be… well, I have thought that through with more detail than I had last night, let us say that. However, the truth is, I am enamored of you. I know that if I did not offer for you now, I would regret it. I cannot imagine feeling more strongly about a woman. There is just something about you, Miss Bennet.” He smiled at her. “So, will you consent to be my wife?”

She smiled. Well, he had done it, hadn’t he?

“Of course, and I am flattered by your offer, sir. I am overcome.” She made her smile wider, thinking that he had spent the bulk of his proposal going on and on about how he shouldn’t marry her, and only a sentence on what he liked about her, and he couldn’t be more specific than to say that there was “something” about her.

He stepped closer to her, and her instinct was to back up, but then she noticed that he was looking at her lips.

Oh, Lord save me, he’s going to kiss me!

And this thought made her root herself to the spot, going absolutely still as he closed the distance between them entirely.

His hand went around her body, his palm thick and urgent on her back, and he pressed her close, so that they were touching, chest to chest, and then his lips were on hers, and it was dizzying, even though it was just one moment, just the softness of his supple mouth against her mouth, and then he was done and he pulled away.

When he let go of her, she had to hold onto the back of the nearby couch for balance.

She could not say why the kiss had affected her in that way. It had been brief, so brief, but… it was the way he moved, she thought, the confidence and surety of his body, his girth engulfing her, his hand urging her close, his obvious gratification when he gazed at her now.

Her fingers fluttered up to touch her lips.

He let out a breath. “Would you object to a short engagement?”

“No,” she said immediately. “No, indeed.”

His stormy gray eyes shone out in triumph. “Very good.”

WHEN ELIZABETH EMERGED from the drawing room with Mr. Darcy, it was clear that her mother had made Mr. Collins aware of what would transpire, and that Mr. Collins was doing his best to take the news without insult.

Mr. Darcy sought out Elizabeth’s father, and Elizabeth stood by as Mrs. Bennet began to extol the virtues of Mary, her third eldest daughter.

Perhaps she might have succeeded in this venture, for Mr. Collins seemed to have no particular attachment to Elizabeth herself, simply that she was the eldest unmarried daughter attached to the property he was about to inherit.

However, just then, Charlotte Lucas arrived to spend the day with them at Longbourn, and Mr. Collins went to her like a shot.

Oh, dear, thought Elizabeth, Caroline and I have made that match too well, have we not?

She attempted to intervene only at one point, when she spirited Charlotte away from the man for a few moments simply to assure that she need not feel as if she must do anything. “If you don’t wish to accept him, don’t,” said Elizabeth.

“But what if I do wish it?” said Charlotte.

“Why?” said Elizabeth, shaking her head at her. Here she was, marrying Mr. Darcy to escape from the specter of that awful man, and here Charlotte was, acting as if Mr. Collins was her savior. She could not understand it, she had to admit.

But she was fairly certain that it would come to pass that Charlotte would marry Mr. Collins and would become the mistress of Longbourn.

Mrs. Bennet would not be pleased.

Around this time, the door opened to her father’s study. Elizabeth expected Mr. Darcy to emerge, but it was her father who came out alone, saying he’d instructed Mr. Darcy to stay within and that Mr. Bennet would return momentarily to speak with the man.

He motioned with his head for Elizabeth to come with him.

Elizabeth joined her father. “Papa?”