Page 51 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)
He gave another clearing of his throat and a deep and awkward bow, during which he unnerved her by keeping full eye contact all the while, as if she might get up and run away at any moment if he looked down.
On second thought, perhaps Mr Collins had good reason to be worried, if he was indeed thinking she might run away. Had it not been the height of rudeness, she would have done so without delay.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began. “It will come as no surprise to you, surely, when I say what I have come to say. I do not believe in masking one’s feelings, especially as a rector. One must always be above board, and never lead anyone astray to the best of one’s ability.”
Elizabeth had difficulty following him, but nodded in assent.
“I believe my feelings have been too marked to go unnoticed. You will doubtless remember how I made them known at the Netherfield Ball —”
Elizabeth’s heart raced. Not from the flutterings of amorous love, as Mr Collins no doubt would have hoped, but from horror. She was beginning to have an inkling of what he had come to say and fervently wished she had taken the opportunity to hide when she heard his voice.
“I have come to ask for your hand,” he blurted out.
“But before I am run away with my feelings, I think it important to note my reasons for marriage and that they are not all founded in —” he paused, and she held her breath, wishing she could run wildly into the woods and never see him again.
“Propagation of the human race, shall we say?”
Elizabeth looked away in silent horror. We certainly shall not say!
He plunged forward, however, each sentence worse than the last. “First, I am greatly convinced that marriage will contribute to my happiness. Second, I am possessed of a fine cottage and grounds off of the Rosings Estate, but it lacks a woman’s touch to make it a home.
And last, my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, demands that I find a wife.
It is unseemly, you know, for a rector of my standing to remain single if I am to be an example to my parishioners. ”
Elizabeth wished for the earth to swallow her, but the earth remained sadly unmoved.
“Mr Collins —” she tried to interrupt him, but Mr Collins would not be stopped.
“Now, there is nothing further but to assure you I will do my best to ensure no one will think ill of you when you move to Kent, though it may be difficult. As my wife, no one will speak of your dubious past, and I least of all.”
“My past?” Elizabeth asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes, indeed. I will forget your wild and unladylike behaviour and your adventures in Scotland — that savage land. A woman cannot expect to act with decorum when she is without a husband, for he must lead her in all things.” He mistook her silence for maidenly doubt.
“I assure you that once we are married, you will never hear the name of that savage place cross my lips again. Nor will I inquire into any indiscretions that may have taken place while you were there. If you were led to engage in Sunday travelling or even — Heaven forbid! — read coarse Scottish poetry, which is so apt to inflame the mind of a weak woman, I forgive you.”
Anger was an insufficient word for what she felt.
Rage, embarrassment, and utter disgust were all among the emotions swirling in her chest. “What gives you the right to call any nation or people ‘savage’, sir? You are a man of the cloth, called to love and lead all people, not only those you deem fit.” She stood from the bench, and he stepped back, stumbling and nearly falling in his haste. “I cannot accept you, Mr Collins.”
He seemed taken aback for a moment. Then, horribly, a self-satisfied smile spread over his face.
“Surely you jest, Miss Elizabeth. I know you are possessed of a sense of humour. It would be just like you to refuse me in jest, only to accept me in a day or two. I understand if you need some time to think on the matter. Indeed, it has only deepened my admiration to see that you have put on this display for me, as elegant females are wont to do in such situations.”
“Elegant females?” she asked. “I have no notion of what you could possibly mean.”
“I am told it is the practice for gentlewomen, such as yourself, to refuse a man at first, for a lady naturally would not wish to seem too eager. You are humility itself, I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, but this is not necessary. I promise I will not think any less of you for accepting me right off.”
With an effort, Elizabeth restrained herself from smacking her forehead in frustration.
“I have not accepted you, Mr Collins. Quite the contrary. And I am not in the practice of tormenting respectable gentlemen. No sensible woman would count that as an appropriate means of securing someone’s love.
” She held her ground, although his face had become quite flushed as she had gone on.
“Forgive me, Mr Collins, but I cannot and will not accept your proposal. Good day.” She hurried away, so he could not refuse her refusal again, and quickly turned the corner of the house.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Mr Collins cried out. To Elizabeth’s despair, she could hear him coming after her. She increased her pace from a brisk walk nearly to a run in her desperation to escape him. “I will inform your mother of the good news of our betrothal!” he called after her.
She gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Insufferable man!” she said under her breath. As Elizabeth turned the corner to the front of the house, she came face to face with Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth could not stop in time. In the shock of bumping into him, Elizabeth would have fallen if he had not reached out to support her. She looked up at him, speechless in her surprise and mortification. Had he heard what Mr Collins had blurted out as she had been making her escape?
His hands still on her arms, Mr Darcy frowned down at her in what seemed to be a mixture of surprise and concern as she tried to right herself.
“Forgive me for calling so late in the day, Miss Elizabeth,” he said.
She righted herself and smoothed down her skirts, looking over her shoulder to be sure that Mr Collins had not followed her.
Mr Darcy looked at her with increasing concern. “Are you well? You seemed as if you were running from something.”
“I suppose you could say that I am running from a horrid beast, in a way,” Elizabeth said dryly. She glanced at the front door, then back at him. “Forgive my abruptness, Mr Darcy.”
“Not at all. I have come to speak with you, but if now is not a good time…”
“No! I mean, yes, now is the perfect time. I strongly suggest we take a walk in the woods on the other side of the house.” Elizabeth could hear Mr Collins crashing about in the underbrush, coming ever closer.
There was no more time. Elizabeth took Mr Darcy’s arm, tugging it lightly to show him where she wished to go.
As they strode away, Elizabeth knew she was acting with unladylike boldness, and knew also that she did not care.
Though it was unseemly of her to take a gentleman’s arm and run off with him, desperate times called for desperate measures.