Page 18 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Ten

Mr. Collins arrived precisely at four o’clock. He stepped down from the hired gig and straightened, grinning at the Bennets, who stood waiting to receive him.

“My dear cousin!” he cried, stepping forward and bowing to Mr. Bennet. “At long last, I have arrived at your doorstep.”

As Mr. Bennet performed the introductions, Elizabeth studied their cousin with keen interest. Mr. Collins was a tall, stout man of about five-and-twenty, with a saccharine smile fixed upon his face.

When he removed his hat, Elizabeth noted that his brown hair lay flat against his scalp and his locks were in need of a thorough washing.

They proceeded into the house. Mr. Collins’s commentary continued without pause as they entered the drawing room.

Mrs. Bennet rang for tea, her lips pursed in evident displeasure.

Elizabeth was surprised her mother had not yet said anything untoward, though she knew it was only a matter of time.

Their guest praised the house, the furnishings, the decor, and finally the Bennet daughters.

They bore the attention with grace, though Kitty and Lydia wrinkled their noses in distaste.

After tea, Mr. Bennet led Mr. Collins to the study, leaving the ladies alone in the drawing room. “Have you ever seen such a poor specimen of a man?” Lydia exclaimed at once. “Why, even Mr. Darcy looks better.”

“‘Beauty in things exists merely in the mind which contemplates them.’” Mary said solemnly.

“David Hume, Mary? I am impressed.” Elizabeth leaned over and tapped her sister’s hand, offering her a warm smile. “And you are not incorrect.”

Mary smiled hesitantly, clearly pleased at the praise. Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt. Her younger sister so rarely received approval from anyone in the family.

“Only those with ugly features speak such proverbs,” Mrs. Bennet snipped.

“Keep your musings to yourself, Mary. Lydia is correct—Mr. Collins is regrettably favored, though I do not agree that he is worse than Mr. Darcy. That ghastly scar…” She shuddered.

“Still, Mr. Collins will inherit Longbourn, and so we must be polite.”

Kitty and Lydia grumbled but did not argue.

Elizabeth wondered how far her mother would go when she learned about Mr. Collins’s so-called olive branch.

Mr. Darcy’s fortune had not lured her mother into thinking well of him.

Would she behave differently with the heir to Longbourn?

To do so would expose the greatest of hypocrisy.

Yet, it seemed entirely in Mrs. Bennet’s character to behave just so.

Later that evening, Elizabeth noted her mother and their guest speaking quietly in the corner of the drawing room. Curiosity overcame her, and she crept closer until their conversation became audible.

“I have every intention of offering an olive branch in penance of the unfortunate circumstance that places me before your daughters in the entail, madam,” he said seriously.

“Oh? Then you will sign away your rights? That is very good of you.” Mrs. Bennet preened and tapped his arm with her fan.

“Not at all, madam.” Mr. Collins looked positively panicked.

“I shall offer marriage to one of your charming daughters. By marrying a daughter of the estate, you will have a home when your dear husband departs this mortal coil. ’Tis the least I can do.

And it fulfills the commands of my patroness, who said to me only recently, ‘Mr. Collins, you must marry. Choose a gentlewoman, for my sake. And for your own, let her be a useful sort of person.’ And, so you see, ma’am, I have come as expeditiously as possible to select a bride from among my cousin’s daughters. I am very partial to Miss Jane Bennet—”

“I am afraid, sir, that my daughter is being courted by a gentleman from a neighboring estate.” Mrs. Bennet’s sharp interjection cut him off before he could finish the thought.

“And I am afraid that Elizabeth, next in age, is far too willful for a clergyman. My Mary, however, is the perfect choice. She is studious and pious, and in every way the ideal match.”

Mr. Collins frowned. “She is not as well-favored as her sisters, but I suppose other qualities will compensate for the lack.”

Elizabeth bristled but held her tongue, intent on hearing the entire exchange.

“It is folly for a man and wife not to be well-matched in appearance, sir. Surely, your patroness has spoken of the dangers.” Mrs. Bennet batted her eyes.

“Let us speak plainly. A man with lesser physical advantages will find it difficult to manage a wife of superior beauty. Other men will flatter her away. No, ’tis far better to marry someone less attractive. ”

Elizabeth nearly laughed aloud at her mother’s absurd reasoning.

Was that truly her belief—that the best marriages occurred when both sides were equally handsome?

Goodness, no wonder she had married Mr. Bennet.

Her father was a handsome man, even now, in his sixth decade.

Still, it came as a relief that Mr. Collins would not direct his attentions to her, though she could not be certain how Mary might feel.

Mrs. Bennet’s words appeared to have made an impression, for Mr. Collins nodded sagely.

“Yes, Miss Mary it will be. I shall make myself agreeable to her and then offer my hand in marriage. Thank you, Mrs. Bennet, for your wise counsel.” He bowed and left her side, crossing the room to take a seat beside Mary.

Elizabeth remained where she was, musing on the overheard conversation, and resolving to speak with Mary as soon as she could.

November 19, 1811 Longbourn Elizabeth

The next day, the ladies decided to walk into Meryton.

Jane, feeling quite like herself again, longed to be out of doors.

Mr. Collins asked to accompany them, and though they had received their fill of him the previous evening, they agreed.

He never ceased talking, so conversation with him—or anyone else—was nearly impossible.

The only time he fell silent was when he ate.

The man consumed enough to feed two, slouching over his plate and filling his mouth until it could hold no more.

He offered compliments on everything served at table, from the boiled potatoes to the pheasant.

At one point, he inquired whether the estate employed a cook.

Mrs. Bennet’s stiff reply confirmed it. She seemed affronted at the suggestion that her daughters might set foot in a kitchen.

Elizabeth wondered whether her mother understood that a wife with no cookery skills would be of little use to a man such as Mr. Collins.

They departed soon after the morning meal.

Lydia and Kitty bounded ahead, their heads bent together in eager discourse.

Mr. Collins and Mary followed. He offered his arm to the lady, and she accepted.

His ramblings began the moment they set out and continued the entire way to Meryton.

Elizabeth and Jane brought up the rear, the former keeping a sharp eye on the pair ahead, hoping to gauge her sister’s opinion of their cousin.

“You seem rather contemplative today,” Jane observed. Elizabeth quickly told her sister everything she had overheard the night before. Jane sighed deeply.

“Mama has ever been thus, Lizzy. Why is it a surprise to you now? Yes, she desires wealthy husbands for her children, but a wealth of good looks is just as important to her. Have you never heard her tell Mrs. Long how she wishes for handsome grandchildren? Yet even Mama will not turn away Father’s heir. ”

“I wonder what Mary thinks of him,” Elizabeth mused.

“On the surface, they seem well suited. I do not speak of their appearance, but rather their interests. Mary is pious and morally inclined. Marrying a clergyman would be logical. But look—observe her posture. She is rigid and holds herself well apart from the man. Perhaps she dislikes him.”

“It has been less than a day—impossible for any of us to form a clear opinion.”

Elizabeth nodded. “You are wise, Jane. We had best watch and wait.”

They entered Meryton to find Kitty and Lydia speaking with Mr. Denny and an unfamiliar, handsome man in a blue coat.

Upon reaching them, Mr. Denny introduced Mr. George Wickham to the walking party.

He was a fine specimen of the male sex, with dark blond hair and startling blue eyes.

His features were perfectly proportioned, without the slightest hint of asymmetry.

“I mean to join the militia,” he told them. “Miss Lydia assures me I will look better in a red coat, and my friend Denny promises good employment and agreeable company.”

Lydia batted her lashes. “You are most welcome to Meryton, sir! Why, my aunt is to have a card party on the morrow. You should come!”

Mary hissed, “Lydia, you cannot offer invitations on our aunt’s behalf!”

Their sister laughed. “Fie! We are to take tea with her. We can ask then.”

Jane drew in a sudden breath, and Elizabeth turned to see what had caught her attention.

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were approaching on horseback.

A gasp from Mr. Wickham made her turn back to him.

His face had gone pale, and he swallowed hard.

Another glance at Mr. Darcy told Elizabeth the two men knew each other—and that their acquaintance was not a friendly one.

Mr. Darcy’s face was dark with fury, his features twisted in anger.

He appeared frightful, and for a moment, she could see why others might find him unappealing.

’Tis a good thing his heart does not match that countenance. She watched as he turned his horse and galloped away the moment he reached the edge of the high street.

“On second thought, Denny, I had best move on.” Elizabeth turned once more to regard Mr. Wickham. He looked uneasy, even frightened. “Miss Bennet, can you tell me when the post coaches depart?”