Page 26 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)
Chapter Fourteen
Elizabeth did not sleep longer than usual the morning after the ball.
Eager to be up and about, she hoped Mr. Darcy would be waiting for her atop Oakham Mount.
He did not seem the type to linger abed, even after a late night.
The thought pleased her; it proved they were very like-minded.
She dressed without a maid, twisting her hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck.
Her bonnet would suffice to keep her curls in place during the walk.
The gown she chose was simple and easily donned without the aid of a maid.
As the household still slept, Elizabeth slipped quietly from Longbourn and hurried down the familiar path toward her favorite place.
The morning air was brisk, but not unbearable.
The cold roused her senses, and by the time she reached the summit of the hill, her cheeks stung and her legs tingled with cold, yet she felt invigorated.
He was not there. No matter, she thought.
He will not be long. Elizabeth settled herself on their log and waited, tapping her legs to warm them and tucking her gloved hands into the folds of her cloak.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Perhaps I misjudged his propensity for early mornings, she jested with herself.
Resolving to wait ten minutes more, she rose and began to pace the length of the mount’s crest. Her breath curled in white clouds before her, and she rubbed her arms briskly for warmth.
At last, she turned her steps towards home.
He remains in his warm bed, she thought, her mood dipping. I ought to have done the same.
With quick strides, she retraced the path and soon reached Longbourn. Once inside, she tucked her wool gloves into the pocket of her cloak, removed her bonnet and retreated to the breakfast room, resolving to seek out a hot cup of tea as soon as might be.
Mr. Bennet joined her shortly after, noting the bright flush of her cheeks. “Winter is in the air, my dear,” he quipped. “I should think it time to curtail your strolls until the weather grows more temperate.”
“I think not, Father,” Elizabeth replied, reaching for the teapot. “I shall not cease my morning rambles until the chill proves truly overpowering.”
“As you like it.” He selected a scone and split it open. “Tell me—will Mr. Collins propose to Mary today?” He lifted his brows and gave them an exaggerated waggle.
“If he does, she will refuse the offer.” Elizabeth did not find her father’s teasing amusing and frowned slightly.
“Will she?” He blinked in surprise. “Well, I did not think… No matter. What is to be done?”
“Promise you will support her when our mother begins her tirade,” Elizabeth begged, lowering her voice. “Mary has seen Mr. Collins’s character for what it is and rejected the match. Mama will be furious—”
“I shall not force her,” Mr. Bennet interrupted, slathering butter onto his scone. “I would not wish for any of my daughters to be tied to the bumbling buffoon.”
Elizabeth‘s smile returned as she took a sip of tea. “Then you will not protest when Charlotte arrives to whisk him away?” She batted her lashes in mock innocence and raised the cup once more.
Mr. Bennet laughed heartily. “You have already arranged it all! Good. I wish to be present for the spectacle.”
“Mary’s discomfort is not a source for your amusement, Papa.” Elizabeth said sharply, lowering her cup. “You must grant her some dignity. Our mother will embarrass us enough, and Mr. Collins is likely to despise us all for rejecting his olive branch.”
“Let him. Then I shall never be forced into his company so long as I live.”
Mr. Bennet took a bite of his toast. They fell into silence enjoying their repast until, a short while later, Jane and Mary entered.
They seated themselves in their usual places near Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet, partaking of their breakfast quietly as they awaited the others.
One by one, the remaining Longbourn residents trailed in—Kitty first, Mr. Collins last.
Mrs. Bennet’s face lit up when the gentleman appeared, then bade Kitty to move so he might sit beside Mary. Kitty scrambled to obey, though Mary cast her a pleading glance, silently willing her to remain where she sat.
“I wish for a private audience with Miss Mary over the course of the morning,” Mr. Collins declared, directing a sickly, self-satisfied smile toward his young cousin, whose dread was barely concealed. Her lips moved almost imperceptibly. Was she rehearsing what she would say when she refused him?
Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands with enthusiasm. “Everyone up! Come now, leave Mr. Collins to his interview. Make haste!”
Mr. Bennet did not look pleased. With a sigh, he left the room. Mary cast another pleading glance—this time with Elizabeth, who offered a slight nod in acknowledgment. She would station herself just outside the door and intervene, if necessary.
Kitty and Lydia, already giggling, departed arm-in-arm, Mama trailing behind. Jane gave Elizabeth a curious look when she lingered but said nothing.
Elizabeth crept closer to the partially open door and leaned in to listen.
“My dear cousin,” Mr. Collins began, full of pompous ceremony.
“You have waited in suspense, I am sure, for my proposal. Never fear, for I shall satisfy your desires without delay. First, however, I must outline the reasons for entering into the married state. First, I believe it proper for every clergyman in easy circumstances—such as myself—to set an example of matrimony within his parish. Second, I hold that it will contribute to my present happiness. And lastly, my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has commanded me to find a wife as soon as may be. She is a woman of great discernment in all these things and knows better than I what shall secure a man’s felicity.
Thus, I have come to Longbourn in hopes of finding a wife from among my cousin’s daughters.
As you are aware, I am to inherit your father’s estate upon his demise, and by choosing one of his daughters for my wife, I shall atone for the misfortune of my birth, which places me above the ladies of Longbourn in the line of succession. ”
He paused, and Elizabeth could well imagine his puffed chest and insufferable pride that accompanied his speech. Foolish, irksome man, she groaned inwardly. Poor Mary, to be subjected to such drivel.
“In addition to these sentiments, your dear mother impressed upon me the importance of choosing a wife whose physical attributes most align with my own. She has, quite rightly, informed me of the dangers of having a wife who is more attractive than her husband. As a clergyman, I cannot take the risk of having a wayward wife, and so I passed over your two elder sisters, who are more lovely and well-favored.”
He left out the condemning words ‘ than you,’ but Elizabeth felt sure her sister did not mistake his meaning.
“And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection.” Elizabeth nearly gagged. What affection? He had insulted poor Mary and puffed himself up with his own importance!
“I am afraid, sir, that I cannot accept you.” The words were spoken quietly but with unmistakable firmness. “You would not make me happy, and I am certain I could not possibly make you happy, either. Thank you for the honor of your proposal, but I must refuse.”
Mr. Collins replied at once, his ingratiating, condescending manner making Elizabeth’s skin crawl.
“I understand it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application. It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy of your acceptance. In marrying me, you secure the futures of your mother and sisters. Can you be so unchristian as to refuse?”
“I—I cannot!” Mary burst from the room, brushing past Elizabeth and running up the stairs. The parlor door, now fully open, revealed a stupefied Mr. Collins frozen in place with astonishment.
Where is Charlotte? Elizabeth groaned inwardly and stepped forward.
“Sir,” she said quickly, entering the room, “forgive my poor sister. She does not know how to convey what she wishes. Will you allow me to explain further?”
Mr. Collins straightened to his full height and gave a solemn nod. “Of course. I shall hear you.”
Elizabeth gestured toward a chair, and once they had both seated themselves, she began hesitantly. “You have impressed a good lady with your manner. My sister is aware of it but fears she may usurp another’s dearest hopes.”
She looked down, plucking at a thread on her gown.
“Mary is reserved and timid. She dreads the notion of harming another’s heart by accepting your offer.
Do not distress her—or yourself—any longer.
Your olive branch has been extended and received with appreciation.
We do not doubt your generosity. When my father dies, I am confident you will not turn us away, especially if you have married a dear friend of the family.
” Elizabeth fell silent, watching his countenance for a reaction.
“I do not understand. In whom have I inspired such devotion?” His eyes gleamed with curiosity and no small measure of self-satisfaction, as though already imagining himself as a gallant knight, rescuing a princess.
Elizabeth hesitated. “I do not know if I ought to speak,” she murmured, lowering her gaze. If she appeared too eager, he may suspect some artifice.
“Oh, but you must! I am to return to Hunsford on Saturday. How can I extend an offer to another if I do not even know her name?”
He stood and began to pace the length of the rug. “Oh, what a muddle!” He paused and turned back to Elizabeth, clasping his hands. “I beg you, cousin—tell me. I shall not betray your confidence.”