Page 1

Longbourn, Breakfast Room - Elizabeth

E lizabeth Bennet had always known this day would come - the day when some gentleman would seek her hand in marriage.

She had imagined it countless times: perhaps a chance meeting in a moonlit garden, or a declaration of love during a country dance.

Never had she pictured herself trapped in Longbourn’s breakfast room on a cold autumn morning, watching Mr Collins methodically arrange his coat tails before launching into what promised to be an exceedingly formal proposal.

Her mother’s eager presence beside her only made matters worse. Elizabeth could practically feel Mrs Bennet vibrating with anticipation as Mr Collins cleared his throat and began to speak.

“May I hope, Madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth,” Mr Collins began, adjusting his cravat importantly, “when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?”

Mrs Bennet’s response came with predictable enthusiasm.

“Oh dear!” she exclaimed, her hands fluttering with excitement.

“Yes-certainly.” She beamed at Elizabeth.

“I am sure Lizzy will be very happy-I am sure she can have no objection.” She jumped to her feet, gathering her work with trembling hands.

“Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs.” Already halfway to the door, when Elizabeth called out,

“Dear Ma’am, do not go!” Elizabeth rose from her chair, panic rising in her throat. “I beg you will not go. Mr Collins must excuse me - he can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear.” She moved toward the door herself, adding desperately, “I am going away myself.”

“No, no, nonsense, Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet’s voice took on that particular tone that brooked no argument. “I desire you will stay where you are.” Seeing Elizabeth’s desperate glance toward the door, her mother’s expression hardened further. “Lizzy, I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr Collins.”

Elizabeth knew better than to defy her mother’s direct command.

After a moment’s reflection, she realised it would be wisest to endure what was coming and have done with it as quickly as possible.

Sinking back into her chair, she seized her needlework, hoping the familiar motion would hide how her hands trembled.

Her mother, satisfied with this show of obedience, swept from the room with Kitty in tow.

The moment they were gone, Mr Collins straightened his cravat and began.

Mr Collins clasped his hands before him, adopting what Elizabeth supposed he imagined to be an expression of tender regard.

As he launched into his speech, Elizabeth found herself counting stitches to maintain her composure.

He praised her modesty, claimed her reluctance only increased his admiration, and assured her of her mother’s blessing.

Elizabeth’s needle moved faster as he declared his intention to make her the companion of his future life.

Just when she thought he must be finished, he announced his intention to explain his reasons for marrying and coming to Hertfordshire.

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. It seemed Mr Collins had only just begun.

Elizabeth had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the idea of Mr Collins being “carried away” by any feeling stronger than his reverence for Lady Catherine. Before she could compose herself, he had already launched into a detailed list of his reasons for marriage.

Elizabeth’s attention drifted as Mr Collins enumerated his reasons for marriage.

First came his duty as a clergyman to set an example for his parish.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he mentioned his own happiness.

But it was his third reason that brought Elizabeth’s wandering thoughts sharply back to focus - apparently, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself had commanded him to marry.

Elizabeth’s needle faltered as Mr Collins proceeded to recount, in excruciating detail, Lady Catherine’s exact words on the subject.

Not once in his lengthy exposition did he mention love, affection, or even basic compatibility.

Instead, his noble patroness had twice offered her unsolicited opinion, most recently during a game of quadrille.

Her requirements were specific - a gentlewoman, but not too refined; useful, but not ambitious; someone who could manage a small income while maintaining proper respect for rank.

Mr Collins seemed particularly pleased to report that Lady Catherine had promised to visit his chosen bride at Hunsford, as if this were the greatest inducement he could offer for matrimony.

“And I must observe, my fair cousin,” he added, leaning forward earnestly, “that Lady Catherine’s notice is not the least of what I can offer you.

Your wit and vivacity will surely please her - once properly tempered with the appropriate reverence, of course.

” Elizabeth noted that her own feelings on the matter seemed to be the least of his concerns .

Having exhausted the topic of Lady Catherine’s wishes, Mr Collins turned to his reasons for seeking a wife at Longbourn rather than in Kent.

Elizabeth’s hands stilled completely as he spoke of inheriting the estate after her father’s death.

Though he repeatedly inserted phrases about her father living many years longer, his casual discussion of becoming master of Longbourn made her stomach turn.

He presented his choice to marry one of the Bennet daughters as an act of great generosity - a way to minimise their losses when that “melancholy event” occurred.

Elizabeth found his attempt at delicacy almost worse than outright callousness.

Mr Collins concluded his explanation with what he clearly believed to be his most generous offer yet.

He would make no demands regarding Elizabeth’s portion, he assured her, being perfectly aware that her inheritance consisted only of a thousand pounds in the four per cents after her mother’s death.

His tone suggested she should be grateful for this magnanimous acceptance of her relative poverty.

“And you may assure yourself,” he added with an air of supreme benevolence, “that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married.” Elizabeth found herself wondering if he truly believed this final promise would win her heart.

Time seemed to stand still for an instant.

Thoughts and emotions rushed through Elizabeth faster than she could begin to comprehend them.

The one she was most certain of was disgust for the man in front of her and disgust that he could imagine himself in love with her and that she would return his feelings.

She could imagine it all - he would not accept her refusal, no, he was not intelligent enough for that, he would merely think she was playing with him.

She would be forced to walk away from him, her mother would be angry with her, more angry than she had ever been before, and she would try and force her into marrying Mr Collins.

Her father would understand, of course he would, he would not force her to do anything that she did not want to do.

She was on the verge of uttering her refusal, when a chill ran through her as she heard her father’s wracking cough from his study. Was refusing Mr Collins truly the right thing to do, when her family’s security was hung by such a fragile thread?

She thought of her sisters - dear Jane, whose pure heart deserved the chance to marry for love; Kitty and Lydia, still so young and vulnerable; and steady Mary who needed time to find her own path. Without a secure home, what chances would any of them have at happiness?

Jane was in love with Mr Bingley but who knew how long it would be before they were engaged?

She, Elizabeth, had never been in love; by marrying Mr Collins she could ensure that her sisters would be able to live a comfortable life after their father’s death.

And what was one daughter’s happiness, compared with ensuring her entire family’s survival?

The sacrifice would be bitter, but Elizabeth knew she could never forgive herself if her refusal led to her mother and sisters being thrown into poverty upon her father’s death.

The Bennets had kept it very quiet, but Mr Bennet was not well.

His complexion had grown increasingly pallid, and a persistent cough often interrupted his reading.

Luckily, he did not often go out among society, preferring to remain at Longbourn in his book room.

He still attended church every Sunday, putting on a brave face, so most of their acquaintances were not aware of his ill state of health.

In hushed tones, his doctor had informed him that he would be lucky to live another twelve months.

This grim prognosis weighed heavily on Elizabeth’s mind as she contemplated their future.

She drew her attention back to Mr Collins only to find that he had continued talking, heedless that she was not paying attention. “-and I think you will find that Lady Catherine has improved my humble abode greatly, in fact I think you will find that-”

“You forget sir that I have yet to give you an answer.” She interjected.

He paused, he seemed to have forgotten about that part of the proceedings, “Ah, yes.” he said looking at her expectantly.

She hesitated, trying to draw strength, she thought again of Jane and her sisters. For their sakes and her mother’s, there was no other way. She took a deep breath and prayed to God for strength.

She spoke quietly, “I will marry you, Mr Collins.”

“My dear Miss Elizabeth, oh my dearest cousin,” he face went slightly red with pleasure. “I am so glad.”