Page 30 of Strange Happenings at Longbourn (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #11)
Chapter Twenty
“Girls, come here this instant.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice carried sharply down the hall, cutting through the peaceful quiet of the morning.
One by one, the Bennet ladies emerged from their chambers, heads poking out like curious birds from their nests.
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, who looked puzzled, while Kitty and Lydia’s eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement, as though they hoped for news of a ball or a visit to Meryton.
Mary, as ever, appeared wary, her book still in hand as they filed dutifully into their mother’s suite.
“Sit, sit,” Mrs. Bennet commanded, gesturing imperiously towards the settee and chairs as though she presided over a grand audience. The air in the room smelled faintly of lavender water and starch from the lace-edged handkerchiefs stacked neatly on a nearby table.
“I have just spoken with Mr. Collins at length,” she began, her voice rising with significance. “His patroness is a great lady who gives him plentiful advice. She detests when there is strife between families and sent him here to make amends.”
“We surmised this from his inane conversation last night,” Elizabeth quipped, leaning back in her chair with an arched brow. Kitty and Lydia immediately dissolved into giggles, covering their mouths with their hands, while Jane and Mary remained impassive.
“That is enough out of you.” Mrs. Bennet scowled, her fan snapping shut with an audible crack . “Mr. Collins has informed me that the olive branch he wishes to extend is an offer of marriage to one of my girls! Is that not exciting? We shall not lose Longbourn after all!”
Elizabeth’s stomach sank like a stone in cold water.
The thought of tying herself for life to the pompous, self-important parson made her feel faintly ill.
“And who have you resolved to put forward?” she asked, forcing the question past lips that suddenly felt dry.
She did not wish to reveal her growing regard for Mr. Darcy, but she knew with perfect certainty she would do almost anything to avoid being shackled to Mr. Collins .
Mrs. Bennet sniffed with self-importance.
“I have not yet directed him towards any of my daughters. Of course, I informed him that Jane has a suitor. He expressed interest in you, Elizabeth, but I begged him to let me consider which of my daughters would best suit before he settled on a choice. You see, I know of your foolish desire to marry for mutual affection, and I cannot risk losing my home by putting forward a child who will refuse the best offer of marriage she is likely to receive.”
That was uncharacteristically shrewd of her mother, and though the words were unjust and cutting, Elizabeth could not bemoan the outcome—at least she would be spared the necessity of fending off Mr. Collins’s attentions.
“Then who, Mama?” Mary asked, her voice timid but steady.
“I do not know. My dear Lydia is much too lively for a parson’s wife, but the position comes with a future as mistress of Longbourn. What say you, my pet? Shall I tell Mr. Collins you are amenable to his intentions?”
“La, never!” Lydia tossed her curls, her eyes flashing. “I am dreadfully sorry, Mama, but I simply cannot abide such a boorish man. He would drain the very life out of me, I assure you! Perhaps Kitty would be a better choice.”
“Me? Why? I am just as lively as you, dear sister.” Kitty folded her arms across her chest and stuck out her tongue in defiance.
“Girls!” Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands, the sound sharp enough to cut through their squabbling. “One of you must marry him. We will lose our home otherwise. Can we not come to an agreement?”
“What of Mary?” Lydia’s sly glance slid towards their quieter sister. “Mary dearest, did you not express interest in Mr. Collins before he arrived?”
“I did.” Mary bit her lip, the faintest blush staining her cheeks.
“And?” Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, eyes bright with expectation.
“He is a very smart match. You will have a comfortable home in Hunsford, and then later here! It is a perfect arrangement.” Her gaze swept over Mary critically.
“It is a shame you are the least well-favored of my children. There is too much of your father in your face. While his features look well on a man, they do not suit a woman.”
Elizabeth winced inwardly. Why must her mother wield her tongue like a blade? Mary was not ugly—her plainness was only accentuated by the severity of her dress and hair. With a softer touch, she might be thought handsome enough .
“Why do you not let Mary think on it overnight?” Elizabeth suggested, her voice mild, though she could feel the tension humming in the air.
“What is there to think on?” Mrs. Bennet threw up her hands. “There is an eligible man in our house who wishes to marry one of my daughters. You should all be fighting for the chance. Except you, Jane dear. Your Mr. Bingley is worth ten Mr. Collinses. Your beauty would be wasted on him.”
“He is not my Mr. Bingley, Mama,” Jane demurred, her cheeks faintly pink.
Mrs. Bennet chuckled knowingly. “Oh, but he is. Goodness, any fool can see how the man loves you!”
“Be that as it may, he has not yet proposed, nor even asked for a courtship.” Jane’s uncharacteristic firmness made Elizabeth glance at her in surprise, fearing she might in some fit of generosity offer herself up instead.
“Mr. Collins is not for you!” Mrs. Bennet’s voice pitched high, verging on hysteria.
“Very well, Mama.” Mary’s voice broke the moment before their mother could launch into a full lament about her nerves. “I shall allow Mr. Collins to pay court, but I reserve the right to refuse him if I feel we do not suit.”
Their mother sighed as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “That is precisely why I did not push him towards Lizzy! I approached all of you in hopes that one of my daughters would be willing to do her duty.” Dropping heavily into a chair, she waved them away. “Leave me!”
One by one, the girls filed out. Kitty and Lydia rushed off, chattering and giggling over the prospect of Mary being saddled with the pompous clergyman. Jane disappeared quietly into her own chamber. Mary fell into step beside Elizabeth, her expression troubled.
“Come,” Elizabeth murmured, and together they entered Mary’s bedchamber, closing the door behind them.
“What should I do?” Mary asked at once, wringing her hands. “It is my duty to protect my family. Yet there is a part of me that rebels against allowing Mama to direct my life. She would place her own comfort above the welfare of her children.”
Elizabeth gathered her sister in a rare embrace. “Do as you said. Allow him to court you, and if you find he is not for you, then refuse him—gently. Men are such fragile creatures. They need a woman to bolster their egos. Mr. Collins appears to be more fragile than most.”
“We barely know him,” Mary pointed out, her brow furrowed.
“Yes, that is true. Is that not what a courtship is for?” Elizabeth’s teasing wink drew a reluctant smile from Mary .
Bidding her sister good morning, Elizabeth made her way towards her own room to prepare for a walk into Meryton. Passing her mother’s sitting room, she caught voices within and paused.
“Are you certain that Miss Mary is the best choice?” Mr. Collins inquired. “She is…the third daughter, if I recall? And she is not so well-favored as her other sisters. Perhaps Miss Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth will not suit at all,” Mrs. Bennet replied, her tone brisk.
“She is headstrong and willful. I can guarantee she would never show the proper deference to your great patroness. But my Mary! She is a dutiful daughter. And so pious. Why, she studies sermons regularly and is very accomplished. Her talents will serve you well in your parish.”
Mr. Collins sighed, clearly satisfied with her logic. “Very well, my dear Mrs. Bennet. I shall heed your superior knowledge of your daughters. If I find Miss Mary to be suitable, I shall propose before my departure.”
Recognizing the end of the conversation, Elizabeth hurried away, her mind turning over the situation.
Mary had her pride, certainly—pride in her moral rectitude, in her learning, in her belief that she lived to a higher standard than her sisters.
But she had also known loneliness, caught between the close bond Elizabeth and Jane shared and the mischief-loving camaraderie of Kitty and Lydia .
She did not deserve to be tied for life to a man she could not respect simply to ease their mother’s fears about the future.
If Mary decides against Mr. Collins, I shall stand with her, Elizabeth resolved, the thought settling like steel in her chest. Whatever strangeness had beset Longbourn of late, it had forged a subtle new alliance between her and Mary—one she intended to keep.
As Elizabeth fastened her bonnet, tucking in a stray curl, the sound of voices drifted up the hall.
Moments later, the door to the drawing room opened and her sisters appeared, cloaks and bonnets in hand, cheeks bright from the crisp autumn air that slipped in through the open front door.
The scent of fallen leaves and wood-smoke clung to them.
Any hope of a solitary walk was dashed when Mr. Collins appeared in their wake, his stride purposeful, his expression self-satisfied, as though the very notion of accompanying them was a service for which they ought to be grateful.
“Miss Elizabeth!” he called, puffing out his chest in a manner that reminded her irresistibly of an overfed pigeon.
“Your dear mother suggested we walk out today. It is a fine afternoon—quite perfect for an autumn day.” The solemn pride in his voice made it sound as though he had composed a speech worthy of Parliament.
“Mama said we could go buy ribbons and sweets!” Lydia announced with unrestrained delight, waving a small coin purse in triumph. “She gave me some of her pin money!”