Page 9 of The Cat Who Loved Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
But Mr. Collins was undeterred, turning slightly toward Darcy with eager reverence. “Indeed, sir, I have heard of your connection to her ladyship. She speaks of her nephew with such marked approval. It is a privilege to meet one so highly esteemed.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with barely hidden amusement at that, while Mrs. Bennet attempted to beam encouragement at them all, clearly willing Collins to make a good impression—so long as he spoke no further.
“Ah—hem!” Mr. Collins continued with laboured dignity, oblivious to any lack of enthusiasm.
“I consider it my duty—nay, my privilege—to speak often and with the greatest respect of Rosings Park, her ladyship’s grand estate.
So stately, so well appointed—truly an example to us all of noble stewardship and Christian hospitality. ”
Elizabeth suppressed a twitch at the corner of her mouth, lowering her lashes so he would not catch her expression.
Collins turned slightly to Darcy with fawning earnestness. “Mr. Darcy, meeting you here is an unexpected example of sense, dignity, and the blessings of Providence. Truly, we are all so very blessed to stand in such society tonight.”
Darcy’s expression barely shifted. He gave the barest inclination of his head, voice cool but correct. “You are...very obliging, Mr. Collins.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes twinkled with dangerous humour. “Indeed, Mr. Collins is most determined no one should forget Lady Catherine’s virtues, even here among us poor Hertfordshire folk.”
Mrs. Bennet shot her husband a quelling look before clapping her hands lightly in false cheer. “Yes, yes! We are all honoured. Now that we are all introduced so properly, we must not delay the dancing. Mr. Bingley—Jane will be delighted to join you, I am sure.”
Bingley turned to Jane with beaming eagerness. “Miss Bennet—may I have the honour of this set?”
Jane’s flush deepened, but she met his gaze with steady sweetness and dipped into a graceful curtsey. “You may, sir.”
He offered his arm with boyish delight, and she laid her gloved fingers on it lightly, allowing herself to be led toward the assembling couples. Mrs. Bennet watched them go, pressing her hand to her heart as if to steady its triumphant racing.
Elizabeth stood slightly aside, observing the room with alert composure.
She noticed Miss Bingley’s assessing stare follow Jane and Bingley, lips pursing just so before smoothing into polite disinterest. Elizabeth inclined her head in mild acknowledgment, allowing herself only the smallest, private smile.
Mr. Collins, meanwhile, cleared his throat once more—loudly enough to jar Darcy’s attention.
“Mr. Darcy, sir—such a lively gathering, is it not? I always feel that nothing speaks so well for a community’s moral health as an evening of well-regulated dancing.
Provided, of course, it is kept within bounds of Christian propriety. ”
Darcy turned his head slowly, fixing him with a level stare. “Indeed, Mr. Collins.”
Encouraged, Mr. Collins puffed up even more.
“Of course, at Rosings, her ladyship maintains the highest standards. She has often spoken of how the best company will elevate such events beyond mere frivolity. I dare say even an assembly such as this might win her approval, were she inclined to attend.”
Darcy’s mouth twitched minutely, the closest he had come to a smile all evening. “An admirable ambition.”
Elizabeth, half-listening, felt her lips press together to keep in a laugh.
She caught Darcy’s glance as he shifted uncomfortably under Collins’s unflagging monologue.
Their eyes met for the briefest instant—hers dancing with restrained amusement, his narrowing almost imperceptibly in reluctant acknowledgement of the absurdity.
“However, in my humble opinion—” Mr. Collins was feeling particularly eloquent and might have gone on at length, encouraged by such patient and enduring company.
“Forgive me, Mr. Collins,” Darcy interrupted, his tone impeccably polite but firm. “I am already engaged for this set, which is about to begin. Miss Bingley, shall we take our places?”
He offered the barest inclination of his head before stepping away with measured precision, Miss Bingley’s hand resting lightly on his arm. Mr. Collins was left blinking in startled confusion at the sudden, unassailable finality of the dismissal.
Elizabeth watched him go, a tiny spark of wry amusement and reluctant respect lighting her eyes.
Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, bustled forward with renewed determination, unwilling to lose her advantage. “Mr. Collins, you must not let Mr. Darcy claim all the pleasure. Elizabeth is an excellent partner, I assure you. You will find her steps quite... suitable.”
Elizabeth felt heat rise swiftly to her cheeks but forced herself to reply with calm dignity. “Mama, please. I doubt Mr. Collins is inclined toward such common diversions.”
Collins puffed up slightly, eager to seize the moment before Mrs. Bennet could scold.
“Ah! Yes—quite so. Observation is often the wiser course. I myself find it most edifying to reflect upon the company, the arrangements, the...er...acoustic qualities of the room before engaging in such lively amusements.”
Elizabeth exhaled in relief—but it was too soon.
“However,” Collins added ponderously, “when it comes to a lovely cousin, a small sacrifice from an unmarried clergyman may indeed be required.” He blinked solemnly, then offered Elizabeth a slow, deliberate nod. “Miss Elizabeth?”
Mrs. Bennet started like an exhausted hen suddenly roused from her doze.
Elizabeth’s smile froze just enough to reveal her private reluctance.
She would gladly have danced that evening—just not with her cousin, and certainly not in any way that might encourage him.
Yet courtesy demanded she say nothing too sharp.
Worse still, a small, traitorous hope stirred that if Mr. Darcy saw her dancing, he might feel the flicker of jealousy—though watching Mr. Collins waddle toward the floor like an officious duck, she could only pray he did not fancy for a moment he danced any better than he walked.
***
From her chair against the wall, Mrs. Bennet watched the swirl of dancers with the concentration of a general reviewing her troops.
Mr. Bennet stood beside her like a patient aide-de-camp, enjoying a moment of quiet reflection before the inevitable storm of words he knew would follow.
His wife leaned so far forward she nearly slid from her seat, her eyes fixed on Jane and Bingley as they moved gracefully through the set.
“Oh, look at them, Mr. Bennet!” she whispered fiercely, fingers knotting around her fan. “See how he smiles at her? If this does not end in a proposal, I shall perish of vexation.”
Mr. Bennet folded his arms with mild amusement. “I beg you to delay your funeral until we return home. The floor here is quite hard.”
She shot him a scandalized look but could not quite hide her grin. “You are determined to mock me in my hour of triumph.”
He raised a brow. “Triumph seems premature. Jane may yet run away to a convent.”
“Nonsense! Look at her blush. And he gazes at her as if she were a saint. Oh! If he asks her for the next set I shall expire from happiness.”
Mr. Bennet inclined his head gravely. “And I shall be forced to revive you with smelling salts. It will cause a dreadful scene.”
‘ Impossible man ,’ Mrs. Bennet thought, then huffed and turned her gaze sharply to the next couple of interest. “As for that,” she sniffed, nodding at Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley, “I do not know who I pity more.”
Mr. Bennet followed her glance. “Darcy appears in imminent danger of being flattered to death.”
“Precisely,” Mrs. Bennet said, her fan snapping shut with a crack. “She simpers so I fear her face may stay like that. I almost wish she would catch a chill and give Jane a little peace.”
Her husband smiled lazily. “Ah, Christian charity. How it adorns you.”
“Do hush,” she snapped, but she was smothering a laugh.
Her mirth died instantly when she caught sight of Elizabeth with Mr. Collins. She let out a small gasp of horror.
“Look at them!” she moaned. “He is stepping on her gown! Lizzy will never forgive me for making her accept him for this dance.”
Mr. Bennet squinted. “Cousin Collins moves with all the grace of a sack of flour. Look, an improvement—he almost fell down. A very determined sack, I grant you.”
“Hush! Do not make me laugh—I can’t bear it!” She swatted at him with her fan.
“Better laugh than weep,” he murmured.
“Elizabeth will hardly thank me if he decides to propose mid-dance.”
“Oh, I think she will keep her wits about her,” he replied serenely. “At worst she will tell him no with exceptional politeness even as she’s dodging his foot.”
Mrs. Bennet groaned. “You find this funny, Mr. Bennet?”
He raised both brows. “I find everything funny, my dear. It is the only way to survive having five daughters.”
She gave him a dark look but bit her lip to hide a reluctant smile.
Mr. Bennet leaned back, surveying the hall with a twinkle in his eye. “Take comfort. One daughter is doing exactly as you wished. Let us hope that balances the scales for the evening.”
Mrs. Bennet pressed a hand to her chest, watching Jane and Bingley with breathless pride. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice softening. “At least Jane is perfect.”
Mr. Bennet tipped his head toward her. “Indeed, she is. And so are you, when you are not plotting marital campaigns.”
She sniffed wetly and snapped her fan open. “Be quiet, Mr. Bennet.”
***
The first long country dance had demanded all the stamina the couples could muster. Though its figures were simple and repeated in endless, snaking lines, it was an exercise in cheerful endurance.