Page 7 of The Happiness of a Most Beloved Sister (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER SIX

S tepping out into the fresh air of a lovely autumnal day did much to restore Elizabeth’s equanimity.

In truth, she could not blame Jane for wishing to distance herself from Mr Collins—if, in fact, that was what she was doing; it was not unknown for her to suffer from the occasional bout of faintness even when perfectly well.

Elizabeth might have conjured an excuse to rid herself of their odious cousin herself had the opportunity arisen, but alas Mrs Bennet was determined to throw them together.

She would forgive her elder sister this duplicity and spare her the duty of amusing Mr Collins.

If some small measure of resentment threatened to upset her again, she would remind herself that Jane would do the same for her were the situations reversed.

“How is Jane?” Lydia asked as they set off down the lane towards Meryton. The innocent flutter of her lashes fooled neither of her sisters; Kitty smirked to see Elizabeth’s resulting glare .

Mastering her annoyance, Elizabeth unclenched her jaw to say, “Still resting.”

Lydia exchanged a look with Kitty before the pair of them locked arms and scampered ahead, giggling and whispering.

Mr Collins, left to Elizabeth’s sole charge, offered his arm, and she reluctantly accepted, allowing him to escort her the half mile towards their destination.

Although the distance was short, Mr Collins quickly became winded, which at least reduced the volume of his conversation.

Upon arriving at the town, Elizabeth sought out her younger sisters and found them conversing with a gaggle of officers near the milliner’s shop. She and Mr Collins followed them thither, the former intent upon reining in Kitty and Lydia’s wilder impulses and the latter scowling in disapproval.

Lieutenant Denny had, apparently, returned from town no worse for wear and was keen to charm the younger Bennet girls with tales of his adventures.

There was nothing of import to Elizabeth in his communication, so her attention wandered away from the officer and up the street, idly observing the goings on of the small town.

She had not long been pondering a polite means of escape when a pair of familiar gentlemen rounded the bend on horseback.

It was too late to withdraw her gaze by the time Elizabeth had seen them, for they spotted her at the same moment and veered their course in her direction. She worked a smile onto her face and greeted them. “Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy, good day to you.”

They both dismounted and returned her curtsey with a tip of their hats.

Introductions were offered all round—impeded greatly by the unending grandiloquence of Mr Collins—before Mr Bingley, rather impatiently to Elizabeth’s ear, enquired after Jane.

A tiny spark of hope on her sister’ s behalf flared to life at his zeal.

“She is greatly improved, only a mite tired today else she would have walked with us.”

“Do you believe she would welcome a call? That is, we had hoped to assure ourselves of her good health. Is that not so, Darcy?”

Mr Bingley turned to his friend, and Elizabeth’s attention followed. Mr Darcy appeared as solemn and unfriendly as ever, yet he inclined his head slightly in agreement, offering a simple, “Indeed.”

Elizabeth found herself amused by the contrast between the two gentlemen. Where one was all cheerful sunshine, the other was a storm cloud. Not for the first time, she wondered how they had become friends. No doubt Mr Bingley latched on to him and Mr Darcy failed to shake him loose.

“I am certain Jane would be pleased to receive you at any time you wished to visit.”

“Capital, capital,” replied Mr Bingley, turning to gather his horse’s reins. “We have a particular errand to dispatch—aside from calling upon your sister, that is. I intend to throw a ball and wish to issue my invitation to your family first.”

Although inclined to think the worst of him much of the time, Elizabeth almost felt sympathy for Mr Darcy’s nerves when he flinched at the sudden cacophony her sisters put forth at this announcement.

Their joy was expressed so loudly that she also jumped at the suddenness of it.

After that initial jolt, she was more inclined to shrink in mortification, especially when Lydia and Kitty began pestering Mr Bingley to invite the officers, which he readily agreed to.

As if he could have declined with Mr Denny and his friends standing before him.

Somehow more humiliating was Mr Collins’s response to Mr Bingley extending the invitation to him.

“I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening,” said he, puffing out his chest and looking round at them all.

His beady eyes found Elizabeth and fixed themselves upon her.

“And I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the first two dances especially—a preference which I trust my cousin Jane would attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her, were she present.”

With that, any expectation of pleasure for the ball on Elizabeth’s part evaporated. She accepted Mr Collins’s request with as much grace as she could, her cheeks burning as Kitty and Lydia’s taunting giggles reached her ears.

As Darcy stared openly at the pudgy clergyman who had just secured Elizabeth’s hand for the opening set of Bingley’s ball, he was forced to check himself lest his countenance betray the irritation and dismay surging within him.

He had never heard mention of this Mr Collins before, and yet the babbling buffoon seemed to take a proprietary interest in his most beguiling cousin.

A mere few minutes in the man’s company had already assured Darcy that Mr Collins was in no way deserving of Elizabeth, yet he was obviously of a mind to court her favour.

He might be Longbourn’s heir, but this alone did not make him a worthy suitor.

At least Elizabeth did not return Mr Collins’s flagrant attraction, if the subtle revulsion Darcy read upon her features was any indication.

She had accepted his invitation to dance, but then she could hardly decline if she wished to partake of the festivities; to refuse one partner was to refuse them all.

Impulsively, almost defiantly, Darcy blurted, “I would hope to dance with you as well, Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps the supper set?”

The look she affixed to him did not differ greatly from the one she had bestowed upon Mr Collins, though he flattered himself that she at least appeared less disgusted. “Of course. I thank you, sir.”

So much for resisting temptation.