Page 57 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Wednesday, November 27, 1811—8 Days after Tuesday
Elizabeth sighed as she went about her morning ramble. The previous night had been such a mixture of joys and frustrations: dancing with Mr. Darcy, seeing his firm care for Lydia, watching Jane shyly glow under Mr. Bingley’s increasingly obvious interest, having her cheeks near-sunburnt for most of the night as one relation after another behaved poorly, having Mr. Collins hover at her elbow for the rest of the evening after dinner. The moment he had danced with “all his fair cousins” he had turned his full attention upon her, watching her with uncomfortable closeness and throwing out various questions about her opinions. It had been exhausting. Not to mention that her mother had contrived to have their carriage brought around a full fifteen minutes after everyone else had left. Her face heated again, despite the chill wind.
Mama had been gleeful at Mr. Bingley and Jane’s quiet conversation, attempting to keep everyone else engaged so no one would even try to interrupt the two of them. Not that anyone had tried. Papa had watched in amusement. The Bingley sisters had been monosyllabic, clearly ready to have their house to themselves again, and Mr. Hurst had not spoken at all. Lydia had complained about how tired she was. Mr. Darcy had almost come to speak to Elizabeth but, as Mr. Collins was still at her elbow, he had merely smiled a wish that they were alone together and then asked Mary about her philosophy of music. It had resulted in a spirited conversation, and Elizabeth hoped Mary would take to heart his comments about adding feeling to a piece. Between Mr. Darcy’s care for her sisters and Mr. Bingley’s increased attentions to Jane, at least some good had come from the evening. Perhaps even enough to suffice as recompense for all the discomfort.
It did not suffice as comfort for this morning, however. Despite all her resolutions to readjust to linear time, despite her belief that she and Mr. Darcy needed some separation so they could discern their true feelings for each other when they were not the only two people awake, despite the fact that Mr. Darcy deserved to be around his family and to be reminded of just what he would be losing should he marry her, she missed him. Knowing he was on his way to London already had left a hollow feeling in her chest and she was having difficulty laughing herself out of the melancholy.
She chafed her hands and then hugged herself against the cold. The ground was still muddy and covered in puddles, pitfalls for the unwary. Much as it felt like the next few weeks would be. At least Jane knew the truth. Selfishly, she was glad that Mr. Bingley had left with Mr. Darcy; she would not be the only one suffering. Now she just had to focus on returning to her natural schedule.
“I should like a moment alone with Miss Elizabeth this morning, if I may,” Mr. Collins said the moment everyone, save her father, had sat down in the drawing room.
“I do not have anything to say to you in private,” Elizabeth said with strained politeness.
Mrs. Bennet looked at her in horror. “Of course you do. Lizzy will be glad to speak to you right now. Everyone out!” she commanded, despite the fact that they were all mid-way through pulling out projects.
Mr. Darcy would have been more considerate.
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh as everyone vacated the room.
Mr. Collins paced in front of her, hands clasped behind his back as though he were an instructor lecturing a recalcitrant pupil. “Miss Elizabeth, you cannot have failed to notice my attentions. I admit, I shared Mr. Darcy’s concern that you might be too opinionated for the honour which I wish to bestow upon you. After all, we who are of lower status must defer to such a radiant personage as Lady Catherine. However, after our conversation last night, it became clear to me that you are willing to take all factors into account when choosing your opinions and I believe, once you have met Lady Catherine, that you will have no difficulty in recognising her superior intellect and status and in modifying your opinions as a result.”
As Mr. Collins blathered on, Elizabeth several times attempted to interrupt, but the man refused to leave even a breath’s worth of time to reply.
“You are too hasty, sir,” she finally exclaimed as the man finished his proposal. “You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline them. I do not wish to offend you, but I do not believe we would make each other happy.”
“I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”
“I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies exist) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time,” Elizabeth said, nearly grinding her teeth. “I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”
Rather than listening to her rejection, Mr. Collins proceeded to explain why he knew that she would eventually accept him, his recitation culminating with a belief that she was unlikely to be pursued by any other gentlemen, as her portion was so small.
Elizabeth held up a hand, attempting to stem the flood of his smug discourse. “Mr. Collins, I am well aware that you honour me with your proposal, and you may be correct that I shall not receive another.” Her chest ached, the thought that Mr. Darcy might change his mind when faced with the immediacy of his family’s disapproval filling her lungs with broken glass. “However, I am determined to marry only someone whom I greatly esteem and whose views are in harmony with my own. Mr. Darcy was correct in stating that I would not bow to Lady Catherine’s every opinion. If I disagreed with her, I would not hesitate to speak my mind.”
“But surely, you are wise enough to recognise your superiors. The fact that you have cited so many experts proves it. I shall therefore wait in expectation that my proposals, when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, will not fail to be acceptable.”
Elizabeth nearly threw her hands in the air. “Mr. Collins, I do not know any young lady who would risk losing a desired proposal by rejecting it. I thank you for your kind offer, but I cannot accept,” she said and bolted from the room so quickly that her mother and sisters nearly fell into the drawing room.
Mrs. Bennet’s mouth hung wide.
Elizabeth picked up her skirts and fled the house, barely stopping to grab her wrap. Whether or not she wed Mr. Darcy, she could not stand the thought of spending the rest of her life with such a fool as Mr. Collins. It would be intolerable! The man had reasons for being the way he was, but that did not excuse his poor behaviour.
Her flying feet took her to the stream, and she sank down on her favourite bench, staring at the rushing water and wishing she did not have to return to Longbourn. Her mother would be furious, fear fuelling her anger to new heights, and her father would either treat the whole thing as a joke or he might require she marry the man. The latter seemed unlikely, but she could no longer trust his capricious nature.
Unfortunately, the cold seeping into her bones eventually drove her back indoors, and Hill was waiting for her by the door.
“The master wants you in his library,” Hill said.
Elizabeth nodded and squared her shoulders. She would not go down without a fight. If it became absolutely necessary, she would reveal her shared affection with Mr. Darcy rather than face marrying Mr. Collins.
Her father still sat behind his desk and her mother stood to one side, her expression smug.
“Come here, child,” her father cried as she appeared. “I have sent for you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well—and this offer of marriage you have refused?”
Elizabeth nodded, her heart hammering away as though attempting to escape her father’s library without her. He did not appear particularly disturbed, nor overly grave, but what did that mean?
He glanced over to where his wife stood, her arms tightly crossed. “Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is not it so, Mrs. Bennet?”
Her mother glared at Elizabeth. “Yes, or I will never see her again.”
Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched. “An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth,” he said dryly. “From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do .”
“Mr. Bennet!” her mother cried, arms dropping to her sides.
The band around Elizabeth’s chest tightened, and tears pricked her eyes. Though she was grateful that her father would not force her to marry Mr. Collins, she could not be glad about the manner in which he did so. Why did her own beloved father wound his own family so often?
“Mama, I know that you are, rightly, worried about the entail and what shall happen to us after Papa’s death,” Elizabeth said, gently taking her mother’s hands. “But truly, I could not marry Mr. Collins. I could not , Mama. It would have been a living death. And I tried my utmost to ensure I did not offend him with my refusal.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at her for a moment before pulling her hands away roughly. “If you truly understood the difficult position you have placed us in, you would change your answer.”
Her father chuckled.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together tightly, then took a deep breath, keeping her attention fixed on her mother. “I am sorry, Mama, but I cannot marry that man.”
“Oh my nerves!” Mrs. Bennet began. She rounded on Mr. Bennet. “You promised me to insist upon her marrying him.”
“My dear,” replied her husband, “I have two small favours to request. First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the library to myself as soon as may be.”
Mrs. Bennet left in a huff, dragging Elizabeth with her.
As they were leaving, Elizabeth tried to smile at her father. She owed him her gratitude. But if Mama had been talking of Mr. Collins’s intentions, he had likely known of them and had done nothing. Her heart cracked. Mr. Darcy, who had no right to interfere, had overstepped the bounds of propriety and spoken to Mr. Collins out of concern for her. Why had her father not likewise protected her?