Page 2 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
Elizabeth
E lizabeth sat in a stiff-backed chair opposite Charlotte, her friend’s steady composure showing signs of strain at last. Charlotte leaned forward, her hands tightly clasping Elizabeth’s, her face pale with worry. Upstairs, Kitty, still trembling, busied herself packing her belongings with Maria Lucas’s assistance, leaving Elizabeth and Charlotte to grapple with the weight of the family crisis in hushed tones.
“Charlotte, it is dreadful,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice low but trembling with barely contained emotion. “Mary writes that my father is unable to move or speak. He was in and out of consciousness for two days. It must be his head. The accident… it seems to have been quite severe. The apothecary was summoned while the surgeon was out of town, but he has now returned and was brought from Meryton to attend to him, but neither could offer a definitive account of his condition.”
Charlotte gave Elizabeth’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “Do not give yourself over to despair so easily, Eliza,” she said gently. “It is often the case that such injuries appear worse at first than they prove to be with time. When you arrive home, you may find the news better than you feared.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line, staring at the floor as though its worn boards might offer the solace she could not find in her heart. “I dearly wish to hope so.”
The sound of the front door opening interrupted their subdued exchange. A moment later, Mr Collins’s rotund frame filled the doorway, his customary air of self-importance ill-suited to the sombre occasion.
“Well!” he began, clasping his hands together with an affected solemnity. “The carriage is readied. Charlotte, be so good as to fetch my bags. Pack for at least a fortnight—nay, better make it a month!”
Elizabeth lifted her head sharply, the tension in her neck pricking like a needle. “You intend to accompany us, sir?”
“But of course!” Mr Collins replied, his tone suggesting it was the most natural conclusion imaginable. “You are my cousins, dear Elizabeth, and as such it is my sacred duty to see you and Catherine safely home. The road to Hertfordshire is long, and propriety demands that a gentleman undertake such a journey to ensure the safety of young ladies.” He straightened his waistcoat importantly. “Moreover, your father’s grievous misfortune calls for a steady hand to render what assistance may be required.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, hardly able to believe his audacity. Though her instinct was to protest, her mind raced with the undeniable reality of the situation. The journey from Kent to Hertfordshire would take two days, possibly more, given the recent rains—and travelling unchaperoned would invite censure at best, and outright scandal at worst. Indeed, they had been accompanied by Sir William’s cousin on the journey there, for propriety’s sake.
Despite the irksome truth of Mr Collins’s practicality, Elizabeth could hardly credit his self-congratulatory sincerity. Her long-held suspicions about his priorities, however, were only confirmed when his next words all but shattered any pretence of altruism.
“Charlotte, my dear, pack my best garments,” he instructed, barely glancing at his wife. “For, should Mr Bennet’s condition be as dire as it seems—heaven forefend—I must stand ready to assist by taking on the duties of the head of the family.”
Elizabeth bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to restrain the sharp retort that sprang unbidden to her tongue. So this, then, was Mr Collins’s true purpose—not compassion, but calculation. His keenness to attach himself to Longbourn during such a time betrayed not concern for her father’s health, but rather an eagerness to establish himself as its inevitable heir.
Still, she forced a calm reply. “Your willingness to accompany us is most generous,” she said with the utmost civility she could muster, though her lips threatened to press into a thin, disapproving line.
“Think nothing of it, Cousin Elizabeth!” he assured her, his grin almost beaming. Turning back to Charlotte, he gestured for her to attend to his packing. “Come, Charlotte. We must not delay.”
Charlotte rose with her usual grace but cast an apologetic glance at Elizabeth before departing with her husband. The absence of their footsteps left an oppressive silence behind them.
Elizabeth exhaled heavily, releasing the tension coiled in her shoulders. She turned to gaze out of the window and caught sight of a carriage retreating down the winding drive. Within its plush interior, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s turban nodded rhythmically with the uneven rocking of the vehicle. Even from a distance, the gems in her headdress captured the sunlight in dazzling flashes.
A strange thought flitted unbidden into Elizabeth’s mind—Was Mr Darcy travelling with his aunt? Her heart clenched involuntarily, though whether from irritation or some other feeling she refused to name, she could not be sure.
She shook her head, silently chastising herself for the distraction. How dare he intrude upon her thoughts now? Had she not borne enough vexation without adding Mr Darcy to her troubles?
It seemed impossible that only hours earlier, he had stood before her, presumptuous and arrogant, offering a proposal of marriage so galling that she could scarcely believe her ears. That episode alone had been enough to ruin her spirits—and yet fate had conspired to overshadow even that affront with the dire news from Longbourn.
Elizabeth straightened in her chair, pressing her palms against her lap. Now was not the time for indulgent reveries, particularly not where Mr Darcy was concerned. Her immediate duty was clear, she must prepare herself to meet whatever awaited her at home with as much fortitude as she could summon.
If Mr Collins’s insufferable company was the price she must pay for propriety’s sake, so be it. But there was a bitter comfort in the knowledge that both she and Kitty understood his true motives all too well.
“Let him posture,” she muttered to herself, rising from her seat with determination. “Whatever his schemes, they shall have no sway over us.”
Turning briskly, Elizabeth strode towards the staircase. There would be time enough for frustration and grievances later. For now, she must ready herself to return to Longbourn, to be a source of strength for Kitty, and to face whatever trials awaited them upon arrival.
***
“Well,” Mr Collins began, clasping his hands together with a self-satisfied air, “we are nearly back in Meryton. I know you must be fretting terribly, but rest assured, all will be well. The moment we arrive, I shall take charge of the estate to ensure its smooth running during my cousin’s convalescence.”
Elizabeth refrained from responding to her cousin’s presumptuous declaration. There was no need for him to take charge of anything. Longbourn was managed capably, even without a steward, her father’s capable hands ensured its proper governance. Truly, Mr Collins’s interference was neither required nor welcome.
But, of course, that was not the true purpose of his determination to involve himself. His eagerness to secure his place as the future master of Longbourn was plainly evident, an ambition that Elizabeth fervently hoped would remain unfulfilled for many years to come.
Perhaps such thoughts were unkind—indeed, even uncharitable. After all, Mr Collins was family. Surely, he did not wish for a family member’s death. Yet Elizabeth could not suppress the lingering suspicion that, in his mind, the loss of a cousin and the acquisition of an estate were neatly recorded as wholly separate matters.
She sighed, glancing towards her sisters. Kitty’s eyes were red-rimmed, her lips still trembling with suppressed sobs.
“All will be well, Kitty. It was an accident—nothing more. He will recover.”
“And we shall pray for him diligently,” Mr Collins interjected, his tone self-righteous. “I am certain your sister Mary has already undertaken such devotions. I have always known her to be a pious young woman.”
“Mama will be beside herself,” Kitty whispered, her voice barely audible as she ignored their cousin. “Her nerves… they are so fragile, even at the best of times.”
Elizabeth offered a faint smile of reassurance. “Yes, Kitty, but do not underestimate her resilience. Every time we were unwell as children, she was the most devoted nurse. She will care for Father with the same tireless affection. Despite all their quarrels, they love one another dearly. I cannot imagine one without the other.”
“Indeed,” Mr Collins replied with a grave nod. “We must all trust that matters shall improve in due course.”
As the carriage rumbled along the now-familiar roads towards Longbourn, Elizabeth found herself reflecting on her own words. She had spoken them to comfort her sister, but the anxiety swirling within her heart refused to be soothed. Try as she might, she could not dismiss the sense of foreboding that clung to her like a shadow, whispering of calamities yet to come.