Page 31 of What Comes Between Cousins

T HE VOICE BELONGED to none other than Mr. Collins, as he hurried toward them, thunderous fury showing in his jerky stride and ferocious glare. Shocked at the man’s appearance and wondering from where he had come, Elizabeth took an involuntary step back. This proved to be a mistake.

Soon the parson had reached them, and he loomed over Elizabeth, blazing affront radiating from his very being. By his side, Miss Bingley, who stood several inches taller than Elizabeth, joined him, though her look was astonished, enhanced by more than a little fear. They had her boxed in. For a moment, she wondered if they were somehow confederates.

Then reason reasserted itself—Miss Bingley felt nothing but contempt for Mr. Collins, as evidenced by the scowl she directed at him. Her expression shifted to satisfied malevolence and then shock when he began to speak.

“This cannot be, Cousin! Not only is Mr. Darcy already engaged to his cousin, that excellent flower of English nobility, Miss Anne de Bourgh, but men as prominent as Mr. Darcy do not offer for the likes of you.”

Avoiding an argument with Miss Bingley was one thing. Elizabeth was not about to be cowed by her father’s foolish cousin.

“Perhaps you should take your objections to Mr. Darcy. It was he who offered courtship to me , after all. I could do naught but accept or reject it.”

“Then reject it you must, for there is no way you can justify marrying a man of his eminence! No! It is in every way unfathomable!”

Finally, Miss Bingley found her tongue again. “Of what do you speak, you stupid man? Mr. Darcy would never offer for the likes of this . . . strumpet! He might be amused by her or wish her for his mistress, but even then, he would tire of her quickly.”

“I know not, Miss Bingley,” said Mr. Collins, sniffing with disdain. “But I assure you it is being talked of in Meryton.”

“It must be a lie! It must!” Miss Bingley turned her wild eyes on Elizabeth. “ You could not have elicited a proposal from Mr. Darcy. Not when I have tried for more than three years. It is in every way impossible!”

Mr. Collins turned to her, aghast at what he was hearing. “Is Mr. Darcy surrounded by sirens, all intent upon seducing him away from his rightful bride? Are you not sensible of your own good, Madam?”

“Silence, fool!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “If you do not recall, it is this girl you came to berate. It is not I who has tempted your stupid patroness’s nephew away from his duty.”

Elizabeth listened to the two argue and a hint of fear found its way into her heart. They had hemmed her in between them, and Mary was frantically watching the scene, wondering what to do. Elizabeth wondered where Mr. Darcy was.

And then a sense of resolve came over her. She would not count on Mr. Darcy to rescue her, for she was fully capable of dealing with these objectionable persons herself.

First, to extricate her from her vulnerable position. She ducked to the side, to make her away around Miss Bingley, thinking her to be the lesser of the threats. Mr. Collins noticed her attempt, and he moved to stop her.

“You shall not escape so easily!”

Elizabeth hurried to avoid him, and as Mr. Collins attempted to follow her, he collided heavily with Miss Bingley. Still enraged, he reached out for her, further tangling himself with Miss Bennet. A cry issued from her mouth and Collins, with a look of complete shock on his homely face, went down in a heap, pulled a startled Miss Bingley down with him. The sound of fabric ripping filled the air. And then they were not alone.

“What is the meaning of this?”

It was Mr. Darcy, and he was hurrying toward them with his cousin following close behind. From another direction, Mr. Bingley appeared with Jane by his side. The two parties approached as Mr. Collins tried to free himself from Miss Bingley, but the more he tried to rise, the greater difficult he was having. All the while, Miss Bingley was crying at him, and beating him about the head with her hands.

“Get off me, you stupid wretch. Get away from me!”

Mr. Bingley stopped as he realized what had happened, and he regarded the two on the ground, shock pouring from him. As Elizabeth was watching him, she noted the exact moment when his countenance transformed from surprise to humor, and he appeared like he was stifling laughter.

“Come now, Collins,” said he. “It is time to get up. Your little liaison with my sister is over.”

Mr. Bingley approached the two and grasped Mr. Collins’s shoulders, with Darcy assisting. Soon they had heaved the parson up off Miss Bingley’s person, allowing the woman herself to rise. There was a large tear in the woman’s dress, down near the hem, and as she stood, a long length of lace and fabric trailed on the ground. Miss Bingley’s poisonous glare at Mr. Collins revealed the woman was unaware of the disarray of her dress.

“A thousand apologies, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Collins was finally able to say. “I do not know what happened. I am very much in your debt for your assistance.”

“I am sure you are,” replied Mr. Bingley. “Now, if you and Caroline will control your passion, we shall see you married before long. We would not wish scandal to erupt from this little incident, now, would we?”

Mr. Collins goggled at Mr. Bingley, unable to understand what he was saying. Miss Bingley was suffering under no such affliction.

“Charles!” screeched she. “What are you saying? I am not marrying Mr. Collins!”

“Of course, you are, my dear,” replied Mr. Bingley, though his endearment toward his sister was brittle enough for them all to hear. “Mr. Collins has compromised you quite thoroughly. I am afraid there is no other alternative.”

“Of course, there is another alternative! The alternative is that I will not marry this sorry excuse for a man!”

“Loath though I am to agree with your termagant of a sister,” said Mr. Collins, sweeping Miss Bingley with a disdainful glare, “I must concur. I cannot marry her.”

“Were you not just lying on the ground on top of her, sir?” demanded Mr. Bingley.

“I was, but—”

“Then the matter is clear. You have quite compromised her and ruined her reputation. It is the duty of a gentleman to restore that which he has taken, repair that which he has sullied. In our society, sir, that means you must marry her.”

“Charles, do not be foolish!” exclaimed Miss Bingley, at the same time Mr. Collins cried: “I will not marry her.”

Mr. Bingley chose to ignore his sister and instead focused on the parson. “Then if you will not meet your responsibilities, I shall be forced to call you out.” Mr. Collins turned deathly pale. “And let me warn you, sir , that I am not only an excellent marksman, but I am more than skilled enough with the blade to turn you into a pincushion.”

“He is right about his skill with a pistol,” said Fitzwilliam, his tone almost clinical. “I have seen him shoot enough birds to know that shooting you would be no challenge at all.”

If possible, Mr. Collins turned even whiter.

“And I can attest to his skill with the blade,” added Mr. Darcy. “He is able to take two out of five points from me, and I am generally judged to be among the most skilled at our club.”

Though Mr. Darcy’s tone was equally disinterested as his cousin’s, Elizabeth could sense the laughter he was trying to suppress. In that instant, the situation struck her as hilarious, though she managed to stifle the laughter which was welling up in her breast.

“It matters not what you do to this worm ,” spat Miss Bingley into the argument, “for I shall not marry him.”

“And I say you will!” intoned Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth had never seen the man appearing so implacable.

“You cannot make me!”

“In fact, I can.” Mr. Bingley smile was unpleasant. “What do you think Aunt Amelia will say to this little indiscretion, Caroline? You know her views of morality. I dare say she will refuse to shelter you when it becomes known to her. And since I control your dowry until you are five and twenty, how will you live until then?”

Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed. “You would not dare.”

“I would,” said Mr. Bingley’s quiet response. “You have been on the prowl for a husband ever since you entered society, but you have always set your sights too high. If you marry Collins here, you will eventually be the mistress of an estate. Is that not something to anticipate? You have brought it upon yourself with your behavior.”

Brother and sister glared at each other, neither giving an inch. In the end, it was Miss Bingley who looked away first, though Elizabeth did not think she had yet accepted her fate.

“Good,” said Mr. Bingley. “Now, let us return to the house where we can discuss the particulars.”

Whatever else he was intending to say remained unsaid, for at that moment Elizabeth felt an arm snake around her midsection, pulling her tight against a hard, male body. She gave a little squeak, which was muffled by another hand covering her mouth. In her ear, she heard the sibilant hiss of a man’s voice.

“Well, little Lizzy. It seems that there will be more than one compromise here today.”

Then everything seemed to happen so slowly that Elizabeth could see it unfold with precise clarity. As Mr. Darcy was turning in response to hearing the noise she made, Mary was already gazing wide-eyed and frightened at her. Mr. Wickham’s hand, which had been tightly covering her mouth shifted down to the top of her dress. In an instant of clarity, she knew he intended to rend the fabric asunder.

A feeling of panic came over her and she did the only thing she could—she lashed out with her hands and feet, unwilling to allow this man to take her without a fight. Mr. Wickham cursed in her ear, but then her hand impacted something solid and the curse turned into a gasp. His hold on her loosened ever so slightly and Elizabeth, knowing she had one chance for freedom, twisted with all her might and slipped from Mr. Wickham’s grasp.

She spun away from him, and Mr. Wickham, losing her support, crumpled to one knee, one hand placed on the ground, while the other cupped the area around his groin. On his countenance was a look so murderous that Elizabeth thought he would surely kill her, should he only lay his hands upon her.

But then Mr. Darcy was there, hauling Mr. Wickham to his feet, and by his side, his cousin appeared, his large frame towering over the shorter Mr. Wickham, his hands capturing Mr. Wickham’s arms and holding them tightly behind his back. Between the two men, they held Mr. Wickham, and none of his struggles had any succeeded in freeing himself.

“You have pushed me beyond the point of any reason, Wickham,” said Mr. Darcy, his tone the snarl of a mad dog. “I will finish you forever, as I should have done many years ago.”

Mr. Wickham attempted to glare at his captor, but he was not able to swing his head around much. From the direction of the house, they all heard a shout, and within moments, Mr. Hurst had arrived, a pair of brawny footmen trailing behind him.

“Take charge of the lieutenant,” snapped he.

The footmen obeyed, and soon they had taken the place of Mr. Darcy and Lord Chesterfield. If anything, they were rougher with the man, tightening their grip when he struggled, causing him to gasp with pain.

“Thank you, Hurst,” said Darcy, still glaring at Mr. Wickham.

“Louisa saw what was happening from the sitting-room window,” replied Mr. Hurst.

Elizabeth had forgotten the sitting-room was situated at the back of the house.

“Lock him in the cellar,” said Mr. Bingley to the two footmen. “He can cool his heels there until we are ready to hand him back over to the regiment.”

“Now, let us not be hasty,” said Mr. Wickham, seeming to understand for the first time that he was in a difficult position. “I believe the established mode, as Mr. Bingley has so diligently pointed out, is for the man who compromised the woman to marry her. I will gladly do my duty with respect to Miss Elizabeth.”

“Do not make me laugh, Wickham!” said Lord Chesterfield, the scorn in his voice battering at Wickham and causing him to turn paler than he was. “There was no compromise. Miss Elizabeth was effectively able to protect herself from you.”

“She practically unmanned you,” added Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth blushed, but Mr. Wickham only scowled. “I held her in my arms, Darcy, which is more than I expect you have ever done. When the town hears of her disgrace, she will be ruined unless she marries me.”

“If she is required to marry anyone, it shall not be you . I will not allow you to sully her, Wickham, and I doubt Mr. Bennet will permit it either.”

Mr. Darcy nodded to the footmen who proceeded to haul Mr. Wickham away, Mr. Hurst trailing along behind them. Mary came to Elizabeth’s side to ensure she was well, but Elizabeth was feeling more incensed with the libertine than afraid.

“Do not concern yourself for me, Mary,” said Elizabeth, though she showed her sister smile in thanks.

But the drama had not yet ended.

“Why is she not required to marry when she is compromised, and I am?” demanded Miss Bingley.

“Be silent, Caroline!” hissed Mr. Bingley. “The situation is completely different.

“Now, you will go to your room and stay there—I do not give you permission to leave it. You had best accustom yourself to your situation, for it will not change. You will marry Mr. Collins. After that, I shall wash my hands of you!”

Mr. Collins squawked something, but he too was herded toward the house by Mr. Bingley, with Lord Chesterfield assisting. As they were leaving, Elizabeth heard Mr. Bingley address him. “Come now, Collins. It will not be so bad. My sister does have some virtues which will suit you well, indeed. Her twenty-thousand-pound dowry, to begin with.”

Then they were gone, leaving the three sisters together with Mr. Darcy.

“Miss Elizabeth, you are not harmed?”

Elizabeth managed a smile, though she felt no pleasure in these events. “I am not. I was able to escape from him before he could do anything to me.”

“I am happy to hear it. Come, let us return to the house. We should send word to your father of these happenings and interrogate Mr. Collins.” Mr. Darcy grimaced. “I see my aunt’s hand in this. With Mr. Collins still in the neighborhood, I have no doubt Lady Catherine is also nearby.”

Mary gasped. “Surely she would not descend to such malicious behavior!”

“I am beginning to believe my aunt capable of anything, Miss Mary,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Regardless, let us go into the house.”

And Elizabeth, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, allowed herself to be led away. She was beginning to feel the fatigue of the events of the day and wished to sit and rest.

––––––––

I NSIDE THE HOUSE, ANOTHER drama was playing itself out. Miss Bingley, it seemed, had not quite believed her brother when informed that she was to marry Mr. Collins. For his part, the parson was gazing at them all, his manner defined by injured silence and dark looks. At least he seemed accepting, which Darcy did not suppose was a true sacrifice on his part. Other than the clear drawbacks of obtaining Miss Bingley for a wife, the woman did possess a dowry of twenty-thousand pounds, as Bingley had pointed out. No doubt Mr. Collins would accept the woman as a wife for that reason alone.

“I do not know what has come over you, Charles,” hissed Miss Bingley when Darcy, with the Bennet sisters in tow, reached the house. She wrenched her arm from his grasp and directed a glare at him which was pure poison. “But I shall not marry that toad of a man.”

Mr. Collins’s mouth tightened, and his glare intensified, but Miss Bingley did not notice. She would not have cared even if she had, Darcy was certain.

“Yes, in fact, you shall,” replied Bingley, implacability radiating from his very being.

“I shall not. I am of age and you cannot make me. I will not agree to it, even if you drag me to the church, and I most certainly shall not sign the register. Then where will you be?”

“Listen to me, Caroline,” said Bingley, looming over the woman and forcing her to shrink back. “I was not bluffing when I said you would not have a home if you do not marry Mr. Collins. I will turn you out this very night with not a penny to your name if that is what you wish. Then in another year when you have turned five and twenty, if you have survived, you may come and claim your dowry. By then, I am certain your marriageability will be ruined, but at least you will have the necessary means to create your own establishment. You should choose now, for my patience is waning.”

“You would not dare!” Though the woman projected confidence, it was clear she was filled with fear.

“I assure you I will. I am not the same man who yielded to your ill humors over the years due to a desire for peace in my home. You will obey me in this instance, or you will suffer the consequences.”

Try as she might, Miss Bingley could muster no response. After watching her for a few moments, Bingley nodded his head once.

“Good.” He beckoned to a nearby footman. “Please see Miss Bingley to her room. She is not to emerge from it for the rest of the day. I will ensure you are relieved from your post later this evening.”

The footman nodded and approached Bingley’s sister. She watched Bingley, shock warring with fury and disbelief. In the end, his stony countenance must have told her that pleading her case with him was fruitless.

“I hate you, Charles!” snarled she. “Our father would be disgusted with you.”

“I believe, Caroline, that he would abhor what you have become.”

Then the woman was led away by the waiting footman. The reprieve did not last long.

“I will, of course, fulfill my duty to your sister, Mr. Bingley,” intoned Mr. Collins, reminding them all that he was present. “Though I declare there is no need, for there was no intention to compromise or in any way harm her reputation, I shall abide by your strictures.”

“That is a great comfort, Mr. Collins,” said Bingley. The only person in the room who did not understand the irony oozing from Bingley’s tone appeared to be the parson himself.

“But I must plead with you, Mr. Darcy,” said Collins, turning to Darcy, “to cease this madness. My cousin could never be a proper wife to you. She is far too independent, too outspoken, too common to sully the illustrious line of the Darcys of Pemberley. Surely you must see this.”

“Mr. Collins,” said Darcy, and the parson jumped at the dangerous note in his tone. “If you do not cease speaking of this matter which has, after all, no connection to you, it is unlikely you will live long enough to meet your bride at the altar.”

The parson opened his mouth to respond again, but Darcy would not allow it. “Enough, Mr. Collins! I will call you out if you say another word.”

“I think Mr. Collins should come with us to the sitting-room,” interjected Fitzwilliam. His words may just have saved the parson’s life. “There are some questions we need to ask him. I, for one, am curious to hear his answers.”

“Of-of course, my l-lord,” stammered Mr. Collins, clearly frightened out of his wits.

Fitzwilliam stepped forward and grasped his elbow, propelling him into the sitting-room. Bingley, along with Miss Bennet and Miss Mary, followed along behind. Darcy hesitated, however, and turned to regard Miss Elizabeth, inspecting her for any harm. She appeared to have passed through her ordeal none the worse for wear, though Darcy knew she had received a fright.

“Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?” asked he.

“I am, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth glared at Mr. Collins’s retreating back with disdain. “It would take more than those villains to frighten me.”

“I am happy to hear it.”

He trailed a finger along the line of her jaw and even dared to lean forward and kiss her forehead. Miss Elizabeth’s sigh of pleasure told Darcy she welcomed his ministrations.

Perhaps there was a way to speed things along. He would need to think on it and address the matter at a later time. For now, it was time to discover the exact influence his aunt had had on the day’s events.