12. Twelve
Twelve
“Miss Elizabeth, might I have the honor of your company for a walk this afternoon?”
Elizabeth looked up from her plate, caught mid-bite by Mr. Collins’s sudden address. His voice carried a tone of solemn expectation, as though he were bestowing a favor too great to be refused.
“Thank you, sir, but I am sure one of my sisters would be better suited to the honor,” she replied, setting her fork down with deliberate care. “Perhaps Mary. I believe she would welcome a chance to discuss the finer points of virtue.”
Mr. Collins blinked, clearly unprepared for such a suggestion. “Ah, but it is you, Miss Elizabeth, whom I wish to accompany. I feel certain we would benefit greatly from a shared conversation. Lady Catherine often speaks of the value of pairing good intellects on such occasions. Indeed, I think she must be right.”
Her mother rose from her seat. “Lizzy, you shall go, of course! A walk will do you good, and Mr. Collins has so kindly extended his invitation.”
Elizabeth bit back a retort and glanced at Jane, who offered her a small, sympathetic smile. “If it pleases Mr. Collins, I shall be ready shortly.” .
“Splendid!” Mr. Collins exclaimed, rising to his feet as though the matter had been triumphantly resolved. “We shall set out as soon as you are prepared. Lady Catherine recommends morning walks most highly and often remarks that the brisk air sharpens one’s faculties. I have made it a point to heed her advice in all things.”
He bowed deeply and left the room, leaving Elizabeth to watch him go with a mix of resignation and disbelief.
“Lizzy,” Lydia said under her breath, “do you think he can talk and walk at the same time? Or will he stop every few steps to bow to the hedgerows?”
Kitty stifled a laugh, and Elizabeth shook her head, refusing to indulge them. Jane caught her eye and smiled faintly, offering silent encouragement. “I wish I felt well enough to accompany you. I might have been able to offer some sort of help.”
“Oh, I am certain Mr. Collins will prove an engaging companion all on his own,” Elizabeth said dryly, rising from her seat. “I mean to satisfy my curiosity on that point, if only to see how far his admiration for Lady Catherine can stretch.”
“Will you try to count how many times he mentions Lady Catherine before you reach the first turn in the lane?” Lydia asked.
“Do not encourage her, Lydia,” Mary interjected. “Such behavior is unkind.”
“Unkind?” Lydia said, her eyes wide with mock innocence. “I am merely asking for information, Mary. It is entirely scientific.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “If I counted every reference to Lady Catherine, we would never reach the lane at all. I suspect I shall have to endure her praise in uninterrupted measure.”
Lydia laughed, but Mrs. Bennet was already bustling around the table. “Do not be difficult, Lizzy,” she said. “You must see how advantageous Mr. Collins’s attentions are. A man of his standing! And the heir to Longbourn! It is more than you deserve, I might add, with your sharp tongue and willful ways.”
Elizabeth rose from her seat and moved toward the hall for her gloves and bonnet, unwilling to prolong the conversation. “I shall endeavor to represent the family with all the grace I can muster,” she said, slipping past her mother before another admonition could follow.
In the hall, she lingered for a moment to secure her bonnet, letting the familiar motions calm her irritation. Mr. Collins’s attentions were unwelcome enough, but her mother’s insistence that she accept them with gratitude only worsened the ordeal. As she tied the ribbons beneath her chin, she resolved to endure the walk with as much patience as she could manage. Surely even Mr. Collins would run out of words before long.
Darcy closed his book and set it on the table beside him, its pages unread. The drawing room at Netherfield felt unusually stifling that afternoon, the kind of quiet that invited unwelcome thoughts. He stood and crossed to the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the misty horizon.
No matter how resolutely he tried to banish Elizabeth Bennet from his mind, her unpredictable words and enigmatic smiles returned to taunt him. It had been days since she had left for Longbourn, yet her presence lingered—an aggravatingly persistent specter. She had unsettled him in ways he could neither explain nor dismiss, and the memory of her laughter— most particularly, the stifled chuckles when he had embarrassed himself, gnawed at his composure.
The creak of the door broke his reverie, and he turned to see Bingley entering the room.
“Darcy,” Bingley said as he walked toward the hearth. “I have taken a notion into my head.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Miss Bennet is said to be recovering well,” Bingley said, leaning casually against the mantle. “Her mother has informed Mrs. Philips, who was kind enough to spread the word in Meryton.”
“That is good to hear,” Darcy said evenly, though his grip on the book’s spine eased.
“I thought so as well.” Bingley moved to the hearth, turning to face Darcy with a spark of mischief. “It has set me thinking, actually. With Miss Bennet on the mend, I believe it would now be in decent taste to consider a proper gathering. A ball, perhaps.”
“Oh.” Darcy sighed. Of course, a ball. It was probably the proper thing to do—Netherfield was the largest house in the area, and the idea had been launched about town more than once since their arrival. “I see.”
“Not with much pleasure, I take it. Come, Darcy, the neighborhood is overdue for a bit of cheer, and what better occasion than the season’s first frost? Of course,” Bingley added with a grin, “Caroline is already threatening to take to her bed at the very idea. I believe she dreads the militia being included.”
Darcy scoffed. “Why? You could hardly fail to invite them without causing talk.”
“Oh, she is utterly persuaded that including the militia would ruin the evening entirely. But I cannot imagine excluding Colonel Forster and his men, especially when they have been such a fixture in the neighborhood.”
“Your sister’s feelings aside, it does seem you are determined.”
“I am. After all, what is the point of taking a house like Netherfield if one does not host at least one grand gathering?”
Darcy turned back toward the window, his thoughts flickering to Elizabeth again. A ball would mean her presence. The thought stirred an unwelcome mixture of anticipation and dread. He had been determined to maintain his distance, to let reason prevail over sentiment. Yet every encounter with her seemed to chip away at that resolve.
Bingley’s voice broke into his musings. “Oh, and speaking of Longbourn, they have a guest.”
“A guest?”
“Yes, a Mr. Collins. Their cousin, I was told. Apparently, he is the heir to Longbourn. Mrs. Philips mentioned him this morning when I was in town. Apparently, he has arrived with some rather… specific intentions.”
Darcy frowned. “What sort of intentions?”
“Matrimonial ones,” Bingley said, laughing. “It seems Mrs. Bennet is in raptures over the idea. From what I gather, he is making no secret of his desire to secure a match.”
Darcy stiffened, his brow furrowing. “And has he singled out a particular daughter?”
“Well, that’s the entertaining part. The whole town is abuzz with speculation. There are even wagers in Meryton about how quickly he will propose and to whom.”
“Wagers?” Darcy’s tone hardened.
“Indeed. Mrs. Long has placed her bet on Miss Catherine, though I hear others are favoring Miss Mary. I understand, however, that Miss Elizabeth is by far the favorite in the odds.”
Darcy’s fingers tightened. “Indeed?”
Bingley shrugged. “Apparently, Mr. Collins has already made a number of flattering remarks about her.”
“Flattering remarks?” Darcy echoed, his tone colder now.
“Something about her ‘not being unsuitable’,” Bingley said, chuckling. “Though I daresay his standards of flattery leave much to be desired.”
Darcy turned sharply, striding back toward his chair and gripping its back with unnecessary force. “And what does Miss Elizabeth make of him?”
Bingley tilted his head thoughtfully. “I cannot say, but knowing her, I suspect she finds it all amusing. I have not met the man myself, though, so how could I tell her impressions of him?”
“He sounds hardly clever enough to value a lady of worth,” Darcy snapped. Then he cleared his throat. “I—I mean that as… a generality, of course. I am not saying that—“
“Oh, I think I know exactly what you are saying. Collins’ backhanded sort of compliment sounds rather like declaring a lady ‘tolerable,’ does it not?”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “I was not trying to court the lady when I said that. Persistent men, no matter their other qualities or lack thereof, have a way of wearing down even the strongest objections,” he said, his voice clipped. “And family pressure can be… compelling.”
“Darcy,” Bingley said, raising a brow, “you sound almost concerned.”
Darcy hesitated, his jaw tightening. Why would he care? The matter did not concern him. But still… “I merely find it unfortunate that such a woman should have to endure the attentions of an unworthy suitor.”
“What makes you think he is unworthy? I know nothing of the man.”
Darcy forced his jaw to relax as he turned. “Quite right. It was only an assumption. But if he were a desirable match, it seems there would be more names put forward, and other families might be vying for the attention of such a man. Heir to Longbourn, that must be no small thing in this neighborhood.”
Bingley studied him for a moment, his expression curious but amused. “And interesting extrapolation. You may be right, Darcy, but Miss Elizabeth seems more than capable of handling herself.”
Darcy said nothing, though his thoughts churned. The idea of Elizabeth tethered to a man she could not like—and Darcy could not imagine any possibility that this Collins fellow was someone she would like—was intolerable.
And yet, what right had he to interfere? She was nobody to him. Just the subject of a stupid wager he never should have agreed to.
He clasped his hands behind his back again, trying to force himself to remain still, but it was an exercise in futility.
Bingley clapped him on the shoulder. “Do not overthink it, Darcy. Let the cards fall where they may.”
Darcy’s teeth ground. The cards were falling, indeed—into chaos. And he had a sinking suspicion he was already losing control of the game.
“Miss Elizabeth, I am most gratified by your willingness to indulge my humble request,” Collins began, gesturing for her to take the lead down the path. “A morning walk is, I find, a most edifying activity, particularly when one is blessed with such unseasonably fine weather and excellent company.”
Elizabeth inclined her head but said nothing, letting her silence fill the space where he clearly expected flattery in return. She stepped onto the gravel path and began walking at an even pace, wishing to neither rush nor prolong the ordeal.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” he continued as soon as they had passed the first hedgerow, “often remarks upon the value of exercise, especially for young ladies. She believes it cultivates a graceful carriage and a sound constitution. Admirable foresight, naturally, for young ladies of good health must, surely, make more desirable partners in life. Such wisdom is, of course, one of her many extraordinary qualities.”
Elizabeth cast him a sidelong glance. “It seems Lady Catherine’s wisdom touches on every facet of life.”
“Oh, indeed! Her guidance is as boundless as her benevolence. Why, I recall one particular instance when she took the trouble to personally instruct Mrs. Jenkinson—her daughter’s companion, you understand—on the correct method of arranging her shawl to capture a properly modest manner while still adorning the lady’s figure in the most flattering fashion. Such attention to detail is the hallmark of true superiority.”
Elizabeth stifled a sigh, her resolve to remain civil wearing thin. “An impressive example, no doubt. Though I wonder, Mr. Collins, do you find your own judgment lacking in such matters that you require Lady Catherine’s constant guidance?”
He blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “Lacking? Oh no, Miss Elizabeth, I would not say lacking. Rather, I endeavor to align my opinions with hers, as I find her judgment to be—how shall I put it?—unassailable. It is my duty, as her clergyman, to reflect her views faithfully.”
“And do you find that duty a rewarding one?”
“Exceedingly so! It is a privilege to serve such a lady, just as it is an honor to inherit such an estate as Longbourn, which, I trust, you and your family will be glad to know I intend to maintain with the utmost care.”
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened. “I am sure we are all most relieved to know the estate will be in such capable hands.”
Mr. Collins beamed, utterly oblivious to her tone. “I do believe, Miss Elizabeth, that my decision to visit Longbourn was both timely and wise. Lady Catherine herself encouraged me to take this step, for she feels that a clergyman with property ought to set an example of familial duty. It was she who first suggested that I turn my thoughts toward matrimony, a subject I must confess has occupied my mind a great deal of late.”
Elizabeth’s steps faltered, but she recovered, her pulse quickening. “Indeed?”
“Lady Catherine impressed upon me the importance of choosing a wife who would be a credit to my position. Naturally, my thoughts turned to the daughters of my esteemed cousin, Mr. Bennet. And though I do not wish to presume, Miss Elizabeth, I find myself most drawn to—“
Elizabeth halted abruptly, turning to face him with as much composure as she could muster. “Mr. Collins,” she said, cutting him off before he could finish, “it is a fine morning, and I would hate to spoil it by rushing into matters better left for another time.”
Mr. Collins blinked, startled by her interruption, but quickly recovered. “Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Your sensibility is admirable. There is no need to hasten what is surely a matter of great importance.”
“Precisely,” Elizabeth said, resuming her walk. “Shall we continue?”
“By all means! I was merely remarking to myself what a charming landscape this is. Lady Catherine would approve most heartily of the arrangement of those shrubs. They remind me of the ornamental hedges at Rosings Park…”
As he monologued on with yet another paean to Lady Catherine’s taste, Elizabeth allowed her gaze to wander over the fields in the distance. She focused on the crispness of the air and the rustle of leaves in the breeze, willing herself to endure what remained of the walk with her composure intact. She could feel her irritation simmering, but a small, grim satisfaction surfaced as well. She had diverted him for now, though she suspected his intentions would resurface sooner than she liked.
“Charles, must we really go through with this ball?” Caroline Bingley lamented from the settee as Darcy entered the drawing room. She sat primly, her hands folded over an open book she had no intention of reading, her expression one of carefully curated irritation.
Bingley, who had been leafing through a pile of correspondence, looked up with mild surprise. “‘Must?’ Caroline, it was my idea. Of course, we must.”
“Then perhaps I should ask whether we should ,“ she said with a delicate sigh. “It seems… excessive. Surely a smaller gathering would suffice. Have we not already hosted a fine dinner party? I thought that would have satisfied the neighborhood.”
“Ah, so that was your intent. I fear you are to be disappointed, Caroline, for I mean to keep my promise.”
“An unnecessary promise!” Miss Bingley declared. “No one expected it, until you had to run on about it in town.”
Darcy settled into the armchair near the hearth, his face impassive as he watched the exchange. He had seen Caroline maneuver her brother before, and this had all the hallmarks of another of her campaigns.
Bingley shook his head, smiling faintly. “Indeed, they did, and my answer remains the same. I have already spoken with Mrs. Nichols, and the preparations are underway. We have but to name a date and send the invitations. It is a ball, Caroline, not an invasion.”
“Perhaps,” she said lightly, smoothing her skirt, “but must we include the militia? It lowers the tone considerably.”
Darcy glanced at her, his brow arching slightly. “Colonel Forster and his officers are hardly the rabble.”
Caroline turned her gaze to him, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as she gauged his tone. “Perhaps not,” she conceded, “but there is something to be said for exclusivity. One would not want the room to feel... crowded.”
Bingley laughed. “Caroline, you’d have the room feel empty at this rate. The militia has been good company to half the neighborhood.”
“Half the neighborhood lacks any sort of discernment,” she said sharply, then softened her tone when she turned back to Darcy. “Of course, I defer to my brother’s enthusiasm. But I do wonder, Mr. Darcy, whether you will find the evening as diverting as my brother hopes. A man of your tastes, surrounded by such a lively company...”
“I am sure I will endure the company as well as any other,” he interrupted.
Caroline’s smile was thin, but her eyes glittered with calculation. “I do hope so. After all, one cannot escape the reality of who will attend. The Bennets will be there, naturally.”
Bingley, oblivious to the trap she was setting, beamed. “Naturally! We could not do without them. Such a relief that Miss Bennet is well again because I could hardly plan such a thing with one of the daughters of the neighborhood still ill after a visit to my home.”
“Indeed,” Caroline said. “Miss Bennet’s recovery is very fortunate. But I wonder… does this mean all the Bennet sisters will attend? Even the younger ones?”
Darcy’s hand stilled against the arm of his chair. He glanced at her briefly. “I imagine they will.”
“Well! My own mother never would have permitted me out at such an age, but there, at least they shall have Miss Eliza to rein them in. There’s a mercy.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes and said nothing.”
“Yes, it is a fine thing for Miss Eliza, for I daresay her parents do little enough to keep decorum in that house.” Caroline said, watching him closely now. “But the lady herself, now, she does have a certain... presence. I must admit, her wit is rather sharp. Though I wonder if that sharpness does not sometimes cut the wrong way.”
Darcy’s gaze remained on the fire. “Miss Elizabeth’s wit is her own, and she wields it expertly.”
Caroline tilted her head, the faintest frown tugging at her lips. “How kind of you to say so, Mr. Darcy. I am sure she will be delighted by your... approval.”
Bingley chuckled, glancing up from his correspondence. “Elizabeth Bennet is a delight to everyone but Caroline, it seems.”
“Not at all,” Caroline said, smoothing her expression into one of false contrition. “I merely think it prudent to temper one’s enthusiasm for certain qualities.”
“Such as?” Darcy asked, his voice sharper than intended.
“Oh, I could not say,” Caroline said airily. “It is simply that Miss Elizabeth is so... unaffected. One hopes she does not mistake confidence for charm.”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass. Darcy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he studied her. “Miss Elizabeth has no need to mistake anything, Miss Bingley. She knows her worth.”
Caroline’s smile tightened again, and she turned back to Bingley, her tone as sweet as honey. “Well, I hope the ball lives up to your expectations, Charles. I’m sure it will be an evening to remember.”
Bingley laughed, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Of course it will! Everyone is looking forward to it.”
Caroline glanced toward Darcy once more, her gaze lingering. “Everyone, indeed.”