Chapter 8
8
L ady Catherine’s request was inconsequential, a pretended decision with Mr. Collins over the color of their drapes in the sitting room. Elizabeth then spent the afternoon convincing herself that everything was as it should be.
She had replayed Lady Catherine’s words in her mind, reminded herself that Mr. Darcy was not for her, and that her own fate had already been decided.
And yet?—
Even now, she could still feel the warmth of his presence in the gardens. Still hear the rough, quiet certainty in his voice when he had said, "I will not marry Anne."
Elizabeth shook the thought away as she moved through the halls of Rosings Park, her steps light but determined.
She needed to ground herself.
She needed to speak with her betrothed.
If she was to be Mrs. Collins, she had best remind herself why.
She found him in the small study Lady Catherine had designated for his use, standing before a large bookshelf, squinting at the spines of the books as though they were a puzzle he could not solve.
She cleared her throat. "Mr. Collins?"
He turned immediately, his entire face lighting up at the sight of her.
"Ah! My dear, my most esteemed, soon-to-be wife!" He gestured broadly at the room. "You honor me with your presence in my humble office."
Elizabeth glanced around the space. Humble was not the word she would have chosen. The ornate desk, the gilded chair, and the large portrait of Lady Catherine hanging over the fireplace made it feel more like a shrine than a study.
She folded her hands before her, offering him a polite smile. "I hoped to speak with you."
Mr. Collins nodded eagerly. "Of course! A most excellent idea. A husband and wife must cultivate a mutual understanding—Lady Catherine herself has often remarked upon this."
Elizabeth bit back a sigh. "Yes. Quite." She gestured toward the chair across from his desk. "May I sit?"
Mr. Collins blinked, as if surprised by the request. "Why, of course, though there is hardly any need for such formality between us!"
Elizabeth ignored this, lowering herself into the chair.
He followed suit, settling into his chair with a dramatic sigh, folding his hands over his stomach as though he had just completed a great labor.
Elizabeth hesitated, then said carefully, "I wished to know more about you, Mr. Collins."
Mr. Collins blinked rapidly.
She pressed on. "We are soon to be married, and it seems to me that we have not had many private conversations about any sort of variety of subjects—not beyond your great admiration for Lady Catherine, of course."
Mr. Collins brightened immediately. "Yes! A most excellent subject, indeed! Lady Catherine?—"
Elizabeth held up a hand, interrupting gently. "No. Not Lady Catherine. I wish to know about you."
Mr. Collins paused, as though the idea had never occurred to him before.
"Me?" he repeated.
Elizabeth nodded encouragingly. "Yes. What are your thoughts? Your feelings? Your hopes for the future?"
Mr. Collins looked momentarily bewildered. Then he laughed nervously, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, Miss Bennet, what a most amusing notion! Why, I daresay you must be jesting."
Elizabeth’s brows drew together. "Jesting?"
"Why, yes!" he exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It is not the place of a clergyman to have hopes or feelings beyond his duty to his patroness and the church."
Elizabeth stared at him.
"Surely," she said slowly, "you must have some thoughts of your own?"
He blinked at her in confusion, as though she had spoken in another language. After an awkward pause, he said, "Well, I do believe that turnips are quite underappreciated." He cleared his throat. “And boiled potatoes.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She had not been expecting turnips.
Mr. Collins nodded solemnly, clearly unaware of her growing despair.
"It is a most peculiar thing," he continued, his voice growing in confidence now that he had chosen a subject he felt knowledgeable in, "that so many people favor carrots when turnips are, in fact, much more versatile. Lady Catherine herself has remarked?—"
Elizabeth let out a slow, measured breath, willing herself to not scream.
Perhaps she had not phrased the question correctly.
She tried again. "What do you enjoy, Mr. Collins? What brings you pleasure?"
Mr. Collins looked alarmed by the question. "Pleasure?"
"Yes," Elizabeth said, struggling to keep her tone patient. "For instance, I find great joy in long walks, in reading novels, in laughter. What do you enjoy?"
Mr. Collins sat in deep contemplation for a long moment.
Then, finally, he said, "Accounting."
Elizabeth blinked. "Pardon?"
"Accounting," he repeated, looking immensely pleased with himself. "Oh yes, balancing ledgers is a most excellent pastime. The columns, the sums—such order, such precision!"
Elizabeth could not mask her incredulity. "You enjoy… numbers?"
Mr. Collins nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed, I do! Why, nothing is more satisfying than finding an error in an estate’s accounts and correcting it immediately. A misplaced shilling? A missing entry? Oh! The thrill of it!"
Elizabeth stared at him, trying to find some appropriate response to such a confession.
Finally, she managed, "I… see."
Mr. Collins beamed, clearly misinterpreting her tone as approval.
"I knew you would understand, my dear cousin! Lady Catherine has often remarked that my attention to detail is one of my finest qualities. And, of course, this will prove most advantageous when managing our household! You need not trouble yourself with any sums or records, for I shall handle it all. You shall not need to think of finances in the slightest!"
Elizabeth stiffened.
"But I wish to think of them," she said, her voice firmer now.
Mr. Collins frowned slightly. "Think of them? But why?"
"Because I do not wish to be ignorant of our affairs," she said plainly. "A wife should have some say in her own household, should she not?"
Mr. Collins looked horrified.
"Oh, no, no, no, my dear!" he said, laughing nervously. "That is most improper! A wife has no need to trouble herself with such things—why, it is a husband’s duty to make all necessary decisions! Lady Catherine herself has often stated that a woman should be concerned with modesty, obedience, and the household—not numbers!"
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply.
Turnips. Accounting. Modesty and obedience.
This was her future.
She opened her eyes, forcing a polite smile. "Thank you, Mr. Collins," she said, standing abruptly. "This has been most… enlightening."
Mr. Collins rose as well, grinning. "Indeed, indeed! I do so enjoy our conversations, my dear cousin! Such wonderful companionship we shall have in our married life!"
Elizabeth gave a tight nod, then turned and walked swiftly out of the study before she could betray a single honest emotion.
She did not stop moving until she was outside in the fresh air, breathing deeply, gripping the cold stone of the garden wall as reality settled around her like a crushing weight.