Chapter 10 #2
Mr. Collins had been nearly carried upstairs by three footmen with Doctor Windham in attendance, leaving Darcy in the library with his aunt, Mr. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth and an obviously smug Miss Bingley.
“No, he does not,” Darcy said evenly, struggling to maintain his temper.
“Indeed, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth insisted boldly. “Mr. Collins has been entirely lucid and reasonable for the last two weeks. For some reason, your arrival sparked a breakdown.”
The lady looked down her long nose at Elizabeth and raised a haughty brow, “And who might you be, young lady?”
“I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn,” the girl responded, lifting her chin at the older lady’s arrogant tones.
“And you are?” Lady Catherine demanded, turning to Mr. Bennet.
“Mr. James Bennet, Elizabeth’s father,” Bennet replied, torn between genuine concern for his cousin and delight at the arrival of a lady with an obviously remarkable personality.
“I hope for your sakes that my parson’s insanity devolved from a different branch of the family, Mr. Bennet, else you may all find yourself in Bedlam as well!”
“Lady Catherine!” Darcy remonstrated, reddening slightly. He had forgotten how very rude his aunt could be.
“I cannot fathom why you are denying what is obvious to us all,” the lady responded regally.
“Miss Bingey informed me of Mr. Collins’s erratic behavior, and I heard his deranged speech with my own ears.
How dare he criticize me as mistress of Rosings?
How dare he speak against our King and nobles and gentry! ”
Darcy bent a disapproving stare on Miss Bingley, who looked uncomfortable but nonetheless spoke up, “You must admit, Mr. Darcy, that the clergyman has been quite unwell since his injury. He keeps spouting out Scripture in the most bizarre manner. He called me a swine!”
Catherine de Bourgh glanced at the mistress of the house absently. “You may not be a pig, Miss Bingley, but you do look rather like an apricot. That shade of orange does not become you. I should know. I am always dressed in the most appropriate and sophisticated manner.”
Darcy heard a choking sound and glanced over to see both Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth struggling not to laugh.
In the midst of a challenging and emotional situation, he felt his heart lurch in his chest again.
Miss Elizabeth was so beautiful, so vibrant, so bold.
There were few women who would stand up to Lady Catherine, much less laugh at her, no matter how much his aunt deserved it.
He wanted to marry her. But no, he must not forget what he owed to Georgiana! For her sake, he must marry a woman with the highest of connections. Otherwise, sweet, timid, precious Georgie might well be hindered in her ability to make a good match.
“I want Mr. Collins out of here, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley stated in a determined fashion, yanking him out of his reverie. “I have done my best to be a kind hostess, but he is clearly mad and I do not feel safe with him in residence.”
“That is entirely reasonable, Miss Bingey,” Lady Catherine replied.
“Miss Bingley,” the woman corrected, though softly.
“I will arrange for Mr. Collins to be transported to Bedlam on the morrow.”
“No, you will not!” Darcy and Elizabeth said together, and then glanced at one another in surprise.
“He is my clergyman, Darcy! As for you, Miss Elizabeth, how dare you involve yourself in a matter which is of no possible concern to you?”
“On the contrary, Lady Catherine,” Mr. Bennet said coldly, stepping forward protectively next to his daughter. “Mr. Collins is my cousin and heir to Longbourn. We have far more right to determine his fate than you do!”
“He holds the Hunsford living! How can you seriously argue that a man who rolls around on the couch, whimpering like a baby, is worthy of overseeing my parish?”
“A curate could fulfill his duties,” Elizabeth retorted.
“For how long? Truly, this is outrageous! Why are you denying what is so obvious to everyone, that Mr. Collins is insane!”
“He is a brilliant man who suffered an extremely difficult childhood,” Darcy argued. “It is unconscionable to consider locking him up in an asylum.”
“It is not your decision to make, Darcy. I will not allow him in Hunsford, Miss Bingey no longer will host him here and I doubt that Longbourn, filled as it is with young ladies, is an appropriate place for a feebleminded man.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who was biting her lip in a thoroughly adorable manner.
“I will take him to Pemberley,” he announced suddenly. He had to leave Hertfordshire now or he would offer for Elizabeth Bennet. Every hour in her presence was an exquisite torment; only by fleeing would he escape her tantalizing snare.
His aunt’s expression shifted from outrage to astonishment, “Pemberley! Do you seriously intend to take a madman to live in the same house as my niece? You are as demented as Mr. Collins is!”
Darcy gritted his teeth, “He is not insane, nor is he in any way dangerous. Find a curate to fill in for Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine, and we will determine the disposition of the living at a later date.”
Lady Catherine began sputtering in outrage, but Darcy found his attention shifting to Miss Elizabeth. He feared that he would see disappointment in her eyes over his decision to leave, but instead she looked enormously grateful.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. It is very kind of you to care for our poor cousin.”
“It is my honor, Miss Elizabeth.”