Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
E lizabeth entered the parsonage quietly and went straight to her bedchamber. How she longed to escape! The sweet little guest chamber had become more like a gaol to her, though she felt it was impossible to leave.
For a brief, mad moment, she thought about setting off walking. If she was any judge, it could not be much more than ten miles to Bromley—could it? But even as she considered it, she knew she was not in earnest. She was stuck there.
While she must remain, it did not follow that she must spend time with Mr or Mrs Collins. She would follow their guidelines and give them space. So resolved, Elizabeth curled up in the chair by the hearth in her chamber. She was quite capable of remaining composed and polite—and at a distance. Perhaps she would remain in her room all week. She did not delight in being in their company any time soon and could not guess at their reception after her earlier outburst.
She felt reckless and unsettled and humiliated. Even if Mr Collins was in the wrong, she had reacted to his behaviour abominably. Renouncing their familial attachment? And she thought herself the rational one!
She felt foolish, but her mind was under too much duress to contrive a sounder plan than one of avoidance. And she was not even certain she would leave if she could—not with Mr Darcy so near. The shock of the morning was still coursing through her—the anger, the mortification...and the kiss. Oh, that kiss.
She still could not credit that she had been kissed by Mr Darcy—and moreover, she was surprised that she had been a willing recipient. How easily had her desire overcome her restraint! She had always believed herself made of sterner stuff.
But what did it all mean? That moment when she had believed his cousin approached, she was first struck by fear—fear that they would be forced to marry! But hard on the heels of that came acceptance. Did it mean she secretly wanted to marry Mr Darcy? Was she falling in love with him?
She shook her head to clear it of such confusing thoughts.
“Mrs Collins!” Charlotte could hear her husband’s heavy step the moment he crossed their threshold. She followed his progress as he stamped towards her parlour, still shouting, “Mrs Collins! Mrs Collins!” Did he expect her to shout back?
He was heaving and panting when he entered the parlour, and Charlotte thought she ought to encourage him to exercise more often. Surely it could not be good that a man as young as he was could be overcome by running the short distance from his garden to her parlour.
“Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, the nephews of our beloved patroness are come...the colonel, you will recall, is son to the Earl of—”
“Mr Collins, they have been here some time now, of course I know who they are.” Charlotte forced herself to smile, to take the sting from her words. “My dear.”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to scold her but stopped himself, no doubt recalling the two esteemed gentlemen would be there shortly.
“Shall I call Eliza, do you think? She has returned and has been in her room for some time now.”
Charlotte was not certain how Elizabeth might feel or how she would answer any questions about her whereabouts that morning. What if she tells them of my husband’s behaviour?
Thinking better of it, Charlotte continued, “I think she ought to remain where she is. She was in quite a state this morning.” But her efforts only sent things sideways.
“I think not,” he replied abruptly. Charlotte believed it was likely that he only wished to oppose her, but it did not signify. “I shall not allow my cousin to embarrass us further today. She has already snubbed Miss de Bourgh. I shall not allow her to now insult the benevolence of her ladyship’s nephews. If she wishes to remain under my roof, she will come and greet our guests.”
Mr Collins rushed out to request that Hayes retrieve Elizabeth.
When the two gentlemen entered, Mr Collins was quick to speak, giving a lengthy monologue about Lady Catherine’s reputed character, esteemed recommendations, and her advice about the keeping of poultry (though not one of them believed she had ever been in contact with the birds until they rested under sauce on her plate). Charlotte, ever the polite hostess, waited for her husband to take a breath before inviting the gentlemen to be seated.
Just as the gentlemen were choosing their seats, Mr Collins received a note from Lady Catherine summoning him to Rosings Park. He set off in a fluster, dismayed to abandon the illustrious gentlemen, yet not daring to displease his patroness by being anything less than alacritous. Charlotte watched a strangled greeting between Elizabeth and her husband as she entered the room and he bustled out of the parlour. She turned her attention to the tea cart to prevent her own clumsy welcome.
Mr Collins’s exit allowed Charlotte to breathe a bit easier. Perhaps his departure will subdue Eliza.
Charlotte considered the distraction of preparing the tea a blessing. The colonel’s good humour also deflected any apparent awkwardness while she delivered steaming cups to everyone’s hands. When finally taking her seat, she noticed a strange occurrence in progress. Elizabeth had glanced at Mr Darcy, catching his gaze upon her. Then she smiled, and Charlotte watched her cheeks redden.
The gentlemen enquired of the ladies’ health and exchanged pleasantries about the weather. Colonel Fitzwilliam talked energetically about a particular news item from the morning papers. Charlotte could only listen with half an ear, paying greater notice to the furtive glances and little smiles exchanged between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy. It was fortunate the colonel was the garrulous sort; Charlotte was too interested in Mr Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s behaviour to do much speaking herself.
Something was going on, and it must end. No good would come of it—especially for her husband and herself. Anne de Bourgh would not be thrown over for the likes of Eliza Bennet. To selfishly abandon her family’s needs for her own gain, only to be rewarded with an honourable, rich, and handsome husband? Oh no, she would not succeed—not if Charlotte had anything to say about it. Had this been Eliza’s design all along? Was this why she had been so insistent on coming to Kent? Vexation grew as Charlotte imagined herself an unwitting pawn in Elizabeth’s schemes with Mr Darcy.
“Elizabeth,” she began with false brightness, “I shall be sorry to see you return home in a se’nnight, though I am certain you will be eager to ascertain the well-being of your family and renew your local friendships.”
Elizabeth looked as if she had been caught with her hand in the jam jar. “Um, yes, of course.”
“I am sure you are especially missing your friends in the militia, particularly your favourite,” she said with a knowing nod and false grin.
Elizabeth’s face dimmed a bit. “I am sure I do not know who you mean.”
Charlotte clearly saw the look of warning on Elizabeth’s face, but had no intention of being subdued. She turned to Mr Darcy. “Mr Darcy, am I correct that you have a past acquaintance with Mr Wickham?”
“I do.” He replied tersely, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Mr George Wickham?” Colonel Fitzwilliam was nearly on the edge of his chair, looking at both ladies. “Do you know him?”
Mr Darcy said, “Wickham has joined the militia currently stationed in Hertfordshire, not far from Miss Bennet’s home. Both of the ladies are acquainted with him.”
“The militia? It seems they will have anyone these days.” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked offended. Turning to the ladies, the colonel said, “I implore you to keep your distance from that man. He is no gentleman and is not to be trusted. ”
Elizabeth’s colour was high, and her eyes shot angry darts in Charlotte’s direction; but to the colonel she was serene. “Yes, we are acquainted, and I believe acquainted is a far friendlier term than he deserves. Never fear, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I admit to believing him to be a gentleman for a time, but I shall not be taken in by a scoundrel. I do, however, worry for his betrothed, Miss King.”
She looked to Charlotte, one brow raised. “Mrs Collins, I am sure you remember that Mr Wickham is newly engaged to Miss Mary King.”
“Of course.” Charlotte nodded. Her attempts at distraction had not gone as well as planned, but they had certainly discomfited both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy and had brought their exchanges to a halt.
The gentlemen rose to take their leave soon after, and Elizabeth ventured to the lesser used morning room. In accordance with the typical behaviours of the parsonage, Elizabeth knew it would be best to rely on physical distance from the other residents to keep the peace. This space also allowed her mind to wander to all the hard places her equanimity required.
Elizabeth’s feelings for Mr Darcy continued to be a bit of a tumult. She had learned enough in the past few weeks to understand that most of her early perceptions of him were inaccurate. His austere manner could be explained by a shyness she had not comprehended early on. He was a private man; what seemed like arrogance could be explained by the manifold responsibilities laid at his feet due to the nature of his wealth and holdings.
Mr Bingley, she was coming to realise, was a fickle man easily led by the whims of his friends and family. And while Mr Darcy owned his part in separating Jane from Mr Bingley, she was unconcerned by his reasons; the protection of his friend was admirable. She would have done the same for Jane. Yes, the full accountability lay with Mr Bingley.
And Mr Wickham—oh, that enlightenment stung the most. Pretty words and compliments had entirely clouded her discernment on that front. His conniving nature concealed his true person. While she was astonished to learn he was dishonourable, it was her own perceptions and decision-making that hurt the most. To be so deceived! To be so ignorant!
And if all this were true, then her deep connexion and friendship built in Kent was also the truth—this was the real Mr Darcy.
Sifting through this knowledge, she felt finally free to allow herself to recognise her true feelings for Mr Darcy. This confident, intelligent gentleman had taken hold of her heart in a way she had never expected to experience. She felt drawn to his steadiness and comfort. Of all which he was responsible, she dreamed she too could be under his complete protection.
Elizabeth rarely considered marriage, for she dreamed only of marrying for love. She was intelligent enough to recognise protection in itself was valuable as well. Her decision to refuse the marriage proposal from Mr Collins was truly selfish. She could have put an end to her mother’s fear of being ‘tossed into the hedgerows’ months ago.
Mr Collins’s proposal and her subsequent refusal recalled her deepest fear and that of her mother. One day, her family would be removed from their home, and without a married sister to take them all in, they would be subject to the worst type of depravity the world offered poor gentlewomen— poverty and a displacement from their current social status in the world, conceivably one of them may even be forced to enter into service, as a governess or paid companion. It was a bleak notion.
The type of security Mr Darcy offered was not only the protection of her family but of her heart. Since Elizabeth had long imagined herself a spinster, this introduced a new sort of trepidation and joy.
Her parents were not an encouraging example of marriage. While her respect for her father was great, he was of the neglectful sort—devoting his time to sarcasm and solitude as if they were his dearest friends. She enjoyed the attention he gave her, since she lacked such attention from her mother. They exchanged witticisms and both valued intelligence—but in comparing her parents’ marriage with that of the marriage she was now hoping for, she could only see Mr Darcy as the ideal.
What would Mr Darcy think of her after she had attacked his character so fully? Did he understand her warm glances during their morning call? Could he perceive her greatly altered feelings?
Mr Collins interrupted her thoughts by entering the morning room to look out of the window to the path running in front of the parsonage. “Did you see her, Cousin?”
“Pardon me, Mr Collins. I was wool-gathering. Of whom are we speaking?” Elizabeth requested calmly.
“Only Miss Anne de Bourgh! Did you not see? She condescended to drive by in her little phaeton and ponies. If only I had been outside to greet her.”
Elizabeth never responded, so he continued, “I am curious why Mr Darcy was not attending her. I am sure Lady Catherine would prefer her betrothed was by her side for her protection, would she not? ”
Betrothed . The word shook her to her core. Mr Collins had insinuated their betrothal many months before, but this time the word stung. Was Mr Darcy in fact to marry his cousin? How had she forgotten to ask?
“I cannot speak to Lady Catherine’s preferences, Mr Collins,” Elizabeth answered weakly and immediately quitted the room.
Once in the relative privacy of the empty corridor, Elizabeth leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. If only her breathing would regulate itself. She knew better than to rely on Mr Collins for news, but it was undeniable that hearing of Mr Darcy being betrothed to another did affect her. Fallacy or truth, the mere thought of it stole her breath.
Delusion strongly influenced her cousin’s turn of mind, so she willed the heels of her feet to stop bouncing and her fists to release their hold on her skirt. Taking a deep breath, she quickly took herself up the stairs.
Once settled on the end of her bed, she found that the privacy of her chamber only allowed her mind to assume the worst. For if her cousin was not the fool, then she most certainly was.
The next morning, Mr Collins entered Charlotte’s bedchamber unannounced while her maid was helping her dress for church. His eyes darted about the room, and he wiped his hands on his breeches. Charlotte sent her maid away immediately.
Once alone, her husband began, “I have been up all night with worry. I am concerned we have not yet been issued an invitation to dine at Rosings today. You know as well as I do that her ladyship intended it, for she mentioned it last week.”
“Perhaps she will extend the invitation in person this morning. She has been known to do so.”
“I do not think so,” he said, seeming agitated. “And I know what must have happened.”
“I do not believe anything happened, sir, other than Lady Catherine neglected to send a note.”
This was met with a withering look. Evidently, Lady Catherine was beyond commonplace things such as forgetfulness.
“No, I know you will agree with me, for I favour myself wise to the behaviours of young females, when I say that I believe my cousin has been poisoning her ladyship against us! That can be the only explanation for this rejection. I believe she used her charms to influence Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy when they came to call yesterday—my cousin may have spoken against us to the gentlemen, and thus, they took false and defamatory information to her ladyship. To think that I may have been able to prevent her doing so should I not have been called to Rosings myself!”
Mr Collins began to pace the room, his stride causing his belly to bob up and down. She could feel they were teetering on the precipice of peace—a place she had become all too familiar with. Her immediate agreement and support would strengthen the chance of his calming down. “I think you must be right,” she said. “How clever you are to observe it.”
“I have noticed a particular interest between my cousin and Lady Catherine’s nephews. She wants to seduce one of them, to be sure. Mark my words, Lady Catherine would be none too pleased if one of her nephews became entangled with Miss Elizabeth. Particularly, if my cousin would attempt to ensnare Mr Darcy and succeeded, it would damage forever the holy matrimony that Lady Catherine has endorsed for her daughter and her nephew!”
Charlotte simply nodded and responded, “Yes, dear.”
“I am certain it is within your power to ensure that the sanctified union of Miss de Bourgh and Mr Darcy occurs as Lady Catherine has ordained. You must control Miss Elizabeth. I expect this of you. I shall not tolerate any less than the full support of Lady Catherine and her magnanimous daughter.”
“Yes, dear,” she repeated.
“As Miss Elizabeth’s male relation, I have authority over her behaviour and must protect her virtue as well. I expect you to do everything in your power to keep her away from those gentlemen. I hold you responsible.”
“Yes, dear.”
After her husband’s departure, Charlotte called Hayes back to complete her preparations for the day. “Has Miss Bennet gone for one of her walks?”
“No, ma’am,” Hayes answered. “Owing to the weather, I am sure. She is still abed.”
Before Charlotte excused her, she ordered Hayes to tell Mrs Montgomery not to send Elizabeth a tray. She would be expected to break her fast in the dining room.
Once Elizabeth joined her, Charlotte watched her most carefully. Her friend was deep in thought, smiling to herself as she ate—chewing for long periods and occasionally blushing.
Elizabeth’s mind appeared to wander, her eyes glowing with repressed feelings. Watching her, Charlotte’s resentment grew.
Elizabeth and Mr Darcy’s demeanours had undergone a significant change with each interaction she observed, and she wondered if they might be meeting in secret, likely during Eliza’s many prolonged rambles through the wood. Their shared glances spoke of something much deeper than their limited conversations after Sunday services and a few fleeting morning calls. How could she imagine herself reaching so high above her own station in life? And Mr Darcy—what was he thinking, entertaining these possibilities when he was promised to his cousin? Poor Miss de Bourgh! Must Elizabeth’s selfishness influence yet another innocent young lady’s future?
A union between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy would be harmful to Charlotte. If Mr Darcy became aware of Elizabeth’s treatment at the parsonage, they could lose the necessary support of their patroness. Even if her ladyship were unable to remove the living, she could easily make them miserable. It was in Charlotte’s best interest that Elizabeth’s attempts to ensnare Mr Darcy be stopped.
Additionally, Charlotte knew Mr Collins would hold her responsible should Mr Darcy not fulfil his duty by Miss de Bourgh. He would think she had misguided her friend or failed to check her behaviour, and she would suffer accordingly for the error. She would not stand for Elizabeth’s continued interference in her life.
During the church service, Charlotte continued her observation. Her friend may think she was concealing her interest in Mr Darcy, but to the keen observer, it was clear enough that there were unspoken words being exchanged in their glances.
Mr Collins had whispered his concerns in her ear during the walk to the church, still alarmed by the lack of an invitation to dine with Lady Catherine. Charlotte did not particularly enjoy dining at Rosings, but her equanimity was disturbed by her rattled husband. In her short marriage, regular invitations to dine at Rosings on Sundays had arrived nearly each week when the weather was fine for walking. That morning, the sun was shining, and the temperature was comfortable; there was no apparent reason that the invitation should not have been proffered, save for one. Her ladyship was displeased with their houseguest. In this, her husband appeared correct.
In order to thwart anything more than coy gazes and fluttering eyelashes, Charlotte necessarily affixed herself to Elizabeth following the service, preventing any conversation between her and Mr Darcy. The Rosings party did offer civilities to her and Elizabeth, but no more. She could sense a desire for a tête-à-tête by the way in which Elizabeth attempted to manoeuvre the conversation and distract Charlotte, but she was resolute in making private conversation impossible for them.
To the delight of her husband, a note was later that day dispatched to the Hunsford party with an invitation to dine three days hence, with the explicit instruction that her ladyship desired Miss Elizabeth Bennet be in attendance. Interference indeed .
Her husband beckoned her to his study shortly after the arrival of the invitation. Mr Collins was so distraught by the possibility of Elizabeth behaving badly while at Rosings that it nearly robbed him of the joy the invitation should have imparted.
“I need not remind you,” he began, “of the promise you have made me to ensure Miss Elizabeth is kept away from the visiting gentlemen on Wednesday. Her ladyship is providing every courtesy to our guest, and we shall not thank her with a scandal.”
Charlotte’s ire paralleled her husband’s on this occasion. Let Elizabeth attempt to raise herself in society by other means. Charlotte would not contradict her husband’s position, nor would she neglect to obey his request.
“I shall have a talk with Eliza before Wednesday. You may trust in my shared conviction, my dear.”
“Please see that you do,” he responded, then flicked his hand to dismiss her.
Charlotte’s thoughts wavered greatly between affection for the past and bitterness for the present, but ultimately she concluded that if Elizabeth was capable of making selfish decisions, then so may she.