Chapter 4
IN DEFIANCE OF EVERYTHING
Elizabeth walked around much of the following days with her head full of the dashing Lt. Wickham. The weight of Mr. Darcy’s injustices towards the gentleman burdened her as well.
Had Mr. Darcy honoured his father’s intentions for the gentleman, then Mr. Wickham might well be a vicar in the idyllic town of Kympton.
Instead, he is consigned to life as a mere footman.
How magnanimous he is in not exposing Mr. Darcy when it was made clear that he has found in the people of Hertfordshire a willingness to be pleased by anything he might say in support of their own objections against the proud man.
I have not added Mr. Wickham’s name to my list just yet, but more and more, I believe I should. It is not a crime to lack wealth and connections, and, besides, neither of those attributes is on my list of requisites.
How blessed she had been to meet a man who possessed such goodness, such charm, and integrity.
Above all, he was amiable. How he had flattered her ego by sitting with her for so very long when it was obvious so many of the other women in attendance at the Philipses’ dinner party were eager for their share in conversation with him, and none more than her two younger sisters who surely admired any gentleman in a red coat.
I only wish all the offices in Colonel Forster’s regime are as upstanding as Lt. George Wickham.
Soon the evening of the Netherfield ball was nigh. The eagerly anticipated occasion proved a very happy one for everyone it seemed. Everyone save Elizabeth. Mr. Wickham had failed to arrive at all.
His asking me to save room on my dance card was as good as a promise that he would be here.
Her pursuant disappointment had been assuaged by her certainty that matters of great important had waylaid the gentleman.
Her cousin saw to it that she had her own share of concerns.
Mr. Collins had announced his intentions to remain close by her side throughout the course of the evening, and he made good on his promise.
There was but one saving grace as far as Elizabeth was concerned: much to Miss Bingley’s poorly disguised dismay, Mr. Darcy did not return from town to attend the ball.
By every indication, Miss Bingley had been counting on his being there.
Had he been in attendance, he would have seen the most hideous display of lack of decorum by her family: Mr. Collins’s obsequiousness to everyone he thought was anyone, Mary’s poor exhibition on the pianoforte surrounded by a crowd of astonished listeners praying for their chance to outshine her, her father’s admonishment that she should give the other ladies a chance to exhibit, and the two younger girls’ shameless flirtation with every redcoat in the room.
All that she might have endured with ease, but it was her mother’s boasting that soon there would be a wedding between her eldest daughter, Jane, and Mr. Bingley that embarrassed Elizabeth most and displeased the Bingley sisters exceedingly.
Elizabeth gathered her things and headed towards the door.
Only a solitary stroll to Oakham Mount would soothe her weary nerves that morning.
The warm sun was delightful against her face.
The fresh autumn air was divine. Before long, the unwelcome sound of hurried footsteps disturbing the path she had chosen caught her attention.
“Miss Elizabeth! Oh, Miss Elizabeth!” Loud panting accompanied the garish pleas.
It cannot be! She hastened her steps.
“Miss Elizabeth!” She raised her hands to her face and covered her eyes.
There was nothing else to do but stop and wait.
Mr. Collins was completely out of breath by the time he reached her side.
She surmised some sense of decorum prevented him from reaching out his arm and resting it upon her shoulder in an attempt to steady himself.
“Miss Elizabeth, I am delighted to have time alone with you this morning, away from your family.”
“Pardon me, sir?”
“Indeed. What I wish to say to you requires a private audience.”
This sounds very bad. Elizabeth’s worst fears, born of the certainty that she was her cousin’s choice for his wife owing to her mother’s insistence that Jane was already spoken for, was about to be realised.
“I am afraid, Mr. Collins, that you can have nothing to say to me that would require a private audience. Certainly nothing I would wish to entertain.”
“I am afraid you are mistaken, for what I am about to say must undoubtedly please you as well as your family. Indeed, I have your mother’s blessing.
It is her favourite wish. It is also the wish of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, that I should choose a wife, and I am happy to say that I have singled you out from amongst your sisters to be my bride. ”
Elizabeth was glad she had forgone breakfast that morning. “Sir, I am obliged to thank you for the great honour you have bestowed, but I cannot accept an offer of marriage from you.” There, she had declined his proposal, and she now wanted nothing more than to flee his presence.
He had other ideas. “My dear cousin, I am aware it is the habit of young ladies to suspend a gentleman’s pleasure before ultimately accepting his proposal.
However, in such a case as yours and the unlikelihood of your ever receiving a similar offer, I would advise you to dispense with said practice.
“The sooner we are engaged, the sooner we shall be married. Thus, resolving the situation of the entail in a manner agreeable to the Bennets as well as myself. Most important, my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, will be pleased.”
“Sir, trust me when I say I do not accept you.”
“I beg you, cousin, do not be foolish. Whilst I confess to being slightly amused by your impertinence, I dare say it is but one of your qualities that will not recommend you to Lady Catherine. I am certain you will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; however, your wit and vivacity absolutely must remain tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite.”
“You, sir, are ridiculous! What cares have I of what Lady Catherine de Bourgh may or may not think of me?”
“My dear cousin, I must put a swift end to this conversation. Your attitude is not merely insolent, but it begs serious reproach. As my wife, I may allow you certain liberties as regards your free flowing wit in the privacy of my humble abode, but never as it pertains to Lady Catherine.”
Mr. Collins straightened his neck and tugged at his coat. “I have all but promised your excellent mother that I would offer you my hand in marriage. Mrs. Bennet assured me you would be agreeable. Must I speak with your father?”
“Sir, there is no point in this discussion. It is just as well that your noble patroness might find my impertinence objectionable, for I will not have you!”
Collins reached for and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. She looked at the large hairy hand attached to her person. She glared at its owner.
“Unhand me, sir!”
Contrition marred his countenance as his hand fell slowly to his side.
Elizabeth stormed off determined not to look back for fear of giving him hope.
She had to have known this moment would come—that she would find herself in the position of declining Mr. Collins and in so doing, disappoint her mother.
Still, it vexed her exceedingly to be singled out as the object of her cousin’s esteem and even more to be painted as possibly objectionable by the likes of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
True, she had yet to meet the proud woman and form her own judgement, but Mr. Wickham’s testimony of her character combined with Mr. Collins’s admonishing declaration had been enough to seal her opinion.
Elizabeth would much rather take her chances with the prospect her father had chosen.
She could feel her temper rising. That foolish, foolish man. Does he think so highly of himself to suppose I would be flattered by his proposal, or does he think so little of me?
Elizabeth took longer than usual to return to the house. Reaching for the door handle, she braced herself. Whatever awaited her on the other side could not be good.
Her mother stood there with her hands on her hips and her countenance grim. “What on earth have you done to Mr. Collins? He is inside the library as we speak. He has proclaimed that he has changed his mind, and he will not have you as his wife. What have you done?”
“What have I done?”
“Do not pretend you did not break his heart when all he ever meant to do was make amends to our family. He is with your father as we speak withdrawing his proposal of marriage to you.”
“Mama, you do not know me at all if you supposed I would entertain the notion of marrying Mr. Collins for even a second.”
“I know you very well, young woman. You are stubborn and selfish, and you do not care one fig about the future of Longbourn, of me and your younger sisters. Well, I suppose you know what this means. As no other gentleman is likely to request your hand in marriage, you will be obliged to marry Mr. Caseman when he calls upon Longbourn in the spring to honour his father’s agreement with Mr. Bennet.
Your father and I have discussed it, and he and I are of one mind on the subject.
Now I can only pray it is not too late to induce a promise from Mr. Collins to ask for Mary’s hand in marriage, for she is the next in line. ”
Mary chose that particular moment to enter the room. Either she did not hear what her mother had said, or she did not find the prospect the least bit objectionable. She said nothing and took a seat by the window.
Mrs. Bennet narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth. She was about to say something when she heard Mr. Collins’s voice in the hallway. She ran out to meet him. “Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins! Might I have a private audience with you?”