Chapter VIII #2
What Elizabeth had not expected was for the parson to concentrate his attention on another.
Though it was his wedding breakfast, Mr. Collins paid little attention to his new bride, his gaze often fixed on Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Unless Lady Catherine had another daughter she had determined to marry the colonel, Elizabeth could not understand the reason for his scrutiny.
To the best of her knowledge, the parson had not been introduced to the colonel, though Elizabeth knew he was aware of the man’s identity.
Mr. Collins was not a man to stay silent, especially when it concerned his dear patroness.
When Elizabeth reflected on the scene later, she realized that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been watching him, perhaps anticipating he would make a scene.
“Cousin Jane,” said Mr. Collins when he approached her sometime after, conveniently when the colonel had stepped away, “I must speak to you on a matter of some urgency.”
Jane, as ever placid, nodded, though Elizabeth thought she caught a hint of knowing in her sister’s manner. “How may I assist you, Mr. Collins?”
“By ceasing this objectionable behavior.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jane, though Elizabeth was certain her sister had a precise understanding of his meaning.
“Your actions toward Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Mr. Collins. “Perhaps you do not understand the significance of the colonel’s position in society, but you should know that members of his family will not take kindly to a young woman of little fortune or breeding distracting him away from his duty.”
Jane regarded Mr. Collins as if he were a repulsive insect. In truth, Elizabeth was proud of her, for Jane was always eager to attribute the best motives to others.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Collins,” said Jane, a hint of firmness in her tone, “but I would ask you to mind your own concerns.”
Mr. Collins’s face darkened. “I shall not. As I am connected to the family, their concerns are mine. Lady Catherine would not appreciate this spectacle, Cousin. I might have expected this of your sister, but I had not thought you would throw family obligation to the side.”
Several things became obvious at once. The first was that Mr. Collins resented her more than he had shown, a curiosity, as he was in the habit of displaying his opinion before all and sundry.
Second, Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam had expected Mr. Collins to approach when the colonel was away—perhaps they had not contrived it, but Elizabeth was certain they knew he would make his sentiments known.
The third was that Colonel Fitzwilliam was not amused.
The gentleman was making his way back to Jane’s side, and his expression told Elizabeth that Mr. Collins was in for a tongue-lashing.
“Miss Bennet,” said he as he stepped to her side, turning to face the oblivious parson, “is there some problem?”
“There is,” interjected Mr. Collins. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I adjure you to relinquish this apparent unholy interest in my cousin. You are the scion of a noble line—your aunt will be most displeased to learn of your defection.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyes burned with an icy fire, while around them, conversation had dropped to the extent that one could almost hear the snow falling on the roof outside.
“You have said enough, sir,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Not only are you unconnected to me, but we are complete strangers. Perhaps you know who I am, but that does not give you the right to dictate anything. I care little for my aunt’s opinion—Lady Catherine has much to say and little compunction about sharing it with all, but I am not beholden to my aunt. Cease importuning Miss Bennet at once.”
A curious transformation altered Mr. Collins from the stern avenger to the sniveling cretin she knew he was. His back hunched, and his shoulders drooped, and the servile timbre of his voice returned.
“But Colonel Fitzwilliam—”
“Enough!” said the colonel, his tone allowing no disagreement. “If I hear another word from you, it will go ill with you!”
Bowing and scraping, Mr. Collins fled from the colonel’s anger—for the rest of the event, he did not so much as glance at Colonel Fitzwilliam again.
Though he should feel all the humiliation of being called to order, Elizabeth was not certain Mr. Collins was socially aware enough to feel humiliation.
Charlotte kept him close to her side, which was about all anyone could ask.
Though Elizabeth could not determine if she should keep her engagement to visit Charlotte in the spring, she decided against raising the subject now.
If Mr. Collins was resentful of her, it may be best to cancel.
She would need to think on it before she decided.
“YOU KNOW LADY CATHERINE will be most displeased with your attentions to Miss Bennet.”
Fitzwilliam looked up from the contemplation of his shoes. “Do you suppose I care what Lady Catherine will say?”
“No, I do not suppose it. But it is a consideration all the same.”
Leaning back against the cushions, Fitzwilliam regarded him.
After the wedding, they had returned to Netherfield, though Darcy knew they both would have preferred to go to Longbourn.
That Darcy wished it as much as Fitzwilliam told the story of how much he had changed, his growing certainty that his cousin had the right of it.
When Darcy could marry a lively young woman such as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, how could he consider a bloodless society marriage?
“What do you suppose she will do? Fly to Hertfordshire to take me to task for not falling in with her designs? I am not you, Darcy.”
“Which is why I maintained a little distance from Miss Elizabeth today,” agreed Darcy.
“Lady Catherine will not come running to Hertfordshire to ‘talk sense into you,’ but she will not be sanguine either. At the very least, you can expect to be bombarded with letters, and she will no doubt inform your father. Do you want him to learn about your recent interest in Miss Bennet through the lens of Lady Catherine’s prejudice? ”
“For that, I have no concern,” replied Fitzwilliam. “My mother knows about Miss Bennet.” Fitzwilliam grinned. “She is ecstatic because she believes it will provoke me to give up the army.”
“Will it?”
“No, but I will not share that for the moment.
“Do not look at me that way, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, fixing him with a mock glare. “You know my sentiments. Staying in the army until the end of the war will allow me to retire with half pay—it will assist with our future solvency.”
“Of course,” murmured Darcy.
The next day, when they visited Longbourn, Darcy took the opportunity to watch his cousin and Miss Bennet, and he could only conclude that an eventual union was likely.
Miss Bennet was so reticent that Darcy had taken her silence for indifference, yet now that his eyes were open, there was no way to rationalize her regard for Fitzwilliam.
Perhaps it had been there when Bingley had been in Fitzwilliam’s place, and Darcy had not noticed it.
Whatever the truth, her current feelings were plain so long as one had the wit to see them.
As it was a fine day, the eldest Bennet sisters walked out to the back lawn with their suitors, one all but declared while the other was coming to the same conclusion.
Longbourn’s chimneys expelled white smoke, stark against the clear cerulean of the sky.
While it was a cool January morning, it was warm enough to spend some time out of doors, each of the couples finding private nooks on the grounds where they could remain in each other’s sight.
“You have been watching them today, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy, whose eyes had wandered to Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet yet again, turned back to his companion. She did not appear unhappy with him, just curious, telling Darcy that she did not suspect him of disapproval.
“To own the truth, I have seen you watching them these past weeks, though more since Charlotte’s wedding. What I cannot understand is what you think about Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Nothing at all, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy. Then he offered her a soft smile. “Do you suppose my cousin would take kindly to my interference even if I wanted to meddle?”
“No, I do not suppose he would,” replied she.
“Then you have the measure of him. Perhaps I might espouse concerns for Fitzwilliam’s happiness, but I would never presume to impose my opinions on him.”
Miss Elizabeth cocked her head, her eyes searching his. For a moment, he wondered if she meant to be severe with him. Then she softened and looked away.
“No, I do not suppose you would, nor would he allow it if you tried.” She paused, summoned her courage, then looked back at him. “If you will pardon me, Mr. Darcy, I am curious about your friendship with Mr. Bingley.”
“Bingley?” asked Darcy, confused about what she was asking.
“The gentleman did not return to Hertfordshire,” replied she. “I have always attributed his absence to his sisters, but I have wondered . . .”
“If I had a hand in it,” finished Darcy, understanding her meaning.
Miss Elizabeth appeared abashed. “I apologize, Mr. Darcy. It is not my intention to cast aspersions.”
Though Darcy wondered what he should say, he recognized that this matter had been between them, perhaps the last barrier preventing further understanding.
Should Darcy wish to proceed to a closer connection with her, and by now he was certain that he did, it would be best if he acted to remove all misunderstandings.
“Do not concern yourself, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy. “The truth is, I had a hand in that business, but not as much influence as you suppose.
“Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst did oppose an alliance with your sister as you suspected. My concern was for Bingley’s happiness. As your sister cannot provide the benefits of fortune and standing, he must at least have her heart.”
“And what was your assessment?”
“That she did not care for him as much as Bingley wished,” replied Darcy, refusing to avoid the truth. “The strange part is that I did not see her affection then, though now it is as clear as day.”
“Perhaps it is not so curious as you believe.”
Darcy regarded her, urging her to explain. Miss Elizabeth sighed, but she did not wait to do so.
“Two weeks after Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived in Meryton, but before you returned, Jane confessed she was not in love with Mr. Bingley. At the time, she believed she was; time in your cousin’s company taught her that she had recovered from his abandonment more quickly than she had expected.”
Darcy considered this. “Do you suppose her recovery would have been so rapid if my cousin had not come?”
“No, I do not suppose it,” replied she. “Even if she was not in love with him, the distraction Colonel Fitzwilliam provided allowed her to consider something other than her desolation. If Mr. Bingley had proposed, Jane would have accepted him, thinking she was in love.” Miss Elizabeth shrugged.
“I think she would have been happy with Mr. Bingley, but I can acknowledge her connection with Colonel Fitzwilliam is much more durable.”
“Then I am happy to hear it,” said Darcy.
“Where is Mr. Bingley now?”
“In the north visiting family,” said Darcy. “They departed only days after my return to Hertfordshire.”
“And what of Mr. Bingley? Did he ask after my sister?”
Darcy regarded her. “By this, I suppose you are asking if Bingley remains affected by his time here with your sister?”
“In part, I suppose,” replied she.
A troubling thought occurred to Darcy, but he knew now was not the time to consider it. Pushing it to the back of his mind for later thought, he again focused his attention on Miss Elizabeth.
“I do not know, Miss Elizabeth. Bingley said nothing to me about Miss Bennet and presented the same jovial countenance to me as he shows to everyone.”
“Then perhaps his esteem for her was not so deep as he thought.”
“Again, I cannot speculate. You may be correct, but Bingley is so gregarious that it is sometimes difficult to know if something is bothering him.”
“Much like Jane’s reticence renders her inscrutable,” said Miss Elizabeth.
“Yes,” agreed Darcy. He paused, considering her. “I hope you do not believe that I was officious. Though I did not disagree with Miss Bingley’s assessment of your sister, I would never have stood in Bingley’s way if he had chosen her.”
Miss Elizabeth regarded him, and for several moments, Darcy wondered if she was about to accuse him. Then she sighed and shook her head.
“No, Mr. Darcy, I do not blame you. It is a man’s responsibility to declare his interest in a woman—if Mr. Bingley felt enough for my sister to wish for a closer connection, it was his responsibility to listen to your counsel and discover the truth for himself.”
“That is true,” said Darcy. “If I were enamored of a woman, no one would move me from my purpose.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded, but she did not belabor the point.
They continued to talk for a time until the chill in the air drove them back indoors.
When they rejoined the rest of the company in the sitting-room, Mrs. Bennet invited them to stay for dinner, and Fitzwilliam did not hesitate to accept.
For Darcy’s part, he did not object, by now more comfortable here, despite Mrs. Bennet’s ways, the youngest girls’ silliness, and his previous eagerness to avoid the place.
Darcy even found it easier to speak with the mistress, though he still felt a little of her company went a long way.
When the housekeeper entered with the call to dinner, Darcy rose with the rest of the family.
Fitzwilliam, due to his position as the son of an earl, rose to escort Mrs. Bennet into the dining-room, though he also took Miss Bennet’s hand, ensuring she would be next to him for dinner, not an uncommon occurrence.
Of more significance to Darcy, when he rose, he saw Miss Elizabeth glance at him and saw the obvious invitation in the glance.
Without hesitation, Darcy approached her and offered his arm.
“Shall I escort you to dinner, Miss Elizabeth?”
The woman rested a light hand on his arm with a bright smile. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. I should like that.”
Those words hit Darcy more than anything else she had ever said to him.
It was the first time he knew of her welcome without error.
The conviction grew in his breast that this was right, that Miss Elizabeth was his future.
Warmth building, Darcy guided her into the dining-room, assuring her comfort before taking his seat by her side.
Darcy had no attention to spare for anyone else for the rest of the night.