Chapter Two #3
There was something else in her conversation, though, that struck him.
She was not as close with her parents, and he suspected that it bothered her.
Mrs. Bennet he found flighty and impolitic, but while he would not wish to escort her to a London soirée, there seemed to be little real harm in her.
At least, he had thought so until he met Collins.
However, Elizabeth’s relationship with her mother seemed fraught and complicated. He would need to tread carefully there.
He rather liked Mr. Bennet. The man was witty and clever, much like his second daughter.
But as she spoke, he considered that once they were no longer small, Mr. Bennet had not spent a great deal of time even with the daughters who remained at home.
Elizabeth seemed concerned that he did not pay as much attention to them as he might.
It was not uncommon among fathers to leave daughters to their mothers, to be sure, but the hurt he detected in Elizabeth’s descriptions, even as she made excuses for his behavior—it touched him.
He would never be that kind of father, he determined.
He would know his children, boys and girls alike.
Unfortunately, in what was becoming an annoying habit, his mind drifted away to a troop of little dark-haired children.
Before he knew it, they had taken a fork in the road and were hidden from view by a stand of trees.
Miss Elizabeth was standing in the middle of the path, her hands on her hips.
“Distracted so soon, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, her pert expression nearly undoing him right there on a public pathway. How had they walked so far?
“Thoughts of you are incredibly distracting, Miss Elizabeth,” he said honestly. “My apologies, madam.”
“Do you expect me to believe that you were thinking of me and not of the spring planting or your holiday plans, sir?” she inquired.
She was trying to remain stern and offended, but Miss Elizabeth was not made for unhappiness.
She cannot even hold a proper grudge, he thought.
Thank God for that. She is the perfect woman for a man who cannot help but offend.
He reached out for one of her hands, which she obligingly offered.
“I humbly beg your forgiveness, my dear,” he said playfully, glancing around to be sure they were alone before crouching down in front of her in mock supplication.
“I was only imagining what it would be like to have our children racing about the grounds at Pemberley, catching frogs and drawing them.”
She slapped his shoulder lightly, her face a beautiful shade of light pink. “Get up, Mr. Darcy, before someone thinks you are proposing.”
He released her hand, standing as she asked but leaning in, close but not touching, making her cheeks flush even pinker. “But I am, Elizabeth.”
She shivered as he spoke her Christian name. She bit her lip and looked up at him.
“When I bring you flowers,” he said, only now articulating the thought even for himself, “I am proposing. When we walk, I am proposing.” He took a half-step back, extending his hand, palm out, waiting for her to accept it.
When she did, he continued. “When we exchange tales of wayward youth, I am proposing.” He smiled at her and saw her free hand lift, then drop.
She wants to touch me, he thought, elated.
He made small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.
“You are the one who asked for a courtship, and I am happy to give you the time you need. But make no mistake, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his eyes gazing steadily into her own.
“With my every action, I am proposing marriage to you. It is my deepest desire, and I hope to soon make it yours.”
When they all returned to the house, Richard placed a hand on Darcy’s shoulder and allowed the women to precede them into the drawing room.
“Miss Mary spoke to me about Collins,” he said, once the women were gone.
“Tell me,” Darcy said sharply.
Richard slapped his gloves lightly against his palm, speaking as he swept the room with his eyes to be sure they had privacy. “He has apparently made Miss Elizabeth uncomfortable enough that she missed breakfast with her family this morning rather than sit next to him.”
Darcy’s stony expression never wavered, but his back stiffened.
“We will take care of it, Darce, but discreetly,” Richard said.
“Miss Mary says her sister is mortified but also determined to put up with the man so he does not turn his attentions to her younger sisters. Miss Elizabeth seems to think him awkward and perhaps petty, but ultimately harmless. She extracted a promise from them not to mention anything about it.”
“Then why did Miss Mary tell you?” Darcy inquired.
Richard smiled. “Apparently the promise was rather specific—Miss Mary promised only that she would not speak to you. The promise did not mention me. She felt that in this case, the spirit of the promise should give way to the letter of it.”
“Clever girl,” Darcy said approvingly.
Richard nodded and then grinned. “Miss Mary suggested we would be wise to act before Miss Lydia does.”
Darcy’s mask remained intact, but his words were warm. “I like these Bennet girls, Richard,” he said. “I like them very much.”
As he strode towards the entry to the drawing room, he could have sworn he heard his cousin mutter, “I like them, too.”
When he entered the room, Darcy saw, to his displeasure, that while Miss Elizabeth had taken a chair, Collins had drawn a chair up beside hers.
She could not move her own chair away without appearing rude, but her arms were drawn in tight against her sides, her hands resting on her lap, her body tilted slightly away from the reverend.
She was the very picture of discomfort. Darcy made his greetings quickly and moved to the pair.
“Mr. Collins,” he said quietly. Elizabeth’s chin came up. He could feel the heat of her gaze.
Mr. Collins stood to make a bow. “Mr. Darcy,” he said. “How kind of you to visit with my poor cousins.”
He might have laughed in Collins’s face were it not for the sight of Elizabeth’s misery. Instead, he said, “Mr. Collins, would you be so kind as to request more water be brought for tea?”
It was not Collins’s position, either as a man or a guest, to make such a request, but he scurried off, pleased to be of service to a nephew of his benefactress.
Darcy grasped the back of the chair with one hand to move it to a more respectable distance from Miss Elizabeth.
Then he sat in it. He leaned towards her.
“I thought he would never leave,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her posture relaxed. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You are once again my knight in tarnished armor.”
“Is Mr. Collins bothering you, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked seriously. “More than…?” he gestured to the space between them.
She wanted to deny it. He could read the expressions warring for precedence on her expressive face. “He is not… but… yes,” she finally whispered back. She appeared embarrassed.
He nodded.
“What will you do?” she asked, pulling at her sleeve. “He will remain nearly a fortnight more.”
“I shall tell him we are courting, and he will desist,” Darcy replied simply.
Miss Elizabeth frowned. “I have told him so myself. I have also asked him to speak with my father, but evidently Mr. Collins cannot be bothered to do so.”
He will listen to me, Elizabeth. “Then we shall not offer him a choice,” he told her. “It is past time he turned his attentions elsewhere, wherever that might be.”
“He will look to Mary next,” she said anxiously. “I would not wish that. Perhaps we should allow things to remain as they are. He is embarrassing, but he is not vicious.”
She was more anxious than he expected, and it made him angry. Having Collins in such close quarters even for a few days had unsettled her. “Will you trust me?” he asked, shifting very slightly towards her, and rejoicing silently when she unconsciously mirrored his movement.
She smoothed her skirt and glanced up at him. His breath caught at the faith he saw shining in her eyes. “Yes,” she said simply, and that was all.
“Mr. Collins,” Darcy said quietly as the Netherfield party rose to take their leave, “might I have the honor of a conference outdoors before we depart?” Mr. Collins’s chest puffed up a little, and though he heard Richard scoff and saw Bingley’s eyes shoot up the ceiling, he was determined to show no emotion at all.
Mr. Bennet had just finished giving his steward a set of instructions and was dismounting a stout Cleveland Bay in the drive when the men walked out. He raised an eyebrow as Mr. Collins followed Mr. Darcy out of the house, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Fitzwilliam not far behind.
Darcy nodded at him. “You are more than welcome to join us should you wish, Mr. Bennet,” he said politely. “I have a message to relay to Mr. Collins you might wish to hear.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes cut over to his cousin, and he nodded. “Very well,” he replied. He handed his horse off to a stable boy and joined them.
They gathered together near a pair of trees that marked the beginning of the crescent-shaped approach to the house.
“Collins,” Darcy said, “I understand you have been ignoring Miss Elizabeth’s requests that you speak to her father before approaching her.”
Mr. Bennet’s face grew stormy.
“I hope I do not speak out of turn, sir,” Darcy said, with a small bow to Elizabeth’s father, “but from what Miss Elizabeth says, Mr. Collins has ignored her reasonable request, though she has made it more than once.”
“He has not spoken to me,” Mr. Bennet said, scowling.
“I presumed as much.” Darcy turned to Collins.
“Mr. Collins, you cannot court Miss Elizabeth, because I am already courting her. It is a formal arrangement, sanctioned by her father.” And her aunt, which might be more important.
“You will cease your attentions to the woman I intend to make my wife.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Collins began, making an inelegant half-bow, “your gracious condescension to my cousins brings to mind your most excellent aunt. She sent me here to heal the breach between our families. A marriage would ensure Longbourn remains in the Bennet family, after a fashion, of course. Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” here he let out an affected sigh, “is never wrong, and she has said, many times, that you are to wed her daughter, sir, that it has been planned so since you were in your cradles.” He pressed his fleshy hands together.
“Her ladyship has not yet informed me when you and Miss de Bourgh are to be wed, but it would be my great honor to perform the ceremony, indeed, most…”
Darcy simply stared at the man as he continued to babble, trying to make him out.
The man is not sensible. He cocked his head to one side, feeling as though he was listening to the squeaking of a rather tall, rather heavy rodent.
He must have had a peculiar expression on his face, for Richard placed a hand on his shoulder.
“We could just drag him into the woods, Darce,” his cousin said nonchalantly, not even trying to keep his voice down. “There is a deceptively deep bog on the northern edge of Netherfield’s lands. Between the mud and the animals, nobody would ever find the body.”
Bingley sighed dramatically. “Why do your plans always include so much extra work, Fitzwilliam?” he grumbled. “Why must we drag him miles into the woods? Just bring Mr. Bennet’s horse back and let him try to ride it. Nature would surely take its course.”
The clergyman’s face paled alarmingly, and he looked to his cousin for some sort of reassurance. Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched. “I cannot be a party to murder, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
Collins began to regain a little color, until Mr. Bennet spoke again. “I shall therefore remove to the house. If Mr. Collins does not return, I will understand that he followed you gentlemen back to Netherfield on foot.” He smiled at Richard. “Perhaps he became disoriented.”
“But, but… cousin,” sputtered Collins. “I am here to heal the breach. Surely…”
Mr. Bennet’s detached amusement disappeared suddenly and he stepped up to the younger, taller man.
“Collins,” he said, and icicles nearly formed upon his words, so cold were they, “I have spent nearly my entire life trying to bring this estate back to its former glory. You have showed not the slightest interest in riding the property with me. I have no doubt that within ten years of your stewardship, decades of constant, painstaking work will be undone.” He glared at his cousin and shook his head slowly.
“Do not test me. I more than anyone would profit from your disappearance.” He gave the parson a cold once-over.
“You will not speak to any of my daughters about courtship or marriage, do you understand? They are unavailable to you, no matter what wild scheme their mother has cooked up.”
Darcy was a little startled at the quiet vehemence Mr. Bennet was displaying. I did not know the man had it in him. He heartily approved.
Mr. Bennet narrowed his eyes. “I will allow you to remain here, for now, dependent upon your good behavior. I should not protest a local woman becoming the mistress of Longbourn, for such a woman may care more for its history than you have demonstrated.” His face hovered inches from Collins’s.
“But listen well: the next mistress of Longbourn will not be a Bennet.” He stepped back, and Darcy noted the shocked delight on the faces of Richard and Bingley.
Mr. Bennet turned to face them, his countenance again relaxed. “Gentlemen,” he said. He gave them a shallow bow, and strode away.