Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Lydia and Kitty had at last obtained permission to walk into Meryton that morning with their elder sisters. Mrs. Tyler was to accompany them, that youthful spirits might be kept within propriety.
As the ladies prepared to depart, Mr. Collins announced that he would join them, as it would be improper for so many young ladies to venture into town without suitable male attendance, though a groom already waited.
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh and resolved to make the most of the morning despite other people’s designs upon it.
They had not proceeded far down the lane before Elizabeth increased her pace.
Mr. Collins, obliged to lengthen his stride in order to continue his discourse, found himself somewhat pressed.
The others soon adopted a brisker walk, for Mr. Collins’s uninterrupted reflections rendered motion preferable to stillness.
As they approached Meryton, Lydia and Kitty grew animated. Mrs. Tyler reminded them, in a tone of consequence, that future liberties depended upon present conduct. While the young ladies debated which shops should first command their attention,
Mr. Collins at last drew even with Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, you should allow me to escort you properly.”
“I thank you, sir,” she replied evenly, “but I am not in need of escort.”
She turned toward the bakery, Harris following at a respectful distance. Mr. Collins made as if to claim her arm, but Elizabeth had already reached the shop door. Harris paused just before it, his broad frame rendering further progress inconvenient.
“You may step aside,” Mr. Collins said, with some dignity.
Harris did not move.
Mr. Collins regarded him with visible perplexity and, finding no immediate remedy, remained where he stood.
Lydia and Kitty soon disappeared into the dressmaker’s; Lydia determined upon the improvement of a bonnet.
Elizabeth concluded her errand at the bakery and emerged with biscuits secured for Mrs. Bennet.
Harris inclined his head toward the milliner’s shop, and Elizabeth proceeded in that direction, Mr. Collins close behind.
Sir William Lucas approached with evident pleasure. “Miss Bennet, a very good day to you.”
“And to you, Sir William. May I present my cousin, Mr. Collins?”
Sir William bowed with animation. “A pleasure indeed, sir. Hertfordshire is much gratified by agreeable company.”
The sisters rejoined Elizabeth as Lydia whispered urgently, “Look, officers!”
Two gentlemen in red approached and, upon perceiving Sir William, crossed the street toward them. “Good afternoon,” one called. “May we rely upon an introduction?”
“With the greatest satisfaction,” said Sir William. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia, and Mr. Collins, allow me to present Lieutenant Denny.”
After the proper civilities were exchanged, Lieutenant Denny gestured toward his companion. “And this is one of our newest officers, Lieutenant Wickham.”
Lieutenant Wickham bowed with easy grace. “I count myself fortunate to encounter such agreeable society so soon after my arrival.”
Elizabeth regarded him with polite interest. “And do you believe the town may rely upon your protection from the French?”
He laughed lightly. “We shall endeavour not to disappoint you. Though, in truth, my path was once expected to lead elsewhere. It had long been my late godfather’s intention that I should hold a certain living under his patronage.
” He paused, with an expression of regret.
“Upon his death, however, circumstances altered.”
Elizabeth’s brow knit slightly. “If the arrangement was secured in writing, it must be capable of enforcement. My uncle is in the law; he might advise you.”
Wickham hesitated, though only for a moment. “You are all generosity, but I was deprived of what had long been considered my due. It is not a matter easily remedied.”
“Then perhaps another living might be sought,” Elizabeth replied calmly. “There is no reason talent should go unused.”
A flicker crossed his expression before his smile returned. “You are most obliging, Miss Bennet, yet I would not impose upon such kindness. Denny, we must report to the colonel. Good day.”
As Wickham turned away, Elizabeth did not observe him closely, but she saw Mr. Harding, across the street, alter suddenly and step forward, as though something had given him concern.
At that moment, a cry arose. Old Mr. MacDonald had lost his footing in the filth of the street and come down heavily. Mr. Harding hurried to assist him, while Mr. MacDonald loudly lamented the condition of the roads and the neglect of drivers.
Darcy and Bingley were just then riding into Meryton. Darcy’s posture stiffened as his gaze fell upon the departing figure.
“Wickham,” he said quietly. “What business can have brought him here?”
They dismounted near the ladies and secured their reins. Darcy approached Elizabeth. “Good morning. I trust you are well?”
“Perfectly, sir,” she replied, studying him. “And you?”
“I am well. I was merely surprised.”
“You know him? He related a curious tale of a church living denied him yet declined assistance in seeking another. I confess I found it puzzling.”
Darcy’s expression grew more reserved, though he did not immediately reply.
Mr. Collins stepped forward. “We should return to Longbourn.”
Darcy glanced at Bingley. “Shall we accompany the ladies?”
“With pleasure,” Bingley replied, offering his arm to Jane.
Having secured his reins, Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth. She accepted without hesitation, and together they began the walk toward Longbourn, the others following.
Mr. Collins made a determined effort to overtake them, as though to reclaim his proper office, but the party had already formed, and he found himself obliged to follow at a less distinguished distance.
Elizabeth could not dismiss the impression that some understanding had shifted between them, though nothing had been spoken, and she found the thought at once disquieting and not entirely unwelcome.
***
Elizabeth sat at the small escritoire in her writing room, finishing a letter to her uncle, Mr. Gardiner.
The room was modest but possessed a window overlooking the garden, burst into riotous colour in the summer months.
At present, the beds lay dormant beneath the season’s chill, yet she loved the view. It was her refuge.
Without warning, the door was thrown open.
“Miss Elizabeth. There you are. I have been in search of you.”
Elizabeth set down her pen, folded her letter with care, and placed it aside before looking up.
“It appears you have succeeded, Mr. Collins. How may I assist you?”
“I have long wished for a private conversation.”
“Indeed?” She rose and moved toward the doorway. “Millie, if you please, remain just here.”
She opened the door fully. Elizabeth returned to her desk and indicated the chair opposite. “Pray be seated.”
Mr. Collins complied, though not without solemn gravity.
After a moment’s pause, Elizabeth regarded him steadily. “You wished to speak with me.”
“Yes. It is necessary that I address certain expectations of conduct proper to my future wife.”
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. “And in what manner does that concern me, sir?”
Mr. Collins blinked, then proceeded with renewed assurance. “Surely you must have observed the particular attention I have shown you.”
“Attention?” she repeated calmly. “You refer to the attentions of the last day?”
“I determined almost immediately upon my arrival,” he said, drawing himself up, “that you were the young lady best suited to unite with me in marriage. I am confident my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would fully approve.”
Elizabeth regarded him for a measured moment.
“I am sensible of the compliment you intend, Mr. Collins. Yet we are but newly acquainted. I should consider it imprudent to form a resolution of such consequence with such haste. I do not yet know you well, sir, and I believe you cannot claim to know me.”
Mr. Collins shifted in his seat but did not retreat. “Lady Catherine is a lady of uncommon discernment,” he insisted. “Her judgement in such matters is rarely mistaken.”
“Her judgement is no doubt of great value to you,” Elizabeth replied evenly.
“In matters so personal to myself, however, I must be guided by my own understanding.” She rose.
“I thank you for the confidence you place in me. At present, I cannot engage further upon the subject. We are expecting company this evening.”
Mr. Collins stood as well, still composed, though faintly unsettled. “I trust, then, that with proper consideration…”
“I am sure all proper consideration will be given,” she returned calmly. “You will excuse me, sir.” Elizabeth moved toward the open door. “I shall see you at dinner.”
With no further encouragement forthcoming, Mr. Collins inclined his head stiffly and withdrew, clearly persuaded that modest reserve, not opposition, had delayed his success. The door closed gently behind him and Elizabeth returned to her desk.
***
Elizabeth descended the stairs and entered the drawing room.
The Netherfield party had not yet arrived, and she slipped into the dining room to survey the table.
With some relief, she observed that her mother had not placed her beside Mr. Collins.
That distinction belonged to Miss Bingley, with Mary stationed on his other side.
Elizabeth could not suppress a smile. It was precisely her mother’s way. If she could not secure Elizabeth for Mr. Collins, then Mary must answer the purpose. Perhaps, she reflected, Mary would not object to the arrangement.
Returning to the drawing room, she seated herself beside Jane. “Do you anticipate the evening with pleasure?” Elizabeth asked lightly.
“Indeed,” Jane replied. “It will be agreeable to see our neighbours.”
“Our neighbours,” Elizabeth repeated, amused. “Or one particular? Mr. Bingley, perhaps?”