Chapter VI #3
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Miss Elizabeth, though taken by surprise, pulled away even as Mr. Collins’s head descended, her movement appearing lethargic.
What was not slow was the way her hand came up to impact with his cheek, forcing his head aside, missing his target altogether.
As he stumbled, it was a simple matter for Darcy to insert himself where the parson had been standing only a moment before.
“I believe, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, his lips already moving toward hers, “that you would much rather kiss me.”
What remained ever after clear in Darcy’s mind was Miss Elizabeth’s gasp of surprise, the softness of her lips, and the wish to sweep her into his arms and never let go.
On the periphery of his awareness, he could hear the rest of the party, some responding with laughter, others with shock, though he heard one loud and offended gasp above the rest. Then Darcy drew away from her and looked down into her well-loved eyes, heavy with passion.
“That was unexpected,” murmured she.
“I suppose it was,” replied Darcy, amused at this self-possessed woman bereft of a response and how it had been his actions that had rendered her thus. “If you would have preferred a kiss from Mr. Collins, I suppose I can clear the way for him to take my place.”
Eyes twinkling with amusement, Miss Elizabeth retorted: “I should think kissing a goat would be preferable to kissing Mr. Collins.”
As if speaking his name summoned him, Mr. Collins returned with a vengeance, sputtering and moaning his offense.
Darcy turned and noted him righting himself, all the room watching the spectacle, and when he tried to insinuate himself between Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, Darcy moved forward a little, putting his form between the dainty woman at his side and the much larger bulk of Mr. Collins.
The parson did not appreciate this maneuver.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed he, finding his voice. “This is highly improper! I would not have thought a man of your standing would engage in such malfeasance.”
“What malfeasance do you call it?” asked Darcy, catching his cousin’s eye and grinning. “It is not improper at all to kiss a woman under the mistletoe.”
The parson sputtered again, pointing an accusing finger at him. “For shame, sir! Have I not made it clear that she is my betrothed? Do you presume to steal kisses from every woman already claimed by a man?”
“For the last time, Mr. Collins,” snapped Miss Elizabeth, pushing forward to stand beside him, “I am not engaged to you, nor shall I ever be! I should prefer to marry one of my father’s sheep than tie myself to such a specimen as you for the rest of my life.”
Mr. Collins’s mien darkened. “This does not become you, Cousin. Your mother—”
“I care not what my mother said! She has no power to compel me, and my father has informed you of the futility of your suit!”
Drawing himself up in his self-importance, Mr. Collins opened his mouth to speak. Whatever he meant to say was forever lost, for another entered the argument.
“Oh, let it go, Mr. Collins.”
The parson’s eyes widened, and he looked to Lady Catherine who had spoken, with incomprehension. As that was the man’s usual state, Darcy could not say it altered him to any great extent.
“B-but L-Lady Catherine!”
“That is enough, Mr. Collins,” snapped the lady.
She was the only person who could induce him to desist, for he did not protest, even as he looked at her through petulant eyes.
“How you came to pursue this woman with the fervor you did I cannot say, but it was ill-conceived, indeed. Miss Elizabeth is no more suited to be your wife than I am. I knew the moment I made her acquaintance that Darcy found her irresistible.”
Miss Bingley gasped again, but Darcy had no attention to spare for the woman. Collins appeared dumbfounded, a sentiment with which Darcy found himself curiously sympathetic.
“You knew of my interest?” demanded Darcy. “And you did not immediately accost me about it?”
“Yes, well,” said Lady Catherine, shooting a glance at Anne before meeting Darcy’s eyes with her usual forthrightness. “Anne convinced me of the futility of hoping for a marriage between you. She is, after all, approaching five and twenty, and yet you have not proposed to her.”
This was beyond his understanding of his aunt, grateful though he was to Anne.
When Darcy regarded his cousin, she grinned at him and gave him a playful little wave, an action her mother did not miss if her annoyed scowl was any indication.
Grateful though Darcy was, now was not the time to ask for the particulars.
Darcy must still dispense with the odious parson.
“There you have it, Collins,” said Darcy, again focusing his displeasure on the disruption to the harmony of the evening.
“There is no future between you and Miss Elizabeth. I suggest you desist before Mr. Bennet throws you from his home and severs all connection between you, regardless of the day. You would not wish to travel to your home on St. Stephen’s Day. ”
Flummoxed did not even begin to describe Mr. Collins, such that he did not even make any attempt to respond. Satisfied there would be no other outbursts, Darcy took Miss Elizabeth’s hand and placed it on his arm, leading her away.
Where Mr. Darcy led her Elizabeth could not say, but she did not care. Away from Mr. Collins was good enough for her. Elizabeth hoped she never exchanged two words with the man again.
It felt right, her hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm, him leading her as if she were his most cherished possession.
Elizabeth had never considered herself anyone’s possession, but if any man had the right to claim her affections, she now realized with a start it was him.
It was curious in the extreme, for she had been reliably informed that she detested the very sight of him only a few weeks before!
Mr. Darcy had grown in her estimation—there was no escaping that fact.
How much he had grown remained to be seen, but her former opinion had vanished like so much smoke in the wind.
Elizabeth examined her heart and could not say that she loved him, but the fluttering in her midsection informed her she was not as far from that lofty state as she might have supposed.
“I apologize, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy when he stopped, Elizabeth noting it was in a corner of the room a little away from the rest of the party. “I did not intend to behave with such cavalier disregard for your person.”
“Given it saved me from the ignominy of being kissed by a toad, I suppose I can forgive you.”
As Elizabeth had intended, Mr. Darcy grinned at her jest. “Then I am pleased to have provided the service to you.”
Elizabeth nodded and became serious. “What does this all mean, Mr. Darcy?”
“It means that I love you and wish to marry you.”
Gazing at him with incredulity, Elizabeth blurted: “You wish to marry me?”
“I do,” said Mr. Darcy. The tenderness of his eyes resting on her face made her cheeks flush with pleasure. “It is, I understand, abrupt of me to have stated it in so many words. But it is the truth.”
“This is all so sudden,” said Elizabeth, hearing a plaintive note in her own voice.
“Yes, I suppose it is.” Mr. Darcy regarded her for a long moment and seemed to come to some conclusion. “There is no need to hurry, Miss Elizabeth. I am pleased to allow you all the time you require to become comfortable with our changed circumstances.”
Elizabeth allowed a pleased smile and nodded.
That was all they needed to say, for they returned to the rest of the company.
For the rest of the evening, Mr. Darcy stayed close by, and while Elizabeth was certain it was to thwart any other attempts to make her uncomfortable by the odious parson, she knew the greater reason was that there was nowhere else he wished to be.
Mr. Collins, she noted, appeared defeated, though his countenance suggested incomprehension rather than disappointment or anger.
He said little thereafter, appearing to mutter to himself or shake his head with great frequency.
No one else appeared eager to speak to him, leaving him to his own company.
The other member of the party rendered unhappy was Miss Bingley.
Mrs. Hurst sat nearby speaking comfort to her, but Miss Bingley appeared to hear nothing of it.
Rather, she sat pouting, altering between looking at Elizabeth with petulance or trying to avoid the sight of her.
The congratulations of the company were offered without reserve, and for a time Elizabeth basked in the warmth of their approbation.
Where this business with Mr. Darcy might lead, she did not know at that moment.
But she understood that the man by her side would be an excellent husband, a man suited to her.
That taught her to hope as she might never have thought she would that he would prove successful in his suit.
It was a pleasant outcome to contemplate.
The End