Chapter XVIII #2
Mr. Collins’s raptures upon receiving Mr. Darcy’s consent were not a surprise and did not bear mentioning.
Mr. Darcy bore it all with a grace Elizabeth had not attributed to him, and though she knew she was the only reason he had accepted, Mr. Collins remained oblivious.
When Elizabeth asked him about it, Mr. Darcy did not hesitate to confirm her conjecture.
“It truly is no trouble, Miss Elizabeth,” said the gentleman. “I had not intended to attend Mr. Collins’s wedding, but it costs me nothing other than a few hours, time for which your company will more than recompense me.”
ACCEPTING MR. COLLINS’S request had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, yet Darcy could not repine it.
Standing across from the woman who enflamed his imagination, Darcy found it impossible to look anywhere else.
She was so lovely in her dress, holding flowers and supporting her friend, that Darcy thought a man must be made of stone to overlook her allure.
It also heartened Darcy to see that Miss Elizabeth looked at him often, and her glances were not indifferent.
The wedding proceeded as such occasions do, and soon it ended, allowing Darcy to escort Miss Bennet to the doors, where Mr. Collins and the former Miss Lucas signed the register.
Then the party made their way to Lucas Lodge for the wedding breakfast. Even then, Darcy found he could not relinquish Miss Elizabeth’s company to anyone else.
Like a moth to a flame, Darcy hovered near her, never straying far, engaging in her conversations, marveling at the brilliance of her character.
Perhaps it was too much to hope, though Darcy had thought Collins was not an observant man.
That Lady Catherine would not keep family business to herself—especially those matters that existed in her mind alone—Darcy had never expected.
Lady Catherine had trumpeted the supposed agreement between herself and her sister for too long now to be expected to keep it from a new and captive audience.
Given Collins’s veneration for Lady Catherine, it was also unfathomable that he would keep the matter to himself.
As the breakfast progressed, Darcy could see that his attention was on Miss Elizabeth far more than even his own new wife, so blatant that his behavior was almost gauche.
That he did not focus on Darcy himself, he knew, was a matter of Collins’s inability to confront Lady Catherine’s dear nephew.
If he could not voice his concerns to Darcy, he would choose the next best recipient—the woman who had caught his attention.
It was some time before he made his move, time in which Darcy watched him, waiting for the inevitable moment. When he cornered Miss Elizabeth, Darcy was already moving, though he did not intervene at once—he wanted to know what the man would say.
“Cousin Elizabeth,” said he, “perhaps you do not know what you are doing, but I must step in, as Lady Catherine’s parson and a person connected to this family, to prevent you from making a grave error in judgment.”
Far from being offended, Miss Elizabeth appeared only curious. “I should not wish to offend so great a personage as Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Please, illuminate my understanding, Mr. Collins.”
Hearing nothing of the irony in her tone, Mr. Collins allowed a beatific smile.
“You show a pleasing deference to your betters, Cousin—I salute you for your understanding.
It also pleases me that your actions are without malice or understanding of the potential damage you might cause. Let me explain.
“My patroness has often spoken of her late sister, Mr. Darcy’s mother, in the warmest of terms, for they were the closest of sisters.
Lady Catherine, you see, agreed with her sister many years ago that their children would wed, thereby uniting the great estates of Pemberley and Rosings Park.
So you see, you cannot encourage any interest from Mr. Darcy, for the gentleman is not at liberty to extend an olive branch to you when he is already spoken for. ”
Though she had not heard of this before, Miss Elizabeth was not taken aback. Rather than protest, she fixed Darcy with a look, accompanied by that maddening arch of her eyebrow. Darcy shook his head and stepped in.
“Mr. Collins,” said he, his tone even, “you have some concerns you wish to address?”
The way the parson was looking at him told Darcy that he was uncertain how to proceed.
“Do not suppose that I will take offense,” said Darcy, knowing they would move past this incident more quickly if he put Collins at ease. “Please speak plainly.”
“Very well, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins. “I have heard of your engagement to Miss de Bourgh and wished to prevent my cousin from making a mistake or have her heart broken by raised expectations you cannot fulfill.”
“Ah, then my aunt has told you of her claim of an engagement.”
Mr. Collins did not like this talk of his aunt’s “claims.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins, struggling to know what to say, “but are you suggesting your aunt is speaking falsehood?”
“No, Mr. Collins, I am not,” said Darcy, keeping his tone agreeable.
“My aunt and mother may have spoken of such a thing, but I do not know the contents of whatever they agreed upon. My mother, you see, was not so forceful a personality as Lady Catherine. It is possible they speculated on the possibility of Anne and me marrying, but even if Lady Catherine insisted, my mother would not have gainsaid her about an event far in the future.”
“I see,” said Mr. Collins, not seeing at all. “Then you disagree with your aunt?”
“I have never considered myself bound by Lady Catherine’s wishes,” said Darcy, deciding to be honest and open.
“My uncle supports me in this. I have not proposed to Anne; there is no contract, and I am my own man. My aunt wishes for the union, but I have no affinity for Anne. I need a wife who can provide me with an heir—Anne’s indifferent health is such that childbirth may well be beyond her strength. ”
Mr. Collins thought on the matter for several moments, but in the end, he chose correctly. “Then I cannot gainsay you, Mr. Darcy. My concern is for my duty to Lady Catherine. If she discovers my knowledge of the attention you are paying Miss Elizabeth, she will be most furious with me.”
“Yes, Mr. Collins, I know exactly how my aunt will react. It is for that reason that I have avoided the subject, as to speak of it would be to provoke an argument.”
“I apologize, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins, seeming apprehensive, “but do you not suppose that remaining silent will increase your aunt’s distress?”
Darcy sighed. “Yes, I have considered it. The unfortunate truth is that Lady Catherine will be angry whenever it occurs. There were also some . . . mitigating circumstances I thought might make it easier for her to bear.”
“You thought to marry someone your aunt could not object to,” said Miss Elizabeth, proving her perspicacity.
When Darcy turned to her, she gave him a soft smile. “Do not concern yourself for insulting me, Mr. Darcy, for I am not displeased. It is nothing less than the truth that I am not a woman who possesses those virtues you have the right to expect in a wife.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, his gaze locked on hers, ensuring she understood how serious he was, “you possess sufficient virtues to make any man privileged to have you as a wife.”
“I can see that I was in error,” said Mr. Collins, breaking the moment between them.
He turned to Miss Elizabeth. “You have Mr. Darcy’s devotion, Cousin—that much is clear to me now.
I congratulate you for capturing the attention of such a man as he, for I am convinced there are few better in the kingdom than my patroness’s family.
“At the same time,” continued Mr. Collins, “I must apologize, for I have no other choice but to inform Lady Catherine of what I have learned.”
“You may tell her, Collins,” said Darcy, not wishing to belabor the point. “She will learn anyway.”
“Perhaps, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, “the time has come for you to tell your aunt that you do not mean to marry your cousin?”
The prospect of leaving Miss Elizabeth now was not palatable, but Darcy knew she was correct.
The news would be better coming from him than from a man Lady Catherine thought she could dominate.
She would not take it well, but Darcy knew he could not throw Mr. Collins to the ravenous beast that was his aunt.
If he did so, it was possible Lady Catherine would journey to Longbourn to make her sentiments known, and Darcy did not wish to provoke her to assault Miss Bennet in her own home.
“You are correct, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy. Then he turned to Collins. “You are to return to Kent tomorrow?”
“We shall depart early in the morning,” confirmed Mr. Collins.
“Then you may return to Hunsford and not concern yourself with Lady Catherine. I shall depart for Kent tomorrow and will speak with Lady Catherine myself.”
Mr. Collins bowed low. “Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Darcy. I know you could have told me to mind my own concerns.”
“Not at all. I should have thought of it myself. In my defense, I have often tried to avoid any mention of the subject, for it is most disagreeable. Lady Catherine will be disappointed, even if her disappointment is her own doing.”
With another bow, Mr. Collins excused himself, his words brief and almost sensible. Darcy saw nothing of his departure, for his attention was all on Miss Elizabeth. She spoke first.
“I am curious, Mr. Darcy.”
“About what?”
Miss Elizabeth eyed him. “Whether you think our connection of sufficient strength to warrant approaching your aunt and declaring you will have me for a wife.”
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, “for I have a healthy respect for your ability to put me in my place should I step from it. As Mr. Collins has suggested, it is time to inform my aunt that her wishes will never come to be. I shall make no mention of you, though my aunt will suspect that I have found someone I wish to marry.”
“Very well,” said Miss Elizabeth, willing to accept his explanation.
“Do you suppose you can withstand my aunt if she confounds me and journeys here despite my efforts?”
“Do you doubt me?”
“I would never presume.”
“Good.” Miss Elizabeth gave him a sweet smile. “I do not intimidate easily, Mr. Darcy. Should your aunt confront me, it is more likely my refusal to bend to her designs will offend her.”
“Then I am pleased to hear it.”
Miss Elizabeth watched him. “How long do you suppose you will be away from Hertfordshire?”
“I will return the day after tomorrow,” said Darcy, allowing no hint of uncertainty to stain his confidence. “Trust me, Miss Elizabeth—I have no wish to be away at all just now, and little desire to delay my return.”
The wonder with which she regarded him struck Darcy as amusing, especially at this late date. “Do you mean to proceed, Mr. Darcy—despite your aunt’s objections, whatever your uncle might say, the disparity between our stations, and every other rational objection to any accord between us?”
Darcy paused, wondering what he might say to her.
Miss Elizabeth was not lacking confidence, he knew, and he had no concern about how she would comport herself in society—she would outshine them by far, in his estimation.
No, what she required was confirmation of his intentions and respect, to know that he would not regret what he gave up to have her, resent her for her situation.
“I care little for society, you know,” said Darcy quietly, keeping his gaze steady on her to show that he was in earnest. “My behavior was not an act. There are few I call friends and fewer that I respect. What I can tell you is this: to me, you are worth far more than your dowry or the connections you can bring me. Though I mean to show you that I am in earnest, my fate is in your hands, for I will provoke your love, or you will not have me. This I know. So let us put such thoughts behind us, for I must depart on the morrow. It will be the two longest days of my life.”
A soft smile fell over her face. She reached out to grasp his hand, squeezing once and then releasing as was proper. “That sounds like an excellent notion, Mr. Darcy. Let us proceed.”