Chapter Twenty-One #2
She tromped across another field, and another, with no care for her boots or hem. Her mind churned around and around, the eye of the maelstrom a single, dark, lurking fear she tried to avoid… Why had Miss Bingley seemed so certain that Elizabeth had no future with Fitzwilliam?
Had he said as much, to those in Netherfield Park? Did Miss Bingley know something Elizabeth did not? Why, why, why would she say such a thing?
And, now that she dared consider his actions in a less favorable light, why had he kept coming to meet her, alone?
And then he’d departed Hertfordshire without a word.
True, she hadn’t been allowed to receive callers, but the colonel was a resourceful man.
He could have found a way to get some sort of message to her.
Especially if he had any intentions regarding her.
Elizabeth’s angry strides carried her onward until, finally, she drew in sight of Longbourn, and the brightly varnished, excessively large, crest-adorned carriage there.
With a gasp, she broke into a run.
She flew through the front door to the sound of Mrs. Bennet in the parlor, rambling, “…in my house. An earl. Only think what this means? Lady Lucas will be awash in envy, and he did not say you cannot pursue his son, my sweets, only Elizabeth.”
Darting a look into the parlor, Elizabeth saw only her mother, a pinch-faced Jane, and her two grinning youngest sisters.
Catching her eye, Jane nodded in the direction of their father’s study.
A rendition of, “…sweet, beautiful girls. One of you will surely have him. Most likely Lydia, of course, she being the…” followed Elizabeth down the hallway as she raced away.
Turning the corner, she skidded, halting at the sight of Mary and Mr. Collins outside her father’s study door. Hands balling, Elizabeth drew her shoulders back and marched forward.
“You cannot go in there,” Mary said, sighting her, and stepped into Elizabeth’s way.
Leveling a look full of every bit of anger and disgust she felt for Mary’s and Mr. Collins’ actions on them, Elizabeth did not slow her pace.
Mary gulped and scuttled out of the way.
Only to be replaced by Mr. Collins. “I cannot permit you to interrupt a conversation with an earl. Mr. Bennet’s laxness has been an unkindness to you, Cousin Elizabeth.
You have been permitted to grow wild with notions of female entitlement.
With a sense of importance and some ridiculous, mad idea that a woman knows her mind better than her male relations do. You—”
Elizabeth jabbed a finger into his chest. “And you, sir, are a coward and a sycophant. You have no honor. No moral fortitude. No character. You are not fit to lead a pig from a sty, let alone the souls of a congregation.”
His mouth dropped open, his face going red. His jaw worked, but no words came out, even as the crimson suffusing him darkened nearer to purple.
“How dare you?” Mary hissed. “Mr. Collins is the worthiest of men. Everything he has done has been undertaken to protect your virtue, and all of our futures. I shudder to think what would have happened were he not here to curtail your wildness.”
Anger snapped Elizabeth’s spine straight but before she could speak, the door to Mr. Bennet’s study opened. The earl stepped out, his face so smug as to stab sorrow through Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet behind him.
“You may cease your caterwauling, girl,” the earl said, looking down his nose at her. “The matter is settled.”
Her chest so tight her heart couldn’t beat, Elizabeth turned to her father.
Mr. Bennet nodded.
“Papa…no.”
“I am afraid the earl is correct. The matter is settled.” Mr. Bennet said, before adding to that peer, “I assume you recall your way out of my house?”
“Perfectly.” With another smirk at Elizabeth, the Earl of Matlock strode past her.
She stared at her father, stunned. “How could you?”
Distantly, the words indistinct, she heard her mother cajoling the earl, but the front door opened, then slammed closed.
“You have done the right thing,” Mr. Collins said to Elizabeth’s father. “One must always submit to one’s betters. That is the nature of the fabric which weaves our society. Why, my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is forever saying—”
“Out,” Mr. Bennet snapped at him, pointing down the hallway.
Mr. Collins looked about, obviously confused.
“Out of my home, now,” Elizabeth’s father clarified. “You will inherit Longbourn someday, but you have not yet, and I will not suffer a spy under my roof, reporting my daughter’s actions to people who have no business knowing them.”
Mr. Collins puffed out his chest. “I was duty bound to report Cousin Elizabeth’s abominable behavior and to put a stop to her pointless aspirations before they harmed her reputation and, subsequently, that of her sisters. You cannot possibly blame me for her—”
“I said out.” Mr. Bennet did not yell, but his voice held thick, banked anger. “You have thirty minutes, sir. Anything of yours that you have not removed from the premises by that time will be taken outside and burned, and that includes your person.”
“Papa, you cannot,” Mary cried.
He turned to her. “And you. Such disloyalty to your sister. I am ashamed of you. Go to your room and do not come down. I will decide a fitting punishment.”
Mary went red. “Disloyalty to her? To a sister who never shows me any consideration? A family, in truth, that does not? I have no loyalty to Elizabeth or to any of you.” To Mr. Collins she continued, “Come, Cousin, I will help you pack. I cannot see why someone as good and noble as you would want to remain here.” Nose in the air, Mary left.
Mr. Collins cast them a scathing look and followed.
Elizabeth met her father’s gaze, taking in his sallow, haggard face. “Papa?”
With a gesture for her to follow, he went back into his study. “Close the door, Elizabeth.”
She did, trailing him across the room to sink into the chair before his desk. “Did you truly sign away my right to a future with Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Removing his spectacles, Mr. Bennet pinched the bridge of his nose. “The earl gave me no choice in the matter.”
Elizabeth looked down at her clasped hands, surprised that the searing pain in her chest produced no outward manifestation. It felt as if she’d been run through. “No choice?” Her voice cracked on the words.
“The threats he made to you…to our family.” Mr. Bennet shook his head. “He said his son would not be robbed of his future greatness by a pair of fine eyes on a country miss of less than no consequence.”
“What am I to do?” Elizabeth didn’t mean to speak those words aloud. She pressed a hand to the agony in her chest.
“There is nothing to do. If Colonel Fitzwilliam attempts to court you, you must put him off. I…” He let out a long sigh. “I did secure four thousand pounds for you. You now have a dowry of five. That is something.”
As if her dowry mattered when the only man who had ever engaged her heart was lost to her. “Thank you, Papa,” she murmured, fighting back tears, aware that her father had done what he could.
He came around the desk and proffered his handkerchief. Was it only a few scant hours ago that Elizabeth had given Miss Darcy hers? Clasping the starched white cloth, Elizabeth couldn’t contain a sob. Her father drew her to her feet and held her as she cried.
After some time, Elizabeth pulled free, blotting her face. “I—” Her voice fractured. “I will be in my room.”
Mr. Bennet nodded and retreated behind his desk. He slumped in his chair as she left, closing the door softly behind her. She made her slow way down the hall.
To the nauseating sight of Mr. Collins coming down the staircase, his chin in the air and smug disdain curling his too-thin mouth. He cast her a scathing glance, then marched past Jane, Kitty, Lydia, and Elizabeth’s mother, who spilled from the front parlor.
“But…Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet called as he reached the front door. “You cannot depart without revealing which of my lovely daughters you mean to marry.”
He sniffed, threw the door wide, and stepped out.
Mrs. Bennet huffed, muttering, “Vulgar man.” Her gaze found Elizabeth, and she frowned.
Elizabeth longed to escape to her room, but two of the staff clattered down the staircase in Mr. Collins’ wake, lugging his large trunk with such excessive effort as to make Elizabeth wonder if they should search it for the silver. Sweating, the men lumbered across the entrance hall and out.
“I say good riddance.” Lydia’s voice was likely loud enough to be heard outside, especially as she angled the words at the still open door. “Mr. Collins is odious.”
“Yes, but he will have Longbourn someday,” Mrs. Bennet said with a sigh. “It would be better had he married one of you.”
“But he’s ghastly, Mama,” Lydia stated, louder still.
Mrs. Bennet shrugged. “Many men are.” Her gaze strayed back to Elizabeth.
Who raced to the staircase and up, in no humor to deal with her mother.
Fitzwilliam was not ghastly. He was tall, upright, capable, and kind. He’d aided Mr. Wickham even though the man had done his family an unforgiveable wrong. The Honorable Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was the very best of men, and now Elizabeth was forever forbidden him.