Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“As you are both practiced in this, I give you twenty minutes to remove yourselves this time,” Mr. Bennet said with a strange mixture of anger and amusement.
“However, rather than burn anything you leave behind, I will, in a show of kindness I am unconvinced you deserve, permit you to leave what you cannot carry to be claimed at a later date.” His mouth quirked.
“I cannot, as present master of Longbourn, guarantee that your possessions will not be rummaged through, and any correspondence you leave behind read. Apparently, being master of the house gives me the right to do with your possessions and letters as I see fit.”
“But, Papa, we have nowhere to go,” Mary protested.
“You should have thought of that before you overstepped, and before you invaded Elizabeth’s bedroom.”
“You always take her side,” Mary cried, then stormed past Mr. Bennet and from the room. Down the hallway a door opened, then slammed.
Turning from watching Mary flee, Mr. Bennet aimed a flat stare at Mr. Collins. “Your twenty-minutes have already started.”
Mr. Collins opened his mouth to speak.
“If Mr. Collins does not choose to remove himself in the next three seconds, please escort him outside,” Mr. Bennet said to the waiting men.
Mr. Collins lifted his chin, then marched from the room. As he passed the gaggle of servants, he muttered, “Do not think I will forget which of you sided with Mr. Bennet this day.”
In an amused voice, Mr. Bennet added to the staff, “Do not think I will forget, either, and know that I thank you.” He shook his head. “Please watch them until they depart. If they try to tarry, send for me.” He offered a nod to Elizabeth and another to Mrs. Bennet, and left.
The staff, too, moved off from the doorway, several trailing the Collinses down the hall.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said quietly to her mother once they were alone.
Mrs. Bennet huffed a sigh. “Mary was always a persnickety child, but ever since she gained Mr. Collins’ regard, she has become unbearable.
Imagine, turning on your sister in such a fashion, and for that lout.
I will not have it. Not in one of my girls.
” Her gaze narrowed on Elizabeth. “Now, what is that they were reading?”
Elizabeth clutched the pages to her chest. “It…I penned some musings about… That is, it is a list, of sorts, about the more laudable qualities of…” What could she say?
Unlike Mary, Mrs. Bennet did have the right to read Elizabeth’s letters, but the fuss Mrs. Bennet would make over what would appear to be considerable regard for Mr. Darcy would be nearly as unbearable as living with Mary and Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth’s gaze darted to the other side of the room. Could she get past her mother to the little fireplace? How quickly would the pile of papers burn?
Mrs. Bennet placed a palm to Elizabeth’s cheek, looking down at her fondly.
“You have always been my most difficult, contrary child, and I would not presume to advise you, for you are too likely to do the opposite, but I can assure you that, when it comes to decisions about gentlemen, it is not difficult. If you care for a man, any and every failing can be overcome or overlooked. If you do not, even the most perfect of gentlemen will wear on you until you loathe the very sight of him.” With a pat on Elizabeth’s cheek and a parting smile, Mrs. Bennet left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Darcy sat in the blue drawing room with Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley, exerting all his will not to ask his sister about her most recent pile of letters.
Over a week had passed since his call on Longbourn, and Georgiana had yet to receive a single letter, let alone any questions for him, from Elizabeth.
She had asked for time to consider his offer, but her lack of an answer made him regret his agreement.
He’d been certain she would reply in the affirmative, and with alacrity.
Each day that passed without an answer brought fresh agony, eroding his initial surety.
Could she mean to decline his suit?
If she did, what would he do?
Should he ask Georgiana if she had heard from, or anything of, Elizabeth? He’d mentioned that he had encouraged Elizabeth to address any questions she had about Richard’s subterfuge to him, via a letter to Georgiana. Surely, his sister would have told him if any such queries had arrived.
Watching Georgiana read, Darcy’s agony over Elizabeth did not preclude a certain amount of relief when it came to his sister.
She’d forgiven him for not permitting her to nurse Wickham, although they still disagreed as to if she should have been permitted to, and likely always would.
For all intents and purposes, her union with Wickham had never taken place, which seemed both to please and sadden her.
Sometimes, he caught her staring into space, toying with the little locket she always wore. A locket he knew Wickham had given her.
Still, Georgiana had finally cast off the worst of her sorrow.
Something that, Richard had informed him, had occurred after a tearful talk with Elizabeth.
That Richard had from Mrs. Annesley, so Elizabeth’s assistance to Darcy’s sister was doubly hearsay, yet Darcy believed it.
That Elizabeth had helped his sister, when he had found no way to do so, fit with his idea of who she was.
With her intelligence. Her patience and care.
Why had she given him no answer?
“That is very aggravating, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy turned to his sister. “I beg your pardon?”
“The way you keep drumming your fingers on the arm of your chair. It is very aggravating. I am attempting to sort out a very muddled letter.”
Worry shot through him. Was ‘muddled’ Georgiana’s way of gently alerting him to something he did not wish to hear?
When his sister returned to reading without saying more, Darcy blurted, “Muddled how?”
“Hm?” Georgiana asked, looking back up.
“In what way is the letter you hold muddled.”
“Oh.” She turned it over, scanning the other side.
Darcy did not know the cramped script, but somehow he imagined it could not be Elizabeth’s. Her letters would be both larger and more fluid. Sure, and strongly penned. Not smushed together and somehow apologetic looking.
“It is another letter from Mrs. Collins,” Georgiana elaborated just before Darcy’s impatience caused him to ask.
“Usually, she writes about music and about how wonderful Mr. Collins is.” Georgiana’s nose crinkled in dislike.
“This letter goes on about how she must warn me that Miss Elizabeth means to entrap you by pretending a courtship that does not exist, by writing to you under your Christian name, and how I must be on guard and must safeguard you.” Georgiana flipped over the letter again.
“And her address has changed to a cottage on Mr. Bingley’s rented estate. ”
“That is odd.” Darcy struggled to contain his excitement. “Mrs. Collins says that Miss Elizabeth has written to me because she wants to entrap me into marriage? Have you seen any such letters?”
Georgiana shook her head. “I have not, but Mrs. Collins claims she and Mr. Collins have.”
“I see.” Darcy’s gaze went to the mantel clock.
He could reach Longbourn by tea, and return to Darcy House late this evening, if need be.
Or there would be room at the inn, and if not, Bingley would forgive him the rudeness of seeking lodgings so soon after his wedding.
Bingley was a forgiving sort. Darcy stood.
“If you will excuse me, I have some business to which to attend. I am not certain I will return in time for supper.”
It wasn’t until he reached the parlor door that Georgiana called, her voice light and amused, “Give my best to the Bennets.”