Chapter Five
“Perhaps a little arrogance could be used for good purposes,” Darcy murmured, softly enough that only Elizabeth heard him, and as Mr Collins neared, drew himself up and glared very hard at the parson.
Mr Collins, thinking only of getting as close to Elizabeth as he could manage, could not ignore the tall, noble gentleman staring so hard at him, even if he had not been the nephew of his patroness.
“Mr Darcy, how gracious of you to condescend to dance with my cousin,” Mr Collins grovelled.
“Of course Miss Elizabeth cannot in any way match the grace and loveliness of your fair intended, Miss Anne de Bourgh, but it is good to know that in some small way she might be able to console you for your cousin’s absence tonight… ”
“You dare to insult Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy said in chilly tones.
“No, of course, Mr Darcy, I meant no offence, merely to assure you that Miss de Bourgh is the fairest jewel of England and you are an exceedingly lucky man…”
“You dare to look admiringly at my cousin?” Darcy’s voice chilled further. Elizabeth almost expected to see ice crystals begin forming on his breath. Mr Collins, on the other hand, was sweating ever more profusely.
“Oh no, of course, sir…” Mr Collins floundered. “Merely congratulating you on your good fortune, sir, in a match that will unite such great estates…”
“Good God, any minute now this uncouth idiot is going to start talking of the size of my cousin’s dowry and my annual income,” Darcy said, disgusted. “A man of God should be above such worldly concerns, sir!”
“Of course, sir – that is why I am here in Hertfordshire, to extend an olive-branch to that part of my family which is less fortunate than myself, by preferring one of the Bennet daughters to a most appropriate situation, as future mistress of Longbourn by means of condescending to offer my hand in marriage.” Mr Collins smiled toothily at Elizabeth.
She did not manage to suppress a shudder, and Darcy felt it through her slender hand still laid upon his arm.
“Mr Collins, you are mistaken,” Darcy said.
“The Bennet family is being exceedingly gracious in welcoming you to their home. Mr Bennet is a gentleman, and his daughters are the equal of any outside the peerage, and certainly above the touch of a humble clergyman, whatever his possible future prospects may be. I know well the parsonage-house at Hunsford and the value of that living – I have been looking after my Aunt de Bourgh’s financial affairs for some years, after all.
Can you even afford a cook and a maid, once the expense of maintaining a wife is added to your budget?
You could not possibly expect a daughter of Longbourn to cook and scrub her own floors! ”
Startled, Mr Collins blinked, looked at Elizabeth, and back at Mr Darcy. “Well – I – a useful sort of girl, Lady Catherine advised me to choose…”
“A girl who can do her own housework, I daresay she meant,” Darcy said.
“I am sure Lady Catherine did not understand Longbourn’s worth, sir, nor the Bennet family’s situation, when she suggested you look for a bride among your cousins.
You might as well seek to wed Miss Anne de Bourgh yourself, you look so far above your station! ”
Among Mr Collins’ sputtered, horrified denials, Elizabeth could hear the whispers spreading out from around them.
“… can’t afford a cook or maid…”
“… asking a Miss Bennet to scrub floors!...”
“… inherit Longbourn one day, but Mr Bennet is only five and forty, and very hale…”
“… would never allow my daughter to marry into such a situation…”
That last remark had come from Lady Lucas, who was staring at Mr Collins with wide, horrified eyes.
It was John Lucas, a very old friend, who stepped forward and bowed to Elizabeth, ignoring Mr Collins entirely. “If you are not engaged for the next, Miss Elizabeth, would you do me the honour?”
“I should be delighted, Mr Lucas,” Elizabeth said. Turning to Mr Darcy, she said, “I thank you for the dance, sir. And for your next move,” she lowered her voice, “look to the green chair near the window.”
Mr Darcy glanced in the direction she indicated, and saw her sensible friend Charlotte Lucas sitting there, conversing politely with two very much older ladies.
“I thank you very much for our dance, Miss Elizabeth, and for your neighbourly advice,” he gave her a smile and a bow, walked away from the still protesting Mr Collins and asked Miss Lucas to dance with such charm that Charlotte blinked uncertainly at him several times before accepting.
Mr Collins retreated in high dudgeon from the whispering, staring crowd around him, mopping his face with his increasingly rancid handkerchief.
“Not afford a maid indeed,” he muttered to himself.
“Why, I can well afford Sally to come in daily and clean the grates. And Mrs Meredith to cook my dinners.” He paused, though, thinking that Darcy might have a point.
A wife would indeed add to his expenses.
She would be another mouth to feed, and she would want new dresses, especially if Lady Catherine were indeed to visit her and invite them to Rosings Park to dine.
It might be a good idea to have a wife who knew how to cook, at least, as then he could economise by not having to pay Mrs Meredith.
A woman who could look after a few chickens, too, and perhaps milk a goat and grow vegetables…
Mr Collins was unaware that he was muttering his musings out loud.
Mary Bennet, sitting behind him on a chair almost concealed by a large flower arrangement in an urn, heard every word, and her eyes widened.
She turned to look at Miss Mary King, a plump, freckled redhead equally infrequently asked to dance, who was sitting beside her, and saw that Miss King’s mouth was open in a perfect O.
“Gossip is for idle minds…” Mary Bennet began, but Miss King put a hand over hers and shook her head.
“This is not gossip, Miss Mary, we have heard those words directly from the man himself! A wife who can cook, and milk goats and grow vegetables? He is looking for a kitchen-maid, not a gentlewoman! Do your parents know his situation? Because if he has misrepresented himself to them, in seeking to find a bride from your family, then it is your duty to your father and mother to tell them the truth!”
“I shall speak to my father tomorrow,” Mary murmured, looking at Mr Collins in a new light. She had previously thought that she might suit him quite well herself, but – she could not cook. And she had never scrubbed anything other than her own hands in her life.
Word of Mr Darcy’s confrontation with Mr Collins soon reached Mrs Bennet, who had a fit of nerves and was removed hastily from the room by Lady Lucas and Mrs Gardiner.
“I owe you my thanks, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, when he came to ask her for the supper-dance.
“It is a pleasure to dance with you, Miss Elizabeth,” he bowed to her gallantly.
“Not for asking me to dance, Mr Darcy – oh, well, for that too, I suppose, but for rescuing me from Mr Collins. I dare to hope that you discouraged him enough that he might possibly not force me to reject him in terms which will incite his resentment.”
“I spoke nothing which was not true, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said seriously.
“I am well aware of the value of the Hunsford living. I visit my Aunt every Easter, and to see you in such circumstances – would grieve me greatly.” Again, he thought, he was saying nothing that was not true.
That seeing her as Mr Collins’ wife, knowing that that ghastly man had the right to hold Elizabeth, to make love to her, would have torn him apart, he could not say.
They proceeded through the dance speaking little, Darcy content to admire Elizabeth, her form lithe and graceful as she skipped and hopped about, and Elizabeth studying the man whom she had previously greatly disliked, but now had to acknowledge was much more than he had first appeared.
Yes, he was proud; perhaps too much so, but after what Mrs Gardiner had said to him, he had admitted his sins honestly and offered her, at least, a handsome apology.
It remained to be seen if his attitude to the rest of the neighbourhood would yet improve, but he had indicated to her that he felt he owed a debt of civility to her neighbours and accepted her offer of aid in paying it.
Catching a glimpse of Mr Collins, standing by himself and glaring in their direction, Elizabeth could not help but smile at Mr Darcy.
He had done her a very great service there, discouraging the repulsive man.
She could only hope that Mrs Bennet too would take heed and not continue to promote the match.
Mrs Bennet was at that very moment wailing to her husband, who had been brought to her in a retiring-room. Mrs Gardiner remained, but persuaded Lady Lucas and Mrs Philips to return to the ball and tell their friends that Mrs Bennet just required a few moments to compose herself.
“Oh, Mr Bennet!” Mrs Bennet wailed, “what shall become of us! Lizzy will have to scrub the floors!”
Mr Bennet looked bemused for a moment, and then said, “Do not distress yourself, my dear. I am convinced we shall get along tolerably well without any of our daughters being required to scrub the floors.”
“But Mr Collins!” Mrs Bennet began to sob loudly again.
“Sister?” Mr Bennet looked to Mrs Gardiner. “Can you shed any light on this matter for me, as I am not quite sure what has my Fanny so distressed?”
“I did not overhear the conversation,” Mrs Gardiner admitted, “but Lady Lucas told me that there was some sort of confrontation between Mr Darcy and Mr Collins, and Mr Darcy accused him of presenting himself to your family falsely, that the Hunsford living is worth little and that if he took a wife they would not be able to afford a servant to cook and clean.”