Chapter 8 A Friend’s Counsel
CHAPTER EIGHT
A FRIEND’S COUNSEL
Elizabeth kept her thoughts inward as she sat at the breakfast table.
The morning light streaming through the windows felt harsh against her tired eyes—she had slept perhaps two hours, her mind churning through impossible plans and discarded schemes until dawn crept across the sky.
She had to appear calm and collected, although she had no firm plans on the way forward.
“More tea, Lizzy?” Jane asked softly. “You’ve hardly touched your breakfast.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured, maintaining her air of distraction.
Mrs. Bennet fluttered around the table, her hands in constant motion as she rearranged dishes, straightened napkins, and adjusted the flowers in the centerpiece. Her excitement radiated from her like heat from a stove.
“Oh, Lizzy! You seem deep in thought this morning. I daresay your conversation with your father has brought you to a sensible decision. I confess I had doubts about your willingness to consider your family’s welfare, but I now see your charitable heart, so like my own.”
Elizabeth had never been aware that her mother was charitable, but on further reflection, she supposed every tart her mother gave her, every egg, every time she told Elizabeth to stand up straight, every bit of maternal comfort was done out of a sense of charity.
“Indeed, Mama,” Elizabeth replied, proud of how level her voice sounded. “I find myself considering matters I had not previously thought worthy of attention.”
“Such an excellent match!” Mrs. Bennet continued, practically vibrating with delight. “A comfortable parsonage, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s patronage—think of it, Lizzy—and of course, the entailment secured for the family. We shall all be saved from the hedgerows!”
And safety from murderers, Elizabeth thought darkly. Let us not forget that particular benefit.
“I think Mr. Collins would make a dreadful husband,” Lydia announced, reaching for another slice of toast. “He talks forever and never says anything worth hearing.”
“Lydia!” Mary reproved severely. “Mr. Collins is a man of God. His conversation reflects the gravity of his spiritual calling.”
“His conversation reflects the gravity of his stupidity,” Kitty giggled. “Did you see how he knocked over the candlestick at dinner last night? I thought Papa would expire from trying not to laugh.”
“Girls! Such disrespect for your future brother!” Mrs. Bennet scolded. “Lizzy shall be mistress of Longbourn one day, and then you shall be sorry for your unkindness.”
Jane watched Elizabeth with troubled eyes. “Lizzy, are you quite certain about this? You’ve always said you would only marry for the deepest love.”
“Do not concern yourself, dear sister.” Elizabeth took a piece of toast. “When I’m Mistress of Longbourn, I shall grant you your choice of bedchambers and hire maids for every one of you. After all, I have nothing but the deepest love for you, Mama, and all my sisters.”
Jane’s brows twisted with confusion, but Elizabeth meant for this speech to be a farewell. Whatever happened this afternoon, she had no intention of accepting Mr. Collins’s suit.
Mrs. Bennet was delighted. “Oh, my word, Lizzy. We shall none of us fear the hedgerows. I shall be well provided for, and my labor on your behalf will be lavishly rewarded. Come now, finish your eggs. We must see to your appearance immediately. That blue muslin, I think, with the lace collar. And your hair! Hill must dress it properly—perhaps with those pearl pins your aunt Gardiner sent for your last birthday. Oh! And ribbons! We need fresh ribbons. Kitty, run to my room and fetch my ribbon box. The light blue would complement Lizzy’s complexion beautifully. ”
“Mama, please,” Elizabeth protested weakly, overwhelmed by this onslaught of maternal attention.
“Mr. Collins will be calling this afternoon,” Mrs. Bennet announced, practically dancing around the table.
“He has requested a private audience with you, Lizzy. I have assured him of a most favorable reception. Lady Lucas will be green with envy—she had hopes for Charlotte, you know, but Mr. Collins clearly recognized superior breeding when he saw it.”
“I hardly believe Lady Lucas would concern herself with Mr. Collins when the formidable Mr. Darcy clearly favors our dear Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied with arch innocence. “After all, she was the only unmarried lady he danced with that evening.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face puckered as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “My word, Lizzy! Lady Lucas will soon perceive the despicable and insufferable pride of that man. Even ten thousand a year could not induce me to commend such a disagreeable person.”
“Indeed not, Mama,” Elizabeth murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “Though I daresay you would perform acrobatics in the drawing room for half that sum if it secured one of your daughters.”
Jane shot her a warning glance as Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks flushed crimson.
“Oh, Lizzy, do not be so droll. We must prepare. Mr. Collins is quite eager to secure your hand before returning to Hunsford. We must begin planning the wedding breakfast immediately. Perhaps primroses for the decorations? Though October weddings are challenging for flowers.”
“An October wedding?” Elizabeth’s voice rose in alarm. Time was running out faster than she had anticipated. She had hoped for at least a day or two to formulate a plan, but Mr. Collins’s eagerness was accelerating matters beyond her control. She needed to act now.
“Of course, my dear! Mr. Collins must return to Kent next week. Lady Catherine cannot spare her parson for long, you know. Such an important lady. Just think, Lizzy, you shall be under her patronage. My daughter, noticed by Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”
“Has Mr. Collins mentioned a specific time for his visit?” she asked, calculating how many hours she had before the trap closed.
“Two o’clock,” Mrs. Bennet replied with triumph. “He was most particular about the timing, saying he wished to speak with your father when the household was settled and peaceful. Such consideration! Such proper feeling!”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Elizabeth said, rising from the table. “I believe I shall take a walk to clear my head. Such important decisions require careful consideration.”
“A walk? Now?” Mrs. Bennet looked horrified. “But your hair, your dress! We must prepare you!”
“There is time enough for that when I return,” Elizabeth insisted. “The fresh air will bring color to my cheeks.”
Jane rose as well. “Shall I accompany you, Lizzy?”
“No!” Elizabeth said too quickly, then softened her tone. “No, thank you, Jane. I wish to be alone with my thoughts.”
“Very well, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet conceded reluctantly. “Though do not tarry too long. You’ll want to look your best when Mr. Collins arrives. And stay on the gravel paths—your hem must remain clean! Oh, and take your bonnet. We cannot have you freckled on your engagement day!”
Elizabeth slipped from the breakfast room and hurried upstairs, her mind racing.
She had precisely one chance to escape before Mr. Collins arrived with his unwanted proposal and expectations of acceptance.
She moved quickly, gathering only the barest essentials into a small valise.
A change of clothes, her warmest pelisse, her meager savings—three pounds, seven shillings—carefully extracted from the small box in her drawer.
It was pathetically inadequate for what she intended, but it was all she had.
She tucked the mysterious letter inside her bodice, close to her heart.
She thought fleetingly of the locket Mr. Bennet had mentioned during their carriage conversation—the one containing miniatures of her true parents.
He had refused her and promised it would be hers only after she was safely wed to Mr. Collins, when the danger had passed and the inheritance deadline expired.
She could not waste time searching for it.
Elizabeth glanced out the window. The sky hung heavy with gray clouds—an apt reflection of her mood. Would she ever see Longbourn again? Would she succeed in her quest or merely trade one form of captivity for another?
A light tap at her door startled her.
“Lizzy?” Jane’s voice. “Are you well?”
Elizabeth hastily pushed the valise beneath her bed. “Yes, come in.”
Jane entered, her beautiful face clouded with concern. “You seem troubled. Is it truly Mr. Collins?”
For a moment, Elizabeth longed to confide everything—the letter, her true identity, the murders, the inheritance.
Jane would listen without judgment, offer comfort without conditions.
But she would also insist on proper channels and prudent measures—all delays that would preclude Elizabeth from claiming her birthright.
“Just contemplating the joys of matrimony,” Elizabeth replied with forced lightness. “How can one not be overwhelmed by the prospect of Mr. Collins’s conversation at breakfast every day for the rest of one’s natural life?”
Jane smiled, though her eyes remained troubled. “You need not accept him if your heart rebels against the match.”
“Need I not?” Elizabeth challenged gently. “With the entailment hanging over our heads? With five daughters dependent upon advantageous marriages? With Mama’s nerves ready to shatter at the slightest provocation?”
“Your happiness matters, Lizzy.”
My very life may be at stake, Elizabeth thought. And with it, the justice denied to my parents for twenty years.
“I shall be fine, Jane,” she assured her sister. “I simply need some air and solitude to order my thoughts.”
Jane embraced her briefly. “Remember that you are not alone.”
But she was alone—more profoundly than Jane could possibly understand.
Elizabeth waited until Jane descended the stairs before retrieving her valise.
Tucking it beneath her cloak, she slipped down the servants’ staircase and out the side door, avoiding the drawing room where her mother entertained Mary and Kitty with elaborate descriptions of Elizabeth’s future as Mrs. Collins.