Chapter 9 More Introductions #2
“Mr Collins,” Darcy cut in, his voice even but commanding, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. However, I am pressed by business that cannot wait. You will forgive me if I take my leave for now, and I am certain we shall speak again.”
With deliberate care, he guided Elizabeth a step nearer to Mary before releasing her arm.
Leaning slightly, his voice softened so that only she could hear.
“Pardon my behaviour just now, Elizabeth. I would not see you importuned further and feel it necessary to speak to his colonel before Wickham can impose himself on anyone.” His glance lingered warmly on hers for the briefest moment, a silent reassurance.
Straightening, he inclined his head to the rest of the group, then turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Elizabeth safely at her sister’s side while Mr Collins merely blinked at the abruptness of his departure.
Darcy came upon the party as they were quitting the Philips’ house a little more than an hour after he had left them.
His business—dispatching a hastily written express to his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and calling upon the colonel of the militia to warn him of Wickham’s habit of incurring debts he had no intention of repaying—had been swiftly concluded.
Still, his feelings of unease lingered. He feared the militia commander had not received his cautions with the seriousness they merited since the man had waved away the habit as not that concerning.
He did not bother to inform the man of Wickham’s more depraved habits, feeling they would fall on deaf ears.
Taking a final moment, he approached a serving lad at the inn and asked him to convey his and Bingley’s horses to Longbourn ahead of their party.
Still, Darcy was determined to consult Elizabeth on the matter, believing she might suggest some approach he had not yet considered.
However, the sight that met him as he approached the house was far from reassuring.
The Bennet sisters were departing, Bingley offering his arm to Miss Mary, with the two youngest following behind.
Still, it was Elizabeth who held Darcy’s entire attention, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he fought the impulse to touch her.
She was being led forwards by Mr Collins, his hand clasping her elbow so tightly that she could not easily withdraw it.
Her expression was strained, her composure under visible pressure while the officious parson lectured her in pompous tones—rebuking her for addressing Darcy with what he deemed insufficient formality and repeating Lady Catherine’s pronouncements that Darcy was destined to marry her daughter.
Darcy forced his features into impassivity; inwardly his displeasure was keen, and his resolve hardened as he observed Elizabeth’s discomfort.
Stepping forward, Darcy bowed with cold formality.
“Mr Collins,” he said, drawing himself to his full height, his gaze fixed sternly upon the clergyman, “by what right do you presume to speak of my private affairs of which you know nothing? As a minister, you ought to be above idle speculation. Nor have you any authority to censure your cousin. You are neither her father nor her husband.”
“But it is not mere speculation of which I speak, sir,” Mr Collins protested.
“I only repeat what has been entrusted to me by my patroness, the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She has assured me that you and her daughter were betrothed in your cradles; indeed, it is universally acknowledged that you two were meant for each other.”
Darcy’s expression did not waver. “I have never asked Anne to marry me. For there to have been a betrothal in our infancy, Mr Collins, a marriage contract must have been drawn before our majorities, signed by both of our fathers. No such agreement exists. My aunt is the sole voice in favour of this union. My cousin and I both agree that neither of us desire the match. Even had my mother desired it, her wishes would not bind me. When I marry, it will be to a lady of my own choosing—and it most assuredly will not be my cousin.”
“But Lady Catherine—” Mr Collins began, only to break off when Elizabeth wrenched her arm free of his grasp.
“Enough, Mr Collins,” Darcy said sharply, his eyes flashing as he saw Elizabeth rub the place where the clergyman’s hand had been. At once his voice gentled as he turned to her. “Are you quite well, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I am well enough,” she replied steadily. “His hand was squeezing rather tightly when you denied the engagement. However, I do not think it severe enough to leave a bruise.”
Although he wished he could assist Elizabeth, to examine her arm to ensure that there was no mark from Mr Collins’ hold, he only nodded at the lady. However, he still intended to address the matter with the odious man.
“Mr Collins,” Darcy barked. “In case you were unaware, taking a woman by the arm in that way is rarely appropriate, and even if you are her father’s cousin, you had no right to grasp her in any way that might leave a mark.
You are a parson, sir, and ought to set an example for appropriate behaviour towards a woman who is under your protection, even if that only extends to a walk. ”
“But, Mr Darcy,” Mr Collins protested. “Miss Elizabeth is my cousin. It is my obligation to rebuke her when her behaviour is improper. She ought not to have approached you as she did when you arrived in town. You are an engaged man.”
“Mr Collins,” Darcy protested, his temper rising. “How many times must I tell you that I am not engaged to my cousin?”
“But your aunt—” Mr Collins objected, but once again was unable to complete the sentence.
“—is delusional, at least on this point,” Darcy concluded. “Do not raise the matter again.”
As if at last perceiving the extent of Darcy’s displeasure, Mr Collins fell silent and glanced uneasily between the gentleman and his cousin.
With a hasty nod, he scurried off in the direction of Longbourn.
Of their party, only Mary had lingered to witness the exchange, and she now stepped forwards to stand beside Elizabeth.
Bingley had gone ahead with the younger Bennet sisters, having engaged them in conversation while Mary lagged behind.
“Are you truly well, Lizzy?” she asked, her gaze moving between her sister and Mr Darcy, astonished to see them so comfortable with each other—and Darcy so plainly protective of her.
“I am,” Elizabeth replied. “As I said before, I do not think it will leave a mark. However, he made me uncomfortable and perhaps Papa ought to speak to him again.”
Mary nodded, still unconvinced, yet unwilling to press her sister further. The three then set off quietly towards Longbourn, Elizabeth holding Darcy’s arm while Mary walked on her other side. They soon overtook Mr Collins who had paused to catch his breath.
For an instant Mary feared he might insist upon her company, but, thankfully, he did not.
She could not tell whether he delayed from a reluctance to walk quickly or whether he preferred to leave her as chaperone to the other two.
Either way, she was relieved to be spared his attentions, at least for now.
When she returned home, she would do as Elizabeth had suggested and speak to her father about her wish never to be Mr Collins’ wife.
While she had been lost in her own thoughts, she had not attended to the conversation and was startled to realise they had been speaking of the gentleman who had departed so abruptly upon encountering Darcy.
“…the colonel has agreed to keep watch over him, yet I am not certain it will suffice. You and your sisters must be cautious,” Darcy was saying.
Mary was further astonished when Elizabeth accepted this with only a thoughtful nod.
“I shall warn them that a handsome face may conceal a black heart. Yet it will be far more difficult to persuade Mama that my younger sisters must be more guarded with those not well known to us. Since your meeting with my father yesterday ended poorly, I am reluctant to press you to speak with him again. Still, your words might carry greater weight. I will accompany you if you wish.”
“You know there is more that I cannot reveal at present,” Darcy replied gravely. “Nor am I certain I ought to entrust it all to your father. He does not entirely trust me, and I would not wish him to speak of it—even inadvertently.”
“William,” Elizabeth said, further shocking Mary with her familiarity with the gentleman, “Papa will believe you are serious when you remain steadfast. Last night, he mentioned that he expects you to depart for London as soon as you find a convenient reason to do so. When Mama mentioned Mr Bingley’s ball at supper, he laughed, telling Mama that she ought not think too much on it, for he does not expect the event to take place. ”
Darcy seemed to consider this. “Bingley was pleased by the idea of hosting; his sister was decidedly less so. Mrs Hurst might be more easily convinced to make the arrangements. I will speak to Bingley after this visit. If he means to host a ball, or if he prefers to turn it into a dinner party, perhaps with dancing after, he will need to begin making preparations now.”
“Mama would gladly offer her assistance to Mrs Hurst if it is needed,” Elizabeth replied. “Of course, she would want Jane to help as well, merely so she can throw her into Mr Bingley’s path more often.”
Darcy shook his head, and Mary was startled to see a fond smile lingering on his lips as he looked down at Elizabeth. “Elizabeth,” he said in gentle reproof.
“What is it, William?” she returned, her own mouth curving in a teasing smile. “Jane likes Mr Bingley, and by all indications he likes her in return. Why then is it that you have asked me for a courtship while he has yet to speak?”
“You are courting?” Mary exclaimed, unable to contain herself.
The couple stopped short and for a moment only stared at her, before exchanging a glance and then bursting into laughter.
“Forgive us, Mary,” Elizabeth said at last, still smiling.
“Mr Darcy did indeed ask me for a courtship while I was at Netherfield tending Jane. I begged him not to speak of it to Mama, for she would have trumpeted our betrothal across Meryton as if it were already settled. What I had not expected was that Papa would take the opposite view—he would prefer I end the courtship, believing my first impressions of Mr Darcy to be correct.” Elizabeth sighed heavily when she said this, pausing only a moment before she continued.
“Unfortunately, I succeeded too well in convincing everyone that I despised him after his initial insult. The truth is, he and I have since mended the differences between us, and we now understand one another better. We are courting, yet not with Papa’s full blessing at this moment.
Still, I hope in time to persuade him that my feelings are genuine—and, more importantly, that Mr Darcy’s are as well. ”
“Perhaps you should simply tell Mama,” Mary suggested with an amused shrug. “You know Papa is incapable of denying her, and she would insist that Mr Darcy be permitted to court you.” She paused, considering, before adding, “Yet perhaps it is wiser to wait until you are quite decided upon marriage.”
Both Elizabeth and Darcy laughed at this, surprising Mary, who had never heard the gentleman laugh so much before.
“That is precisely what I thought, Mary,” Elizabeth said a moment later.
“Still, let us first persuade her that he is far more amiable than we once believed. She remains a little in awe of him—perhaps it is best she remain so, at least in part. Mama will be far less inclined to impose upon him if she retains a touch of fear.”
Only a few days earlier, Darcy might have taken offence at such a remark. But from Elizabeth, whose spirit and wit charmed him beyond measure, he found it not only tolerable but endearing. Indeed, with every glance and every word, he felt himself fall more deeply in love.