Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Before Mrs. Bennet’s thought could fully take hold, the door to the parlour was thrown open.
“Mr. Darcy, Cousin Elizabeth, forgive me for my tardiness. For some reason,” he cast an angry look into the hallway behind him, “I was not notified of your arrival. I happened to discover it quite by accident.”
“Do not refer to my wife so informally, sir. She is Mrs. Darcy to you,” Darcy said coldly, standing and moving protectively as though to block the man from even looking at his wife. “Who exactly are you?”
Had Mr. Collins possessed even a fragment of self-awareness, he would have moderated his approach given the frigid reception, but alas, he viewed the question as permission to continue.
“I am William Collins, Mr. Darcy, the heir of Longbourn and cousin to Mr. Bennet,” Collins stated proudly.
“Not to mention, I possess the living granted to me by your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Now that you have returned my intended to me, we can marry and return to my cosy little parsonage in Hunsford. My patroness informed me that she would take care of all the legalities and ensure that our wedding would take place just as planned.”
The sound Darcy made at these claims startled everyone in the room.
Even Mr. Collins seemed to recognise that he might have said too much.
“My wife is not your intended and will never be. There are no ‘legalities’ to take care of. Are you yet unaware of the changes that have taken place at Rosings since you left? Lady Catherine is no longer in charge there; my cousin Anne has married and claimed the inheritance that was always rightfully hers. The former Miss Anne de Bourgh is at Netherfield and will send for you soon to speak to you about your future.”
“How can Miss de Bourgh have married another?” Mr. Collins wailed, wringing his hands.
“She was to wed you, Mr. Darcy! Such a perfectly arranged match, blessed by Lady Catherine herself, and now you have absconded with my cousin—my own intended! This is utterly improper. Lady Catherine, no longer in charge of Rosings Park? Impossible! It is her estate, hers by right. She appointed me as rector; she has directed all my duties. If Lady Catherine is no longer overseeing Rosings, how am I to proceed? Who shall guide my humble endeavours, correct my errors, and… and compose my sermons? Who, I ask, if not the great Lady Catherine?”
Collins clutched his chest, looking thoroughly undone, as though his entire sense of purpose were crumbling before him.
Darcy struggled not to roll his eyes at the foolish man who appeared on the verge of a collapse at hearing this news.
“Perhaps you should return to your room and begin your packing. Once my cousin has spoken with you, you will have a better understanding of what you are to do. My wife and I are here to visit her mother and sisters and would prefer to do so without a stranger intruding.”
All five Bennet ladies stared at their guest, waiting to see what he would do next.
Nothing they had tried had managed to silence the man whose incessant chatter had largely consisted of praise for his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine, or grandiose plans regarding the sister he intended to wed—with or without her consent.
Clearly, he had taken Lady Catherine’s bold assurances to heart, genuinely believing that she could have Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth annulled, thus clearing the way for him to swoop in and “restore her reputation” by making her his bride.
To their astonishment, Mr. Collins began to back towards the door, practically bowing with each step as he paid effusive obeisance to Lady Catherine’s nephew.
His reverent gaze fixed on Darcy, he seemed unable to decide whether to retreat or remain, wavering between his desire to please and his palpable fear of offending the man he now deemed a most important connection.
“Thank you!” Lydia cried, barely managing to hold in her laughter until the door shut behind Mr. Collins.
She turned to Elizabeth, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Lizzy, I simply cannot imagine the life you would have had if you had actually been forced to marry that man! He is so absurd!” She giggled, then looked to Darcy with an air of exaggerated innocence.
“I know Lady Catherine is your aunt, Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Collins talks about her as if she were the Queen! I cannot decide if I should be terrified of her or laugh outright. She sounds frightful. Although”—she fluttered her eyelashes with what she considered charming boldness—“having a rich, handsome brother certainly has its benefits.”
Lydia’s attempt at flirtation dissolved into hysterical laughter as she clutched her stomach. “Did you see his face as he left?” she gasped between giggles, glancing at her sisters as if expecting them to join in.
“Lydia!” Jane and Elizabeth exclaimed in unison, mortified by her antics.
Darcy’s expression darkened as he looked down at his young sister-in-law, his voice low and cold.
“Miss Lydia,” he began, his tone cutting through her laughter, “only moments ago your mother suggested that my wife and I sponsor you in society. Let me assure you, if this is a demonstration of your usual behaviour, I will never encourage Elizabeth to host you in London. You have much to learn about proper behaviour and decorum before that is even possible.”
“What can you mean by that, Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet protested. “My Lydia is merely lively and is much admired by all the young men in Meryton.”
“Do you wish for your youngest daughter to marry the kind of man who admires her in Meryton, or do you hope for something better for her?” Darcy asked pointedly.
Mrs. Bennet gave him a calculating look, her mind already spinning with ambition.
“Well,” she said with a dismissive wave towards Elizabeth, “if Lizzy—with her unfortunate looks and peculiar accomplishments—could manage to capture you, Mr. Darcy, then surely my other girls could aim even higher! Lydia, with her liveliness, might attract a peer, and Jane—oh, with her beauty—why, a viscount at the very least…”
Her voice trailed off as she noticed the disapproving set of Darcy’s jaw and the unmistakable irritation in his gaze.
“Elizabeth did not ‘capture’ me,” he corrected, his voice crisp and unyielding.
“While she has many fine qualities that certainly drew my attention when we first met years ago, I married her for no reason other than deep and devoted love. As for Miss Lydia,” he added, his tone growing sterner, “though she is young, the way she conducts herself will hardly attract the notice of anyone respectable. Such behaviour only risks drawing the attention of a rake or a scoundrel.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped theatrically and swooned back into her chair, one hand pressed to her forehead in a dramatic display of shock.
Darcy exchanged a knowing look with Elizabeth, unable to suppress the slight roll of his eyes.
They had anticipated her mother’s reaction, recognising it as one of her typical attempts to manipulate through feigned distress.
“Enough of that, Mama,” Elizabeth said firmly.
Her voice held an authority that left little room for argument.
“Fitzwilliam is correct. Lydia’s behaviour, though tolerated here in Meryton, would be unthinkable in London society.
Let me be perfectly clear,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over her mother and youngest sisters, “I will not allow any of my sisters to tarnish the reputation of my husband or our future children by gaining a reputation as a lightskirt or worse.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened at Elizabeth’s unexpected forcefulness. “But Lizzy, you would deny your sisters the chance to… to be admired?” she stammered, clearly affronted.
“If admiration comes at the cost of their reputation, then yes, I would deny them such attention,” Elizabeth replied, her gaze unwavering.
“My own acceptance in society is already questionable, in part due to the decisions we made. However, I will win my detractors over by behaving with decorum. Lydia’s unabashed behaviour and flirtations would only serve to make my own acceptance more difficult.
Lydia will have much to learn before she is invited to spend time in town. ”
Lydia, clearly annoyed by the turn of conversation, gave an exaggerated sigh. “Lizzy, you make everything sound so dreary. I merely wish to have some fun!”
“Fun that could ruin you, Miss Lydia,” Darcy interjected sharply.
“As it is Elizabeth’s and my duty to ensure that such recklessness does not damage our family, I suggest you reconsider what you deem ‘fun.’ Idle flirtations that have you labelled as ‘fast’ and ruin your and your family’s reputations are not ‘fun.’”
Mrs. Bennet glanced between her daughter and her formidable new son, quickly reconsidering her plans.
The way Mr. Darcy had so easily handled Mr. Collins and the unwavering firmness with which he spoke now—backed by Elizabeth’s clear support—signalled that he was not a man to be swayed by her usual tactics.
Perhaps, she realised, he would be far less susceptible to her methods than her own husband had been.
In her early days as Mrs. Bennet, she had discovered that a well-timed fainting spell or a call for her salts could make her husband relent on nearly any issue.
He had initially responded with concern, but over time, he had simply resigned himself to conceding rather than face her “ailments.” The longer they were married, the less resistance he offered, to the point where he rarely spoke to her except to agree.
But this man—Mr. Darcy—was different. She could see already his will was as solid as his wealth, and he was unlikely to indulge her schemes or humour her theatrics. If she wanted to keep favour with him, she would need to approach things with more care.