Chapter 15
Darcy and Bingley rode out on the day of the ball to call upon Mr Bennet.
He was surprised to receive them, commenting that he would have thought Bingley would have a great deal to accomplish, as the host. Bingley only grinned and laughed and assured him that everything was in his sister’s capable hands, though he would have preferred to call a day or two ago, had not the rain prevented it.
Having greeted the man, Darcy stepped out into the corridor to give Bingley privacy to request Mr Bennet’s blessing on his intention to propose whenever an opportune moment arose.
Above, there was the sound of movement, the creak of floorboards and the thump of a hastily-shut door, overlain with the murmur of voices and, once or twice, a shriek, muffled by the walls of the house.
He remembered, dimly, his mother’s preparations for such events, which commenced hours before.
He supposed that in such a household, with few servants and many ladies, it must take much of the day.
Bingley emerged minutes later, his silly grin telling the tale of his success. Darcy entered the study, where Mr Bennet peered at him over the top of his spectacles and said, “I do not expect that you have come to try to relieve me of one of my daughters.”
“Not exactly,” he allowed, and Mr Bennet’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.
“I think you had better sit and explain yourself, Mr Darcy,” he replied, clearly intrigued.
Darcy did as he was bid and came directly to the point.
“I should like to know Miss Elizabeth better, for I feel we might suit, but when Bingley and I visited on Thursday, your cousin Mr Collins gave me to understand that he is engaged to her. As the lady has never mentioned such an arrangement, I thought it prudent to speak with you to gain a right understanding.”
Mr Bennet frowned mightily. “There is no arrangement, and he ought not to have spoken as though there were. Pray, tell me what he said as exactly as you can recall it.”
Darcy repeated the clergyman’s words as best he could, and Mr Bennet shook his head.
“He does not lack for confidence, does he? No, sir, I have promised him nothing, though I cannot with certainty say the same of my wife. He came here seeking to heal the breach in our family and intends to do so by marrying one of my daughters, that much is true. He does seem to have settled upon Elizabeth, despite the fact that it is clear to anyone with a modicum of perception that she does not like him. I expect he will propose soon, and that she will refuse him.”
“And you will allow her refusal?”
“Naturally.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Tie my Lizzy to such a creature? Never. The fool ought to have looked to Mary. She might have had him. Still, his bumbling about has been very entertaining, and promises to be more so before he leaves us.”
Darcy felt that in Mr Bennet’s position he would have made it clear to Collins that his wishes would not be gratified the moment he showed an interest in Miss Elizabeth, pointing him towards Miss Mary as a more reasonable and likely choice.
He would not have left a daughter of his to endure such attentions for his own entertainment, and could not respect this man’s choice to do so.
It took an effort of will to remain civil after this revelation.
“You would not then object if I were to tell Miss Elizabeth that I should like to call upon her? For myself, I should prefer she have that information in hand before any other offers are made to her.”
Mr Bennet chuckled. “Go to it, young man. I find it incredible that you should go from insulting her appearance to contemplating taking her away from me, but I enjoy a good turnabout in life just as much as in a book. I will observe your efforts with great interest.”
He did not like the notion of himself as a performer for Bennet’s entertainment any more than that of Collins and Miss Elizabeth serving the purpose, but he schooled his expression, thanked his host gravely, and bid him farewell.
He and Bingley left the house, and his friend held his tongue until they were riding away, then said only, “Well?”
“There is no arrangement, and Mr Bennet was displeased to hear that Collins spoke of it as a settled thing. He does not intend to allow Miss Elizabeth to marry the man even if she should accept him for her family’s sake.
And…” He hesitated only a heartbeat before taking Bingley into his confidence.
“I have his approval to call upon Miss Elizabeth, if she agrees.”
Bingley gaped at him for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed so heartily that his mount danced sideways a step.
“I suspected that you felt an attraction, but never thought you would act upon it. Well! What a fine thing. I heartily approve, of course. She is just the person to make that big house of yours come alive and teach you to smile more. And if all goes well, we shall be brothers!”
Sincerely, he replied, “Bingley, I should like that very much.”
Elizabeth entered the vestibule of Netherfield in low spirits.
What had been upon its announcement an evening to anticipate was now an object of dread.
To be trapped for four rain-soaked days in the same house as a buffoon determined to court her could not make her cheerful, and now she feared he might blurt out a proposal before all the company and force her into the humiliating position of refusing him while the neighbourhood looked on.
In his ceaseless blathering, Mr Collins had twice recounted something which sank her further into gloom: he anticipated, in the spring or summer, or the autumn at the very latest, having the honour of performing the rites of marriage for his patroness’s daughter, Miss de Bourgh, to none other than Mr Darcy.
She did not quite believe it—it was strange that neither he nor any of his friends had mentioned a betrothal—but neither did she quite disbelieve it.
Would Mr Collins speak of the event as such a certainty if his patroness had not?
Would she make unfounded claims about her own daughter?
Elizabeth wondered, she doubted, she was thrown into confusion.
Not merely over the question of veracity, but of the very great sadness which swept over her when he declared that Mr Darcy was to be married.
Until that moment, she soon apprehended, she had never known herself.
Mr Darcy was the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her.
He was intelligent and well-read; he was clever and interesting.
He doted upon his younger sister and put himself at the disposal of his good friend, a man to whom most would not expect that he should extend the hand of friendship at all.
Moreover, he listened to her and treated her opinions with no less gravity because they issued from a lady’s mouth.
She had understood his position in society and how unlikely it was that such a man might seek more than an amiable acquaintance from a lady in her situation.
She had trusted that knowledge to guard her heart, but it had not.
She had tumbled headlong into infatuation—she hoped it was not more!
—while calling it friendship. She was, she had concluded, twenty kinds of fool.
She put on a smile for Miss Bingley as her family reached the head of the receiving line and was gratified also to see the open admiration with which Mr Bingley greeted Jane.
Inside the ballroom, she did not see Mr Darcy but soon found Charlotte Lucas, with whom she had not met for a week, and made her acquainted with the oddities of Mr Collins and his persistent pursuit of her company and presumably her affections.
Good friend that she was, Charlotte expressed sympathy with Elizabeth’s trials, though she did not scruple to mention the benefit to the whole family which would proceed from such a union.
“I am not insensible of it,” Elizabeth replied. “The difficulty lies in the fact that I should not be able to wait until I had borne a son to poison his dinner, and so we would gain nothing from the enterprise.”
Charlotte laughed and conceded that a deceased heir would be of very little use. Miss Bingley joined them shortly before the dancing was to begin, which gave Elizabeth and Charlotte the opportunity to praise her arrangements.
Mr John Goulding had beaten the other young men of the neighbourhood out for the pleasure of partnering Miss Bingley in the first set, and came to collect her as Mr Bingley and Jane stepped onto the floor to form the line.
Close behind him was Mr Collins, and what followed was nothing less than sheer mortification for Elizabeth.
He was too eager to speak and did not attend to his steps, he moved the wrong way, then he stopped to apologise rather than correct his direction and thereby was the cause of several near-collisions avoided only by the quick actions of other dancers.
To all this he appeared entirely oblivious, exclaiming at the conclusion of the second dance of the set what a pleasure it was to take to the floor with a bewitching partner.
Elizabeth could not have been happier to escape him, and felt her face might burn the rest of the night.