Chapter 16
Jane’s engagement to Mr Bingley was announced at supper, and the remainder of the ball took on even more of an air of celebration. Even Mrs Hurst put on a fair show of being pleased, though Elizabeth noted that her smile was rather pinched.
Over a late breakfast at Longbourn, Mrs Bennet was full of ideas for the wedding celebrations, and could not be stopped in her speech long enough for Jane or Mr Bennet to object to the extravagances she proposed.
She spoke through the meal and into the parlour, her designs growing grander with each utterance.
The only thing that could silence her for a moment was Mr Collins’s request for a private audience with Elizabeth.
Mrs Bennet could not agree quickly enough, and though Elizabeth tried to evade it, her mother insisted and her father was not present to overrule her.
Within minutes she found herself alone in the parlour with Mr Collins.
His proposal was as wordy as she might have imagined, and even less sensible.
He spoke at length of his patroness, his situation, and his own reasons for marrying, his supposed affection for her mentioned as a mere aside.
She declined his offer as politely as she could the instant she was able to get a word in edgeways, but the silly man would not hear it.
He suggested that she sought to increase his love by suspense and stated confidently that when next he put the question to her, she must agree.
She withdrew then in silence, counting it a waste of breath to argue further.
Her answer had been given, and he must accept it at some time or another; if that occurred as he stood before an altar where no bride would meet him, then so be it.
Mrs Bennet had lingered in the vestibule and almost leapt upon Elizabeth when she emerged, eager to be informed that she had another daughter settled.
She was tempted to give way to a fit of nerves when Elizabeth informed her that the proposals of Longbourn’s heir had been rejected, but upon learning that the man expected a second application to be successful, she exerted herself to composure.
Mrs Bennet was not clever, nor was she wise, but she possessed a mean and paltry instinct for manipulating events to her own benefit, and this she followed now.
First she went to Mr Bennet and demanded that he require Elizabeth accept ‘the only proposal she was ever likely to receive’.
He declined, suggesting that if the two hundred pounds annual interest on her jointure and whatever assistance Mr Bingley might offer were not sufficient, she might consider reducing her spending and saving the excess.
After this, she went to Mr Collins and drew him out, encouraging his belief that Elizabeth’s refusal stemmed from a modesty and delicacy that were eminently suitable in the wife of a clergyman.
“I refused Mr Bennet when he first proposed to me, though you will never get him to admit it,” she claimed outrageously.
“A lady likes to know that a gentleman will not baulk at the first setback, you know, for marriage and the raising of children do bring troubles even to the most well-matched couple.”
He took this as a great piece of wisdom—almost as valuable as those which proceeded from the mouth of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, he assured her—and was satisfied with the progress of his courtship.
Elizabeth bore as patiently as she could with Mr Collins’s continued attentions and with Kitty and Lydia’s giggles over his refusal to accept hers.
She was happy that her mother seemed content for the moment to watch and wait and hope that matters might yet be arranged to her satisfaction, but it was with no small measure of relief that she greeted the Netherfield party when they visited the next afternoon.
It was only Mr Bingley, his younger sister, and his friend, which suited everyone admirably.
Mr Bingley had been meant to go to London for a few days after the ball, but had pushed his appointments back by a week, the better to bask in his newly-formed engagement.
The delay also gave him the opportunity to write to his solicitor and request that a draft of the marriage settlements be made up before his arrival.
Miss Bingley was soon drawn into discussion of a proposed tour of Netherfield for Jane, which left Elizabeth and Mr Darcy to each other’s sole company, her younger sisters having little interest in the visitors.
Knowing each other’s tastes in literature and theatre quite well by now, they spoke of likes and dislikes in more commonplace areas such as food and drink and how to pass a rainy Sunday afternoon.
They had become quite animated on the subject of whether French sauces ought to be served with plain English fare when they were interrupted by the emphatic clearing of a throat and looked up to find Mr Collins frowning down upon them.
“Come, Cousin Elizabeth, it is not seemly that you should occupy so much of Mr Darcy’s time. His betrothed and her mother, his noble aunt, would surely not approve.” He simpered and bowed to Mr Darcy as he referenced Lady Catherine.
“I am not engaged to my cousin, sir, and nor will I ever be,” Darcy stated authoritatively.
The clergyman’s mouth flopped open in shock, his eyes bulging. “But Lady Catherine has told me I should conduct the ceremony myself in the coming months!”
“And I assure you that she told her last clergyman the same thing for several years before he fled to a more pleasant living. I tell you truly, my cousin and I are not engaged. She does not wish it any more than I do. My aunt claims my mother agreed to the arrangement, and perhaps she did, but only my father had the power to bind me to a betrothal before I reached my majority and he elected not to do so. Now, no one can compel me.”
Mr Collins frowned. “I feel called upon in my duty as a clergyman to urge you to honour your elders and, in the absence of your parents, obey your aunt. She is older and wiser than you and surely knows best what will constitute your good.” He turned his frown upon Elizabeth.
“Now, Cousin, attend me. Mr Darcy ought to reflect upon his disobedience, and there is much I wish to tell you about your future home.”
“Mr Collins,” she said sharply, “I am no more engaged than Mr Darcy is. I have no future home at present.”
“And I would prefer to continue the conversation you interrupted,” Darcy added.
He turned his gaze to Elizabeth and said, “I do agree that a sauce espagnole is quite acceptable with a beef roast, but I shall always prefer a good, thick English gravy, particularly if the cook is generous with the rosemary.”
“Cousin Elizabeth, that is quite enough.” Mr Collins was clearly angry, and in his looks lurked suspicion, also.
“I have been willing to indulge your pretence of disinterest, knowing that the anticipation would make the reward all the sweeter, but you have gone beyond a game of flirtation with this behaviour. If you do not come away from Mr Darcy this moment, I shall withdraw my attentions.”
“Please do,” she replied frankly. “I made my disinterest perfectly clear yesterday, and I have not wavered in my resolve. The notion of games was all yours, sir; I have never been aught but honest in my dealings with you.”
He grew alarmingly red in the face, his gaze moving from her to Darcy and back again.
Elizabeth braced herself for some explosion of temper, but what came instead was a declaration, hissed through gritted teeth.
“I see what is happening here. You have set your sights on a bigger prize. Well, your ambitions shall never be gratified, Cousin Elizabeth, and when Longbourn is mine, there will be no place for you here. I know how I must act.” With that, he spun upon his heel and stalked from the room, every eye following him as all conversation died in his wake.
“Lizzy!” cried Mrs Bennet when he was gone. “What have you done?”
She blushed to have this aired before their visitors, who could not know of the previous day’s contretemps.
She could not in that moment have looked within six feet of Mr Darcy after such a display by her cousin and now her mother’s outcry.
What must he think of her, with such relations to her name?
“I have at last convinced him that his pursuit of my hand is in vain,” she replied.
Foolish as the man was, she would not humiliate him by publishing the fact that he had actually made her an offer; let those outside the family think that she had simply put a stop to his attentions.
“Oh, you foolish girl!” Mrs Bennet hurried after him, leaving Elizabeth blushing even more violently as her youngest sisters burst into raucous laughter and everyone else seemed at a loss as to what to say or do. Mr Bingley’s cheerful voice broke the awkward silence.
“Now that it is decided that my dear Jane will tour the house in two days’ time, perhaps it would be best if we returned there to begin ensuring that all is in order.”
“Indeed, Charles, there is much I wish to look over,” Miss Bingley agreed with more haste than aplomb, casting a sympathetic look at Elizabeth.
The Bingleys and Mr Darcy were gone in a trice.
It was a fortunate thing, for no one thought their presence would have halted or even tempered the furious lecture Mrs Bennet soon appeared to deliver to her second daughter.
Mr Collins, it seemed, was packing his trunk, and intended to be away on the morning post. Mrs Bennet decried the loss of Longbourn as though she were already a widow.
This, Elizabeth bore with more absence of mind than patience, for her thoughts were taking more hopeful paths.
As the Netherfield party were saying their farewells, Mr Darcy had taken her hand and bowed over it, and unbeknownst to any but her, had squeezed her fingers in sympathy or consolation.
Her mother’s words washed over her as she recalled his earnest, concerned expression as he rose from his bow, and she wished that she might have been granted the press of his hand for more than that one brief moment.