Chapter 19
Elizabeth, tucked into the far corner of the Bennet carriage, waited as her parents and three of her sisters stepped out onto the walk that led to the front door of Longbourn.
A moment later, one of the footmen extended a gloved hand and she grasped it and descended to the pavement.
She took a moment to happily tilt her face toward the heavens.
After several cloudy days, the sun had finally prevailed to produce bright rays and blue skies, and while the air was cold, there was little wind.
Ordinarily, she would wish to walk Longbourn’s winding paths in such weather but given the events of the previous week, she wondered if she would ever feel safe enough to walk alone again.
That was yet another thing that Wickham had taken away from her, her sense of confidence, of security that her family’s home and land were safe.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
The Lord on High had indeed protected her.
“Lizzy?” Jane prompted in confusion, and Elizabeth realized the rest of the family had already taken their places in the dining room.
She hurried in and sat down at her accustomed place as the servants placed dishes on the table.
When the food was ready, Mr. Bennet, rather surprisingly, gestured for all to wait before they began eating and began praying aloud.
“Our Sovereign Lord, we thank you for this day of blessing. We thank you for this food before us. We thank you, this day, for our dear Jane’s engagement to an honorable man. In Christ’s Name, Amen.”
There was a flurry of soft amens, along with an accompanying squeal of delight from Mrs. Bennet at the reminder of Jane’s engagement, and then everyone began digging into the meal enthusiastically.
For a few minutes, all was silent except for chewing and swallowing, but when Mr. Collins had sated his hunger, he said coyly, “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, might I have the honor of soliciting a private audience with your daughter Mary after the meal?”
Elizabeth turned toward Mr. Collins in shock before turning to regard Mary, who had turned pink. Surely Mr. Collins did not intend to ask Mary for her hand in marriage? He had been hovering over Elizabeth for days, not that she would have accepted the man, not in a thousand years, but still…
Mrs. Bennet had recovered by now and cried out ecstatically, “Mary would be very happy to meet with you, Mr. Collins. She will have no objection at all!”
***
“Yes, Mr. Collins, I will be honored to marry you,” Mary Bennet said sedately.
It had taken a remarkably long time for the rector to come to the point, as he had awarded her the dubious pleasure of a long monologue in which the wishes of Lady Catherine, his own desire for happiness, and her family’s poverty jostled for attention, but at last he had actually spoken words that could be construed, if one looked for them, as a marriage offer.
Certainly the man was very sure of himself, but Mary realized, rather sadly, that he had every reason to be certain of her acceptance.
She was the plain third daughter of a country gentleman of little fortune, and while she was not certain Mr. Collins would prove an amiable husband, there was no viciousness in the man, and she would be married and mistress of her own establishment.
That was far more preferable than dwindling away as an old maid at Longbourn watching her prettier sisters find husbands.
Indeed, eventually she herself would be mistress of Longbourn, and that was a very pleasant thought indeed.
“My dear Mary, I cannot express my joy! Now, I must go to Mr. Bennet and ask for his permission and blessing, and then we must journey to Netherfield.”
“To Netherfield, Mr. Collins? Why?”
“I must tell Lady Catherine that I have obeyed her commands, that you will indeed be my bride!”
Mary Bennet managed to smile at this, though she felt a strange constriction in her chest. Lady Catherine would be a fatiguing and tiresome patroness, she feared.
Still, she would have her own home. She would not be plain, pathetic Miss Mary Bennet. She would be content.
***
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, and Mr. Collins,” Bingley’s butler intoned solemnly to the ladies and gentlemen occupying Netherfield’s drawing room.
Bingley leaped to his feet in surprised delight and rushed forward to greet his love. Jane, wearing an embarrassed smile, hurried into speech. “Charles, I apologize for coming without warning, but Mr. Collins was most eager to speak with Lady Catherine.”
“You are always welcome, Jane,” he said fondly and then glanced at a nearby maid to say, “Kindly bring us some tea?”
“Yes, sir,” the girl said, and flitted lightly into the hall.
Elizabeth looked around and was pleased to observe Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam sitting in the cluster of chairs farthest from the fire, well away from the other occupants of the room.
She was even more pleased when Lady Catherine stood up and imperiously ordered Mr. Collins and Mary to join her near the fire – not that she was overjoyed that Mary had accepted their cousin’s offer of marriage, but she was eager to speak to Mr. Darcy alone.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, rising to his feet and nodding his head in respect.
“Mr. Darcy,” she returned with a slight curtsey.
They gazed into one another’s eyes for a moment, and then Elizabeth shifted her attention to Darcy’s injured arm. “How are you feeling, sir?”
“I am very well, thank you, especially when I remember to avoid moving my arm. Mr. Jones assures me that I will recover fully. Please do sit down.”
“I am delighted to hear of your improved health, and thank you,” she responded as she took a seat next to Darcy, peeking uneasily at Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had something she needed to say to Mr. Darcy, but did not know how to courteously get rid of his military cousin.
“If you wish to speak of the inquest or anything associated with it, you may speak freely,” Darcy murmured. “My cousin guessed the truth about what truly happened.”
Elizabeth started and looked fearfully at Richard, who said hastily, though softly, “Do not be alarmed, Miss Elizabeth. I am one of Darcy’s closest friends, and we have spent a great deal of time together.
I could tell that he was avoiding something of import, and then Mr. Bingley spoke of your delight in long walks.
I assure you that no one else is aware of your involvement in this tragic affair. ”
The lady nodded and said quietly, though passionately, “Thank you for your reassurance, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I will speak freely, then. Mr. Darcy, you must promise me that if your own liberty and life are at stake, you will tell the truth about my involvement in this grievous affair.”
“I will make no promise of the kind,” Darcy responded immediately. “I have pledged my honor that I will keep your name out of it, Miss Elizabeth. I will not back down from that determination.”
Elizabeth’s comely features immediately twisted into a fearsome glare. She sat up straighter, leaned forward slightly, and said rigidly, “And I, Mr. Darcy, will not permit you to risk yourself foolishly for me.”
Darcy glared back and opened his mouth, only to close it as Richard, seated across from the twosome, chuckled aloud. The warring pair turned in unison to stare in surprise.
“I fail to see what could possibly be amusing,” Darcy said coldly.
“You are amusing, both of you,” the colonel responded with a grin, though his expression, when it settled on Elizabeth, was a respectful one.
“Miss Elizabeth, Darcy, before you settle this matter with a duel at twenty paces, might I suggest that you wait until the inquest is over to worry? It is quite certain that Wickham’s death will be ruled accidental. ”
“But if it does not?” the lady demanded.
“In the extremely unlikely event that Darcy is charged with murder, the judicial process will be moved to London. We are a powerful family, and I promise you that in the end, no great harm will come to my cousin.”
Elizabeth stared at the Colonel intently and then relaxed. That was sensible enough.
“Cousin Elizabeth!” Mr. Collins called from his place by the fire. “Come here so that I may introduce you to my esteemed patroness!”
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh and rose to her feet, curtseyed to both Darcy and Fitzwilliam, and glided smoothly to join her newly betrothed sister.
***
Lady Catherine de Bourgh listened patiently while her rector made the introductions between herself and the second Bennet daughter.
Since Mr. Collins was, of course, waxing at great length about the marvels of Rosings in general and the estate’s mistress in particular, it took some time, which allowed her to inspect Miss Elizabeth carefully.
It was pleasant, though not surprising, to realize that her advice to Mr. Collins concerning his choice of marriage partner was the correct one.
When Collins had finally stopped droning, Miss Elizabeth curtseyed politely and sat down across from Lady Catherine in a chair farther from the fire.
That too, was reasonable. As daughter of an earl, Lady Catherine deserved the chair closest to the heat.
Mr. Collins and Miss Mary, his new fiancée, were seated on a small settee across from her.
Miss Elizabeth could be cold, it mattered not.
“Miss Mary?” she said, inclining her head graciously toward the girl.
“Yes, Lady Catherine?” the young lady returned timidly.
“You are not as handsome as your elder sisters.”
Mary flushed miserably at this and Elizabeth, with daggers in her eyes, prepared to speak when Lady Catherine continued, “That is a good thing. I do not believe it wise for a clergyman to have an exceptionally handsome wife. You are not a plain girl, mind you. Mr. Collins is fortunate to win you. But a truly lovely rector’s wife would cause trouble in the parish.
Yes, you are a perfect choice for Hunsford. ”
Mary gaped briefly before recovering sufficiently to say, with a shy smile, “Thank you, Lady Catherine. I am both honored and overjoyed to be found as a suitable wife for Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth found herself in the midst of a confusing maelstrom of amusement, amazement, and understanding.
There was real joy on her younger sister’s face, and she realized that Mary was truly looking forward to marrying the foolish rector.
Elizabeth did not understand, but she had better not say anything that would suggest to Lady Catherine or Mr. Collins that her younger sister was not fit for the role of Mrs. Collins.
The door opened, servants entered with tea and cakes, and the conversation turned to food and drink.
Elizabeth sat back in her chair, sipped her tea, and tried to relax.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was correct – Mr. Darcy was a well-connected man, and Wickham’s perfidious character was no longer a secret.
Nonetheless, she would pray fervently that all would be well at the inquest on the morrow.