Chapter 8 #4
“Oh.” I sat back a little in alarm. “Then perhaps it would be better to read aloud.”
“I…I wish to speak to you of…of business, sir.”
“Business?” Her father had been in business before his elevation. Perhaps she wished to speak of that. I said as much, and added, “But I’m afraid I know nothing of business, Miss Lucas. I am a clergyman, as you know.”
“Even a clergyman must look to his interests though, must he not, Mr Collins? To ensure his lands are well managed and his parishioners give him the tithes which are due to him and so on.”
“That is so.” I was beginning to feel as I felt when talking to Mr Bennet. If she went on in this manner, I should make my excuses and join Sir William and Mr Bennet at their port and I scarcely wished to do that. I shifted in my seat. Only one more day to get through and I could go home.
“Mr Collins.” Her voice was very low and I had to bend to hear.
“This is the business I wish to discuss: You, I think, are in want of a wife, and…and I am in want of a husband, and I wish you to know that were you to honour me with a proposal, I should not say no and indeed should think myself the most fortunate person in Hertfordshire.”
I would have sprung to my feet but the only thing that would move was my eyebrows, which I felt were somewhere near my hairline.
Lady Lucas, perhaps sensing that I had received some kind of shock, said, “Are you quite well there, sir? Is the fire spitting?”
“No, no,” I said. “I am quite well, thank you, Lady Lucas. It is an excellent fire.”
“Good, good. I am much relieved.” She turned back to her conversation with Mrs Bennet.
Miss Lucas was staring into the flames, her eyes overbright and her colour very high.
Trafford was waiting in the wings and I drew myself up and rehearsed his line about begging her pardon but thinking I now had nothing more to say to her.
Then I should withdraw—to the gentlemen and the port, or to Longbourn, which was not far from Lucas Hall.
“I…I…” I managed, and then fell silent. For while what she had said was beyond the bounds of decency, the part about my being in want of a wife was also, regrettably, true.
“I…I am not sure I want a wife after all,” I said. It was both true and untrue.
Her colour grew higher, but she spoke very calmly and with dignity. “I know I am not handsome and have no dowry.”
“Oh, no. Truly it is nothing to do with your appearance. Or your situation.”
“You are kind, sir, but all the same it is the truth.” She took a deep breath and went on in a determined tone.
“I am seven-and-twenty and I would not stay here to be a burden and an embarrassment to my family if I can help it. In return, I will be the most dutiful wife for which a man could ask. I will put your happiness first in everything. I will visit the sick and the poor and the dying and so assist you in your duties in a manner befitting the wife of a rector. I will teach the children of the farm labourers to read their Bibles. If you want no change to your household, then there shall be none. I shall discharge the duties you give me, and take on none that you do not. I will not bother you or fuss, but will take what is offered to me and count myself fortunate.”
I frowned, for she had in a few short sentences, described almost exactly what I wanted in a wife. “You would grow discontented, I think.”
“I would not, sir.” She spoke with such calm that I was almost persuaded. “I would remain ever grateful to you, as you remain grateful to your patroness.”
I shifted. “I would not want you to live in fear.”
She glanced my way. “Oh. I see. Of course.” To my great relief, she turned back to the fire.
“I would not live in fear, sir. You may be many things, but you are not a tyrant. Indeed, I think you try always to be kind. Your coming to Longbourn was motivated by kindness, was it not? So, if I wished to follow some course of action, I would consult you, and if you had objections, you would explain them to me, honestly, and then I should understand and should not do anything to put your security and happiness at risk.”
“Or the security and happiness of my household,” I added, because that, really, was the greater consideration.
“Of course.” She glanced at me again, this time with a look that I saw more usually in persons from the lower orders. I might have been confused by it, but she went on, “Your care for your household elevates you, sir, and I respect you the more for it.”
A glow that was not from the fire warmed my cheeks. A few months ago, I would have proposed to her that instant, in gratitude for her kind words. But these days I was not quite so unaccustomed to praise or affection, having heard such sentiments quite recently from Jem.
“Your suggestion has come as a shock, Miss Lucas.”
She smiled, ruefully. “So I understand, but I hope you will not dismiss it out of hand.” She glanced at me again, and added, more timidly, “You do not appear to be dismissing it.”
“I do not wish to give you false hope, Miss Lucas, but I am not dismissing it immediately.”
“Thank you, sir. You are very good to consider it.”
“Miss Lucas, you may as well know that I am looking for a wife because Lady Catherine has indicated in the strongest terms that she wishes me to do so.”
My words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. It was as if her candid and open manner, albeit shocking, had called to my own natural tendency to honesty. She did not fail me, but met me at once.
“But it is not something you want for yourself.” Her manner was matter of fact and she did not sound surprised.
“It was not my idea,” I allowed.
“You are not like most other men, are you, Mr Collins?”
A cold thread of fear ran up my back. I had gone too far, allowed her to see too much of me.
“No, you’re mistaken,” I said, censoriously. “I am very like them. After all, many men are not much fond of the company of females and many men never marry.”
“You are quite right, sir. I beg your pardon. And if we were to marry, I would understand if we did not spend much time together.” She paused, then said in a voice so low I barely heard, “Indeed, if we lived together more as brother and sister than husband and wife, I would accept that without question.”
She fell silent, which was a relief, for she had given me much to think about.
Almost everything she had said was improper, and I could not bring a woman so heedless of the bounds of propriety into my household.
One could not tell what such a person might take it into her head to do.
She had said that, if we married, she would ask me before following any course of action, but how could I know she would hold to that?
It was true she did not strike me as a flighty kind of female, but I had known her less than a fortnight and was not disposed to trust her on such a short acquaintance.
However, from the outside, and setting apart the scandalous behaviour of this evening, she was quite respectable.
She was generally polite and sensible. She was capable and of an acceptable age.
Her father was decent and amiable and could be introduced to Lady Catherine without concern.
Miss Lucas was, in short, almost exactly the kind of woman Lady Catherine would find suitable.
“Do you play quadrille?” I asked.
She looked a little startled, but answered calmly, “Yes, sir. I used to play with my grandmother.”
So that was a mark in her favour. I tried to think of more questions that would be pertinent to the topic, but what she had said about living together as brother and sister kept ringing in my ears.
But why was I even attempting to question her?
The very fact she should make such scandalous offers meant I could never accept them.
I should do as Trafford would, and withdraw at once.
Yet I did not, but continued sitting there beside her, while the flames danced and the wind outside brought a rattle of rain against the windows and my heart pounded with the possibility she had set before me, and what it might mean, for me, and for Jem.