Chapter Fourteen The Prophecy #5
The bowl struck one restrained note against a button of his coat.
Miss Bingley withdrew her hand from Miss Elizabeth. “If that object attends the wedding, I shall remain at Netherfield.”
The renewed discussion of the wedding inspired Mrs Bennet to start considering dates, gowns, settlements, and the number of carriages required to transport her relations to Derbyshire.
She had reached the question of whether Miss Elizabeth ought to purchase a new wardrobe before Mr Collins emerged from the edge of the gathering with Miss Lucas.
He had recovered enough colour, though his borrowed shirt sat too high at the collar and his cuffs were hidden within his sleeves. Miss Lucas kept one hand on his arm, not restraining him, but giving support which he no longer pretended not to need.
“Mr Bennet. Sir William.” Collins waited until his host turned to him. “In view of the happy intelligence which has just been communicated, I hope the present moment will not be considered unsuitable for another announcement of a matrimonial nature.”
Mrs Bennet ceased estimating the cost of lace. Sir William lifted two bushy eyebrows to his hairline.
Mr Bennet considered his cousin, then Miss Lucas. “I cannot imagine that this evening may become less suitable for anything.”
Collins drew himself upright. The familiar importance had begun to return to his manner, though it no longer seemed absurd after his victory over evil.
“Miss Lucas has condescended to accept my hand in marriage.”
Lady Lucas released a cry which competed with Mrs Bennet’s in volume, and lost by a fraction.
Sir William hurried to his daughter, while Mrs Bennet stared at Miss Lucas: the future mistress of Longbourn, the wife of Mr Collins, and the woman who had achieved both distinctions without consulting her.
Miss Lucas, after embracing her parents, met Miss Elizabeth’s startled gaze and smiled. “It is true. Mr Collins honoured me with an offer this evening, and I accepted him.”
Miss Elizabeth moved to her at once. Their embrace lasted longer than the congratulations around them, and Darcy saw relief mingle with her happiness.
Miss Lucas had chosen with her usual clear understanding, but the man was no longer the clergyman who had arrived at Longbourn praising chimney-pieces.
Courage had not cured his vanity, but it had given Miss Lucas a quality she could respect beneath it.
Lady Lucas embraced her daughter again, Collins, and Sir William in rapid succession. She spread her arms towards Mrs Bennet, who had recovered enough to offer congratulations, though her voice betrayed the calculations continuing behind it.
“My dear Lady Lucas, what excellent news Charlotte gave us. Longbourn will remain almost within the family, though of course Mr Bennet is in perfect health and there is no need for anyone to consider possession for many years.”
“Perhaps we might postpone my funeral until after the weddings,” Mr Bennet suggested. “The church may otherwise become crowded.”
Collins accepted congratulations from every side, bowing in every direction. At last, he approached Darcy and Miss Elizabeth. His eyes passed from their joined hands to the bowl, then returned to Darcy with solemn purpose.
“There remains one matter, Mr Darcy. As Miss Elizabeth’s cousin, a clergyman, and a gentleman who has acquired some familiarity with the circumstances surrounding this union, I believe it proper that I should officiate at your marriage.”
Miss Lucas turned to him. “Mr Collins, they may already have made arrangements.”
“They have been engaged for seven minutes, my dear.”
“Mrs Bennet has accomplished a great deal in seven minutes.”
Mrs Bennet confirmed this by saying that the ceremony must take place before Christmas.
Collins persisted. “I am aware that my connection to Lady Catherine may render my participation delicate, particularly when she learns that her nephew has contracted an engagement without consulting her. I am nevertheless prepared to withstand her displeasure in the performance of my clerical duty.”
Hurst came to stand at Darcy’s side. “Lady Catherine may provide a more dangerous encounter than the one you had this evening, Collins.”
“She does have some very forceful opinions,” Collins admitted. He drew a breath, steadied himself, and faced Darcy again. “It would be my honour to perform the ceremony.”
Darcy regarded the man who had sensed danger before any other mortal understood it, resisted compulsion, returned to Miss Elizabeth when commanded to flee and delivered a lawful sentence when Darcy could not.
Collins’s vanity might ensure that every guest heard of his role as officiating clergyman before morning, but the true service he had performed would remain secret from the world.
Darcy could give him this distinction without betraying it.
“Mr Collins.” Darcy offered him his hand. “I can think of no man I would sooner trust to marry us.”
Collins clasped it, astonishment briefly silencing him. The condition, however, did not last.
“I shall begin preparing the sermon tomorrow.”