Chapter 8 #2
“My dear Miss Bennet,” Mr Collins interrupted, solemnly shaking his head, “delay in matters of such consequence is rarely wise. I have already reflected most carefully upon the subject.”
“And I have not reflected upon it at all,” Elizabeth said. “As you never troubled yourself to ask whether I wished to marry you.”
“You mistake me entirely. Your happiness has been my foremost consideration from the beginning.”
Elizabeth almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but the sound died before it reached her lips.
Mrs Bennet, however, seemed only increasingly determined. “You will marry him, Lizzy,” she said sharply. “And very thankful you ought to be for the opportunity.”
Mrs Bennet’s declaration was followed by a silence that seemed to press upon the whole room.
Elizabeth looked at her mother steadily, scarcely recognising the expression she found there. It was not merely determination. There was fear beneath it, sharpened by weeks of strain and uncertainty into something hard and immovable.
“You cannot mean to force me into marriage,” Elizabeth said at last.
“Force you?” Mrs Bennet repeated. “What absurd language! I am trying to save you.”
“By giving me to a man I do not love?”
“My dear Lizzy, love has very little to do with it.” Mrs Bennet rose and began pacing in visible agitation.
“You speak as if you are some great heiress with the luxury of refusing excellent offers. Your father is gone, the estate is entailed, and every day he remains absent leaves us in a more dreadful situation.”
“He is not dead.”
“I did not say he was dead!” Mrs Bennet cried, though her voice wavered slightly. “But what are we to do if he does not return soon? What is to become of us?”
Elizabeth’s anger faltered at the genuine distress beneath the words. But before she could answer, Mr Collins stepped forward again with solemn satisfaction.
“You see, Miss Elizabeth, the very natural anxiety of your excellent mother. Nothing could make me happier than relieving it.”
“But I will not be relieved by such a solution as you suggest.”
“You cannot suppose,” he continued earnestly, “that I would ever seek to make you unhappy. My intentions are entirely honourable.”
Elizabeth drew a breath, fighting for composure. “Then honour them by listening to me.”
Mr Collins blinked as if genuinely puzzled. “I am listening.”
“No, sir, you are waiting for me to stop speaking.”
Mr Collins looked mildly perplexed. “You are unusually lively this evening,” he said. “Your wit is always striking, cousin, but perhaps at present it carries you somewhat away.”
Elizabeth turned from him before she said something irretrievable. “Mama,” she said instead, “surely you understand that Papa would never permit such haste.”
Mrs Bennet stopped pacing. “Your father is not here.”
The words were flat, grim, and hard, stealing away Elizabeth’s breath. For a moment, no one spoke.
Mrs Bennet seemed aware she had said too much, but pride pushed her onward. “If your father chooses to disappear for months together without explanation, then somebody must think of the future. Somebody must act with sense.”
Elizabeth felt the sharp sting of it. Fear, resentment, and exhaustion all tangled together beneath the surface of her mother’s voice. But none of it changed the horror of what was happening. “I will not marry him,” Elizabeth said.
Mr Collins smiled again, patient as ever. “At present, you imagine so.”
Elizabeth looked at him in disbelief. “Sir, if I stood before the altar itself, I could not speak the vows honestly.”
That gave him a brief pause. “You underestimate your own good feeling,” he said at last. “Affection often follows naturally where esteem and propriety lead the way.”
“I esteem you so little that the experiment seems dangerous.”
“Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet said reproachfully.
But Mr Collins only laughed with awkward approval. “There is such spirit in you,” he declared. “I always admire a playful temper in a lady.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. Nothing reached him. Nothing at all.
Then another thought struck her, and with it came the first small flicker of hope.
The banns.
Even if her mother behaved irrationally, even if Mr Collins refused to listen, there would still be time. The banns must be read publicly. Questions would be asked. Someone, some rational clergyman somewhere, would surely object when she plainly refused consent.
The realisation steadied her enough to breathe again. She opened her eyes. “You may discuss the matter as you please,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. “We speak, of course, of a wedding that could not take place for at least a month.”
Mrs Bennet frowned. “Whatever do you mean, Lizzy? Why could it not?”
“Because the banns must be read.”
Mr Collins and Mrs Bennet exchanged a glance. As she watched them smile at each other, Elizabeth grew genuinely afraid.
Mr Collins’s expression brightened. “My dear cousin, you relieve me exceedingly by speaking so reasonably. I had feared your spirits might continue unnecessarily distressed.”
Elizabeth looked at him warily. “What do you mean?”
“There will, naturally, be no occasion for delay.”
A strange stillness settled over her. “I have just explained that there must.”
“My dear Miss Elizabeth,” he said, smiling with renewed patience, “you speak only of the banns. Happily, there are other methods available to persons desirous of avoiding unnecessary delay.”
Dread settled low in Elizabeth’s stomach.
Jane spoke before she could. “Surely,” she said carefully, “you do not intend to purchase a license? Would that not be a most unnecessary expense in a case where there is no cause for haste?”
Mr Collins gave a modest cough. “You need not fear, my dear Cousin Jane — or as I may soon say, my dear Sister Jane,” he said, with visible satisfaction.
“A man so fortunately situated as to be under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh can readily bear the expense, and I see no impropriety in obtaining a common license.”
Mrs Bennet clasped her hands together. “A license! There, Lizzy! Is that not excellent? We shall have everything settled directly.”
Elizabeth stared at them both. “You cannot be serious.”
“Indeed, we are,” Mrs Bennet replied. “It is vastly better this way. Why should we wait weeks for banns to be read all over the county while every neighbour gossips about it?”
“Because I do not intend to marry him.”
Mr Collins gave a small, indulgent laugh. “You continue charmingly determined.”
Elizabeth turned sharply toward Jane, almost expecting her sister to stop the entire proceeding by sheer force of reason.
Jane rallied as best she could. “Mr Collins,” she said, “perhaps this has advanced too quickly. Lizzy is clearly distressed.”
“I should be deeply concerned if she were indifferent,” he replied warmly. “Strong feeling does her credit.”
Elizabeth found it difficult to breathe. The banns had been her last certainty. Foolish as the situation was, she had believed there would still be time. Time for reasoning or for refusal. Time for someone sensible to intervene.
But a common license required no waiting. No public objections. No opportunity to appeal to another clergyman. Nothing except signatures and ceremony. And her father was still gone.
That thought struck her with renewed force.
If he had been home, none of this could have happened. Her father would have laughed Collins out of the room within five minutes. The absurdity of it would have ended before it truly began.
But he was not here. And no one else would save her.
Mrs Bennet had already decided her future. Mr Collins had mistaken persistence for devotion. Even Jane, alarmed as she was, could not stop them.
Elizabeth looked from one face to another and understood, with growing clarity, that every appeal she made would be treated as feminine nerves, temporary agitation, or playful resistance.
No one was listening.
All at once, a terrible calm replaced her confusion. If no one intended to save her, she would have to save herself.