Chapter 12
A GENTLEMANLY CONSPIRACY
The people of Meryton and its surrounding estates were in high spirits as they gathered in Mrs Goulding’s drawing room at Haye-Park.
It was not so loud as the gathering at Denby Hall—that had been akin to the lobby of the theatre at Covent Garden before the opening of the Season’s most anticipated spectacle—but it was more than Darcy could easily bear.
He forced himself to move about the room, greeting several of the gentlemen he knew, and wished that Mr Bennet had attended.
They might have found a quieter corner and spoken of books.
He looked about for someone standing alone, or a very small group he might join.
Bingley was, as usual, speaking with Miss Bennet on the edges of a larger conversation.
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were ostentatiously confining themselves to each other’s company near the refreshments, and though he knew he would be exceedingly welcome to enter into their talk, he could not think of much that he would enjoy less.
Miss Elizabeth, too, was part of a group too large for his liking, speaking with Miss Lucas and her brother, the Miss Longs, and her ridiculous cousin the clergyman.
That fellow had intercepted him and Fitzwilliam the moment they entered and regaled them with praises of Lady Catherine and Anne de Bourgh for a full ten minutes, though Fitzwilliam, far less the focus of the man’s attention than Darcy was, had effected an escape after five.
Collins would no doubt have blathered on for even longer had Darcy not taken advantage of a brief pause for breath to excuse himself to greet his acquaintances before they thought him rude.
He departed with the clergyman’s praises for his attentiveness, so like his noble aunt’s, ringing in his aching ears.
He spied his cousin sitting near the fireplace with only the admiral as a conversation partner, and pointed his steps in their direction.
Fitzwilliam spent a great deal of time with the older man, calling upon him as much as thrice each week.
Twice, Darcy had accompanied him, most recently the previous day when he had joined his cousin to speak with Colonel Forster.
They had assured the militia regiment’s commander that proof of Wickham’s debts would arrive shortly, and received in return word that though Wickham had, as yet, done nothing he might be censured for, he would be watched more closely henceforth.
With this, they must be satisfied until Darcy’s evidence could be presented.
Darcy would have wished that Colonel Forster might act more fully on the information of two respectable men, but neither could he blame the man for exercising caution when he need only wait a few days to remove all possibility of doubt.
Afterwards, they had visited the admiral for an hour before making their return to Netherfield.
The old sailor’s manners were unrefined, and his education more attuned to astronomy and strategy than to literature, but his mind was keen and his disposition warm.
He and Fitzwilliam did enjoy recounting their battle stories, which could be rather too gruesome for Darcy’s comfort, but they would not speak of such things in a crowded room.
He greeted the admiral and availed himself of the empty seat on his other side.
“Kirkland was just asking me if Bingley is serious in his intentions towards Miss Bennet,” Fitzwilliam informed him, “and I was about to reply that while he has made no decisions of which I am aware, I have never known him to be so focused in his attentions, nor so little playful in them. When I have seen him enamoured of a lady previously, there was only banter and flirtation in it, but he speaks with Miss Bennet of serious subjects. Would you agree with my assessment, Cousin, with your greater knowledge of him?”
Darcy considered this and nodded slowly.
Fitzwilliam would not disclose what Bingley himself had said of his intentions, and neither would he.
“Cautiously, I do agree. I have not been privy to very many conversations between the two, but he did mention the other day that they had spoken of what an estate owes to its tenants, which is not a subject I should ever have imagined him canvassing during a call or at a party with anyone at all. I also do not recall his exclusive attentions lasting a month complete before.”
“I am delighted to hear it,” Admiral Kirkland replied. “Few deserve happiness as much as Miss Jane Bennet, and she is so taken with him, I have feared he might break her heart. In that case, I should be obliged to set out after him with my old sabre. Probably do myself an injury, ha, ha!”
“Is she? Taken with him?” Darcy felt compelled to ask. “I see she accepts his company with pleasure, but I detect no more in her demeanour.”
Fitzwilliam scoffed. “That is because you do not understand ladies in the slightest, Cousin. She is a modest and restrained lady, not the sort to make a display of her feelings. But they are there to be seen in the way she leans towards him as he speaks, and her failure to attend to those about her when he is of their number.”
“And he is just as inattentive, which bodes very well, I should say,” the admiral replied. “Though one might wish he would come to the point more expeditiously. Miss Bennet’s engagement, were it to happen very soon, might forestall the tragedy I fear lies ahead for her sister.”
“Why, whatever do you mean, Kirkland?” Fitzwilliam enquired with a startled air.
“Miss Elizabeth and that bumbling cousin of her father’s.
From what I observed at her aunt’s entertainment and tonight, Mr Collins has come to Longbourn with matrimony in mind, and as Miss Bennet is being courted, he has settled upon the next in precedence.
With, I have no doubt whatsoever, Mrs Bennet’s encouragement, perhaps even under her direction.
Observe them for a time, and you will see. ”
Darcy did so. Mr Collins was standing very close to Miss Elizabeth, his eyes almost exclusively fixed upon her, and from her place among a group of matrons, Mrs Bennet’s gaze fell upon them very frequently, her expression one of smug satisfaction.
He grimaced as the truth of the admiral’s assertions was revealed.
Collins was most decidedly attempting to court Miss Elizabeth, with her mother’s approval.
The young lady herself did not appear pleased, though she bore him with patience.
“By God, you are right.” Fitzwilliam broke the silence that had descended between them. He shook his head and added, “I cannot imagine she would accept him, however.”
“She may not have a choice,” the admiral answered heavily. “He is heir to Longbourn, and she will not reach her majority until the summer.”
“A tragedy indeed,” Fitzwilliam said. Darcy could only nod his agreement. “Do you believe her father will insist?”
“I cannot say. In any other case, I should not hesitate to declare that he would allow any daughter of his her own head, but in this case, he must think of his wife and other daughters, must he not? What he might conclude after thinking of them, only he knows.”
Darcy finally found his tongue. “She would be miserable with such a man.”
“And he would be miserable, too, for my aunt will not care to have her clergyman install a lady so much her own daughter’s superior in all but breeding into the local society,” Fitzwilliam opined. “She will ensure the couple feels his error keenly.”
The admiral said something in reply, and the conversation continued between the two military men, but Darcy heard nothing of it. He was engaged in contemplating the awkward, one-sided courtship playing out before him.
Darcy learnt a great deal from a quarter hour’s observation.
He noted the expression of satisfaction which overspread Mr Collins’s features as he gazed upon Miss Elizabeth, and deduced that the man felt his petition could not but be successful when he made it.
He saw also the relief which flickered across Miss Elizabeth’s face when her sister, Miss Mary, approached and spoke to the man, showing him something within a book she held.
They bent over the volume for several minutes, having what seemed to be a serious discussion, while Miss Elizabeth entered into the larger conversation in visibly higher spirits, which dampened again when the clergyman returned to her side and began to speak at length.
“What is it you are contemplating so seriously there, Cousin?”
As Darcy looked to Fitzwilliam, the colonel directed his own gaze in the direction whence Darcy’s had been pointed.
“Ah, I see,” he said. “It will be a very great pity if that union does come to pass. Nearly as great a waste of a good woman on an unworthy man as the Princess of Wales. And we shall bear witness to its consequences annually, when we visit Lady Catherine.”
“It occurs to me,” Darcy said in a voice pitched for his two companions alone, “that it might be possible to prevent it.”
“I am all ears,” the admiral replied.
“Likewise,” said Fitzwilliam.
“It is as you said, Cousin—Lady Catherine shall not be pleased with a pretty, witty Mrs Collins. It is also apparent that Mr Collins has not recognised the danger to his happy congress with Rosings Park. Would it not be a kindness if one of the lady’s own nephews were to inform him that he is about to make a grave misstep? ”
The admiral’s craggy face split into a grin, and Fitzwilliam positively cackled. “Clever, Darcy, very clever. You ought to approach him soon—he strikes me as silly enough to propose to a woman he has known for only a week.”
“Me?” Darcy protested. “I had thought you ought to take those reins, Cousin. You are by far the more personable of us.”
“But Mr Collins was a great deal more interested in speaking with you than with me,” he pointed out.
“No doubt Lady Catherine has made clear the fact that you are first among her nephews in her esteem. He will listen most readily to you, I think, though I am perfectly willing to support you if I am present for the conversation.”
“I should prefer it if you were,” Darcy replied, uncomfortable with the very notion of taking the lead in the enterprise, though it had been his own idea.
“There is a little time before dinner. Let us think upon what might best be said, for I do believe that there might be an opportunity to fire your broadside after the ladies have retired from the table,” the admiral suggested.