CHAPTER 26

The days that followed were infinitely more tranquil and a great deal more enjoyable. Parties were formed to explore the surrounding countryside, so that Elizabeth and Kitty could acquaint their friends with the place they had for so long called home. The weather was on their side, and on many a day a number of youthful, carefree people would leave Netherfield to walk, drive or ride to admire a new prospect or an old ruin, to stroll through the bustling market town, or indulge in a leisurely luncheon al fresco by the side of the river. Mrs Bingley would seldom join them, but her husband felt he should, at least on occasion. And then there were the visits to some of their neighbours, to see old friends and present invitations to the ball in person. Elizabeth enjoyed them to a degree although, at her particular insistence, Darcy did not escort her on those morning calls. She had no wish to have Mrs Bennet parade him to Mrs Phillips, Mrs Long and all the local matrons. As regards mortifying exhibitions, the one recently provided by Mr Collins patently sufficed.

Thankfully, they had seen no more of him, although Mary had come to call several times. To everyone’s satisfaction, a far more welcome cousin – Mr Darcy’s – returned to Netherfield instead.

The morning after the Colonel’s arrival, Elizabeth was quietly sipping her tea as she listened to the two gentlemen chatting companionably about everything and nothing. No one else was there yet, and after a while it came to her that the cousins would appreciate a few moments of privacy, as Colonel Fitzwilliam might have tidings of their relations, which Mr Darcy would rather hear in private.

With that in mind, she rose to say that she would leave them to their breakfast and stroll awhile through the walled gardens. The gentlemen looked up, equally conscious of her meaning. Predictably, protest followed, Darcy’s more forthright as he pointedly said, “There is no call for that, you know.”

She smiled.

“I know. But I shall go for a walk nevertheless,” she replied with an impish smile which both gentlemen found exceedingly becoming.

Elizabeth left the breakfast parlour with a spring in her step, only to be stopped briefly by a footman.

“This has just come for you, Ma’am,” he said, handing her a letter.

“Oh?”

Elizabeth cast a cursory glance at the rather thick piece of correspondence. It was addressed to her, but in an unfamiliar hand. She thanked the man and took it with her, unwilling to stop and read it in the hallway. She found a quiet spot near the gate into the walled gardens, sat down and opened her missive.

The reverse of the envelope bearing her name was written in full and from within, a number of pages fell. Elizabeth gathered them and turned her attention to the first. Strangely, it was addressed to Mr Collins, and thus began:

Dear Mr Collins,

The communication received from you today was most unsettling, although similar intelligence was already conveyed to me from other quarters…

Puzzled, Elizabeth looked for the signature. Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Understanding dawning, she turned to the envelope for confirmation. Scribbled on it was Mr Collins’ message:

Dear Miss Elizabeth, he wrote

Following the events on Thursday last, when my wife and I had the honour of dining at Netherfield, I have been consumed with doubt regarding my duty as the head of this family…

Elizabeth’s chest swelled with indignation. The insufferable presumption! The fact that he had inherited her father’s estate did not make him the head of her father’s family! She took a deep breath to calm herself, knowing full well that the missive would give her many more causes for vexation. She read on, only to discover she was right .

It was not long until my duty was revealed to me.

Although The Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh is my patroness no longer, and therefore cannot command me in this capacity, she will forever command my esteem and gratitude for the unstinting and constant attentions she had bestowed upon me while I had the honour to serve her. Thus, I cannot in good conscience stand aside while her ladyship and her amiable daughter are injured – and by a member of my family, no less!

I therefore beg leave to inform you that I have written to Rosings with the intelligence acquired Thursday last, and the response I had the honour of receiving confirmed my very worst fears. It showed beyond a shadow of a doubt that the distress caused by this hasty engagement is even greater than I anticipated.

Believe, Miss Elizabeth, that I fully understand your eagerness to enter into this engagement. Your noble suitor is after all blessed in a peculiar way with everything the heart of a mortal can desire. However, I urge you to consider that the gentleman’s family will never be reconciled to what her ladyship terms ‘so disgraceful a match’.

I hope you will overlook the impropriety of my forwarding my correspondence in this fashion. Indeed, in view of the gravity of the situation, I am persuaded that her ladyship herself would sanction it, so that you can be left in no doubt as to the strength of the opposition this alliance would encounter, and no longer labour under the misconception that the obstacles would be overcome.

Pray, Miss Elizabeth, read her ladyship’s letter and see for yourself that this match you aspire to can never take place. As the head of this family, I most strongly urge you to break this engagement and remove yourself from Mr Darcy’s path towards his duty.

I remain, Etc Etc

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand and laughed, despite her vexation.

‘Oh, Papa, you would have found this so diverting!’

Apparently, Mr Collins’ understanding was even more deficient than she thought. In view of everything she knew of the man, Elizabeth could not believe for a moment that he was animated by gratitude to his former patroness or any other noble sentiments of the kind. She did not doubt that, since her ladyship was the most exalted person of Mr Collins’ acquaintance, he still cherished hopes that he might use their former connection to his advantage, should he be able to keep himself in Lady Catherine’s good graces .

It was therefore a mystery how one so attuned to his own interest should have failed to grasp that he would be better served by having Darcy as a brother, rather than by courting her ladyship’s illusory favour. Not to mention his incredible assumption that any woman blessed with Mr Darcy’s preference could be worked upon with language such as this.

Elizabeth shook her head and put Mr Collins’ missive behind the pages she still held in her hand, with the same ease with which she put his exhortations at the back of her mind.

Mr Darcy’s aunt was a different matter and, although she knew that Lady Catherine de Bourgh held no more power over her than Mr Collins and his strictures, Elizabeth found she could not dismiss her as easily as her father’s foolish cousin.

With some discomfort, Elizabeth cast a glance at the sheets of elegant hot-pressed paper covered in a bold, old-fashioned hand. Her curiosity notwithstanding, she strongly doubted the wisdom of making herself party to Mr Collins’ impropriety by reading a letter addressed to another, particularly as in all likelihood no joy would be derived from it. Yet, despite herself, the lines caught her eye.

… and I have every expectation that my nephew will be brought to see reason. Lord Malvern has personally undertaken to work upon him and make him remember what he owes himself and all his family. I trust that despite that person’s arts and allurements, my nephew might have retained enough sense to remember his duty to his late mother’s memory, and recollect that his union to my daughter had been her dearest wish.

You have discharged your duties satisfactorily at Hunsford, Mr Collins, and upon the whole I am pleased with your efforts, but that does not make it any more acceptable that the son of Lady Anne of Pemberley should unite himself in matrimony with someone who cannot boast more exalted connections than a cotton manufacturer’s descendant and my own former parson!

Precisely as you have uniformly conducted yourself in a manner befitting a young man who knows his place, I trust you will assist your relation in getting to know hers. I rely on you, Mr Collins, to impress upon the young person that honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid her to accept my nephew’s suit. Aye, interest! For she cannot expect to be noticed by his family and friends, if she wilfully acts against the inclinations of all. She would be censured, slighted and despised by everyone connected with him. This alliance would be a disgrace. Her name would never be mentioned by any of us …

Abruptly, Elizabeth stood. She would read no more! She had expected an unsavoury response, in view of Mr Collins’ ominous warnings, as well as Darcy’s references to his maternal aunt who was neither easily gainsaid nor gracious in her disappointment, but nothing had prepared her for the violence of the language and of the sentiment behind it. She realigned the pages so that she could fold them and, to her surprise, she noticed that her hands were shaking.

She gave a startled, uncomfortable laugh. She was not going to be Missish about it… was she? She had been warned – more or less, she had been warned. Undoubtedly, this was only the beginning.

With steadier hands, she folded the sheets and returned them to her reticule, then walked back to the bench and sat.

She knew full well that it would not be pleasant. She would be despised as a fortune hunter of inferior birth and no connections, by some of them at least. Thankfully, not by those very close to Darcy, so hopefully he would be less pained by it. As for herself…

She smoothed her dress with a sigh. She could not pretend to be wholly unaffected by the virulence of the opposition, and the thought of future family gatherings where she would be met with cold disdain was not something to dwell upon. Yet she could weather their displeasure, were it not for her concern about how it would affect him .

Elizabeth raised her head with a huff of annoyance. Would they be allowed a modicum of peace, or would they be forever caught between the improprieties of her connections and the cold arrogance of his?

She stood again, in too much agitation to remain in one place for very long, and wrapped her arms around herself, against the chill of the morning and the chill of her thoughts.

Somehow, they would have to learn to live with this. Laugh at it, Darcy said, just a few days earlier. She could not laugh at it – not quite, not yet – and presumably he would not find the humorous side either. A sigh escaped her at the thought that she would have to share the morning’s tidings with him. She had no wish to pain him and ruin what might have been a lovely stroll, but he was bound to learn all the particulars sooner or later, and withholding the truth from him would only cause more pain .

The sound of footsteps on the gravel made her raise her eyes, and she saw him standing there, as though conjured by her thoughts. Despite her discomfort, her countenance lit up into a smile. Upon the whole, the wife of Mr Darcy could have no cause to repine.

Elizabeth advanced towards him, hand outstretched, only to find herself in his embrace instead, warm, safe and cherished – and closed her eyes against the world that made her feel less so. She gave a small contented sigh as his lips brushed against her brow, then sought hers in the first kiss in many days. All too soon, they reluctantly drew apart, remembering there were windows overlooking the walled garden as well.

“November,” Darcy muttered with a smile, and Elizabeth could not help chuckling in response.

They had finally settled upon a quiet ceremony to be held in Longbourn Church on the first day of November. There was a great deal to be done in preparation, and Mrs Bennet was in a fever of excitement, drawing plans, making notes and impatiently awaiting the arrival of Mr and Mrs Gardiner, so that they could consult about the family’s return to town after the ball, for purchases and fittings and every other thing that sent the good lady’s heart aflutter and filled her with eager anticipation of hours of delight.

“Did you enjoy your walk?” Darcy asked as he offered his arm.

It was an innocent question, but it made her start. No, she did not, and she had no wish to talk about it. And yet she would not lie.

“I did not go for a walk after all,” she owned.

“Did you not?”

She bit her lip and looked away, heartily tired of conversations that made her feel uncomfortable.

“Elizabeth? You seem unhappy. My love, whatever is the matter?”

“I am not unhappy, you must not think that. I am just… uneasy.”

“Uneasy? What about? Elizabeth, you must tell me,” he urged as he took her hand, and the concern and unmistakable love in his eyes persuaded her that her only course of action was honesty towards the man she loved. He was her life, her present and her future, and much as she wished to protect him, she would only injure him all the more if she concealed the truth from him. So, forcing her discomfort aside, she began, hoping to at least make it as painless as possible .

“I am concerned – not for my sake,” she hastily added, “to think of the distress your family’s opposition to our union will cause you.”

“Pray, what has brought this about?” he asked with some anxiety.

Elizabeth drew another long breath and plunged in:

“I have just received a note from Mr Collins, who has been communicating with your aunt. Her ladyship’s letter was forwarded to me and, as you have predicted, she is not best-pleased.”

His anger was suddenly more chilling than the morning air, and it unsettled her, even though she knew it was directed elsewhere. Her heart sank to see him turning abruptly from her, fists clenched at his sides – but, as though sensing that her distress was augmented by his actions, he returned and took her hands again. His voice was even when he spoke, but she knew better than to be deceived by the apparent calm in his countenance and manner.

“Would you allow me to see those letters, Elizabeth?” he said with great gentleness, but it sounded more like a request than a question. “Pray rest assured,” he added, “that I would never dream of asking, in any other circumstance.”

“I am— It will pain you. I would be inclined to let it rest.”

He drew a long breath and clasped her hands in his with renewed urgency.

“I cannot tell you how touched I am by your wish to shield me. But can you not see that I want to do the same? Will you not agree that my aunt is my responsibility, and much as I appreciate your concern, I cannot let you take this upon yourself?”

She was silent for a while, until he raised her chin, and their eyes locked.

“We are soon to become one, for better, for worse,” he said softly but earnestly, “and nothing should be allowed to come between us. Not even secrets kept with the best intentions.”

Strangely, this came so close to her private musings that she could no longer resist his request. She opened her reticule and handed him the folded letters. By that time they had reached a spot where another bench stood, and Elizabeth allowed herself to sink onto the cold stone and watch him pace back and forth as he read Mr Collins’ note, then Lady Catherine’s. She saw him clench his fist, a grim set to his jaw. He made a move to crumple the papers in his hand when he finished but, presumably remembering they were not his, he smoothed and folded them and came to sit beside her .

“Thank you,” he said, returning the pages, then covered her hands with his. “Elizabeth, pray look at me,” he urged. “You are not to be distressed by this. I beg you, this should not give you a moment’s concern.”

She glanced up, pained to see that although he entreated her to disregard the letter, he quite obviously could not.

“I am deeply sorry,” she offered.

“Sorry?” he exclaimed. “Elizabeth, ‘tis not for you to apologise. I should beg your forgiveness for not having prevented— For having you subjected to this— this—” Words failed him, and he drew another deep breath. “It will not happen again,” he added sternly. “At least that I can promise you.”

“It was not an apology. Not this time,” she said with a wistful smile, thinking of the many instances when she had found it necessary to apologise for her relations, and her heart went out to him, knowing all too well the discomfort he must be feeling. “I am just sorry to see you so distressed, and to know that as our families come together, you will have further reason for mortification, when—”

“I know what you are about to say, Elizabeth, and I beg you would not,” he interjected, all too conscious that they were but a few words from Farringdon, and that he could not bear. The mere thought that she could see justice in sentiments he had long since come to disown was beyond abhorrent. He would not permit Lady Catherine to make her doubt herself now, or him, or the happiness she had brought into his life. “We shall weather this, Elizabeth,” he said earnestly. “As long as we remember that it can injure us only if we allow it to.”

She looked up with a smile.

“That is very wise,” she said softly, suddenly feeling much better. “I rather wish I said it first,” she jestingly remarked a moment later, and he laughed as he brought her fingers to his lips.

Yet, under her very eyes, his countenance suddenly changed into a grim mask of displeasure, impossible to account for until she turned her head to follow his gaze – and saw Mr Collins hurrying towards them, with an odd gait that miraculously allowed for a sideways tilt and a half-bow.

“Sister,” he called, patently out of breath. “And Mr Darcy. Good morning to you, Sir. ”

Elizabeth arched a brow at the appellation, quite sure that by force of habit Mr Collins addressed her invariably as ‘Miss Elizabeth’ or ‘Cousin’ . She wondered if the claim to a closer kinship meant he had finally come to see where his interest lay.

She straightened her back and folded her hands in her lap, the twinkle in her eyes and the upturned corners of her lips belying the demure picture. Under any other circumstance she would have been mortified by his arrival, but now, all things considered, the moment held great promise of becoming exceedingly diverting.

Mr Collins eventually approached and remained before them, casting uncertain, swift glances from one to the other. He bowed, then bowed again. Belatedly, Darcy stood, half a head taller than the other man.

“Mr Collins,” he enunciated, with barely a nod. “We were not expecting you.”

The former pastor shuffled.

“Yes… hm. I must apologise for the abruptness— That is, er… I would not have intruded at such an early hour, were it not for a matter of… hm… extreme delicacy…”

He bowed again, while Darcy merely stood there in a patrician posture, one hand behind his back, his mien frozen. Elizabeth looked down and bit her lip to suppress a smile.

“Pray, continue,” Darcy said, his voice flat.

Mr Collins writhed.

“It was my cou— sister Elizabeth that I most urgently needed to speak to… if at all possible,” he ventured, “… as regards… hm… a family matter…”

No comment came from either of his listeners and, under Darcy’s steady gaze, Mr Collins became even more flustered. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to dab at his face and brow.

“A family matter,” Darcy repeated icily. “Which family would that be?”

Not even Mr Collins could miss the implication, and apparently he did not, because he winced. Darcy turned to Elizabeth, silently asking for permission, which was instantly granted with a nod, and he continued, his diction precise .

“If you came to inquire about your letter, Sir, aye, it was delivered this morning, and was not appreciated. Nor was your unwarranted interference.”

“It was a regrettable error,” Mr Collins quailed. “Indeed, most unfortunate— As my wife reminded me this morning, our sister’s welfare is our primary concern.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Apparently, she had given Mr Collins more credit than was due. It was Mary’s admonishment that had made him see the light. She shook her head with rueful amusement at his folly, but could not dismiss the sadness at the thought of her sister, forever bound to such a man. Mary had chosen with her eyes open, but that did not make her position any less pitiable.

It was indeed humbling to think that, of all the Bennet sisters, it was Mary, whom everyone ignored, who had sacrificed her chances of happiness out of duty to them all. Her life might have been so very different, had Mr Bingley proposed to Jane a little sooner. Then Mary might not have felt she had to secure their fortunes. Elizabeth almost shuddered, knowing she could not have made the sacrifice.

Quite naturally, her gaze drifted to the man before her – the one who made her life complete – and her countenance softened into a look of tenderness that, in the present circumstances, took him completely by surprise. The stern discourse mellowed, and Darcy merely said, “Mrs Collins’ sentiments do her credit.”

“They do indeed, Sir,” Mr Collins interjected with an ingratiating smile. “My wife is most tender-hearted and inordinately fond of Miss Elizabeth. I do not doubt that the sentiment is reciprocated for, my wife assures me, Miss Elizabeth is the kindest and most devoted soul. You have chosen well, Mr Darcy. And I flatter myself that, in view of the warm affection subsisting between the sisters, our connection will—”

“Miss Bennet, would you kindly excuse us for a moment?” Darcy suddenly asked with a rigid bow in Elizabeth’s direction, the man’s stupidity and impudence having by now pushed him well beyond the limits of his patience. “Mr Collins,” he added in a near-growl, “a private word with you, if you please .”

The simpering smile fading, the former pastor followed the angry strides with hurried steps until they were out of earshot, if not quite out of sight, when Darcy abruptly turned around.

“Mr Collins, in view of the warm affection subsisting between the sisters, as you put it, and moreover, in your position as a man of the cloth, you should consider yourself fortunate that I cannot call you out for the distress your underhanded actions have caused my future wife,” he said quietly, with deadly calm, and the other man paled. “You would do well to note, Sir, that I am not my aunt, and the same methods of currying favour will have very dissimilar results. All I require from our connection is that you cease to mortify your wife and, by extension, mine. Let yourself be guided by Mrs Collins’ tact and delicacy of manner, and I daresay our connection might progress on a much better footing than it has begun.”

From where she sat, Elizabeth could not hear what was said, but could see the visitor nodding abjectly and bowing progressively lower as Mr Darcy’s verbal lashing continued.

By the time her betrothed was quite finished and indicated it was time for Mr Collins to return whence he had come, the bows had become almost horizontal – and Elizabeth had to bury her face in a kerchief to hide her unseemly mirth from her cousin, ludicrously turned into an oversized ‘Jack in the box’ .