Elizabeth stood by the back door, struggling into her pelisse. I should take it to the front hallway; Mr. Darcy is enough of a gentleman that he would help me don it.
She was unsurprised when her mother appeared. “Well, Lizzy, you have been given quite an honor, though you scarcely deserve it.”
Saying nothing, Elizabeth continued to button her pelisse.
“A ride on Mr. Darcy’s phaeton is wasted on you!” her mother declared. “He cannot possibly have good intentions toward a woman with such a tarnished reputation.” Elizabeth hid her wince as she draped a shawl around her shoulders. “And you are practically betrothed.”
“I am not betrothed,” Elizabeth hissed.
Her mother waved away this objection. “You will see reason eventually. My point is, you would do better by this family if you gave up the ride with Mr. Darcy altogether. You could tell him you are suddenly indisposed and suggest that he take Lydia or Jane instead.” Mrs. Bennet smiled winningly, her hands folded across her stomach, as if this were the best solution for everyone involved.
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, “he does not wish to ride with Jane or Lydia. He asked me specifically.”
“You cannot be so selfish as to deny your sisters such an opportunity!” her mother cried.
Elizabeth sighed. Perhaps she was being a bad sister by not encouraging his interest in another Bennet daughter. But a ride in a phaeton sounded so lovely after being confined at home for so long. “Mr. Darcy has made the request. We might anger him if we do not honor it.”
“Well”—her mother pursed her lips —“I suppose there is no harm in satisfying his momentary whim. Perhaps he will take Lydia out afterward.”
Elizabeth did not voice her opinion that Lydia and Mr. Darcy would be a match made in hell.
“And you must take every opportunity to tell him how Jane is sought after by all the men in Hertfordshire.”
“I will only say nice words about Jane,” Elizabeth promised, knowing full well that Mr. Darcy had no desire to discuss the woman his best friend had been courting.
“Very well.” Her mother nodded as she talked herself into the scheme. “Do hurry, Lizzy! You do not want to make him wait.”
She pushed Elizabeth toward the front of the house, making her stumble and catch the wall for balance. However, as Elizabeth rushed toward the door, her mother’s words floated through her mind: he cannot possibly have good intentions toward a woman with such a tarnished reputation. What did Mr. Darcy want with her now that she was disgraced? And what would Elizabeth do if it was something improper? She could not shake the thought as she passed through Longbourn’s entrance out into the chilly air.
Mr. Darcy greeted her with a gentle smile that allayed some of her anxiety. But Elizabeth knew all too well the deceit a pleasant smile could hide; even now most inhabitants of Meryton found the viscount quite charming. Of course, Mr. Darcy had never taken the effort to make himself well-liked, by Elizabeth or anyone else in Meryton. It was actually an obscurely comforting thought.
Taking her hand, Mr. Darcy helped her onto the bench of the phaeton. It was not as high as some high-perch phaetons, but it certainly was the highest bench Elizabeth had ever occupied. The effect was slightly alarming; the ground was as far away as if she had climbed to the top of a tree, and the springs under the bench caused it to sway precariously with the slightest motion. One of the horses snorted, and the phaeton rolled forward an inch; Elizabeth grabbed her seat with some distress. On the whole, I would prefer a tree.
Mr. Darcy climbed up on the other side of the bench, which seemed far too small for two people. His hip brushed hers as he seated himself, and a blush warmed Elizabeth’s cheeks. He took the ribbons into his hands, and the horses leapt forward as if they had been waiting impatiently for the chance to run.
Elizabeth clutched her seat and prayed that her bonnet ribbons were tied securely. Wind whipped around her, brushing back the few curls that had escaped the bonnet. The February air was mild, but their speed created a breeze that chilled her face and reddened her cheeks.
Once Elizabeth had accustomed herself to the sensations, however, they were quite exhilarating. The familiar sights along the road raced past in a blur of brown and green. She never had traveled so quickly in her life. When the phaeton shot around a curve in the road, it almost felt like flying.
Elizabeth could not help it. A laugh bubbled up from inside and through her lips, provoking a sidelong glance and a half smile from her companion. Then he snapped the reins, urging the horses to even faster speeds, although it hardly seemed possible.
Elizabeth’s bonnet ribbons whipped around in the wind, and her clothing was plastered against her body. Still, she could not prevent another laugh. Who would have imagined a simple carriage ride could be so thrilling?
Incredibly, her reaction seemed to please Mr. Darcy. Even as he kept his eyes on the road, a smile crept over his lips.
Finally, he reined in the horses to a trot—albeit a far faster trot than Elizabeth was accustomed to. They were on the outskirts of Meryton. How had they arrived here so quickly? Mr. Darcy guided the horses onto Main Street, setting a brisk walking pace that would help them traverse the town without presenting a danger to the people in the street.
Upturned faces followed the phaeton’s progress, and hands pointed to it. Eyes widened as they recognized Elizabeth. They were causing quite a stir. No doubt many dinner tables that night would be dominated by conversation about “Mr. Darcy in the phaeton with Elizabeth Bennet.” At least for today, she would be known for something other than scandal; everyone would know that at least one person did not mind being seen with her.
Mr. Darcy appeared to be oblivious to the attention. Staring straight ahead, he focused on guiding the horses through the streets. However, his actions were not random, Elizabeth realized. The phaeton easily could have taken the road that led around—rather than through—Meryton, but Mr. Darcy wanted the good people of Meryton to notice her perched next to one of the wealthiest men Hertfordshire had ever seen. Why was he going to such trouble? It must be because he remembered his sister’s suffering; he wanted to diminish the effect of the scandal.
It was hard to fathom that this was the same man who had loudly declared her inability to tempt him.
They continued at this sedate pace until they were through the town. Then the phaeton’s pace increased, although it did not reach the previous speed. Elizabeth was surprised when Mr. Darcy pulled the phaeton up to a pathway she knew very well.
“You once recommended the walk to Oakham Mount as providing the best views in the neighborhood,” Mr. Darcy said. “I was hoping you would show it to me.”
“Indeed, it is very fine,” Elizabeth responded. Was this the reason for the entire trip? But surely he did not need a guide to Oakham Mount! The way was straight and easy. The man beside her, on the other hand, was complicated and mysterious.
Mr. Darcy climbed down from the high seat and crossed to her side of the vehicle. Elizabeth regarded him dubiously; the ground was very far away, and she saw no way to descend gracefully. Rather than offering her a hand, Mr. Darcy placed one hand on either side of her waist and swung her out of the seat.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. It was almost like soaring high on a swing, yet Mr. Darcy’s hands on her waist were unexpectedly pleasant. The pressure of his fingers was warm and firm through her dress, lingering for a moment even after she was on solid ground. How odd that she missed the warmth when he released her.
His eyes lingered on her face for a few moments, his expression inscrutable. A prickle of uneasiness crept down Elizabeth’s spine. What if Mr. Darcy’s motives were not honorable? He himself had pointed out how Lord Henry might scheme to take her virtue without marrying her. Had Mr. Darcy returned to Netherfield last night and decided Elizabeth’s disgrace might allow him improper liberties? Had his warning about the viscount been intended to disarm her?
He turned toward Oakham Mount and attacked the path with a determined stride, his long coat swinging behind him. She hurried after him, wishing that there were more people visiting the mount, but on this February morning they were completely alone.
He had defended her from Lord Henry, and he had been very careful with her when she had nearly fallen off the horse—and he was Mr. Bingley’s friend. He had done and said nothing to suggest he was untrustworthy. Thus reassured, Elizabeth lengthened her stride, determined to catch up to Mr. Darcy.
The day was not terribly chilly, more like an early autumn day than mid-February. The surrounding fields were fallow, and much of the grass was brown. The pine trees that lined both sides of the pathway were vibrant spots of green against the winter-gray fields. The sun bathed everything in a warm, golden glow.
Despite its name, Oakham Mount was more of a tall hill. But it was a vigorous walk, and Elizabeth was warm and breathing fast when she reached the top a few moments after Mr. Darcy.
He surveyed the view, which was particularly lovely on this clear, sunny day. “I can understand why you venture up here, Miss Elizabeth,” he exclaimed. “It presents a very fine picture.”
On the left, a cluster of roofs indicated the town of Meryton, a miniature doll village at this distance. Mr. Darcy’s eyes traced the route they had just followed. “Is that Longbourn, then?” he asked, pointing.
“Indeed!” she agreed. “It looks very small, does it not?” She shaded her eyes with one hand and pointed with the other. “If you look further down the road, there is a cluster of trees and perhaps a bit of a roof visible. That is Netherfield.”
“So it is.” Mr. Darcy nodded. He was quiet for another minute, taking in the expanse before them.
“Up here my troubles seem very insignificant. The world does not care about gossip or my reputation,” Elizabeth mused. “It is somewhat reassuring actually.”
When he finally turned his face to her, she expected an inquiry about whether she was ready to descend. Instead, he said, “You are quite significant to me.”
The somber expression on his face set her stomach churning with anxiety. Why had his mood suddenly turned so serious? “Elizabeth, there is another reason I requested your company today,” he said, taking one of her hands in his.
The sound of her unadorned name nearly sent her fleeing. Was he about to steal a kiss, like the viscount? Or worse? She held herself very still, wondering if she should run. Others might hold her virtue cheap, but she did not.
The look on his face was almost pained. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Now, when she needed to fly, her feet had sunk roots into the ground. Lord Henry also had claimed—in an off-handed way—to love her. And now…Mr. Darcy—who had seemed an ally, if not a friend, yesterday—had revealed himself to be another of the viscount’s ilk.
She needed to back away from him and find the path down the hill. She could walk home to Longbourn. If only her feet would move.
His expression had darkened as though the feelings he expressed were unpleasant even for him. “I have sought at every moment to find relief from these feelings that torment me, but to no avail.”
He…what? For a moment Elizabeth stopped considering how to escape.
He cleared his throat. “The situation of your family and the total want of propriety of some of your relatives stayed my tongue when I might have declared myself earlier—”
Elizabeth had been the recipient of two other offers of marriage, neither of which had been under the most romantic circumstances. Yet she was fairly certain that insulting the prospective bride’s family was not part of the accepted form.
He gazed earnestly into her eyes. “But we can have a small, quick wedding, and I will take you off to Pemberley—where we need not see your family so…frequently.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth, stifling an inappropriate laugh, equal parts amusement and relief. A man who sought only to take advantage of her virtue would flatter her to the heavens rather than criticize her family. How odd that Mr. Darcy’s lack of tact revealed his sincerity. It must be love.
She struggled to understand him in light of this revelation. Mr. Darcy loves me. He wants to marry me. No, it still did not make sense.
Mr. Darcy was still speaking. “If I had made you an offer at the Netherfield ball, you might have been spared the unpleasantness with Lord Henry.”
“Y-you considered proposing then?” Elizabeth asked. This could not be! Until yesterday she believed he violently disliked her. She had been as wrong in her assessment of his character as she had been about Lord Henry. Who else had she misjudged?
“Yes.” His lips pressed so tightly together that they turned white. “I have been berating myself for that failure ever since I learned of the viscount’s assault on your virtue.”
Elizabeth was still having difficulty believing his words. Mr. Darcy had been secretly in love with her the whole time? It was as if her father’s horse opened his mouth to speak perfect English.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked, his brows knit together in worry.
The question was so unexpected that it was almost absurd. “There is nothing to forgive, sir. You are not responsible for another man’s actions.”
“But I might have spared you that trial if I had spoken what was in my heart. Instead, I allowed my disgust over your family’s impropriety to blind me to what was important.” Hopefully the pinched expression on his face reflected his self-loathing and not his distaste for the Bennets.
Elizabeth clenched her teeth together lest she make a hasty and ill-considered remark. Her family had not been her best advocates recently, but they did not deserve such blanket condemnation.
He is paying me a great compliment, she reminded herself. Anger is not the appropriate response.
His hand clutched hers quite tightly. “So I must make amends now and do what I should have done months ago. Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He did not smile, but his eyes were wide with hope as he gazed at her.
A variety of emotions tangled together in Elizabeth’s mind as she listened to Mr. Darcy’s declaration, but her response had never been in doubt.
Her eyes dropped down to focus on their intertwined hands. “I-I thank you for the honor of your addresses, sir. I am very much aware of the compliment you have paid me. But I cannot accept your offer.”
Would he be crushed? Angry? She raised her eyes to his face. He could not have looked more surprised if she had handed him a live frog. His mouth was agape, and his eyebrows were climbing up his forehead. Had it not occurred to him that she might decline?
She rushed to explain. “My name has been fatally besmirched, Mr. Darcy. I have resigned myself to the knowledge that my reputation will not recover.” Tears threatened, and she blinked them back. She had done enough weeping over her fate. “I could not allow you to join me in my disgrace.”
His entire face softened, and he stepped forward, taking her other hand in his. To a distant observer, they would appear very much like a couple pledging their love. “But marrying me will help restore your reputation.”
She managed a wan smile. His faith in the power of his name was endearing. “No, Mr. Darcy. I believe if you were to marry me, it would create a great scandal. Your friends would shun you. Invitations to balls would disappear”
He scowled. “I care nothing for that! I do not need anyone’s approbation!”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, no longer able to contain her frustration. “No? Then why did you hesitate to make me an offer? Why does my family’s position trouble you so?”
He blinked. She had shocked him again. “I…that is”—he swallowed —“my reservations about your family are only natural. Their behavior—”
“—Will only continue to give you cause for embarrassment,” Elizabeth interrupted. “That is hardly an auspicious start to a marriage, sir.” Gently, she pulled one hand from his grasp.
He watched her hand leave his. “No.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I would never…never be embarrassed by you, Elizabeth.”
She shook her head. He might believe that at the moment, but would he feel that way in a year? In five years? A man possessing such pride could not let it go so easily.
“Perhaps not,” she retorted. “However, you have a sister, do you not? Who is preparing to come out soon?”
Mr. Darcy curled into himself, his eyes closed, as if she had struck him in the chest with a sword. “I-I do.” His voice had lost some of its firmness. “But Georgiana will understand.”
He does not quite believe that.
She squeezed his hand briefly and then withdrew her other hand from his grasp. “I cannot allow you to take that chance,” she said. “I will not allow you to destroy yourself and your family for my sake.”
His shoulders slumped. “I beg you to reconsider.”
Some of her anger melted in the face of his anguish. She had no wish to cause him pain, but accepting his offer would create far more heartache. What if he only fancied himself in love with her—it was a recent development after all— and changed his mind in two years? He would resent her for having ruined his life—and probably his sister’s as well.
She shook her head, hoping her expression was determined. “I am sorry to cause you distress, but this is what must be. Someday you will meet the woman destined to be your bride, and you will be grateful for this moment.” She swallowed and glanced away, focusing on the view.
“Do not say such things, Elizabeth.” His voice was quite hoarse. “I have never experienced such feelings before.”
She clasped her hands together at her waist to prevent shaking. “I am sorry to cause you pain, but I hope it will be of short duration.” She still could not look at his anguished face. “I pray you, return me to Longbourn.”
He bowed his head, his eyes closed and his lips pressed together tightly. There was a long pause during which she heard nothing save the sounds of his ragged breathing. Then he raised his head to lock eyes with her. “Very well, Miss Elizabeth, but you must understand…I will always be your friend…Always.”
***
Darcy closed the front door to Longbourn and walked toward the phaeton as if in a dream. The road and house and sky—everything had a sense of unreality. Did Elizabeth really decline me? This is not some feverish nightmare? It was so unexpected that he had trouble fathoming it had happened at all. Not only had she declined his offer, but she had declined it so definitively. She had not demurred and requested time to consider her answer. She had simply told him no.
Her reasons made sense, although Darcy did not see the impediments looming as large as Elizabeth did. Still, she was concerned about ruining his life—and Georgiana’s. It was hard to fault that concern.
However, that did not alleviate his anguish one iota.
Black despair hung over him like a dark cloud. His initial horror at Elizabeth’s plight had been held in abeyance by the happy scheme of making her an offer. He had assured himself that her suffering would soon be relieved by their marriage. Now that she had prevented him from giving her any assistance, the horror returned full force. She was suffering, and Darcy could do nothing to ameliorate her situation.
However, he was forced to admit that his misery also stemmed from his own sense of loss. He had confidently built a future for himself and Elizabeth since he had decided to propose. He had eagerly anticipated showing her Pemberley, introducing her to Georgiana, sharing comfortable nights before the fireplace, and growing old together. How could he have been so wrong about that future?
He had lost Elizabeth, completely and irrevocably. How was it possible that a future without Elizabeth—in which he married some other woman—was both more likely and far less conceivable? He had allowed himself to hope. Now these treasured dreams lay in pieces.
Elizabeth. His heart mourned.
He did not know how he would make it through the next day, let alone the rest of his life, with the knowledge that she would never be his.
Her objections might not be insuperable, but at the moment Darcy could think of no way to overcome them. As unexpected as her rejection was, her reasons made sense. He had never met a woman—or indeed a person—who was so committed to putting the interests of another ahead of her own. Ironically, it made him love her even more.
Upon entering Longbourn, Elizabeth immediately bade him a solemn goodbye, as if she expected never to lay eyes on him again, and climbed the stairs to her exile. Darcy had watched her go with a lump in his throat, desperately wanting to say something to halt her flight but unable to think of the right words.
Before he could make his escape, however, Darcy had been forced into another hour of increasingly less polite conversation with the Bennets in the drawing room. Mrs. Bennet had added to his distress by practically thrusting Jane Bennet and the youngest sister into his path. Miss Bennet’s face had colored with mortification while the younger girl had merely giggled and given him coy glances. Darcy could hardly forgive them of the sin of not being Elizabeth.
How could her own family fail to see her worth?
Having witnessed how they treated Elizabeth before guests, he could only imagine how callously they behaved when they were alone. Elizabeth deserved the opportunity to remove herself from such a situation.
If only there were another way to help her! During the ride back to Longbourn, Darcy tried offering her funds to help her escape from Meryton or the assistance of a solicitor to clear her name. She had declined firmly, observing how improper it would be for her to accept help from him. She was quite right, but Darcy cared more about helping her than he did about propriety.
Even now—with the door closed behind him— he lingered as if a sudden solution to all of Elizabeth’s troubles would present itself, or perhaps the woman herself would race out of the door and declare that she had changed her mind about the proposal. He shook his head at his own foolishness and concentrated on placing one foot before the other until he reached the phaeton.
The jingling of a harness and the thudding of hooves warned of an approaching vehicle. A gig rounded the corner at a sedate pace and approached Longbourn’s entrance. Darcy winced at the sight of the driver. If he had known such a danger lurked, he never would have lingered near the house.
“Mr. Darcy! I say, Mr. Darcy!” the man called out before the gig ceased moving.
Darcy was of no mood to give consequence to the obsequious man but was not quite churlish enough to ignore someone addressing him by name. Suppressing a groan, he approached the gig. He had recognized the man as his aunt’s curate, the one who was related to the Bennets. What was his name?
Darcy searched his memory as he nodded. “…Mr. Collins.”
The clergyman almost leapt out of the gig to execute a deep bow. “Mr. Darcy. It is an honor, sir.” When Darcy did not respond, the man licked his thin lips and continued. “What a surprise, to see you here! I was unaware of your presence in Hertfordshire, and I would not have expected you to”—he coughed delicately—“associate with the Bennet family.”
Instantly, Darcy’s shoulders tightened, and he leaned forward—right into Collins’s face. “Why is that?” Darcy growled. Were all the clergy in the English countryside so hypocritical?
The other man was nonplussed, taking several steps backward. “Well, surely you have heard…of course, you know about…Miss Elizabeth’s unfortunate…journey into sin.”
His hands had clenched into fists; Darcy relaxed them very deliberately. It would be unfortunate if he struck a man of the cloth.
Collins continued to prattle on blithely, unaware of his danger. “I thought her waywardness might have been occasioned by a lack of guidance on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. But from what Mrs. Collins has told me, Miss Elizabeth has always been an obstinate and headstrong girl, so I am inclined to believe she must be naturally bad.” He shook his head with completely false sincerity. “Such a blow to the family. Compared to the disgrace they must endure, her death would be a blessing.”
Gritting his teeth, Darcy reminded himself forcefully that murder was a crime. Good Lord! The man could provoke the most peace-loving nun to violence! He took two steps closer to the clergyman, a proximity that clearly made the man anxious. “Are you suggesting,” he murmured, “that Miss Elizabeth would be better off dead?”
Collins’s eyes widened as he accurately assessed Darcy’s emotional state. “N-no. N-naturally not. I did not mean to imply such a thing.”
Darcy smiled dangerously at the man. “It would be inappropriate to voice such sentiments to anyone in the Bennet family…of course.”
Collins swallowed. “O-of course.”
It would not do. Darcy could envision the idiot vicar making Elizabeth’s life worse by hurling insults and thinly veiled accusations at her. Perhaps Darcy could not improve her situation through marriage, but he might persuade the man to be more circumspect. He stood straighter, taking advantage of his six-inch height difference. “It seems to me that as a clergyman, you would see it as your duty not to judge the sinner. Is that not the province of the Lord?” His words managed to be civil, but he could not keep the growl from his voice.
Collins blinked rapidly, his mouth open slightly. Surely this was not a new idea to him? “B-but,” the clergyman finally spluttered, “it is my duty to guide sinners to righteousness.”
Darcy nodded slowly as if he were explaining a simple story to a rather dull child. “And how have you undertaken that with Miss Elizabeth?”
Collins looked stricken. “Well…I-I…s-she i-is not a member of my flock!” he objected.
“If you are a priest of the church, then surely all Christians are members of your flock,” Darcy responded patiently. Really, this man was too stupid for words. No wonder his Aunt Catherine manipulated him so easily.
Collins swallowed. “I s-suppose.”
“I would imagine Lady Catherine would not be pleased to learn you had neglected your priestly duties, particularly regarding a member of your own family,” Darcy said with as much sincerity as he could muster. In actuality, Darcy suspected Collins had not informed his patroness of the scandal.
“I am not neglectful,” Collins asserted.
Darcy clapped the man on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “I am quite pleased to hear that. So you have arrived at Longbourn prepared to show Miss Elizabeth every kindness to guide her on the path of righteousness?”
Collins nodded uncertainly. “Yes…yes, I have.”
Darcy took the man’s moist hand and shook it. “I will commend you to my aunt for your devotion to duty.”
Collins beamed. “You are too kind.”
Darcy smiled. Well, Elizabeth might be subject to a lecture on scriptures, but at least she was unlikely to experience accusations of a “naturally bad” temperament.
“I have business I must pursue,” Darcy said. He climbed into the high seat of the phaeton. “Good day, Mr. Collins!”
Mr. Collins waved, still looking a little bemused. “Good day, sir!”
Darcy departed Longbourn as quickly as he could.
***
Oh, merciful heavens!
Lydia had informed Elizabeth that she had a visitor but maliciously had not revealed his identity. There, taking the seat so recently occupied by Mr. Darcy, was Mr. Collins. She tried and failed to muster a smile. One of the few good results of her disgrace was that Elizabeth had expected Mr. Collins to remain far from Longbourn for years. Why was he here? Her mother and all of her sisters save Jane, who had been sent to town on an errand, were present in the drawing room. Did they know Mr. Collins’s purpose?
“Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth curtsied.
He gave her a cursory bow, barely bothering to stand. “Miss Elizabeth.” Somehow, merely the way he said her name conveyed extreme disapproval. “I applied to your parents for permission to address you, and they kindly granted it.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath. This could not be good.
He leaned forward in his chair as she took a seat near his. “I am aware, of course, of your most unfortunate fall from grace.”
He made her sound like the snake in the Garden of Eden. Elizabeth bit her tongue against the temptation of a smart retort.
“But it has been brought to my attention that you may not be naturally predisposed to evil.” He uttered the words as though granting her a great favor. In the corner of the room, Kitty and Lydia giggled.
Somewhat disconcerted by their reaction, Mr. Collins drew himself up to his full height. “I flatter myself that I might be of some assistance in helping to guide you back to the path of righteousness.” Sitting beside the clergyman, Mary nodded tendentiously.
Elizabeth ground her teeth. “Sir, I never departed from the path of righteous living.”
Mr. Collins gasped. “You have fallen further than I thought! You no longer recognize the degree of your sin.”
Even her mother looked a little shocked at these harsh words.
Desiring to rid herself of the man as quickly as possible, Elizabeth considered the most expeditious strategy. “Sir, it is very good of you to be concerned with the state of my soul. But as a man of the cloth, do you think you should be exposing yourself to such powerful depravity? Particularly without a wooden stake and holy water at hand?”
Lydia and Kitty giggled more loudly while Mrs. Bennet looked confused, and Mary rolled her eyes.
Mr. Collins, on the other hand, nodded earnestly. “I did not believe such measures were necessary, although I do have several cloves of garlic in my satchel.” He placed the leather bag on his lap, unfastened the buckles, and opened the flap. A strong odor wafted across the room.
He pulled several pieces of paper from the satchel. “However, I am so fortunate as to have several pamphlets on hand which should prove instructive.” He handed her three neatly folded pieces of paper. The first read, “Are you a fallen woman? How to get up again.” The second: “After falling into lust: Avoiding the other deadly sins.” And the third: “Why the Good Lord wishes you to abstain from carnal relations.”
Elizabeth hastily dropped them on a nearby table lest her hands smell like garlic. Really, the whole conversation was too absurd for words. It was growing increasingly difficult to stifle her laughter.
Mr. Collins interpreted her suppressed giggles as a sign of distress. “I know that seeing these words is disturbing. It is not easy to be confronted with evidence of your sin, but I believe the pamphlets will be a source of comfort. If not now, then perhaps later.”
Mary nodded solemnly in agreement, but Kitty and Lydia dissolved into helpless giggles. Her mother, however, watched Elizabeth sharply, clearly expecting gratitude.
Elizabeth swallowed. “I thank you, Mr. Collins. I will read them with all the diligence they deserve.”
He smiled sagely. “I pray they will help you see the error of your ways.”
I am only guilty of one error.
Mr. Collins started to rise.
“One moment, Cousin,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows and settled back into his chair.
“I…was…wondering if you have any other pamphlets that might be helpful to me.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded approvingly. Mr. Collins beamed and pulled his satchel into his lap once more. When he opened it, even Mary wrinkled her nose. “I have a great many pamphlets. Here is one on the potential evils of gardening. And this one explains how women who read too many novels will never find a husband. This one is about how sea bathing during Advent can wash away your soul.”
“And cause pneumonia,” Elizabeth murmured.
Mr. Collins frowned at her in confusion. She cleared her throat. “I am seeking something specific.” He nodded eagerly. “Do you have anything on how to avoid the company of unscrupulous men? Or perhaps what to do when a man of high rank maligns your character?”
Her mother’s lips pursed with disapproval, but Mr. Collins shook his head, failing to grasp Elizabeth’s implications. “I cannot believe there would be much of a call for pamphlets of that sort.”
“There should be,” Elizabeth opined. “They would be most useful.”
Finally, her mother stood, no doubt worried what else her wayward second daughter might say to the clergyman. Standing, Mr. Collins smiled obsequiously at Elizabeth. “I pray you will write to me if you have any questions.”
She mustered a smile. “When I see the error of my ways, I will be sure to mention it to you.”
Her cousin continued to speak even as Mrs. Bennet escorted him through the doorway. “Wonderful! I await your letter,” he said over his shoulder.
Elizabeth frowned at his retreating back. You shall be waiting a long time.