Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A t Charlotte's urging, Elizabeth escaped to her room as soon as they arrived at the parsonage.

"Mr Collins is likely overcome by events, and it is best he be left alone. I shall add a little brandy to his tea to calm him."

Dear Charlotte! She had given Elizabeth a curious look when she had emerged with Mr Darcy, but said nothing about the evening's events or the time she had spent alone with him. Elizabeth clasped her friend's hand. "You are too good. I am sorry to burden you with managing Mr Collins. If I could leave tonight, I would."

"It is only tomorrow you must endure, Lizzy. Pray for sun so that you may walk and Mr Collins may spend his hours in the garden."

Elizabeth foiled her own hopes for an early walk when she slept past her usual rising time. Warily, she descended the stairs, the smell of toast and clatter of dishes alerting her that at least one of the household was awake and in the dining room. Clutching her bonnet, she walked carefully towards the door, only to hear the dreaded voice of Mr Collins.

"Cousin Elizabeth, join us here."

She entered the room and took her seat across from Charlotte. Mr Collins did not look at her; he was working his way through a plate of eggs and, as was usual, his interest in his meal was all-consuming. Gratefully, she buttered a piece of toast and began eating quickly, hoping her diligent obedience would satisfy him and she could make her escape. It was not to be, for only minutes later, he rose, frowned at her, and commanded she and Charlotte join him in the parlour. Poor Maria appeared from upstairs and was beckoned in as well, looking hungrily towards the dining room, before Mr Collins closed the door. The ladies took seats as he paced the room, clearing his throat, looking up to the ceiling as if beckoning wisdom from above. Finally, he stopped in front of Elizabeth's chair; she tried not to physically recoil from his proximity.

"I have done my best by you, Cousin Elizabeth, to apologise for the insults and ruinous behaviours you exhibited to Lady Catherine. She is all that is good and though tolerant and understanding of those so far beneath her in standing, her benevolence cannot forgive your careless words and disgusting comportment. Much as you owe the lady an apology, she will not see you nor allow you again within Rosings. You will beg her forgiveness in a letter, which I will carry to her this morning."

He paused, as if expecting Elizabeth to protest. And she did, if only inwardly, for neither Charlotte nor Maria deserved to be subject to Mr Collins's further ire. She would write a note to Lady Catherine. Forgiveness would not be its subject. She gave him a curt nod.

Seemingly satisfied, he turned to Maria, whose wide, fear-filled eyes showed her not yet recovered from the previous evening's events. "I regret you must travel tomorrow with Miss Elizabeth, dear sister. I must order you not to speak to nor listen to a word she speaks in the carriage, lest her penchant towards insolence, harlotry, and deceit affect your understanding of what it means to be a decent Christian lady."

Elizabeth flushed with anger. "Harlotry? How dare you, sir!"

"Do you not recall your own behaviour towards me at Longbourn? Practically throwing yourself at me and at Mr Darcy, the nephew and future son of Lady Catherine!"

"I was sat in the boat-house due only to your inability to understand I did not wish to marry you and the fall you took while pursuing me through the woods! You prevented my return to Longbourn!"

"You had been proposed to by a man I now call brother!" Mr Collins's face was now a blotchy red, and his anger seemed overtaken by injury. Breathing heavily, he looked at Charlotte. "John, I take it?"

She gave him a calming look. "They were very young. Lizzy was scarcely sixteen and not yet out," she said quickly. "John was bound for Cambridge. It was hardly a serious proposal, and our families did not take it as such."

Although he scarcely looked mollified, Mr Collins took a deep breath and said nothing in reply. The three women shifted uneasily until finally, he asked about Mr Goulding .

"It is a silly tale of childhood, as Charlotte will recall," Elizabeth began, hoping such a beginning would mollify him. She looked again at Charlotte, trying to meet her eyes, but her friend kept her face turned away. "I was nine, and Mr Goulding was scarcely twelve. We were peeking in the window at a neighbour's wedding breakfast and he asked me to marry him so we could have cake and white soup, too."

"A silly tale of childhood, yet one that my wife and likely many in Meryton—where I will make my home—know well. You make me into a laughingstock." Mr Collins paced round the small room, somehow avoiding the small table placed awkwardly in its centre, undoubtedly at the direction of Lady Catherine.

"Do you make sport of my proposal as well? What is said of it, Maria?"

The girl, clearly terrified, glanced at her sister. Charlotte gave her a small, if tense smile, and turning to her husband, again attempted to soothe his temper.

"Mr Collins, my family and the Bennets are aware that your first proposal was to Elizabeth; it had been anticipated that you would marry one of the Bennets and keep Longbourn within the Bennet family." Her hand fluttered—an unusual gesture for such a composed woman—before falling to her lap. "There is no shame, only honour, in being your wife, even if I was not the first lady to receive your proposal. Indeed," her voice softened, "I believe we rub together quite well, and are a better match than you could have made with Elizabeth. Although she is known for her wit and laughter, I have never heard a joke or unpleasant word from her about you or our marriage or your proposals to her. She has maintained an elegant silence, one for which I believe she deserves praise."

Elizabeth, astonished by Charlotte's composure, nodded when her friend glanced in her direction before turning back to Mr Collins, who had sunk into a chair, his hands gripping its arms. She continued, "Indeed, sir, I believe Lizzy knew I was the better match for you, and had circumstance allowed—if Mrs Bennet had not pressured her so greatly—she would have told you so."

An uneasy silence filled the room. Only Mr Collins's heavy breathing could be heard over the sound of her own heart, beating fast, and Elizabeth stared longingly at the door, wishing to disappear until she could board the post and return to where she felt safe. Longbourn. Gracechurch Street. Anywhere but here.

Mr Collins's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Your elder sister is sensible enough to accept a proposal, the first she ever received. You have not her beauty or her grace and are unlikely to receive another."

Maria's gasp drowned her own. Whatever anger Mr Collins still harboured towards Elizabeth now came spewing forth.

"If still at Longbourn when Charlotte and I claim it, we shall turn you out with your regrets and your walking boots." Sneering, he stood and fixed her with a cold glare. "You are a foolish girl, wilful and wanton. I see how you look at Mr Darcy, using your wiles to entrap him. I saw it that November day—did you think I had grown fully deaf?—and it has grown far worse! Lady Catherine has seen it as well. He is to marry her daughter! You are not to go near him nor any part of Rosings Park today. Remain in this house and its yard and gardens, or you will be locked in your room."

As soon as he stepped away, Elizabeth stood up. Her skirts hid her shaking legs, but she could not conceal the anger in her voice or the fury in her eyes.

"As you wish, sir. I have a letter to write."

Lady Catherine de Bourgh,

I have offended you with my thoughts and behaviours possibly as much as you have offended me with your words. I could easily forgive your pride, if you had not mortified mine. However, I must make the effort, for selfishness must always be forgiven if there is no hope of a cure.

I thank you for your generous hospitality at Rosings, and promise never again to plague you by my presence. I ask one favour—be kind to Mrs Collins, for she is all goodness and speaks only of her respect for you and Rosings. Of course, she has a Job-like tolerance for schemers and fools.

She read over her words. They were ungracious and rude and she meant every one of them. Still, to write such a note to anyone, least of all the patroness of the man who was heir to Longbourn! Knowing she would never send it, she added her final lines.

You must set aside your expectations for your nephew to marry your daughter. Mr Darcy deserves a wife who can challenge his pride and withstand mud on her boots. One who, perhaps, is impertinent enough to want him as much as he may want her.

Sighing, she pulled out a second sheet of paper and took a calming breath.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh,

I regret we part on poor terms, and apologise for my part in it. I thank you for your generous hospitality at Rosings, and wish you and Miss de Bourgh happiness and continued good health.

Elizabeth Bennet

Yes—short, polite, and to the point. All things that did not describe Lady Catherine. Setting aside the letters to dry, she rose and stretched. It was not yet noon and her trunk was packed, her letter written, a long day of confinement ahead. She would be gone from here tomorrow morning, but filling the hours as a captive of the parsonage and its grounds would be difficult. I might as well pack my walking boots, she thought.

She folded the letters, placing the second in her pocket to hand to Mr Collins, and the first inside of her book; she could not risk Charlotte or Mr Collins seeing it. Grabbing her bonnet, she determined she would enjoy her final day in Kent, even if her pleasure-seeking would be confined to the small patch of greenery surrounding the parsonage.