11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Mary was seated at her small writing desk in her modest bedroom, a book of moral instruction open before her, when she first heard the voices through the wall. The walls at Longbourn were not particularly thick, and sound travelled easily from one room to another. She tilted her head, trying to make out the conversation.

It was difficult at first to discern what was being said. The voices were muffled, and Mary could only distinguish the occasional word. Perhaps it was a maid, being scolded by her mother? But no, the voice was deeper, and soon she was able to make out Mr. Collins' pompous tones as he raised his voice and began to shout.

"Mrs. Bennet, I must insist that you speak to your daughter at once. Her behaviour is simply unacceptable. She has insulted me egregiously!"

Mary's book slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor with a thud. She was frozen, unable to move or speak, as the conversation continued. She could hear Mr. Collins' floorboards creaking as he paced back and forth, and there were occasional pauses in his speech that made her think he was stopping to collect his thoughts.

"This is an outrage!" he spluttered finally. "I will not be treated in this manner. Lady Catherine will hear of this, mark my words!"

The door banged, and heavy feet tramped down the stairs. Mrs. Bennet said something, but her voice was quieter now and Mary could not make out the words.

Mary's hands shook as she leaned down to retrieve her book. Mr. Collins had proposed to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth had refused him? Elizabeth, who knew very well the precariousness of their position? And for some reason, their mother had supported her! Mary looked at her book of sermons. Obedience was the cardinal virtue for women preached in so many of them; Mary tried hard to be as obedient as she could, aware her other virtues paled in comparison to her sisters.

She tried to imagine what it would be like, to be married to Mr. Collins. He had barely said a word to her since that meeting in his study when Mary asked him to consider her as a potential wife, and she tried not to feel the sting of his obvious rejection of her.

The sound of footsteps approaching up the stairs made Mary jump, even though they were dainty and light. She recognised the tread of one of the maids, and indeed a moment later there was a respectful knock at her door.

"Enter," Mary called, her voice quavering in a way she despised. She was not afraid of the servants !

The maid curtsied. "Miss Mary, Mr. Collins asks if you would be so kind as to join him in his study." The girl looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Mary could not blame her, not after what had apparently just transpired. Mr. Collins had made no effort to mitigate the volume of his voice; the whole house must be aware by now that he had proposed to Lizzy and been rejected.

"Thank you," Mary said, rising to her feet and smoothing her skirt. "I will come now."

She followed the maid down the hall, her thoughts racing. The hall was dimly lit, for it was a grey and overcast day, and the house was very quiet.

The maid knocked at the study door and opened it, ushering Mary inside. "Miss Mary Bennet, sir," she said, and curtsied, backing out of the room.

Mary could smell ink and paper, and she could see that Mr. Collins had been writing a letter. He stood up as she entered, and Mary could see that he was in a towering rage. His face was red, and his eyes bulged.

"Miss Mary," he began, and she curtsied, taking a seat when he indicated. "I am sure you are aware of the reason for my request to speak with you. I have this morning made an offer of marriage to your sister Elizabeth, and she has most rudely and ungratefully refused me."

Mary's mouth dropped open. She had known, of course, from what she had overheard, but to hear Mr. Collins say it so baldly and in such a blunt fashion was a shock. He did not give her time to recover her composure, but continued in a pompous and self-righteous tone.

"However, it is my duty to protect and provide for my female relatives, and I have therefore decided that you and I shall be married instead."

Mary's heart was pounding. She was not a fool, she could see what was happening here. Elizabeth had refused Mr. Collins, and now he was coming to her? She was the second choice, the consolation prize! She felt a rush of emotions, one after the other, each one more confusing than the last. Anger, that he should dare to think of her that way. Rage, that Elizabeth should refuse him, putting their whole family at risk. And a deep, sick feeling of humiliation and shame. She was the second choice, the runner-up. She had always known she was not as pretty as her sisters, and now here was the proof.

Mary's immediate physical reaction was a sharp intake of breath. Her chest tightened, and she felt as if she could not draw another. The room seemed to spin around her, and she clutched the arms of her chair, feeling suddenly dizzy. She was humiliated, and she could feel the colour rising in her face. She could not faint, she would not, but she was desperately afraid she might.

How could he? How could he? Bitter, angry, hurt thoughts swirled through her head. She was the second choice. He had wanted Elizabeth, and now he was willing to settle for her. Mary had always known she was the plain sister, the one who would never be as pretty or as charming as her elder and younger sisters, but she had never before been so cruelly reminded of it.

But, a small voice of self-recrimination whispered in her mind, was this not what she had wanted? She had been willing to marry Mr. Collins, and surely she should be grateful that he was willing to marry her, now that Elizabeth had refused him.

Mary was torn. Her books of moral instruction had always told her that it was her duty to be humble, to accept her lot in life, to be pious and submissive to her husband. But her heart was not in it, not now. She wanted to scream and rail and throw things, to slap Mr. Collins' smug face and tell him he could go hang.

She could not do any of those things, of course. But she could not bring herself to accept him, not yet. "Mr. Collins," she said, and her voice was not as steady as she would have liked. She could not look him in the eye, her gaze fixed on the floor. "I – I thank you for your kind offer, but I would like some time to consider."

Mr. Collins' response was immediate and dismissive. "I see no reason for you to require time to consider, Miss Mary," he said, his tone condescending. "Indeed, I am willing to overlook your many deficiencies and offer you the protection of my name. It is your duty to accept this proposal."

Mary's mouth dropped open. She had never heard a man speak to a woman in such a way, not even to a servant! She could not think of a single thing to say in response.

Mr. Collins took advantage of her shocked silence to get up from his desk and come around to stand in front of her. He was a large man, and he loomed over her, blocking her view of the door. His breath was hot on her face, and she could not help but flinch back a little in her chair. "I understand," he said, "that you might be feeling some confusion over the events of the last few days, but I assure you, your feelings are irrelevant when compared to the security I offer you."

He was so close to her that she could not get up without brushing against him, and she was too afraid to try. "I – I – " she stammered, and Mr. Collins interrupted her again.

"You are being foolish and emotional," he said. "This entire conversation is inappropriate, but you are too young and too ignorant to understand that."

Mary's hands clenched on the armrests of her chair. She was frightened, but more than that she was angry. He was treating her like a child, like a fool. He had not let her get a single word in edgewise yet. Her eyes darted past him to the door, but it was firmly closed, and even if she could get past him, Mr. Collins was between her and the door. He had not touched her, but she felt trapped and intimidated nonetheless. The heavy, dark furniture in the study seemed to press in on her, the only light coming from a single oil lamp on Mr. Collins' desk.

"Mr. Collins," she tried again, but he was not listening.

"It is your duty to marry me, Miss Mary," he said. "You will do as you are told. You are the least of your sisters, and you should be grateful for my offer."

Mary felt colour rising in her cheeks. "I – " she began, but Mr. Collins was not finished.

"I am the master of Longbourn," he said, "and you will be my wife. You will be obedient to me, and I will not tolerate any disputation from you." He turned and went back to his desk, sitting down and picking up his pen. "You may go," he said, dismissing her.

Mary rose to her feet, her head spinning. She could not believe what had just happened. She could not think of a single thing to say. She turned and left the room, her mind in a whirl.

Closing the door behind her, Mary paused for a moment, her back against the door, feeling overwhelmed. She felt humiliated, to have been spoken to in such a way, to have been told she was the least of her sisters, that she should be grateful for this offer. But – it was true, was it not? She was not beautiful like Jane, not lively and clever like Elizabeth, not even pretty and flirtatiously charming like Kitty and Lydia. She was the least of them. And yet...

She took a deep breath, straightening up. She could not let this happen to her. She could not let him do this to her. She would not. She thought of a sermon she had heard once, about standing firm in one's beliefs. "Stand firm," she whispered to herself. "Stand firm."

She took another deep breath, straightened her posture, squared her shoulders and clenched her fists, then opened the study door and walked back in .

Mr. Collins looked up, startled, as she walked back into the room. "Miss Mary?" he said, but she did not stop. She walked right up to his desk, right up to him, and looked him directly in the eye.

"I cannot marry you, Mr. Collins," she said.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy furniture oppressive, the walls closing in on her, but Mary stood firm. Mr. Collins was staring at her, his mouth open, and she felt a surge of satisfaction at having caught him off guard. "I am sorry, but I cannot," she said, her voice firmer this time.

"You will marry me, Mary Bennet, and that is final!" he snapped sharply, but Mary could see his weakness, see that shouting was his only recourse since he lacked the wit to sensibly argue his case..

She shook her head. "I cannot," she said one last time, and she felt her own strength in the words. "You cannot bully me into it."

She drew herself up, looked him in the eye, and spoke the words that were the most powerful weapon in her arsenal. "I must obey my conscience, Mr. Collins. I cannot be your wife."

For a moment, she saw him hesitate, and she knew she had won.

Kitty and Lydia came down the stairs, Lydia in the lead, her face thunderous. "I can't believe he made you cry!" she was shouting, and Kitty, her face streaked with tears, sniffled behind her.

"Lydia," Kitty said, "Lydia, don't – "

"No, Kitty! It was only a cup! He had no right to scold you like that!" Lydia stormed towards the study door .

"Lydia!" Kitty said again, but Lydia's eyes were flashing with temper. She was a small girl, and Mr. Collins was a big man, but she looked ready to take him on.

"Lydia!" It was Jane's voice, and she and Elizabeth had just come in through the front door, Elizabeth's arm around Jane's shoulders as they talked quietly. "Lydia, what on earth is the matter?"

"Mr. Collins made Kitty cry!" Lydia flared, and Jane's calm face hardened.

"Kitty, darling, come here," she said, and Kitty ran to her. Jane put her arm around Kitty, shaking her head at Lydia. "I understand you are upset on Kitty's behalf, dear one, but…" She stopped, staring. "Mary?"

Elizabeth looked up. The study door stood ajar, and beyond, the room was dimly lit, but they could all see Mary standing in front of Mr. Collins' desk, her back to them. They could also see Mr. Collins, red-faced and furious.

"You will marry me, Mary Bennet, and that is final!"

"You cannot bully me into it." Mary's voice was firm, and she did not sound like herself at all.

Elizabeth could only stare. She had never heard Mary speak like that before.

"I must obey my conscience, Mr. Collins. I cannot be your wife."

For a moment, Mr. Collins hesitated. Elizabeth turned to look at Jane, who was staring wide-eyed at what was going on.

Jane was the first to move. She went straight to Mary, taking her sister's hand. "Mary," she said softly, "it's all right. Everything will be all right."

Elizabeth stepped forward. "Mr. Collins – " she began, but she was interrupted by Lydia, her small face set and angry. She marched straight to Mary, standing by her side with her arms crossed.

"I don't care if you are the master of Longbourn!" Lydia flared. "You had no right to make Kitty cry, and you have no right to try and bully Mary into marrying you!"

Kitty, tearful but resolute, came in behind Lydia, and though she was still sniffling she wiped her eyes and came to stand by Mary too. "I'm sorry, Mary," she whispered. Mary reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly.

The study was dimly lit, the heavy furniture casting long shadows, but Elizabeth could feel the determination of her sisters around her. "Mr. Collins," she said again, more sharply. "I think you have had your answer."

Mary felt a surge of confidence as she realised she was not alone in her decision. Jane was holding her hand, Lydia standing defiantly on her other side, and Kitty clinging to her arm.

Jane squeezed her hand gently, and Mary took courage from her sister's calm reassurance. Lydia was a warm, angry presence at her side, and Kitty's quiet support gave her strength. Mary felt herself standing taller, her back straightening, and she locked eyes with Mr. Collins.

Stand firm, Mary. Stand firm.

"You will marry me!" Mr. Collins spluttered again. "I am the master of Longbourn, you will do as I say –"

"No, sir." Mary's voice was firm and she felt the collective strength of her sisters behind her. "I cannot marry you, and I will not. I am sorry, Mr. Collins, but my decision is final. "

Mr. Collins' face was redder than Mary had ever seen it, his gestures more exaggerated. He waved his arms, pointing first at Jane, then at Mary. "You will marry me!" he demanded. "You will marry me, or you, or you!" He pointed at Elizabeth. "I do not care which of you it is, but one of you will marry me! I am the master of Longbourn, and you will obey me!"

Jane's hand tightened on Mary's. Kitty's grip on her arm was like a vice.

"Indeed, Mr. Collins," Jane said steadily, "you are the master of Longbourn, and we are beholden to you. But I think you will find that none of us are willing to enter into a marriage with you. No doubt you will be able to find a wife, somewhere. Perhaps your patroness Lady Catherine will be able to suggest a suitable candidate."

"L-lady Catherine!" Mr. Collins stuttered. "Indeed, I am fortunate to have Lady Catherine's patronage, and I am sure she would be most displeased to hear of your wilful disobedience!"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Mr. Collins, I am sure Lady Catherine would be most displeased to hear of your wilful bullying of your female dependents. I think you should reconsider your position."

"You – you – " Mr. Collins looked around the room, and his eyes fixed on Mary. "You will marry me!" he said. "You are the most suitable, the most pious, the most obedient – "

"And the most unwilling," Mary cut in. "No, Mr. Collins."

"You will marry me!" Mr. Collins' voice rose to a bellow. "You will marry me – "

"No," Elizabeth said flatly.

"No," Jane said softly.

"No!" Lydia's voice was sharp and angry.

"No," Kitty said quietly, the tears drying on her cheeks as she obviously took courage from her sisters' united front of defiance .

"You will marry me!" Mr. Collins said again, but his voice was starting to sound desperate. "One of you will marry me! I am the master of Longbourn! This is my estate! You will all be thrown out on the streets if you do not marry me! You will be destitute! You will marry me!"

"We will not." Elizabeth folded her arms and stared at him. "And I think," she said, "that you will find it very difficult to explain to Lady Catherine why none of us will marry you."

"Indeed." Jane's voice was calm. "I should think Lady Catherine would be most displeased to hear of your behaviour."

"You will marry me!" Mr. Collins said again, but he was wilting under the collective stares of the five sisters. "You will marry me!"

"We will not," Elizabeth said.

"You will!" Mr. Collins said, but his voice was weaker. "You will! You must!"

Mary hesitated. She was not certain, and how could she be? She had never thought to have an offer of marriage, and then to have one, and from Mr. Collins, and to be his second choice – she could not be sure. She had asked for time to consider, and it was a weighty decision indeed. She had been humiliated by her second-choice status, and yet – no, she had been humiliated, but she had not been ashamed.

And then, one by one, her sisters had refused Mr. Collins again, and she had heard the truth in their words. None of them would marry him. Lizzy, proud and fine. Jane, beautiful and sweet. Kitty and Lydia, silly and flighty. And herself, plain and pious. Mr. Collins had tried to bully her into accepting him, and – and she had been about to give in.

No, she realised, she did not want to marry him. She did not want to marry him, and she would not. She drew herself up to her full height, two inches taller than Mr. Collins, and looked him in the eye .

"No," Mary said, and her voice was strong and sure. "No, we will not."

"You will marry me!" Mr. Collins bellowed. "You will marry me, or you will all be turned out into the hedgerows to starve!"

"No," Mary said firmly. "I will not marry you."

"We will not marry you," Elizabeth said again, and Jane squeezed her hand gently.

"No," Jane said. "None of us will."

"No!" Lydia's voice was sharp and angry, her small face set in a determined frown.

"No," Kitty said, and her voice was quiet but firm. "No."

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Mr. Collins' mouth opened and closed, his face turning red, then white, then red again. "You – you – " he stammered. "You... you..."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Collins." Jane's voice was soft but firm. "But none of us will marry you."

"You... you..." Mr. Collins waved a hand ineffectually, and then, with a final glare, he turned and fled the study, leaving the five sisters alone together.

"Well done, Mary," Elizabeth said softly.

"Well done indeed," Jane agreed, giving Mary a warm smile.

"You were so brave, Mary!" Kitty said, and Lydia gave Mary a quick hug.

"Well done," Elizabeth said again, and Mary felt the tension in the room ease. The heavy shadows seemed to lift, the room feeling lighter, and she realised that the sun had come out from behind the clouds outside.

"We will not marry him," Lizzy said, and there was a note of triumph in her voice. "None of us."