Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

"Dorothy? Dorothy? Where is that girl? Dorothy!" Mr Collins' voice boomed through the house. Could he not enter a building without making a din? "She is never around when she is wanted. DOROTHY?"

"Yessir!" the young maid's voice responded from somewhere distant. "What can I do for you, sir? Is anything amiss?" The voice came closer as she spoke.

Darcy rolled his eyes, then caught himself and stopped. That was improper behaviour for one of his station.

"My hat," Mr Collins blathered, the words clear through the closed door. "I must have my other hat, the new one that Lady Catherine told me I must purchase. She wishes to see it on me."

"But sir, it is exactly like your old hat, black and low, like any good parson's hat ought to be."

"Perhaps so, but it is the one Lady Catherine recommended, and therefore must be superior. I must have it now. Where is it?"

Toad-eating mushroom.

"Pardon, sir, but perhaps Mrs Lowe took it to be dusted. I'll check the laundry room…"

The servant's voice faded away again as Collins' footsteps began to approach their small sitting room. Darcy's jaw clenched in dread of a confrontation, and he scuttled to stand by the door, where he would be concealed if it opened. He sent a desperate glance to Elizabeth, praying that she would take his meaning.

She nodded most seriously, and then, for a moment, looked about to dissolve into laughter. Thankfully, she schooled her expression as, a moment later, the door did open.

"Ah, Cousin Elizabeth," the parson oozed. Thank heavens Darcy could not see his obsequious face; as it was, his hands clenched at his sides. "I had wondered…"

"I am here, as you see, Mr Collins. I had thought to read, but alas, my head still aches and I have been trying to rest. I find the solitude and silence do me some good."

The fool did not take her meaning.

"Indeed, they must, Cousin. I have heard Lady Catherine, on many occasions, say how nothing is more soothing to the mind and restorative to a bothersome head than gentle silence. Why, only the other day she said to me, ‘Mr Collins,' she said, ‘Mr Collins, have you…'"

The door slammed again.

"I say, Mr Collins, are you in here? Ah, there you are. My aunt was asking where you had gone to."

Darcy began to groan, but then quickly stopped himself. His cousin, Richard, blasting all over Kent with his fancy scarlet coat and brass epaulets and buttons, spreading charm and good humour wherever he went. What Darcy would give for a tenth of his cousin's easiness in society. And, by the look on Elizabeth's face, a tenth of his appeal.

But no, the lady surely liked him, Darcy. She had been teasing him all these months, after all, and she was surely waiting for his address. Which he would give the moment the interlopers left.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Collins oozed again. "Your noble aunt, my most esteemed patroness, wished to see the hat she had suggested I acquire, and…"

"After dinner, perhaps, or at church on Sunday will do quite well, I am certain. But do come back to Rosings, Mr Collins, or Mrs Collins will be looking for us both, and that would leave Lady Catherine and Miss Lucas quite alone."

"Alone? My good man, why did you not say so? We must be off at once. Come along, come along! No time to linger."

Collins' voice, along with his heavy footsteps, retreated towards the door, which immediately thereafter closed with a much softer thud this time.

Darcy let out his groan of relief. Elizabeth, quite inexplicably, dissolved in a peal of incandescent laughter.

"Does your head still bother you, Miss Bennet?" Darcy began, but Elizabeth's continued giggles quite put him off his stride.

"Oh, my head… no, not any longer. I did have a headache for a time, until the Collinses left for their dinner… Why are you not there as well, Mr Darcy?" she asked.

He cleared his throat, feeling his face go quite warm. "I really did have something I wished to say… to ask you."

The laughter trickled to a stop, but the amusement on her face remained. "Does it have to do with the colonel? I walked with him this afternoon. He found me when you were not there. I had wondered about this habit we have fallen into, of walking together so silently, but then…" the amusement on her face quite clouded over, "he told me things instead, which troubled me exceedingly."

At once, Darcy was at her side, half sitting in the chair beside her, half kneeling at her feet. "I am distressed to hear that. I would never wish you to be troubled. Tell me, what can I do?"

She laughed again, but it was bitter this time.

"You? What can you do? You, sir, have already done quite enough!"

Darcy had long known that he was often at a loss in company. He could not always catch the tone of conversation, nor did he always understand those little things unspoken, but so vital to the meaning of what was said. But now, there was no question as to Elizabeth's true thoughts, and the antipathy caught him quite off guard .

"I? What have I done? If I have offended you?—"

"With every breath, sir!"

He gaped at her, mouth open, eyes blinking, until he recollected himself and struggled for regulation. "Pray, madam, elucidate me, for I am quite at a loss. I would, by no means, wish to bring you distress."

"You insulted me quite openly to my face at our first encounter," she stated.

He blinked again. Then, slowly, the memory formed in his head. It was her at that awful assembly, whom he had declared not to be handsome enough to dance with. Foolish man.

But she had not finished.

"I can forgive a slight against myself, but it is the deep wrong you have done to those I love and admire that I cannot so readily forgive. My sister quite suffers, and you were proud of what you did. Your cousin told me so himself, only this afternoon."

He continued gaping, quite at a loss.

"You separated her from Mr Bingley. Or do you deny it?"

This? This was what had her so upset, only moments after she had almost lost control of her laughter at Mr Collins?

"I did indeed separate them, but what has this to do with your sister's suffering? Surely another rich man will come along soon enough to satisfy your mother."

She snorted at him. It was most unladylike, but he could not pull himself away. "My mother? No, sir, this is not about my mother. You broke poor Jane's heart!"