7. Chapter Seven

The morning after the Netherfield ball, Charlotte and Jane were quickly absorbed in planning for the wedding. Mr. Bennet, in the face of far more talk about lace than he ever wished to hear, retreated to his study posthaste, and Mary elected to practice on the pianoforte. With inclement weather preventing Elizabeth from taking her customary walk, she made her way to the parlour and was sitting alone with a book when Mr. Collins came upon her. He had been waiting for this moment with bated breath, anticipating the opportunity to secure his future. Elizabeth Bennet, he thought, would make an excellent wife. Her wit would entertain Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and her alluring form would be a pleasure to Mr. Collins himself.

"My dear Miss Elizabeth," he began, approaching her with a mixture of trepidation and self-assurance, "you can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying—and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.

He began a speech about the merits of his suit and the advantages of proximity to Lady Catherine de Bourgh which his wife would enjoy, not noticing the expression on Elizabeth's face, which slid slowly towards horror as he continued.

"And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection," he concluded happily, "and suggest that perhaps, as a matter of economy, we might share in the wedding celebrations of Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley."

Elizabeth paused a moment, and he smiled smugly, sure that she was overcome with the honour of receiving his attentions.

At last, however, Elizabeth spoke. "You are too hasty, sir! You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline them."

This was entirely impossible. He smiled. "I do understand that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long."

"Upon my word, sir, your hope is a rather extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so."

She looked composed, calm, and not in the slightest bit as though she might change or mind. Or even as though she was flattered by his attentions! For a brief moment, Mr. Collins' carefully constructed fa?ade crumbled, revealing a flash of hurt and indignation. How could she refuse him so readily, he wondered, when he had been so certain of her acquiescence?

"Miss Elizabeth," he pressed, struggling to maintain his composure, "I understand that my proposal may come as a surprise, but I assure you that my intentions are sincere. I am prepared to offer you all the comforts and security that a gentleman of my position can provide."

"Your generosity is commendable, Mr. Collins," Elizabeth replied, her voice unwavering. "However, I must be true to my own feelings, and they do not align with the future you propose. Please forgive me for any distress my decision may cause, but I cannot accept your offer."

Mr. Collins' face flushed with embarrassment and frustration, his earlier confidence ebbing away like sand through an hourglass. His thoughts raced, grappling with the implications of Elizabeth's refusal. Had he misjudged her character? Was there some insurmountable obstacle he had failed to perceive? Or was it simply that she did not find him desirable enough to consider as a husband?

As Mr. Collins turned away, his heart heavy with disappointment, he could not help but feel that he had suffered a grievous injustice. He had offered Elizabeth Bennet everything a woman could desire – a comfortable home, a respectable income, and the esteem of his noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh – and yet, she had spurned him without hesitation.

"Perhaps," he mused bitterly, "I was mistaken in my choice of a wife. But I shall not allow this setback to deter me from my ultimate goal." He would speak with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet; they had both been encouraging of his motives to seek a wife from among their daughters! Surely, they would make Elizabeth see reason.

In the quiet solitude of Mr. Bennet's library, Mr. Collins found both his cousin and Mrs. Bennet, apparently discussing the budget for Miss Bennet's wedding clothes. Mr. Collins had no compunctions about interrupting such a trivial conversation with his concerns.

"Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet," he began after a deep, aggrieved breath, "I am at a loss. Miss Elizabeth has refused me despite the many advantages I laid before her. I cannot fathom her reasons."

The Bennets shared a glance of apparent confusion.

"I am sorry, Mr. Collins," Mr. Bennet said, "did you just say that you proposed to Elizabeth?"

"Indeed, sir! Almost as soon as I entered this house, I singled her out as the companion of my future life." Aggrieved, Mr. Collins slumped into a chair and glared at his cousin. "But she has, incomprehensibly, refused me! You have raised a very silly daughter, cousin, who does not understand the very great advantages which would…"

"Mr. Collins," Charlotte interrupted him, her voice even, "Elizabeth has the right to decline your proposal if she does not feel it would lead to her happiness."

"Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Collins said, exasperated, "surely you can understand my confusion. I have a very fine living to offer, as well as the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh!"

Mr. Bennet covered his mouth and looked away. Embarrassed, perhaps, at his daughter's foolishness, Mr. Collins thought, and leaving the conversation therefore to his wife.

"Of course, Mr. Collins," Charlotte assured him with a gentle smile. "But I did mention upon your arrival that I believed Mary to be more suited to you. I hoped you might consider her as a potential partner."

"Mary is a sensible girl," Mr. Bennet added, steepling his fingers. "She shares your passion for order and propriety. Perhaps a courtship with her would be more successful."

But Mary isn't nearly as pretty as Elizabeth, Mr. Collins thought rebelliously.

"You will not intercede with Miss Elizabeth?" he asked, desperately hoping they would change their minds.

"I shall speak to her, of course," Mr. Bennet said, after a glance at his wife. "But no, Mr. Collins, we will not bring pressure to bear on her to change her decision. Lizzy knows her own mind, and if she has determined against you, certainly we will honour her choice. I urge you to reconsider yours."

He could listen to no more of this. Angry at being thwarted, Mr. Collins jumped to his feet and left the library without taking his leave of his cousins, seriously displeased. Stamping up the stairs to his room, he stood for a moment staring out of the window before whirling to his writing-desk.

He knew how to act, now. Mr. Wickham had been quite right. His pen scratched against the parchment paper as he laboriously composed a letter to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. In it, he detailed the unfortunate turn of events that had led to Elizabeth Bennet's refusal of his hand in marriage.

"Surely, your ladyship will concur with my reasoning," he wrote, "that Miss Elizabeth's hopes of marrying a man of great consequence like Mr. Darcy have blinded her to the honourable and advantageous match I offered her."

With a flourish of his pen, Mr. Collins signed his name and set the letter aside to dry. He pondered the advice given to him by Charlotte and Mr. Bennet about the suitability of Mary as a potential spouse. Though his pride smarted from Elizabeth's rejection, he knew it would be wise to consider their counsel.

"Mary is a diligent and prudent young woman," he mused aloud, his voice barely audible above the crackling fire. "She shares my values and understands the importance of fulfilling one's duties in life. Perhaps she is better suited to the role of Mrs. Collins than her sister."

Resolved in his decision, Mr. Collins sought out Mary Bennet, finding her practicing on the pianoforte. The sombre tones of her music filled the air, and he hesitated for a moment before interrupting her performance.

"Miss Mary," he began, clearing his throat nervously. "Might I have a word with you in private?"

"Of course, Mr. Collins," Mary replied, her brow furrowing with curiosity as she closed the piano lid. They retired to a quiet corner of the room, away from the prying ears of others.

"Miss Mary, I must confess that I have spent much time reflecting on the qualities of a suitable wife," Mr. Collins began, his voice quavering with emotion. "After much deliberation, and in light of recent events, it has become clear to me that you possess the necessary virtues and disposition that would make us a most compatible match."

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Therefore, I am honoured to offer you my hand in marriage, Miss Mary, if you will accept it."

Mary stared at him in a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. "Mr. Collins," she said hesitantly, "I am flattered by your proposal and grateful for your kind words. However, I must request some time to consider your offer and weigh it against my own desires and aspirations."

"Of course, Miss Mary," Mr. Collins replied, trying to mask his disappointment that she had not eagerly accepted him. "I understand that this is a matter of great importance, and I shall eagerly await your response."

As they parted ways, Mr. Collins could not help but feel a twinge of uncertainty gnawing at his heart. Would he ever find a Bennet daughter willing to accept his hand? Or would he be doomed to face further rejection and disappointment?

A delicate sunbeam pierced through the lace curtains of Darcy House in London, casting a warm glow upon Georgiana Darcy's slender fingers as they traced the elegant script of her brother's letter. The news within its pages was both exciting and disconcerting – an upcoming wedding at Netherfield, and Fitzwilliam's decision to remain in Hertfordshire with the Bingleys until just before Christmas.

"Miss Darcy," Mrs. Annesley, her companion, observed with a gentle smile, "you appear quite lost in thought. Is there news of great import in your brother's letter?"

"Indeed, there is, Mrs. Annesley," Georgiana replied. "Fitzwilliam writes of a wedding soon to take place at Netherfield, and he has chosen to stay with the Bingleys for some weeks longer. He will not join us here until Christmas Eve."

"Ah, that is most delightful news, Miss Darcy. Your brother must be quite taken by the society in Hertfordshire."

"Perhaps," Georgiana murmured, her heart fluttering with a mixture of worry and curiosity. Would her beloved brother find happiness in these new friendships? And what of herself? Without his steady guidance, she felt adrift amidst the swirling currents of London society.

"Is something troubling you, my dear?" Mrs. Annesley inquired, her brow furrowed with concern.

Georgiana hesitated, then sighed. "I cannot help but feel... left behind, Mrs. Annesley. Fitzwilliam's letter is filled with warmth and excitement, while I remain here in London, confined by propriety and circumstance."

"Ah, I understand your feelings, Miss Darcy," Mrs. Annesley said sympathetically. "But remember that your brother's first duty is to ensure your safety and well-being. He would not leave you without good reason."

"Of course, you are right," Georgiana conceded, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "I must trust in Fitzwilliam's judgment and cherish our reunion at Christmas."

"Indeed, my dear," Mrs. Annesley agreed, patting Georgiana's hand comfortingly. "With patience and fortitude, the days will pass swiftly, and soon you shall be reunited with your brother amid the joys of the festive season."

Yet as Georgiana gazed out upon the bustling streets of London, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss – a quiet, nagging whisper that hinted at secrets yet untold. And though she endeavoured to banish such thoughts from her mind, they lingered like shadows, their presence an unwelcome reminder of the distance between herself and her dearest Fitzwilliam.

The following morning found Georgiana pacing the length of the drawing room, her fingertips brushing against the delicate petals of a bouquet of roses as she passed. Her thoughts were consumed by the contents of Fitzwilliam's letter and the troubling notion that she had been intentionally excluded from the celebrations at Netherfield.

"Mrs. Annesley," Georgiana began hesitantly, pausing in her restless movements to face her companion. "Do you not think it is strange that I was not invited to accompany Fitzwilliam to Hertfordshire? Surely, he must have forgotten to include me."

"Miss Darcy," Mrs. Annesley replied with a gentle smile, "I am certain your brother would never intentionally leave you out. Perhaps there are practical reasons for his decision that we are not aware of."

"Even so," Georgiana countered, her cheeks flushed with determination, "I cannot bear the thought of missing such an important event in his life. I must go to Netherfield immediately."

"Are you quite sure, my dear?" Mrs. Annesley asked, concern flickering in her gaze. "It is a long journey, and we may arrive unannounced and unwelcome."

"Indeed, I am certain," Georgiana declared, her chin lifted in quiet resolve. And though she felt a tremor of doubt pass through her, she silenced her misgivings with the conviction that her presence at the wedding was of the utmost importance – not only for her own happiness but for the bond between herself and her beloved brother.

"Very well," Mrs. Annesley conceded with a sigh, sensing that Georgiana's resolve would not be swayed. "I shall arrange for our departure in the morning."

"Thank you, Mrs. Annesley," Georgiana said, gratitude shining in her eyes. "I do hope Fitzwilliam will understand my actions and forgive any inconvenience I may cause."

"Your brother loves you dearly, Miss Darcy," Mrs. Annesley assured her. "I have no doubt that he will be pleased to see you, even if our arrival is unexpected."

The carriage rattled and shook with every jolt of the uneven road, but Georgiana remained steadfast in her determination, despite the mounting concern for Mrs. Annesley's health. Even though it was only a day's journey in the well-sprung coach, the older lady had grown more and more feverish as the journey progressed, and Georgiana could not help but feel responsible for her companion's illness.

"Mrs. Annesley," Georgiana ventured softly, reaching out to touch her hand. "I am truly sorry that you have fallen ill on my account."

"Think nothing of it, Miss Darcy," Mrs. Annesley replied weakly, offering a wan smile. "It is merely the consequence of our hasty departure."

"Nevertheless," Georgiana insisted, her eyes filling with remorse. "Had I been less stubborn, we might have avoided this situation altogether. I pray that Fitzwilliam will not be too harsh when he learns of our arrival."

"Your brother loves you dearly, my dear," Mrs. Annesley reassured her. "He will understand your desire to be present at such an important occasion."

Arriving at Netherfield, the sight of the grand estate filled Georgiana with both excitement and trepidation. When the carriage finally came to a halt, she hesitated a moment before stepping down, her heart racing at the thought of facing her brother's reaction to their unexpected presence.

"Georgiana!" Mr. Darcy exclaimed, his voice tight with surprise and alarm as they were announced into the drawing-room. "What brings you to Netherfield?"

"Forgive me, Fitzwilliam," Georgiana said, her gaze lowered in deference to her brother's evident displeasure. "I was eager to attend Mr. Bingley's wedding and feared that my invitation had been overlooked."

"Georgiana, you should not have come without warning," Darcy scolded, concern etched upon his features as his eyes fell upon Mrs. Annesley's pallid countenance. "Mrs. Annesley, you are unwell!"

"Indeed," the older woman admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I fear the journey has taken its toll on me."

"Then it is settled," Darcy declared with an authoritative air. "You must remain at Netherfield until Mrs. Annesley is well enough to travel. However, Georgiana, I must insist that you confine yourself to the grounds of the estate during your stay."

"Dearest Fitzwilliam," she began, hesitating before continuing in a voice barely audible even to herself, "I understand your concern for my safety, but surely there must be some way for me to make friends without exposing myself to danger."

"Georgiana," Darcy replied, "I wish only the best for you, but we must be cautious. You are young, and there are those who would take advantage of your innocence." His expression was ungiving, and Georgiana realised he would not bend from his decision.

"Am I to remain caged like a bird at Netherfield, then?" she asked, her heart heavy with disappointment.

"Only until Mrs. Annesley has recovered," Darcy reassured her. "I promise that once she is well, you will have the freedom to explore and make friends as you please. For now, however, it is vital that we prioritize her health and your safety."

"Very well," Georgiana murmured meekly. She longed to trust her brother's judgment, but in the depths of her heart, she could not help but question whether the price of protection was too steep.

They removed upstairs, where the housekeeper at once set a very comfortable suite of rooms at their disposal, and two competent maids briskly hurried to make Mrs. Annesley comfortable, assuring Georgiana that they would see to her every need.

Georgiana found herself alone in her room, standing at the window. Footsteps behind her made her turn, forcing a smile to her lips as she saw her hostess entering the room. Caroline Bingley had always been polite to her – almost fawning, in fact – but Georgiana could not bring herself to warm to the older lady, perhaps because Caroline's pursuit of Fitzwilliam was so obvious. Georgiana suspected Caroline was only nice to her because Caroline thought it might increase Darcy's good opinion.

"Miss Darcy," ventured Caroline Bingley, with a practiced air of congeniality, "might I offer you some solace in your confinement to Netherfield's grounds? Perhaps we could take tea together and discuss the latest fashions or share our thoughts on recent novels?"

"Thank you for your kind offer, Miss Bingley," Georgiana replied politely. "However, I am rather weary from our journey and would prefer to rest."

"Of course," Caroline conceded, hiding disappointment beneath a polite smile. "But should you change your mind, do not hesitate to call upon me. I am certain we could become fast friends."

As she watched Caroline leave the room, Georgiana could not deny the pang of loneliness that gnawed at her heart. Yet, despite her craving for companionship, she found herself unable to overlook the air of condescension that clung to Miss Bingley like a second skin. Even at her young age, Georgiana recognized the unmistakable scent of a social climber, and she was reluctant to align herself with such a person.

"I only hope my brother sees her for who she really is, too," Georgiana murmured, turning back to the window to gaze wistfully out at the view once more. "Caroline Bingley as my sister is too awful a prospect to contemplate!"