“Pardon me for interrupting you, Madam,” cried Mr Collins; “but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.”
“Sir, you quite misunderstand me,” said Mrs Bennet, alarmed. “Lizzy is only headstrong in such matters as these. In every thing else she is as good natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr Bennet, and we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure.”
She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her husband, called out as she entered the library,
“Oh! Mr Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr Collins, for she vows she will not have him, and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and not have her.”
Mr Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by her communication.
“I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” said he, when she had finished her speech. “Of what are you talking?”
“Of Mr Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr Collins, and Mr Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy.”
“And what am I to do on the occasion?—It seems an hopeless business.”
“Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her marrying him.”
“Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion.”
Mrs Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the library.
“Come here, child,” cried her father as she appeared. “I have sent for you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr Collins has made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?” Elizabeth replied that it was. “Very well—and this offer of marriage you have refused?”
“I have, Sir.”
“Very well. We now come to the point…”
7 November 1811
Mr Bennet paused and hid his shaking hand upon his lap. In spite of his manner toward his wife, he knew he must exert himself to say what would give no pleasure to his favourite daughter. “I think you should reconsider your answer, Lizzy. I ask that you do. Such offers are not made every day of the week, you know.”
His daughter lifted her eyes to him in amazement. He affected a smile, saying, “I see your surprise. I know you must be grieved at the prospect of leaving such felicity as you have witnessed at Longbourn, but think! such bliss may well become your own.”
Elizabeth could not recall ever feeling such pain at his ridicule. She thought his timing for it very ill-advised as Mrs Bennet bobbed her head in agreement. When her father said nothing more, staring at his book, she became more distressed and then provoked, saying, “I must beg your pardon, sir, but your happiness is one I never thought to imitate.”
Mr Bennet smiled in sardonic amusement. “Ah! Do you hear that, Mrs Bennet?”
Mrs Bennet smiled with pleasure. “A very pretty observation indeed. Oh, Lizzy, think of how it shall be!”
“I have considered it, Mama; I cannot marry him.”
Mrs Bennet threw her hands up. “See Mr Bennet? Foolish girl! Do talk some sense into her.”
Mr Bennet stared at the cover of his book. “I know his understanding is not what you might wish, but there are advantages to the match which I must impress upon you – advantages in situation and fortune which I cannot dismiss.”
Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. He understood her feelings and shared them, having made sport of Mr Collins on several occasions. It was beyond comprehension to think he would ask such a sacrifice from her, and she could not agree to it. “His fortune and prospects would deserve more consideration if I thought I could ever respect or esteem him as a husband, sir. It would be most unfeeling for me to accept him for his situation when my other feelings forbid it.”
Mr Bennet turned his back on her and walked to the window. “As you consider your feelings, I ask you also consider the pleasure of your parents in seeing you eligibly settled and our disappointment if you choose to disoblige us. I will not ask that you answer now – you need time to consider what is owed to us all. We shall speak of this again.”
With his dismissal, her mother escorted her from the room with a triumphant air. For two days, Elizabeth endured the hardships springing from her defiance. She tried to employ tact, resolve, and humour, and her mother rallied with relentless arguments, which increased in volume and acrimony as Elizabeth’s perverse refusal persisted.
“Has my mother sent you to persuade me?” Elizabeth asked when her eldest sister interrupted a brief moment of solitude.
“Oh, Lizzy, I told her I cannot ask this of you,” lamented Jane. “She does not intend to be cruel.”
“Or is so determined to carry her point that she does not care,” replied Elizabeth with a sad shake of her head. “I cannot believe this! Of all occasions for my parents to unite in common thought and purpose, and for what a purpose! To marry me off to the first man who can afford me.”
“I think you mistake them. As to fortune, it is an eligible match,” Jane remarked with a squeeze of her sister’s hand. “I know his understanding does not suit you (and I do not blame you for that), but our parents would not ask you to marry a vicious man nor a cruel one, no matter his fortune.”
“Perhaps they would not go that far, if either were to possess the sense or energy to make the judgement.”
“Lizzy!” cried Jane in the unhappiest of tones.
“They care nothing for my happiness in this, Jane, or are so entirely mistaken as to be insensible. I have told them both, in the plainest language possible, that I have no affection nor any esteem for our cousin. How can they persist in this?”
Jane was too oppressed to make any reply. With a glance toward the empty hall, Elizabeth made her escape outdoors.
*****
The sun shone brightly for a November day, and Elizabeth turned her face to its warmth, tying the ribbon of her hat with a flourish. She had nearly reached the welcome border of the shrubbery when Mrs Bennet’s querulous voice reached her ears.
“Where is that ungrateful girl?!”
Elizabeth immediately ducked behind the shrubbery in a blur of skirts and spencer. Knowing she would be readily discovered were her mother to come out in search of her, she eyed the northern fence with a widening smile until a short laugh escaped her. She raced toward the stile with quick, light steps and scrambled onto the path away from Meryton.
She knew it was only a temporary reprieve. There would be another summons to her father’s book-room that evening, where she would once again refuse to marry her cousin. She bit her lip and looked back at Longbourn, thinking of her exasperation with her mother and disappointment with her father. Rounding the bend, she collided with a hard object, lost her breath and her footing, and found herself sprawled upon the ground.
“Dear God,” she heard a man exclaim in a deep tone, “what do you mean by scampering about in such a fashion?”
She was dazed, then shocked and embarrassed, until the incivility of such an inquiry struck her. Throwing her head back and squinting against the sun, she identified Mr Darcy’s unmistakably rigid figure and inwardly seethed. With a smile of calculated sweetness, she replied, “I beg your pardon; I thought to amuse myself by running over my acquaintances, Mr Darcy! I thank you for your inquiries after my health.”
She took satisfaction in his blush and stammer. “Why – I – forgive me, madam. Are you injured?”
He extended his hand to her with grave propriety. In spite of her dislike of being obliged to him for any kindness, she accepted his assistance, determined to extract herself from the situation as soon as she could manage it. Dusting off her skirts, she lifted her head with all the dignity at her command and gave him a brisk nod of thanks and dismissal. “I do not think I – Ow!”
Mr Darcy wrapped his arm about her waist when she faltered. She was guided to a nearby log where, to her bewildered annoyance, he intended an examination of her ankle without so much as a by-your-leave. “Mr Darcy! I appreciate your concern, but truly, sir -”
“Be sensible,” he interrupted in a decided tone as he stripped himself of his gloves. “You should not bear weight upon your ankle if there is a break or a sprain.”
There was no reason for rational opposition, she was forced to admit to herself, and allowed him to unlace her boot. The shock of his bare fingers upon her caused her to flinch, drawing his concerned gaze. “Forgive me,” he said in a kinder tone. “Does it hurt very much?”
“Not very much,” she whispered with flushed cheeks. Thankfully, he returned his attention to her ankle, and, after a few more agitated moments, she heard his cool verdict. “A slight strain, I think – I shall escort you back to Longbourn.”
His entire bearing indicated his displeasure at the thought, and she could have no more desire more for the company or the destination than he. “Thank you, sir, for your kindness, but I will not ask this of you. I plan to rest here before returning to the house, on my own power.”
When he began to pace, appearing grave and anxious, it occurred to her that his notions of duty might keep him with her, and she attempted to dismiss him again with a polite smile. “My ankle is much improved. I-”
“-I am glad to hear it, Miss Bennet. I had hoped to come upon you, to speak to you on a very important matter.”
Never could she have guessed his meaning nor thought to hear his next words: “I have need of a wife and have come to seek your hand in marriage.”
She immediately forgot about the discomfort of her ankle and grew very still as her eyes widened. She closed her mouth with a nearly audible snap. He continued, “I understand your surprise. You could not have any rational expectation of such an offer, but I must inform you of a most distressing circumstance before you make any answer. I have come from Town, I have gone to visit my sister, and I have learned, I discovered -”
When he sank onto the log next to her, his head bowed over his hands, she felt a reluctant twinge of compassion at such apparent wretchedness. Whatever had happened to him, to bring him to her, to offer marriage to her, must be terrible beyond imagining. In a gentler tone than she had ever bestowed on him, she murmured, “I beg you, Mr Darcy, do not continue. Truly, sir, you are not well.”
At his silence, she reached out without thinking, placing a hand upon his arm. He pressed her hand gratefully and replied, “You are very kind, but I must relate all of the particulars to you. My sister, who is but fifteen, travelled to Ramsgate this summer along her companion, in whose character I had been most unhappily deceived. I had no notion of the scheme planned, of the design to prey upon the inexperience of my sister.”
Elizabeth listened in horror at his description of what misery had befallen Miss Darcy. His voice grew more quiet as his story continued, then nearly broke when he concluded, “She is too nervous and heartsick to marry and too repentant to deserve censure for an error made in innocence. If I were to marry, I could claim her child as my own and conceal her shame from the world.”
Knowing what she did of his character, Elizabeth could not doubt his veracity, but neither could she understand him. He did not seem the sort of man to confess his private affairs at random or undertake any plan without deliberation. She stared at him, distressed and puzzled, then cried, “It is shocking and terrible to think of such wickedness existing in the world, but I cannot understand why you should choose me as your confidante. What good do you know of me?”
“I have observed you from the beginning of our acquaintance, seen your kindness, your compassionate care for your sister. I thought you could understand my feelings for mine.”
The sun shifted, throwing its dappled light onto his pallid face. Elizabeth hastened to answer, “I think I do understand your feelings for your sister, sir. You have spoken of her with affection on more than one occasion, but this plan! How can you ask it of me?”
“Listen to me, Elizabeth,” he said in a more composed tone, rising to stand before her. “Any feeling woman of sense and character would be distressed upon hearing such a tale, but consider the very real advantages for you. It is highly unlikely you should ever again receive such an offer.”
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain in her ankle. “I would not hope for it! Such a marriage, based upon nothing beyond deception and desperation, is hardly conducive to any measure of happiness.”
Darcy steadied her with his hands. “Why would you think that? We are both of us sensible persons of taste and intelligence.”
“You dislike me!”
He seemed genuinely perplexed, replying carefully, “Of course I like you, or I would not have offered for you. Otherwise, I might marry my cousin, which would suit most everyone in my family with the exception of myself.”
“I understand that,” she declared in a passionate tone, immoderately relieved to find some point of comprehension. “It is terrible to think of subjecting oneself to such a fate. I cannot do it.”
“Did Mr Collins offer his proposals?” exclaimed Darcy with a searching look. At Elizabeth’s blush and confused silence, he turned grim. “What a misery.”
“Indeed,” she replied with a slight, brittle smile.
“There is more than you know. You are not acquainted with my aunt. For all of her excellencies, she takes particular delight in managing everyone within her sphere of influence. She will think nothing of imposing her will and advice upon the parson’s wife.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I suspected as much, though I had objections enough to refuse him without it. I have explained my reasons to my parents, again and again. They have taken his part.”
He looked at her seriously. “You are too lively, too clever to see wasted on such a match.”
It felt wonderful to speak to someone of sense and intelligence, she thought with amazement, who could understand her. She was almost ashamed for taking such a decided dislike to him until she remembered that he had been rather uncivil, and she could not have known about his sister. Elizabeth bit her lip. “Clever and lively? Take care, Mr Darcy! I should make a very teasing, quarrelsome sort of wife to any gentleman.”
He looked at her in faint amusement, then spoke with a force that wiped the humour from her face in an instant. “I am not bothered by the thought. Marry me, Elizabeth.”
She stared into his determined, earnest eyes for a moment, determined she must refuse to take part in such a mad scheme, only to discover that she could not bring herself to refuse him. She blinked in amazement. How had all sense suddenly fled from the world in a mere two days? At last, she replied, “I shall consider your offer, Mr Darcy. Come to Longbourn to-morrow.”
