Chapter 3: A Scandal Averted
Sunday luncheon was a misery for Elizabeth. Mr. Collins had taken the chair beside hers, and though he spoke often to Mrs. Bennet, inquiring about the neighbors he had met in the church courtyard, he still found ample opportunity to provoke her.
“Elizabeth, how came that pompous man to be your protector?” he asked, his voice so quiet, only she could hear him. “Only a couple of days ago, he judged you barely tolerable.”
Elizabeth had reached for a bun, but his words caught her off guard, and she froze. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she deliberately turned back to her plate, taking a slow bite without so much as a glance in his direction.
He chuckled softly and leaned closer. “You amuse me, dear cousin. I am accustomed to women falling over themselves to capture my attention, and here you sit, pointedly ignoring me, angry as a wasp.”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at his face. His grin widened. “Your face is flaming hot. You really must marry me, Elizabeth. We could have such fun together.”
She lifted her chin and averted her face, and she continued to eat in silence.
Mr. Bennet intervened then. “William, what of your father? The only time I met him, we were just boys. I was eight years old. Does he still live?”
Collins took a sip of tea. “My father passed five years ago, sir. I took it as a blessing from God, for he was continually in trouble with the law. He relished bar fights and strong drink.”
Lydia giggled.
Collins turned to her with a frown. “Forgive me, sir,” he said to Mr. Bennet. “I am unused to dining with children from the nursery, or with women. I shall watch my tongue.” He inclined his head toward Mrs. Bennet. “Pardon me, madam, for the lapse.”
Elizabeth studied him. Somehow, knowing he had endured hardship made him seem less like a hunter and more like a man. He turned to meet her gaze.
“Do I seem more human to you now, cousin?” he asked, his voice low, confidential. “This is the first time you’ve looked at me with anything other than loathing.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Forgive me, sir, if I have been rude and unwelcoming. But be gracious enough to admit that you have courted my wrath.”
He winked at her. When her jaw clenched, he smiled. “We would do very well together, my dear.”
Elizabeth pushed her plate away. She had been hungry when she sat down. She always enjoyed a hearty appetite, much to her mother’s dismay. Mrs. Bennet often repeated her well-worn refrain:“Lizzy, you eat as much as any savage. No man will ever take you off my hands. You are indelicate.”Elizabeth had never paid it any mind, but today her stomach had turned.
Her plate was still full when she turned to her father. “Papa, may I be excused? I would rest for an hour before we are besieged by callers.”
Mrs. Bennet perked up immediately. “Callers? How dare you presume to invite visitors, Elizabeth? You might have told me!”
“No, Mamma, I did not invite anyone,” Elizabeth replied evenly. “But I overheard Miss Watson telling Charlotte that the Watsons intend to visit this afternoon to make Mr. Collins’s acquaintance.”
Bennet chuckled. “I hope you have plenty of tea and cakes, Mrs. Bennet, for I heard the Gouldings, Allens, and Coopers say the same thing. All have daughters of marriageable age and mean to call upon us to meet the newest bachelor.”
Mrs. Bennet began to flutter about and complain over her poor nerves. “Lydia, ring the bell. I need Hill.”
Collins had watched Elizabeth throughout this commotion. She had visibly relaxed. Leaning close, he said in a low voice, “Never fear, my darling. I have no eyes for anyone else. I met them already, and they are all insipid and obsequious. And I might add, none are as lovely as you.”
Elizabeth turned sharply toward him. He smirked. “There is no need to be afraid of me. I am but a man, not a monster.”
She turned away. “Papa, may I be excused?”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “Yes. In fact, all of you will go above stairs to rest after you’ve eaten, for it seems we are to have a long afternoon.”
Elizabeth left the parlor before he had finished speaking. She ran upstairs, threw herself upon her bed, and wept from sheer anger and frustration. Why must she always be so unlucky with men? Why could she not be like Jane, who attracted amiable, respectable gentlemen such as Mr. Bingley?
She had been lying there for several minutes when a soft tap at the door startled her.
“Yes, who is it?”
Jane opened the door.
“Lock it, please,” Elizabeth said.
