“Though I can say nothing of this man of whom you speak,” said Collins, his tone dismissive, “there is no reason you would reject my offer in favor of some nebulous possibility that may or may not come to pass. Every circumstance is highly in my favor, from my connection to a noble family and position as the rector of a prosperous parish to my future inheritance of this estate. I am certain there can be no objection.”
“Perhaps you did not hear me, Mr. Collins,” snarled Mr. Bennet. “Elizabeth isengaged! The only reason she is not now married is because a matter arose that demanded her fiancé’s attention in a distant shire. The wedding is now planned for the first week of April, and as you have heard of this, including the engagement ball, you have proposed to attend—without an invitation, I might add—I cannot imagine why you would continue to press your suit.”
“I—”
“Not another word.”
Bennet glared at him, and he noted Collins had listened at last, though he could not say if the man would desist. The set to his jaw and the mulish glint in his eyes told Bennet something of his determination, which was out of the common way.
“So that I am understood,” said Bennet, “I will repeat myself. Elizabeth is engaged and thus is not at liberty to receive any assurances you might offer. While I congratulate you on your happy situation, it is not one that she will share with you,and, I might add, should you turn your attention to my other daughters, please understand that I will not consent to an engagement unless it istheirchoice. Thus, you are welcome to keep your fortunate situation, so long as you leave Elizabeth alone. Am I clear?”
When Collins opened his mouth, Bennet spoke again, certain the man did not mean to oblige him.
“If you do not comply, you may pack your trunks and return to Kent on the morrow. I will not endure a man who persists in the face of all that is decent. Now, will you stop importuning Elizabeth, or shall I sequester her with her sisters until your departure on the morrow?”
Even after all that, Bennet was uncertain the parson would choose the correct course. In the end, however, he offered a curt nod, though he said nothing. Bennet gave him one decisive nod.
“Very well. Let us return to my family, for I suspect the call to dinner will arrive shortly.”
“ODIOUS DOES NOT EVENbegin to describe Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth in an undertone to her father.
“It must run in the family,” was his dry reply, “for his father was among the most objectionable men I ever met.”
Distracted, Elizabeth nodded, though keeping her attention on Mr. Collins. The parson sat by himself in a chair, speaking to no one; this suited her family, for they did not engage him in conversation, more than one of her sisters appearing relieved at his silence. While Elizabeth wanted to believe that Mr. Collins would desist, the way his eyes often found her spoke of half-formed plans, though what he meant to do she could not say. The notion had been growing in her mind since his arrival, telling her that there was something she did not know, something that provoked him to act the way he did. His silliness might have done that, but a voice whispered in Elizabeth’s ear that it was not that simple.
“Would it not be best to send him back to Kent regardless?”
Even as her father considered it, Elizabeth knew what his answer would be, though colored with the utmost reluctance.
“There is no proof he means harm, though his behavior has not been the best. For good or ill, Collins will be the master of this estate—thus, it behooves me to at least keep cordial relations with him.”
With a sigh, Elizabeth nodded, knowing her father was correct.
“If, however, he does not stop, please inform me and I will remove him from the estate. Now that I have warned him, he has no other excuse.”
“I shall tell my sisters,” replied Elizabeth. “Do I also have your permission to kick his shins to keep him quiet?’
Mr. Bennet chuckled and threw her a fond look. “Yes, perhaps that would be for the best. If you bruise his legs, you may silence him for a time. You may even offend enough to send him from Longbourn altogether.”
“I thought you wanted to keep cordial relations,” said Elizabeth.
“Perhaps I do,” replied her father. “If he becomes too unendurable, I shall settle for distance.”
Elizabeth’s laughter rang out through the room. Mr. Collins appeared to consider it a personal affront, though Elizabeth was certain he could not hear them from where he sat. Elizabeth decided she did not care about his offense. Now that her father had spoken to him, Elizabeth had no intention of enduring his attempts to woo her and would leave the room at once if he should choose to raise the subject again.
Chapter XV
Anthony Fitzwilliam was the only member of the party who looked back on Pemberley with regret as the carriage heading to the south departed from the venerable estate. Though he had come in response to tragedy, Fitzwilliam had come to terms with the former master’s death. The time at Pemberley had taught him that perhaps he had looked on the life of a gentleman with a jaded eye that was unwarranted. Now that he was older, the desire for adventure did not burn with such ferocity; of more importance, he had now seen battle and understood adventure was not a facet of being in the army. Rather, it was the drudgery of training for weeks on end to enter a situation where a well-placed ball might end one’s time on earth with no warning. Now that he was to return after such a long break, Fitzwilliam did not know if he wished to pursue that life any further.
His entrance into the army at all had been against his parents’ wishes, for his father had promised to provide for him. The aforementioned lust for excitement and exploration had been too much for him to resist, leading to the purchase of his initial commission. Now his mother lived in constant fear of his regiment receiving orders to battle against the French, and he lived with growing distaste for the occupation he had chosen. Should it be required, Fitzwilliam would do his duty, though he was aware his father’s influence was enough to see him transferred to another regiment. Fitzwilliam never wished to be one of those men—of whom there were not a few—who servedking and country only when convenient and avoided battle at all costs.
The question he needed to answer was whether he would take that step and resign his commission. To maintain his lifestyle, Fitzwilliam knew he would need to marry well, for while his father could provide him with enough funds to allow him to live in comfort, the property was all tied up in the earldom. There was some suggestion that an elderly relation might leave him an estate, but Fitzwilliam had no notion if that was a possibility or mere rumor.
To own the truth, he had always envied Darcy a little for the freedom of choice he possessed, even though Darcy had never availed himself of it. If anyone in the world could claim to know Jameson Darcy, it was Anthony Fitzwilliam, but even he could not claim to know his cousin well. He had not been an easy man to know. Fitzwilliam Darcy was similar, though he was not so reticent as his cousin.
The new master of Pemberley was an excellent man, a man Fitzwilliam esteemed deeply in only a few short weeks. Jameson had also been a good man, but Darcy was more suited, if Fitzwilliam could use such a term, to a close friendship. Where it might lead, he could not know, but Fitzwilliam treasured the friendship. Now that he was to become Georgiana’s second guardian, Fitzwilliam was assured of keeping the connection—he suspected, given enough time, they would be like brothers.
“It is a consequence of living in the north,” said Fitzwilliam that evening when they stopped at an inn for the night.
