“Mrs. Bennet,” came Bingley’s voice, “my sister and I should like to invite you and your family to Netherfield on Christmas day to partake of the cheer of the day with my family. Please say that you will come.”
“What an excellent notion!” exclaimed the Bennet matron, her significant glance at her eldest daughter leaving no one in any doubt ofheropinion of the reason for Mr. Bingley’s invitation. “We shall be happy to join you. Of course, we have a houseguest at present . . . .”
“Mr. Collins is welcome to join you, of course,” said Bingley.
“I thank you for my part, Mr. Bingley,” said Mr. Collins, offering a low bow. “I should like nothing better than to spend Christmas with your excellent family. If through the course of the day, a certain desirable event comes to pass, I shall be most obliged to you for providing the opportunity.”
The way Collins’s piglike eyes darted to Miss Elizabeth, the hunger in them almost provoked Darcy to call this toad of a man out. Miss Elizabeth, however, ignored him, turning back to Georgiana. They conversed together, doing their best to avoid or ignore Collins, and Darcy did his best to distract him. Though he was not at all pleased with Collins, the sequence of events satisfied Darcy. The pieces were in place. He only needed to move them about to ensure Miss Elizabeth considered him a desirable marriage partner rather than the oaf Collins.
Chapter IV
If not for Mr. Darcy and his charming sister, Elizabeth might have given in to temptation and wrapped her hands around Mr. Collins’s neck to choke some sense into the dolt. Instead, she limited herself to committing the act in her mind’s eye and picturing her satisfaction at the sight of his crimson face and bulging eyes while he fought for breath.
She knew that trying to force intelligence into that stubborn head was a foolish endeavor, but the thought of him clutching his fantasy until the end brought a bit of humor to her day.
Miss Bingley took such delight in his performance that she considered directing his interest toward her. The woman’s smugness grew with each passing moment, and she saw the other engaged in a discussion that seemed to concern her, as she pointed in her direction.
Her mother offered no support in this battle of wills, and Elizabeth wondered how she had persuaded the parson to return to Longbourn. His angry departure upon the rejection of his unwanted proposal had been the best day of the entire two-week visit, and she had a perfect recollection of his parting words.
“I find it unfortunate that you refused my offer,” she remembered him saying, a smug self-satisfaction covering his plump face. “You will come to regret what might have been, but not until your bleak future is determined.”
She did not care enough to reply, content instead with a thin smile as she busied herself ignoring the man.
His head poking through the curtained windows of his carriage reminded her of prisoners in the stocks, forced to stand and submit to the rotten fruit and eggs thrown at them. If such a blessed event ever took place in Meryton, she would beg themagistrate for the privilege of throwing the first, followed by the second and third rancid apple.
“It pains me to impress upon you the consequences of your decision,” said he, licking his lips in a way that reminded her of pigs at the trough. “Your rejection condemns you to a life alone, unloved and unwanted. And do not expect me to welcome you to Longbourn when your worthy father passes. I doubt any wife of mine is going to accept your residence in our marital home.”
Would he never finish and leave? How many times did he intend to remind her of her grave mistake and the wretched existence he expected her to endure because she would not let him, and her mother, force this ridiculous marriage upon her?
His condemnation delivered, Mr. Collins fixed her with a prolonged stare, as if expecting her to plead for his forgiveness. A smirk crept across Elizabeth's lips as she enjoyed the pompous fool's misinterpretation. His lack of words, when at last it occurred, sweetened the rest of her day.
What had her mother done to bring him back, and with the firm conviction of their imminent union? And why did he refuse to acknowledge Elizabeth’s repeated assertions of the ridiculousness of his assumptions?
The only explanation she could come up with was her continual meddling in the situation. Of course, if Mrs. Bennet had arranged the sudden reappearance, as Elizabeth suspected, she would have fed his delusions with assurances of her daughter’s eventual surrender.
What neither of them realized was that she would, without regret, embrace the life of a spinster over marriage to someone as loathsome as Mr. Collins.
She watched as her mother flitted about the room, her injudicious comments a continual source of embarrassment.
When she was not prattling on about the beauty of the season and her good fortune at having two of Hertfordshire’s mosteligible bachelors in her home, she was hinting at the joyous news she expected to announce on Christmas Day.
At last, having endured as much nonsense as she could without losing her temper in front of everyone, Elizabeth caught the woman’s attention and pulled her into the hall.
“Mama,” she whispered, her irritation clear, “please mind your tongue before unfounded rumors about my upcoming marriage to Mr. Collins start in Meryton and spread far beyond.”
Mrs. Bennet lifted her gaze, but seemed to disregard the sparks flashing in Elizabeth's eyes or the smoke she was certain must be coming from her ears.
“Rumors? I would not call them that,” replied she with a glance toward the parson who, it was clear, misunderstood the attention he drew. Of course, the simpleton did not realize the expressions of fear and consternation worn by everyone but Miss Bingley, who seemed to enjoy the spectacle, and Mrs. Hurst who, it was obvious, cared not a whit.
“Have you thought about your life in this house if I am forced to wed him? I can assure you it would not be as pleasant as you assume.”
Her words fell on deaf ears, as her mother paid more attention to the clown making a fool of himself than Elizabeth’s warning.
“Thank you, Darcy, for yesterday’s entertainment,” said Fitzwilliam at the breakfast table the following day. “And to think I considered returning to London as soon as I delivered Georgiana? Last night was the most fun I can remember having in months.”
“I am glad you could amuse yourself,” countered he with a rueful grin. “It would have mortified me to see you bored or uncomfortable.”
Fitzwilliam laughed as he spread preserves on a warm scone. “Boredom had no place at that delightful gathering. My onlyproblem was hiding the laughter from watching the battle of wills between Mrs. Bennet and her daughter.”
