“He was indeed.” Mr. Bennet’s face was pale. “Which confirms my worst fears. Your time of safety is ending, Lizzy. You must choose quickly—marriage to Collins, or a very short life as Elizabeth Rose Darcy.”
Elizabeth let out a breath and met her father’s eyes. The expression of fear mixed with love wrung her heart, but did not remove her determination. She would not allow her parents’ murder to go unpunished, and she definitely would not lose Pemberley and her birthright to the likes of Fitzwilliam Darcy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A FRIEND’S COUNSEL
Elizabeth kepther thoughts inward as she sat at the breakfast table. The morning light streaming through the windows felt harsh against her tired eyes—she had slept perhaps two hours, her mind churning through impossible plans and discarded schemes until dawn crept across the sky. She had to appear calm and collected, although she had no firm plans on the way forward.
“More tea, Lizzy?” Jane asked softly. “You’ve hardly touched your breakfast.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured, maintaining her air of distraction.
Mrs. Bennet fluttered around the table, her hands in constant motion as she rearranged dishes, straightened napkins, and adjusted the flowers in the centerpiece. Her excitement radiated from her like heat from a stove.
“Oh, Lizzy! You seem deep in thought this morning. I daresay your conversation with your father has brought you to a sensible decision. I confess I had doubts about your willingness to consider your family’s welfare, but I now see your charitable heart, so like my own.”
Elizabeth had never been aware that her mother was charitable, but on further reflection, she supposed every tart her mother gave her, every egg, every time she told Elizabeth to stand up straight, every bit of maternal comfort was done out of a sense of charity.
“Indeed, Mama,” Elizabeth replied, proud of how level her voice sounded. “I find myself considering matters I had not previously thought worthy of attention.”
“Such an excellent match!” Mrs. Bennet continued, practically vibrating with delight. “A comfortable parsonage, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s patronage—think of it, Lizzy—and of course, the entailment secured for the family. We shall all be saved from the hedgerows!”
And safety from murderers, Elizabeth thought darkly.Let us not forget that particular benefit.
“I think Mr. Collins would make a dreadful husband,” Lydia announced, reaching for another slice of toast. “He talks forever and never says anything worth hearing.”
“Lydia!” Mary reproved severely. “Mr. Collins is a man of God. His conversation reflects the gravity of his spiritual calling.”
“His conversation reflects the gravity of his stupidity,” Kitty giggled. “Did you see how he knocked over the candlestick at dinner last night? I thought Papa would expire from trying not to laugh.”
“Girls! Such disrespect for your future brother!” Mrs. Bennet scolded. “Lizzy shall be mistress of Longbourn one day, and then you shall be sorry for your unkindness.”
Jane watched Elizabeth with troubled eyes. “Lizzy, are you quite certain about this? You’ve always said you would only marry for the deepest love.”
“Do not concern yourself, dear sister.” Elizabeth took a piece of toast. “When I’m Mistress of Longbourn, I shall grant you your choice of bedchambers and hire maids for every one of you. After all, I have nothing but the deepest love for you, Mama, and all my sisters.”
Jane’s brows twisted with confusion, but Elizabeth meant forthis speech to be a farewell. Whatever happened this afternoon, she had no intention of accepting Mr. Collins’s suit.
Mrs. Bennet was delighted. “Oh, my word, Lizzy. We shall none of us fear the hedgerows. I shall be well provided for, and my labor on your behalf will be lavishly rewarded. Come now, finish your eggs. We must see to your appearance immediately. That blue muslin, I think, with the lace collar. And your hair! Hill must dress it properly—perhaps with those pearl pins your aunt Gardiner sent for your last birthday. Oh! And ribbons! We need fresh ribbons. Kitty, run to my room and fetch my ribbon box. The light blue would complement Lizzy’s complexion beautifully.”
“Mama, please,” Elizabeth protested weakly, overwhelmed by this onslaught of maternal attention.
“Mr. Collins will be calling this afternoon,” Mrs. Bennet announced, practically dancing around the table. “He has requested a private audience with you, Lizzy. I have assured him of a most favorable reception. Lady Lucas will be green with envy—she had hopes for Charlotte, you know, but Mr. Collins clearly recognized superior breeding when he saw it.”
“I hardly believe Lady Lucas would concern herself with Mr. Collins when the formidable Mr. Darcy clearly favors our dear Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied with arch innocence. “After all, she was the only unmarried lady he danced with that evening.”
Mrs. Bennet’s face puckered as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “My word, Lizzy! Lady Lucas will soon perceive the despicable and insufferable pride of that man. Even ten thousand a year could not induce me to commend such a disagreeable person.”
“Indeed not, Mama,” Elizabeth murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “Though I daresay you would perform acrobatics in the drawing room for half that sum if it secured one of your daughters.”
Jane shot her a warning glance as Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks flushed crimson.
“Oh, Lizzy, do not be so droll. We must prepare. Mr. Collins is quite eager to secure your hand before returning to Hunsford. Wemust begin planning the wedding breakfast immediately. Perhaps primroses for the decorations? Though October weddings are challenging for flowers.”
“An October wedding?” Elizabeth’s voice rose in alarm. Time was running out faster than she had anticipated. She had hoped for at least a day or two to formulate a plan, but Mr. Collins’s eagerness was accelerating matters beyond her control. She needed to act now.
“Of course, my dear! Mr. Collins must return to Kent next week. Lady Catherine cannot spare her parson for long, you know. Such an important lady. Just think, Lizzy, you shall be under her patronage. My daughter, noticed by Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”
