“It is most unfair, Mama! Why did you not point him in my direction instead of hers?”
Kitty put down the hat she was trimming and stared at Lydia, dumbfounded.
“You! Marry Mr. Collins?” she said, laughing. “When you could have a handsome officer like Mr. Wickham? You have gone mad! Mr. Collins does not even know how to dance. Did you see how he stepped on Lizzy’s feet yesterday at Netherfield and tore the lace trimming on her gown? You cannot stand being in the same room with him. You have told me so.”
“That was before I realized that Lizzy would be mistress of Longbourn. Imagine having us all at her beck and call!” She looked at Mrs. Bennet. “Mama! How could you? You know she will spend all our money on stupid books for the library, instead of buying us new clothes. She will make us all miserable.”
It was clear that Mrs. Bennett had not thought of it that way. Her eyes widened and she took out her lace handkerchief and began to fan herself.
“But Lydia, my dear, if I had known that you would wish it—if only—what a triumph it would have been – oh, Lydia. If I had thought for a moment that you were willing—”
“Iwould have married Mr. Collins,” said Mary. “Iwas willing.”
“Oh, hush, Mary,” said Kitty. “You know he would never have married you. He was looking for aprettywife.”
Mary turned a most unbecoming shade of scarlet, put her book down and walked out of the room. Lydia rolled her eyes. After all, Kitty hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. Mary had to know it would have been quite useless to set her cap at Mr. Collins. He would never look at her twice. Poor old Mary.
Now, if Lydia tried to win his affection...
“That was unkind, Kitty,” said Jane. “And, Lydia, before you get carried away, remember that you would bemarriedto Mr. Collins. All the money would behis.Hewould decide what to do with the money.”
As if that mattered! Lydia knew she could wrap him around her little finger.
“La! Do you think I will not be able to manage him? I am willing to wager that he will do whatever I ask.”
“Lydia! You have been spending too much time with the officers,” said Jane, gently. “Young ladies do not lay wagers.”
As if Lydia cared for Jane’s stuffy ideas. She had other things to worry about. She was crushed. All her hopes and dreams were dashed to the ground. Lizzy would have it all.
“It is so unfair, Mama!”
“I know, child, but it is too late,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “If only we thought of it earlier. What a triumph it would have been for you!”
A huge sense of injustice filled Lydia. She would not let Lizzy take what was hers by right. She would not give up that easily.
An idea flashed into her mind. “You could interrupt,” said Lydia. “You could stop Mr. Collins. Itisn’ttoo late, Mama. Please. You must.”
A shrewd look passed through Mama’s face, and hope leapt up in Lydia’s heart.
“Hurry, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet rose swiftly to her feet. “Yes, yes, but I must have a reason. Come Lydia.Hurry!I will pretend to faint, and you will have to carry me.”
“Carry you?” said Lydia doubtfully. Mama must be twice her weight at least. “But –"
“Do you want to marry Mr. Collins or not? Just do what I tell you. Now hurry, before it is too late. When I faint, you must ask Mr. Collins to summon the apothecary, and tell him I have trouble breathing. Will you remember to say that?”
“Yes, of course Mama,” said Lydia, running to the parlor behind Mama, her thoughts full of excitement. She would be mistress of Longbourn.
But first she must draw Mr. Collins’ attention in some way. She looked down at the fichu that was supposed to preserve the modesty of her morning dress. Making sure no one noticed, she tore it away and threw it on the ground behind her. She pinched her cheeks and lips to make them more red. She wished she could stop in to look in a mirror to check her hair, but there was no time. Maybe if she let a few of her curls down. One of the officers—probably Mr. Chamberlayne—had told her that a loose curl on the side of her neck drove him to distraction.
By then they had reached the parlor, and there was no time to do anything else. Mama nodded quickly at Lydia and pushed the door open with a cry. The door hit the wall behind it with a loud crack, and Mama put her hand to her chest.
Mr. Collins was kneeling on one knee in front of Elizabeth.
“—the violence of my affections,” he was saying.
What was this? Did Mr. Collins actually care for Elizabeth? No, it could not be. Lydia would be mistress of Longbourn.
