“Mr. Collins,” she replied, her voice calm yet sincere, “I am sensible of the honor you do me, and of the many advantages your situation offers. Your character—steady, respectful, and devoted to duty—commands my highest esteem. I accept your proposal with gratitude and… with pleasure.”
Mr. Collins’s countenance underwent a transformation of radiant joy; he bowed low, his voice trembling with emotion.
“Miss Lucas—Charlotte—your acceptance overwhelms me with happiness I scarcely dared to hope. I shall write to you daily from Kent, if you permit it, and return with all possible speed for the Meryton assembly, that I may claim the felicity of dancing with you as my betrothed.”
Charlotte’s smile deepened, a quiet contentment softening her features.
“I shall look forward to both your letters and your return, Mr. Collins.”
They continued their walk in a silence now sweetened by mutual understanding, the bellflowers nodding gently in the breeze as if in quiet benediction upon the prospects that had, against all former expectation, opened so brightly before them.
The visit concluded with renewed civilities and the promise of frequent future intercourse, and as Mr. Collins and Elizabeth retraced their steps toward Longbourn, the parson’s countenance shone with a radiance that needed no explanation, while Elizabeth walked beside him in companionable silence, her thoughts pleasantly occupied with the quiet felicities that Hertfordshire appeared, against all expectation, to be weaving for those she held dear.
***
Mr. Collins and Elizabeth approached Longbourn as the afternoon light began to soften. The parson’s step, though tempered now by the gravity of his recent success, retained a lightness that spoke of hopes newly confirmed; his countenance glowed with a quiet radiance that Elizabeth observed with affectionate amusement, reflecting privately that prudence and steady affection might indeed secure felicities she had not always esteemed.
The door opened as they drew near, and Mr. Bennet appeared upon the threshold, his expression one of mild irony tempered by genuine welcome. Mrs. Bennet hovered behind him, her eyes bright with impatient curiosity, while the younger girls clustered in the hall with varying degrees of eagerness.
“Back at last,” Mr. Bennet observed dryly, stepping aside to admit them. “I trust Lucas Lodge has not suffered from your absence, Cousin—and that you, Lizzy, have not been overly fatigued by the exercise.”
Elizabeth smiled with lively grace as she removed her bonnet.
“Not in the least, Papa. The air was most invigorating, and the company particularly agreeable.”
Mr. Collins bowed with earnest gratification, his voice warm with feeling.
“Indeed, sir—most agreeable. I am happy to report that my respects were kindly received, and the visit productive beyond my expectations.”
Mrs. Bennet, unable to contain herself longer, pressed forward with fluttering animation.
“Productive, Mr. Collins? Pray, do not keep us in suspense!”
The family repaired to the drawing-room, where tea had been laid in anticipation of their return. Mr. Collins seated himself with an air of restrained yet radiant satisfaction, while Elizabeth took her place beside Jane with a quiet smile that betrayed her knowledge of the day’s chief event.
Mr. Collins, perceiving the general expectation and conscious that the moment could no longer be deferred, cleared his throat with respectful diffidence.
“My dear cousins,” he began, his baritone voice trembling slightly with emotion, “I am happy—exceedingly happy—to inform you that my visit to Lucas Lodge has been crowned with the most gratifying success. Sir William has honored me with his full consent and approbation, and Miss Lucas herself—Charlotte—has accepted my proposal of marriage with a kindness and composure that overwhelm my gratitude.”
A brief hush fell upon the room—Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widening in initial surprise, Jane’s softening with gentle pleasure, Elizabeth’s sparkling with affectionate raillery, Mary inclining her head with solemn approval, and Lydia and Kitty exchanging glances of mingled astonishment and delight.
Mrs. Bennet recovered first, her voice rising in a mixture of disappointment and forced congratulation.
“Engaged! To Charlotte Lucas? Well—upon my word! I am sure nobody could be more surprised. Charlotte is a good girl, to be sure—sensible, prudent—but seven-and-twenty, and never a beauty… Though I wish you both very happy, Mr. Collins—very happy indeed.”
Mr. Bennet regarded his cousin with dry amusement, a faint smile playing upon his lips.
“Felicitations, Cousin. You have acted with decision—and secured a lady whose good sense will doubtless prove an excellent counterbalance to your own… enthusiasm.”
Mr. Collins bowed low, his countenance radiant.
“Your kindness overwhelms me, sir. Charlotte’s understanding, her steadiness—qualities I have long admired—will, I trust, render our union one of true felicity. The parsonage at Hunsford, under Lady Catherine’s gracious patronage, offers every comfort, and I am persuaded we shall be most content.”
Jane leaned forward with gentle warmth.
“We are all truly happy for you, Cousin—and for Charlotte. She deserves every happiness.”
Elizabeth, her eyes dancing with affectionate mischief, added her voice.
