Heavens above, would he never bring himself to the point?
“Mama, the sound of his voice is making me sick,” Elizabeth mumbled.
Mr Collins stopped his monologue on the excellence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and looked again to Mrs Bennet for interpretation.
“She says she has always wanted to marry a cleric.”
He smiled benignly, and began another soliloquy upon the subject of Elizabeth’s lack of fortune and his own generosity in ignoring it. “And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language ofthe violence of my affection. I deem it appropriate to declaim using Shakespeare’s poetry such as young ladies are prone to admire, in demonstration of my regard.” He cleared his throat and began to recite:
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all.
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?—
It was at this juncture that Mrs Bennet noticed Mary standing in the entrance to the parlour, very near her own chair, looking on in some amazement. Mr Collins continued with his performance, oblivious to anyone else’s presence—including his intended bride’s.
“What is he doing, Mama?” Mary whispered.
“Have you no sense of romance? Have you never before heard poetry recited?” Mrs Bennet hissed.
“Really? But why would he choose Shakespeare’s verses about a friend’s betrayal with his own mistress?”
“Hush, noisy girl! Your father and sisters are abed. Out!”
Mary, fortunately, obediently departed, but if Jane waked, she would not be so easily put off. It was all too much, and Lizzy was in danger of collapsing.
“Mr Collins!” she called loudly, interrupting some lines which did, unfortunately, sound much as though he were scolding a disloyal friend and deceitful lover.
He peered at her in some irritation. “I have three more stanzas learnt.”
“But you have missed my dear Elizabeth’s bestowal of her hand and heart upon you. And now, in her excitement to be your bride, she wishes to be taken to the church immediately and have the thing done.”
“I did? She will? She does?” he asked, staring at his bride-to-be. Elizabeth had laid her head upon the arm of the settee and was laughing to herself, glassy-eyed.
“Can you not tell excitement for a wedding when you see it? We shall use the carriage. I have already ordered it brought round. Mr Palmer will have witnesses available. Do you have the licence?”
“Why yes. Yes, I do. Right here in my pocket.” He fumbled around with three different pockets before finally producing it. He glanced at Elizabeth again, and this time there was no mistaking the gleam of admiration in his eye as he realised he was to be a married man before noon.
Forcibly quelling her conscience once more, Mrs Bennet heaved her daughter to her feet. “Come, my poppet,” she said, keeping her arm about Lizzy’s waist. “It is time to be wed. Your future is secured.”
Darcy galloped up the long drive just as a party of three emerged from the house. One of them was obviously the hulking form of the cleric, Collins. His jaw could be seen flapping, a never-ending stream of discourse reaching Darcy as a tuneless whine. Mrs Bennet walked by his side, plainly and heavily supporting Elizabeth. Even from thisdistance he could see the poor girl would probably collapse onto the pavers, were someone not holding her up. He could hardly believe his eyes; the plan to ruin Elizabeth’s life depended upon a scheming mama, a witless groom, and a doddering vicar—and yet, it appeared to be proceeding apace.
He managed to manoeuvre his mount between the group and the carriage before they reached it, leaping from the horse to land practically upon their toes.
“Mr Darcy!” Collins beamed at him with his usual vapidity, bowing low. “You honour us with your presence. In fact, it was the only thing lacking on an otherwise perfect morning. I do not believe that I presume too much when I and my cousin invite you to join us on a brief journey to the village church, to thereby witness our nuptials. The distinction of having so fine a testator would be a compliment to myself and my bride, and I do not hesitate to add, nearly as great a commemoration as the presence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself.”
“I am certain itisan impertinence to ask,” Mrs Bennet snapped, appearing more impatient than guilty. “Pray forgive him for his insolence, sir. As you can see, we are just departing. We will be on our way, and trouble you no further, Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth giggled.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said in firm tones, ignoring the other two, “can you understand that you are being taken to a church to be married to this man?”
At the sound of his voice, she looked at him and smiledher wide, lovely smile. “You are very pretty,” she said in the too-careful tones of the inebriated. Reaching over, she touched his mouth. “It is such a shame you are vermin. Scoundrel. Rat. Ch-churl.” She peered up above his head, as if searching for more invective in the sky, swaying a little. “Brute. Mig-headed piscreant. No, that was not right. Never mind.” She shook her head, causing another sway that her mother only just prevented turning into a tumble.
Mrs Bennet was sweating now with the effort of keeping her daughter upright.
“Toad,” Elizabeth pronounced carefully.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Collins screeched in horrified tones. “I assure you, Mr Darcy, she means none of it! Perhaps in her excitement for her wedding?—”
