Page 19 of Mr. Darcy’s Fiery Passion

On your mouth, she thought. On the fact that I could bend my head and kiss you. You could not stop me with your hands.

"On not drowning you," she said.

He smiled. It was the first true smile she had ever seen on his face. It changed it completely. She forgot to breathe.

Elizabeth took her hands out of his hair. It cost her a great deal. "There," she said. "You no longer smell of the fifth of November. Go and sit by the fire before you take a chill, or Mama will blame me."

He got up slowly. He sat in his own chair with his wet hair pushed back. He looked younger than she had ever seen him. He left the book alone. He only sat and looked at the fire, and now and then at her.

Neither of them said a word for the rest of the night. It was not an uncomfortable silence. That frightened her more than anything else.

Mr. Collins arrived on Monday at a quarter past four.

He had not come to Netherfield on purpose. His letter had been posted from Hunsford a month ago, to announce his visit to Longbourn. Nobody had thought to write and put him off. He had come down from London on the Meryton coach and found Longbourn with no roof. Mrs. Hill had sent him on to Netherfield in the carrier's cart.

He had also found Parrish on the coach. The two men climbed down from the cart side by side. Parrish's face was gray.

"Mr. Darcy's man," said Mr. Collins, bowing deeply to everyone on the steps. "We have been in company since London. I have been able to share with him a great many of Lady Catherine de Bourgh's views on the management of servants. He was very attentive."

"I am sure he was," said Mr. Bennet.

Parrish said nothing. He carried his portmanteaux up the steps and disappeared into the house without a word.

Mr. Collins was a tall, heavy young man of five-and-twenty. He had a grave, stately manner and a great deal to say. He said most of it in the hall. He was desolated by the fire. He was overwhelmed by Mr. Bingley's hospitality. He was sure Lady Catherine would be deeply affected.

"Lady Catherine has the chimneys at Rosings swept four times in the year," he told Mr. Bennet. "She is most particular. I shall mention your misfortune to her, sir. She will certainly have advice."

"I do not doubt it," said Mr. Bennet.

Mr. Bingley had no choice but to offer him a room. Mr. Collins accepted it with three bows.

Mrs. Bennet had spent twenty years hating Mr. Collins without having met him. He was the heir. He would turn them all out of Longbourn the moment Mr. Bennet was cold. She had said so at every meal for as long as Elizabeth could remember.

She changed her mind in a quarter of an hour.

"He is looking for a wife, Lizzy," she whispered, as the party went in to dinner. "He as good as told me so. And Jane is spoken for, or will be very soon." She squeezed Elizabeth's arm. "You must be agreeable to him. You must be very agreeable."

"Mama, I have met him for a quarter of an hour."

"And in that quarter of an hour he has admired your fortitude twice. That is more than any other man has managed in twenty years."

It was at dinner that he discovered Mr. Darcy.

"Darcy?" He put down his fork. "Not the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Of Rosings Park?"

"I have that honor," said Mr. Darcy, without enthusiasm.

Mr. Collins rose from his chair. He bowed across the table so low that his neckcloth dipped into his soup. He apologized for not having known sooner. He apologized for the soup. He assured Mr. Darcy that Lady Catherine and her daughter were in excellent health as of Tuesday week.

Mr. Darcy thanked him. He did it with perfect civility. His face gave away nothing at all.

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek very hard.

After dinner he looked about Mr. Bingley's library for a book of sermons and was astonished to find none. He settled at last for a work on the diseases of horses. He sat down beside Elizabeth with it, since Jane was taken up with Mr. Bingley. "My fair cousin," he said. "You bear your misfortune with great fortitude. I have been observing it."

"You are very kind, sir."

"Lady Catherine says that fortitude is the first of female virtues." He smiled at her, and at her foot on the stool. "After economy."