Page 22

Collins adjusted his cuffs. "I am not without attractions, cousin. My prospects are respectable. Lady Catherine has favoured me beyond the ordinary measure, and my rectory affords every domestic comfort."

"I do not question your satisfaction with your circumstances," Elizabeth answered. "I simply cannot consent to share them as your wife."

"Perhaps you are overlooking the peculiar advantages of the arrangement. You would become mistress of Longbourn, and your aunt and cousins might continue to enjoy my consideration."

The appeal struck exactly where Elizabeth was most vulnerable. She thought of Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, of their mother weeping over household accounts, and of the uncertain lodgings awaiting them. But she also remembered Mr. Bennet telling her that honour did not require the surrender of her whole life.

"You speak as though my cousins were part of the furniture to be left in the house," Elizabeth said before she could stop herself. Collins drew himself up, and heat rushed into her cheeks. "Forgive me. That was rude. I know you mean to offer security, but I cannot purchase it by promising to be your wife. I have no affection for you of that kind, sir."

For the first time his expression hardened.

"Your aunt informed me that you possessed an excellent understanding. I had expected greater prudence."

"Then I regret disappointing you."

"I trust you will reconsider once the first impulse of feminine reserve has passed."

"I have said no," Elizabeth answered, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I do not know what will happen to me because of it, and I am frightened. But I cannot say yes merely because I am frightened."

She rose and left him standing beside the fireplace.

Mrs. Bennet was waiting in the passage.

"Well?" she demanded. "Has he made you an offer?"

"He has, Aunt, and I have refused him."

For several seconds Mrs. Bennet appeared unable to comprehend the answer. Then she cried out so loudly that Hill appeared from the servants' hall.

"Refused! You have refused the man who will inherit this house? After all that has been done for you?"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot marry him."

"Cannot! You mean you will not. There is a great difference!"

Jane emerged from the drawing room. "Mama, perhaps we ought to speak more quietly."

"Quietly? When your cousin intends to throw away the greatest opportunity she will ever receive? No fortune, no estate, no father to provide for her—and she refuses a gentleman with a living and a home!"

Elizabeth held herself very still. "I have explained my reasons to Mr. Collins."

"Your reasons! As though a girl in your situation could afford to consider such things! Do you suppose we welcomed you into this house because we expected nothing in return?"

Jane caught her breath. Elizabeth felt the words as though someone had struck her. The hall, the worn carpet beneath her feet, the familiar portraits upon the walls—all seemed suddenly strange.

"I had believed I was welcomed because I was family," Elizabeth answered at last.

"Family has obligations," Mrs. Bennet retorted. "We fed you and clothed you and educated you for eight years. Your uncle spent money upon those ridiculous German books when he ought to have saved for his own daughters. And now, when you have a chance to repay us by securing our home, you think only of yourself."

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears, but she would not permit them to fall before her aunt.

"I am grateful for everything Uncle Thomas did for me," she replied. "I loved him dearly. I love my cousins. But I cannot promise Mr. Collins a lifetime of obedience merely because I was once a child who needed a home."

"Then you are a selfish, ungrateful girl."

Jane moved to Elizabeth's side. "Mama, please."

"You need not defend her, Jane. She has made her feelings perfectly plain."