One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (19 page)

“Stay where you are, Mary. I shall return in a moment.” Elizabeth said, and hurried to her room where she retrieved a thin gold chain that she then strung around her sister's throat.

“There.” Elizabeth said as she turned Mary's face to the mirror. “You are only missing one thing to make yourself truly beautiful.”

Mary, who was stunned at what a difference these minor alterations had already made in her overall appearance, shook her head, not understanding.

“Smile.” Elizabeth prompted. “Even if it is just a very little smile. There is nothing as enticing on a woman's face as a cheerful countenance. Practice in the mirror for a minute. There is one more thing I wish to get.”

She returned a moment later with Jane and in delicate terms explained Mary's dilemma to their eldest sister. Jane was initially surprised at the revelation, but she quickly concurred with Elizabeth that if it would make Mary happy, they should do all within their power to redirect Mr. Collins' attention to the third eldest Miss Bennet.

Chapter Twenty

Hidden Agendas

E
lizabeth, sitting before her dressing table, admired her transformed appearance in the mirror.
 
I would need far more time to make myself plainer
, she thought with satisfaction. Her hair was arranged in a tightly formed severe bun. She had tamed as many of the tendrils that usually hung about her face as would cooperate, forcing them backwards to combine with the rest of her hair. She wore an outdated dress that she generally only wore to garden in the spring and summer. It was worn and faded and stained—not fit even to turn. She put it on with a smile, and then practiced her frown, for she wished to seem as disagreeable and unsightly as possible to Mr. Collins.

As Elizabeth was admiring her handiwork, the call for all to “make haste” was heard from below. Elizabeth braced herself for what was certain to be a critical diatribe on her appearance as soon as she was seen by her mother. Upon landing at the bottom of the stairs, Hill gave her a strange look but directed her into the sitting room, where Jane, Lydia and Kitty were all peering through the window to witness the approach of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth joined them at the window, trying not to laugh at Jane's face when her sister noticed the change in Elizabeth.

Mr. Collins cleared his throat as he entered the room, as if to announce himself. The sound startled the sisters and they scattered to their usual seats, except for Kitty, whose seat was now occupied by Mr. Collins.

Mary entered next, self-consciously looking at the floor as she shuffled to her seat, looking up only to gain reassurance from her two elder sisters. There was a pretty blush to her cheeks born of embarrassment, which nicely matched the pink gown she wore and enhanced the effect of Elizabeth's efforts.

Mrs. Bennet came fluttering into the room, her lace mobcap slightly askew. She stopped short when she saw Mr. Collins in Kitty's seat, and then addressed her only standing daughter. “Kitty, you sit there, by the window.” She did not of course, wish to risk the possibility that Kitty would take the seat next to Jane. She then cast a cursory eye about the room, and finding it in an acceptable state to receive guests, she moved quickly to her own chair just in time.

Footsteps outside the door gave them warning, and almost in unison, they stood as Hill announced Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy to the room.

The air nearly crackled with the tension of the occupants’ expectations, for nearly each person present had some agenda or another to pursue. All were keenly felt to be of import by their holder, although several were unaware of the similar or conflicting ideas on the part of any other.

Mr. Bingley was his usual cheerful self, if slightly more agitated than usual. He engaged easily with Mrs. Bennet, who invited the gentlemen into the room. Her welcome of Mr. Bingley was noticeably warmer than that directed toward Mr. Darcy, although her manner toward the latter fell short of being uncivil.

After a cursory pass at the initial pleasantries, Mr. Darcy moved to the window, as was his habit. Normally, Elizabeth would have taken note of this had she not been so very distracted by silently signaling Mary to smile and to correct her posture.

Mr. Darcy stood transfixed, watching Elizabeth in the glass. His recently established rule against looking at her, he rationalized, was really only applied to looking
 
directly
 
at her—he allowed himself the exception of the glass.

She had changed, he noted with increasing interest. He could not determine at first exactly what was different, but the effect reminded him of a governess or lady's companion, somewhat austere and spinsterish. What surprised him more than the change itself was his reaction to it. Rather than putting him off as he would have expected, it excited him. What costume was this? What role was she playing with her little grimacing smiles at her sister Mary? With her hair swept completely back from her face, the exquisite lines of Elizabeth's cheekbones were emphasized. The sweep of her jaw gained definition and the curve of her neck was tantalizingly exposed. He realized to his surprise, that the only thing in her face that was actually not perfectly symmetrical was the line of her brows, for one arched somewhat wickedly higher than the other. The feathery edges of her hairline drew a frame around her open face that he wanted to reach out and trace with his finger on the glass. His hands, however, remained firmly disciplined behind his back.

The door of the sitting room opened, and Hill spoke. “Mr. Bennet will see you now, Mr. Bingley.”

Mr. Darcy turned and gave Mr. Bingley an encouraging look. He had seen his friend fall for women before, but Bingley's heart had always failed him when it came to facing the young lady's father. This was as far as he had ever gotten before and spoke volumes about the depth of Charles' feelings for Jane Bennet.

Nearly as soon as Mr. Bingley had quit the room, Mrs. Bennet had leapt from her own seat and moved to sit next to Jane. “Jane, Jane, what is he about Jane?” Mrs. Bennet fussed, patting Jane's hand in agitated crooning. Jane tried to quietly calm her mother, hoping that she was giving nothing away in her reassurances that Mr. Bingley had just wished to extend his greetings to her father, but she was sure he would return shortly.

This distraction was the perfect opportunity for Mr. Collins, and he moved as discretely as he knew how, from the seat he had first chosen, to a position on the same settee as Elizabeth, leaving but a small space between them.

“Cousin Elizabeth,” he began, “have you never had occasion to travel into Kent?”

“No, sir, I have never done so, although I hear it is lovely.” Elizabeth answered, but she was looking fiercely at Mary, urging her with the motions of her eyes to come and take the seat between herself and Mr. Collins. She had a disturbing image of herself mirroring her mother's gestures, but it did not matter. She had promised Mary, and she could only hope that their contrivance would somehow work.

“It is indeed lovely,” Mr. Collins effused, “particularly that sweet corner of the county where my own humble parsonage resides.” He tipped his head, trying to gain eye contact with Elizabeth. “The most magnificent estate in the whole of Kent of course, is Rosings Park, where my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh....”

A shadow suddenly loomed over Mr. Collins, and he trailed off as he looked into the visage of Mr. Darcy, who had approached and now stood directly in front of Mr. Collins.

“Mr. Collins? We were introduced, I believe, earlier today in Meryton.” Mr. Darcy bowed slightly and was obliged to take a step backward as Mr. Collins attempted to rise.

“Mr. Darcy? Yes, we were indeed, although we did not have the pleasure of conversing at any length, for being in the company of my fair cousins, it was incumbent upon me to attend most diligently to their needs.” Mr. Collins voice did not conceal his pleasure that Mr. Darcy had acknowledged the acquaintance nor his desire to impress the great man.

Mr. Darcy looked expectantly at Mr. Collins and finally added, “May I join you?” He stepped forward, indicating that he would take the seat between Mr. Collins and Elizabeth on the settee.

Elizabeth, frowned apologetically at Mary, for there was simply not room on the little bench for four. Mr. Darcy had expressly stated that he was joining Mr. Collins, so Elizabeth returned to her needlework, turning her back to the men as much as she could in the cramped arrangement.

Mr. Collins, who had taken his seat expressly to be near Elizabeth, considered moving to the middle spot himself, but he deferred to the commanding presence of Mr. Darcy, who had already turned to sit and would have landed in Mr. Collins' lap had the parson acted on his impulse.

“Mr. Collins, did I hear you correctly? Is Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park your patroness?” Mr. Darcy knew very well that this was the case and had no need of confirmation, but this was the opening he had hoped for. The opportunity was upon him to weigh the purpose of Mr. Collins' visit to Longbourn through casual inquiry, and he was pleased to take it. He felt Elizabeth shift behind him, and he wished her miles away. He could not afford distraction.

“Oh yes!” Mr. Collins' face turned slightly redder than usual. “I am aware, of course, of your connection to her, for she has often spoken of you and her great affection for all of her nephews, but especially that nephew who is the master of Pemberley. She is such a generous and condescending patroness; I count myself truly blessed that the living in Hunsford was granted to a humble man such as I. Why just yesterday, she went miles out of her way to deliver me to this very doorstep, to travel in the comfort of her own carriage, which generosity was, I assure you, beyond my comprehension. I am pleased to advise you that your aunt was in the best of health.”

Mr. Darcy blinked, not so much at the behavior of the strange little man, but at the realization that his task was too easy. The man would undoubtedly not just tell him what he wanted to know, but elaborate on it endlessly.

“I am glad to hear it. It is indeed a long journey, and as you said, miles out of her way. May I inquire as to what brings you to Hertfordshire?”

Mr. Darcy felt Elizabeth stiffen behind him. He liked the thought that she was eavesdropping on his conversation as he had done to so many of hers, although he knew it was more a matter of overhearing due to the fact that a person would be hard pressed to fit so much as a potato between them, they were so close.

“I am honored indeed by your interest, Mr. Darcy.” Had Mr. Collins been speaking to a lady, he would surely have been thought to be flirting, so sweet was his countenance. “As you must already know, I am related to the Bennet household through my father, who is now deceased.” Collins took a deep drink of air and continued. “I am the nearest male relative to my good cousin, Mr. Bennet, who, in having five daughters and not even one son, failed in his responsibility to his family to produce an heir.”

“Failed, Mr. Collins?” Darcy repeated.

“Yes, I am afraid he has failed most tragically, for there is an entailment upon this estate, away from the female line, which, it pains me to say, must afflict my fair cousins with more than grief when Mr. Bennet meets his demise.” Mr. Collins paused for effect. “I am come to offer them salvation.”

“Salvation? I do not understand.” Mr. Darcy shook his head.

“When I accepted the living in Hunsford, your aunt, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh, determined, and rightly so, that I must marry.
 
’Mr. Collins', she said, 'It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a valuable living must be in want of a wife.' Your aunt's wisdom and benevolence toward my humble situation has brought me to the deepest depths of gratitude. I informed her, of course, of my cousin's plight—that of five unmarried daughters with no fortune to sustain them or their poor mother when they suffer the distinct indignity of being turned out of this very home at the time I inherit it.”

“I see,” said Mr. Darcy. “Is there no remedy for the terms?”

“That is why I am here, Mr. Darcy. Your aunt saw the solution immediately!” Mr. Collins at this point became extremely animated. “I must select, from among Mr. Bennet's daughters, a bride—the companion of my future life. Not only will it redress the loss of the estate from my cousin's family, but it will also heal the breach that has existed for an entire generation. Your aunt, whose condescension defies all description, delivered me here personally, at great expense, so she could meet my fair cousins and bestow upon me her observations and recommendations on which daughter would be the most suitable wife. She is always most attentive to these sorts of things.”