Indecent Slip

Lydia Bennet was not overly virtuous. It was a truth universally accepted that the mere act of listening to sensible things would give her a terrible case of yawning; an impediment for which there was no cure but to cease such stifling pursuits and find some amusement straight away. So it was as much to her surprise as anyone's when she found herself interested in her cousin, Mr. Collins. There was no reason for it. He was boorish, clownish, most decidedly not handsome, and wore the robes of a clergyman rather than the strapping uniform of a young officer. Still, he fascinated her with his somber moralizing and ridiculous affectations of humility. Beneath that stuffy facade she was certain there dwelt a man of worldly pleasures; a man she felt challenged to bring out.

Mr. Collins was a man of profound self righteousness. He prided himself on being far more virtuous than the average sinner, and accepted no humiliation from anyone but his prestigious patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. He could not imagine bestowing a greater kindness on a woman than to grant her access to Lady Catherine's most generous company, and indeed had traveled to Longbourn with the sole intention of taking himself a wife so that she could call on her as promised. Of all the Bennet sisters, Lydia seemed the least suited to the quiet-mannered life of a country parson. However, the unfortunate lack of decorum in her habits presented Mr. Collins with a moral dilemma. He felt a certain obligation to try his hand at reforming her whilst utilizing the abundant stores of his instructive messages. If her animated spirit could be tempered into a more appropriate way of showing itself, she would make a lively partner. She was a fascination indeed, and one that drew him like a moth to flame.

So it was, despite these seemingly insurmountable differences of character, Mr. Collins and Lydia found themselves wondering about one another in a similar vein of interest, though neither one had the courage to act upon their newly developed feelings. It is almost certain they would have remained forever separate, were it not for a certain incident that occurred in an evening of unrivaled events.

-x-

It was the night of the Netherfield ball and Lydia was in a frenzy. Kitty said the pink gown she'd chosen did not become her complexion. This was cause for great worry as Lydia had been keen on seeing Mr. Collin's reaction to her sporting a colour he had denounced as "too ostentations for proper ladies of a modest household." If she was not pretty in her pink gown, the entire purpose of the evening was ruined.

She bounded down the hall to ask Lizzy for advice, not bothering to disguise her full, womanly form with a robe. In a house with four sisters she had never been much chided for her lack of covering during her treks to and from their chambers, for who was there to see her but them and their mother? And though Mrs. Bennet did loudly remark upon her indecency tonight, it was more towards the frustration of her not having dressed for the ball.

Particular care had been given to Elizabeth's toilette, whose hair was adorned with such rosettes and ribbons that she was actually becoming, and with a twinge of jealousy Lydia noted, fully prepared for the evening's festivities. She made a passing comment about Wickham, knowing it was expected. Wickham, after all, was the model of a man she would set her cap at, and it made Lizzy a touch less becoming when she frowned.

Lizzy wouldn't say anything complimentary about her choice of dress and chose to remain diplomatic. This made Lydia resolute in the decision to wear the pink. Kitty was mad. She had to be in thinking this colour did not suit her. So determined in conjuring up the meanest rebuttals she could express to Kitty when back in their room, Lydia did not notice Mr. Collin's distracted ambling down the corridor until she was almost in his arms—and her practically nude! Indeed, if she had not looked up precisely when she had, who was to say she would not have ended up in such a compromising position with the awkward parson? Oh Lord, it was too funny!

Mr. Collins was greatly flustered. He turned a red that reminded her of beet juice, making Lydia break out into a peal of giggling, the likes of which would not be stifled with her poor pink gown. He tried to pass. She barred the way. He skirted around her. She moved in his path again, toying with his embarrassment a while longer, until at last she gave up the game and let him by, his hand shielding his eyes in the most hilarious fashion.

Back in her shared quarters with Kitty, she related the story with gusto, but kept back still more than she ever let out. The escapade with the pink dress only made her wearing it more comical. Kitty's opinion meant less than nothing to her now.

-x-

The ball was a sore point with Mr. Collins. Lydia continued to thrust herself at the officers as she had at every other social gathering, no doubt to distract herself from the hideous embarrassment of the hours previous. He danced with Miss Elizabeth Bennet as a means of distracting himself, but his thoughts refused to leave the bonnie child hanging off the arm of a man in a sharp red uniform. She was wearing pink! And after everything he had said against it as a colour. He missed a step and bumped into a lady, apologizing profusely for his accidental error.

As Lydia turned about the room, curls bouncing haphazardly and shrieks of laughter ringing after her like a cow bell, Mr. Collins could not take his mind off the way her hair had looked free and falling down behind her back, nor how pleasingly plump her figure was when arrayed in the most simplest of fashions—surely the way God intended.

Could it be that looking at a woman with such shameless thoughts cast a shadow on his character, making him as lewd a man as those debase scoundrels sweeping the gutters of London? Though this trouble began with the fault of unfortunate placement, for him to let her go unchecked could leave her exposed to other men, making him a villain by his inaction. He would not be the lesser man for his blunder! If Lydia's reputation was on the verge of being sullied, he would be the one to restore it! He would do the noble thing!

The next morning he was resolute. He met Lydia in the hall and invited her to a private interview after breakfast. "What could you possibly have to say to me, Mr. Collins?" was her saucy remark, though too curious to refuse, she consented almost immediately after the words had passed her lips.

She concluded after a few moments pause that the interview was to be had as segue into his scolding her over her choice of dress and ornamentation at the ball. She decided that would be worth hearing.

Lydia giggled as he bowed very low for her entrance into the room. He was so serious! Serious people were always the most comical to Lydia, for they were eager to believe whatever one said. She turned about, facing him, ready to make a game out of anything he did.

He bade her sit with a flourishing hand. She landed in the chair with as much grace as a hippopotamus, exhaling loudly.

"Miss Lydia Bennet…" he began, and she prepared for the sermon that was sure to come. Rather than waste time by listening until she could no longer follow, Lydia immediately began surveying each of her fingernails to ascertain if any had chipped the night before.

"You cannot have forgotten the… unfortunate events which occurred outside your sisters'—and your boudoir last evening, and I consider it my Christian duty to apologize most profoundly for my part in the incident."

Lydia snickered at the word "boudoir," but as it was followed by the phrase "Christian duty" she did not consider it beneficial to shake herself from her continued daydreaming.

"I am aware of the censure this may bring you from your family, and perhaps others, when they learn of how I have seen more of your womanly figure than is proper for any man to see besides the one who takes you to his bosom… as is your husband's right."

At least she had bosoms. Unlike Molly Sims, that little twig of a thing that made herself a nuisance by calling on Kitty and taking her away from Lydia. Lydia lived in the countryside, but she would never consider herself country enough to sit for one sip of tea in the presence of Miss Sims.

"I feel it is my duty to save you from your reputation. And as it is my wandering eyes that are partially to blame in this matter, I will take it upon myself to secure you as my wife. For as the honorable Lady Catherine de Bourg declares..."

Lydia began to giggle again. She wasn't following a word of the poor Mr. Collins's speech, but Lord, his expressions were funny!

"...when we are married, I will expect more decorum in the conduct of a lady so privileged as to receive the condescension as addressed by Lady Catherine..."

Was he talking of marriage? To whom, she wondered. She was the only female in the room… could he truly be addressing her on the subject of matrimony? She considered it likely he was merely presenting to her the idea of his marrying one of her sisters. Perhaps she should have listened better… she would die if she wasn't able to laugh soon!

"But, I am certain that once we have entered the blissful state of matrimony, we will be everything to each other that a man and woman... eh… that is to say, Miss Lydia Bennet, will you consent to raise yourself from this humble state of abjection… and be my wife?"

She opened her mouth to laugh and choked on air. He was proposing to her! An in perfect earnest, no less!

For once in her fifteen years, Lydia was without a response. Her tongue seemed a foreign object, no longer subject to her will. As marriage to Mr. Collins played out in her mind as a real possibility, she grew moderately more serious. Why… she would be the only Bennet girl with a husband!

To be married first of all her sisters! And she the youngest! How jealous they all would be! And Mr. Collins was to inherit Longbourne after her father's death, making her mistress of her mother's house! La, what a joke! What a funny possibility!

How Kitty would laugh when she told her the news! How the rest would scowl! Lydia lept out of her chair in anticipation of their dumbfounded expressions when she told them it was she who now determined which chamber was hers and who should be subject to the drafts of the one she currently occupied. She had almost reached the door, ready to shock the household, when Mr. Collin's feeble voice made her pause.

"My dear, you have not given me a real answer."

"Yes, Mr. Collins! I will!" she cried over her shoulder, dashing merrily away.

She had never laughed so hard in her life.


Author's Note...

Oh, sleepovers. What wonders you have wrought! The story behind the story is as follows: I was trying on a chemise at my most dearest friend's house while laughing at the scene in which Lydia bumps into Mr. Collins wearing naught but an itty bitty slip. I wondered aloud if there were any Lydia/Collins fan fiction stories, and my best friend said, "I'm sure there are, but... why...?" and we both were struck by the same thought. Realistically, for such a couple to exist, Mr. Collins would feel duty bound to marry her after seeing so much of her flesh. It's not that far fetched!

This was done purely for the reason that it makes me snicker. Also, I feel accomplished for having finished something on this site.