Chapter 4: The Dreaded Cousin (Part 2)
"Hurry up, girls!" shouted Mrs. Bennet from the front door.
Liz glanced at Jane through the mirror in front of her. Staring at her sister's reflection, she said, "I've never seen mother so excited for a ball."
"Well she did recommend it to Mr. Bingley, so naturally she's excited. It was after all her idea," responded Jane, walking over to where Liz sat at the vanity. "You look beautiful, Liz."
"Mr. Wickham assured me he would be present, and I must say I was quite determined to look presentable. Jane, will you help?" asked Liz, holding up two decorated hairpins that could double as undead daggers should the need arise.
"Of course," said Jane walking over. "After the scene at the assembly dance, we cannot be too careful." She grabbed the pins from Liz's hand and secured them in her styled brunette hair. "Perfect." Jane smiled at her sister in the mirror.
"Jane! Lizzy!" hollered their mother once more.
"Best get down before she sends Lydia up," said Jane as she grabbed her gloves and headed for the door. Her white flowy dress trailing behind her.
Liz took one last look in the mirror. She had chosen a deep maroon colored gown with cream floral detailing around the bodice and sleeves. Unlike Jane, she preferred vibrant colored gowns. She fixed an unruly curl and adjusted her right earing before following after her eldest sister.
Since her father's presence was also required, Mr. Collins offered the services of his carriage for the evening. Naturally, her mother had suggested that Elizabeth accompany him and Mary volunteered to ride with the parson as well. Elizabeth and Mary sat opposite Parson Collins on the short journey to Netherfield.
"Isn't this carriage just exquisite?" asked their cousin, glancing around admirably at the interior. "Lady Catherine lent it specifically to me for the journey. She said, 'Parson Collins, you must take one of my carriages for I cannot permit you to travel in the open air with so many undead about.' She really is quite thoughtful. In addition to this one she has…"
Elizabeth drowned out the sound of her babbling cousin and instead prepared for what was to come. The thought of seeing Mr. Wickham again brought flutters to her stomach. He was charming, genuine, and, not to mention, handsome. He also had overcome so many obstacles in his life and made the best of his circumstances despite the lot Mr. Darcy threw his way. Liz found it quite admirable.
The sun had set and Elizabeth could see the manor glowing warmly in the distance. As they approached, she observed a line of carriages forming in front of the door.
"Miss Bennet," Parson Collins said quite loudly. From the tone of his voice it sounded like he had been attempting to gain her attention for quite some time.
"Yes, Parson Collins," replied Elizabeth with as much propriety as possible.
"Would you do me the great honor of having the first dance?" he inquired as the carriage came to a halt.
The door suddenly opened. A servant lowered the carriage steps and extended his hand towards Elizabeth, indicating that she should descend. She tried to think of some excuse, but he knew very well that she was not spoken for.
"Of course," she said quickly before stepping out.
She rushed into the house, leaving Mary and her cousin behind. Many had already arrived and Lizzy could hear the orchestra playing from the ballroom. Meandering into the room, she saw Jane already dancing with Mr. Bingley. She threw a smile in her direction as she passed by the dance floor and turned around, scanning the room in search of Mr. Wickham before she entered an adjourning parlor. She hoped he would offer his companionship for several dances during the night, allowing her to avoid her dreaded cousin.
Once she walked through the threshold, a servant offered her a glass of port, which she happily accepted. She took a sip, hoping it would settle any remaining nerves and grievances. She searched the room and did not spot him once again. She glazed over her reflection in a gilded mirror above a fireplace and sighed, frustrated that she saw a woman looking back at her who could be so easily influenced by a man. She turned away and, after a few moments, heard a familiar voice clearing their throat behind her.
"Mr. Wickham!" said Lizzy after she turned around. "You came."
She offered him a genuine smile, delighted to see him. He nodded in greeting and responded, "As I said I would."
"I feared that Mr. Darcy's presence would keep you away," she admitted, feeling a sense of honesty and openness already with this man.
"If Darcy wishes to avoided me, he must go, not I," responded Wickham with a smile.
"I have found you Miss Bennet!" exclaimed a new presence to her right. She glanced over and saw Parson Collins. He had unfortunately located her, no doubt hoping to sweep her onto the floor for their first dance.
"Sorry and you are…" inquired the Parson after glancing between her and Wickham for several moments.
"Wickham," he said in greeting.
"Oh! Mr. Wickham! I never forget a face, especially one as angelic as Miss Bennet's. I do hope you have not forgotten our dance?" he reproached.
"Of course not, Parson Collins," responded Elizabeth with a forced smile. She glanced down at the glass of port in her hand, wishing she could disregard decorum and down it in one gulp.
"Allow me," offered Wickham politely, taking the glass from her hands. She smiled up at him.
"Thank you, Mr. Wickham," said Parson Collins as he began pulling her back towards the ballroom.
The previous dance had finished so they took their places in the newly formed lines, standing directly across from each other. The orchestra had chosen another upbeat melody and soon her cousin danced joyfully towards her.
"Lady Catherine herself has praised me on my lightness a foot," remarked Parson Collins as he waived his hands lithely through the air.
"I wonder, sir, how you found the time to hone such delicacy in your steps," responded Elizabeth as they joined hands and circled together. They broke apart and were back in their original positions.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Miss Bennet," Mr. Collins said suggestively, grinning at her. They joined their hands once more and walked between the other dancers for several paces before turning around once more.
"Dear, the dance seems to be getting away with us. I think it right and proper that every clergyman set the example for matrimony inside the parish," he commented while rounding a fellow dancer. To her embarrassment, he then jumped up gracefully into the air like an agile peacock and landed in his spot in the men's lineup.
They clapped their palms and turned together before taking the hands of another couple and danced in a circle within a group of four.
"Oh! This is my favorite moment of the dance. Now the party is in full swing!" he commented loudly. "Such splendor in the air! A parson may no longer lead a chaste life, my fair cousin!"
"Mr. Collins, please keep your voice down," said Elizabeth for she had grown embarrassed with the direction of his conversation and overall manner during the dance. She quickly glanced around and noticed many people had begun openly staring at him.
They turned once more and clapped their hands together before bowing in completion.
"Splendid!" said Parson Collins loudly, clapping enthusiastically. "Splendid work everyone! Everyone did valiantly! Thank you for your attention!"
Elizabeth glanced around, hoping to both find some means of escape and determine if the guests were mocking her as well. She wondered if Lady Catherine had encouraged these manners or if he had simply never been taught how to behave in such a situation.
"Miss Bennet," said Parson Collins, taking a step towards her, "it is my intention to remain very close to you throughout all the evening."
She could smell a mixture of garlic and shellfish upon his breath and she was about to formulate some excuse when she was saved.
"May I have the next dance?" inquired a voice from behind her.
Eager for any escape, Elizabeth eagerly accepted and turned around to face her rescuer. She could not hide the shocked expression from her face when she saw that it was Mr. Darcy. She met his eyes and the two stared fixatedly at each other for some time before he bowed and walked away. She too fled, in search of Charlotte or Jane, needing to release her tension. She believed it to be Wickham coming to her aid. Not Mr. Darcy!
She found Charlotte first. Or, rather, Charlotte found her for she had seen him approach and was en route to Elizabeth to inquire after his abrupt conversation.
"I cannot believe I agreed to dance with Mr. Darcy!" exclaimed Liz in hushed tones to her best friend.
"I dare say you will find him very agreeable, Lizzy," said Charlotte attempting to console her.
"Heaven forbid! It would be most inconvenient for I have sworn to loathe him for all of eternity. Do not wish such an evil upon me!" remarked Elizabeth.
She fretted over her decision until she was standing once again upon the dance floor. This time, instead of facing her awkward cousin, she faced one of the most amiable and disliked men in the county. Again, she would be the subject of gossip.
A slower tune flowed from the instruments this time.
"I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy," commented Elizabeth, as she danced past him. "A very little will suffice."
Mr. Darcy was quiet for some time before he said, "May I inquire after your sister, Miss Bennet?"
"You may not," she quickly retorted, pulling her hand from his. "Try again. Something about the dance, perhaps."
They circled around other dancers and joined their hands, dancing gracefully in a circle.
"You're to remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples," she offered, growing aggravated by his silence.
"I'm perfectly happy to oblige," responded Mr. Darcy. "Please advise me what you'd like to hear."
Elizabeth walked behind another dancer before meeting Darcy once more in the middle of the floor.
"That reply will do for present," she said, taking his hand in her right and another dancers in her left. They danced slowly for several paces up and down the floor with the other dancers.
"Do you and your sisters often walk to Meryton?" Darcy asked.
The dance required them to part with their opposite partner and Elizabeth was being pulled away before she could respond. Looking away from Darcy, she realized Parson Collins was holding her hand.
"Ah, what luck!" he exclaimed. "I must confess, Miss Bennet, I find you charming."
Elizabeth danced away from her cousin, happy to relinquish her hand. She moved round around the dance partner opposite her cousin and then passed by Darcy.
"Yes, we often walk to Meryton," she answered.
The dance dictated he follow her and they meet in the middle of the floor. They mirrored the others on the floor and joined hands behind their backs, which created a more intimate setting than Elizabeth anticipated.
"When you met us," she said, starting up at his stern face, "we just had the pleasure of forming a new acquaintance."
They parted and Elizabeth followed Darcy around the partners and back again to the middle of the floor. This time, they joined their left hands in an arch above their heads and their right hands were fixed on each other's waist. Elizabeth felt a light blush rising to her cheeks at the close proximity. His face was mere inches from hers and she could feel the heat radiating off him. She was so busy focusing on his dark features she almost didn't hear his response.
"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure him making friends. Whether he is capable of retaining them is less certain," he commented as they circled tightly on the dance floor.
They pulled apart, her left hand in his right, and he dropped hers, allowing Elizabeth to walk around a dancer and meet with Darcy once more in the center of the floor.
They both extended their palms and pressed them together. Once again, she could feel his warmth through her glove. Trying to ignore it, she instead focused on interrogating him about his mistreatment of Wickham.
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," she said.
"May I inquire as to the purpose of our conversation, Miss Bennet?" Darcy asked as he took her extended hand in his, pulling her closer and then back out again.
Elizabeth grew more vexed by his responses for he gave no indication of remorse nor offered any information regarding the matter between the two. She decided to state her precise intentions.
"To make out your character, Mr. Darcy."
They had joined hands with Mr. Collins and his dancing partner once again and were slowly maneuvering up and down the dance floor at a steady pace.
"And what have you discovered?" inquired Mr. Darcy, his gaze ahead.
Elizabeth glanced over at him and responded, "very little," before breaking their hands apart and being lead to the side of the dance floor by Parson Collins, who took her back to her original starting point.
Meeting his eyes, she said, "I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
They both stood fixed in place, glaring at each other. The other couples were maneuvering off the dance floor to allow for the next partners to take their places, but Elizabeth could not find the drive to move. She wanted an explanation as to his cruel treatment of Wickham and why Darcy believed him to be incapable of retaining friendships. But before she could ask, she felt a presence at her left shoulder.
A man cleared his throat and she looked over to see Parson Collins. He smiled at her and his eyes flickering over towards Darcy every few seconds indicated he wished for her to make introductions. She sighed and said, "Mr. Darcy, this is Mr. Collins," said Elizabeth.
"…Parson Collins," Collins corrected.
"Parson Collins…" she said.
"Your…." he urged encouragingly.
"Well he's my cousin," she explained. Oh why did the two most vexing men have to demand her attention tonight?!
"Mr. Darcy, I have made the most incredible discovery. Nay. Tosh. An extraordinary discovery, sir," exclaimed her cousin. She saw he placed a hand on Mr. Darcy's arm and she almost laughed at how awkward Darcy looked at the intimate touch. "You are the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh."
Darcy glanced over at her and she offered a weak smile as an apology for him having to endure her cousin as well. He then fixed his cold glare back on her cousin.
"I know," responded Darcy bluntly.
"Well, I know you know," Parson Collins blundered. "Please let me do the honor of introducing myself… "
With that, Darcy looked towards Elizabeth once more and excused himself. Elizabeth, receiving the cue as well, bowed in thanks and walked in the other direction. She was thankful her cousin opted to follow Mr. Darcy instead of herself, and she found herself meandering up a spacious hallway. She had long since given up searching for Mr. Wickham and assumed he would resurface so long as she avoided Darcy's company for the remainder of the night.
At one end, entertainers were producing a puppet show. Several were gathered around, enjoying the light entertainment, but Elizabeth wanted to be alone to go over the events that had recently transpired between her and Darcy.
Several servants walked by as she made her way towards the quiet end of the hall. Peeking into one of the rooms, she heard a familiar voice singing and playing the piano. Mary was quite accomplished at the pianoforte, however her skills were wanting when it came to vocal accomplishments. She looked in horror as her sister sang one flat note after another behind the instrument to a room full of guests, Mr. Bingley and his sister, Caroline, amongst them. Jane sat uncomfortable between the brother and sister and their mother stood happily behind the sofa where they were seated.
Once Mary finished, she received polite applause, which encouraged her to announce she would next play a piece of her own creation.
"Mary, dearest," said their father as he approached her, "I think you have delighted us long enough."
"No, papa," protested Mary, "they want another song."
"I don't believe they do," he said, closing the lid over the keys.
"They do," said Mary stubbornly, opening the lid once more. Her father, growing more embarrassed by her behavior slammed the lid down once more, eliciting a scream of humiliation from Mary.
Elizabeth gasped at the scene and her hands flew reflexively to cover her mouth. Tears began swelling onto her eyes from embarrassment. She quietly fled the small room and took in several deep breaths. What must Bingley think of them now? Poor Jane.
"Miss Bennet?" she heard someone suddenly call. She turned around and faced Caroline. "I hear you're quite delighted with George Wickham."
She sauntered haughtily over to where Elizabeth stood and continued.
"I do not know the particulars," she admitted, "but I do know very well that he treated Darcy in an infamous manner. "
"How very clever of you, Miss Bingley," countered Elizabeth, "to know something of which you are completely ignorant."
"Considering his descent," alleged Caroline, "one could expect no better."
"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same thing," Elizabeth retorted, narrowing her eyes. "Insolent girl."
Caroline's eyebrows rose with shock before anger flooded her face. She reached into the front of her gown and retrieved a small hairpin knife, pointing it at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth also reached into her hair to remove the two pins she had Jane tuck into her hair before they left the house. She swiftly removed them and, with one in each hand, raised them up in front of her, challenging Caroline to make the first move. After several moments, however, their stalemate was interrupted.
"Caroline!" Bingley suddenly shouted cheerfully, peaking his head around the corner. The two women immediately lowered their arms, but remained fixed on each other. "Louisa's performing."
"Coming," responded Caroline as she quickly turned and left Elizabeth standing alone in the hallway.
Bingley remained for a moment longer and offered Elizabeth a confused smile. She beamed back at him, smirking after he turned and walked back in to sit next to Jane.
Elizabeth was tucking her hairpins back into place when she heard Parson Collins exclaiming, "Ah! Miss Bennet, there you are!" as he walked around the corner of the hallway.
Elizabeth rushed towards the door Mr. Bingley and Caroline just entered, knowing it was her best means of escape.
"Ladies, good morrow," said Parson Collins one morning a few days later. He took an exaggerated step into the breakfast parlor and offered a low exaggerated bow to all present. Their father had eaten earlier. Liz assumed he wished to relieve himself of Parson Collin's airs and avoid further discussion of the ball some nights before.
Elizabeth glanced over at Jane. Her face was downcast and she had not touched any food on her plate. Ever since she received the letter from Caroline stating they had left Netherfield and returned to London, she had not been her usual cheerful self. She glanced back towards her own plate and began tearing at a biscuit.
"Mr. Collins would like a private audience with your sister," their mother suddenly announced to the table, looking in Lizzy's direction. She had been so transfixed on Jane she had not seen her cousin approach her mother and speak to her in hushed tones.
Lydia immediately busted into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "What!? With Liz?" she inquired.
"Out! Out!" said their mother, rising to her feet. "Everyone out!"
"Mama, please, he has nothing to say... He can't …"
She turned around to Jane in desperation, grasping her hand as she walked by. "Jane, please don't! Please, please…" Jane offered her a weak, apologetic smile but continued walking towards the door. Turning back around, she saw her younger sisters had already fled the room in a giggling fit.
She took a deep breath and rose, trying to calm herself and rushed towards the already closed door, trying to escape.
"Miss Elizabeth, he said, stepping too close to her, "as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion for my future life."
"Oh, no," said Liz aloud as he dropped to one knee. She backed away, and he rose again, his face passing dangerously close to hers.
"I am convinced marrying you will add very greatly to my happiness," he said, kneeling once more.
"But, actually," he said, rising once again, "I must add, I will of course require you to retire your warrior skills as part of the marital submission. We absolutely can't have swords in the home."
For possibly the first time in her life, Elizabeth did not know what to say. This man acted as if she had already accepted him. He did not care for her happiness or desires, but rather viewed her as a piece of furniture- something to decorate in his home, all pretty and silent and at his beck and call. To listen to him prattle on about mindless drivel while she is forced to listen and sit next to someone for every single day for the rest of her life with whom she held no affection for. And what's worse, her mother encouraged it. She paid no regard for her feelings so long as she was married to a man of some means.
Parson Collins straightened his coat jacket and gracefully dropped to one knee again. "And now, Miss Elizabeth, allow me to assure you in the most animated language of the violence, the sheer violence of my affections."
"Sir, I am honored by your proposal," began Elizabeth slowly, hoping he would comprehend what was to come.
"Thank you," he quickly responded arrogantly, taking her words as a confirmation.
"I am," she started again, "but I regret I must refuse."
"Lizzy!" shouted her mother from the hallway. "I insist you marry Mr. Collins!"
"No!" hollered Elizabeth as her mother opened the door and stomped in.
"Do no worry, Mr. Collins, she shall be brought to reason," her mother stressed, emphasizing the last few words.
"Oh good," said Collins glancing from her mother and back up at her.
"No," said Elizabeth once again towards her mother, determined. She glanced down at the man kneeling before her. "I'm terribly sorry."
She quickly retreated from the room, passing by her angry mother at the door.
"Now, Elizabeth, you get back there," said her mother, grasping her arm, "and you face up to your future!" Elizabeth wrenched it away.
"You cannot make me," she said, staring her mother directly in the eyes.
"Come back here," her mother tried again.
"No," whined Liz, ducking from her grasp this time. Storming through the house, she ran until she was outside.
Needing to release her pent up rage, she grabbed the first weapon she spotted- the old axe they used to chop firewood. Lifting it up she began beating it forcefully against the side of the house over and over again.
"Ugh!" she yelled in frustration as the axe hit the brick, clinking once more.
"Lizzy, you will marry Mr. Collins!" shouted her mother angrily as she exited the house with her father in tow. "Or I shall never speak to you again!"
Elizabeth struck the brick several more times before throwing it angrily across the yard. Mrs. Bennet turned to her husband and ordered him to talk sense into her.
"Lizzy, an unhappy alternative is before you," he began. "Your mother will never speak to you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins."
Liz paced around in front of them, kicking dirt into the air. As a warrior, she was used to channeling her anger into zombie killing, but with no undead to slay, she was at a loss of how to release the rage consuming her.
"…and I will never speak to you again if you do," concluded her father. Liz stopped pacing and faced her father, unsure if she heard him correctly. A smile slowly crept to his lips and she rushed into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and smiled for the first time since the ball.
"Who will maintain you when your father is dead?" asked her mother as Liz pulled from Mr. Bennet's embrace. "No one, Elizabeth Bennet! You shall become a poor and pathetic spinster!"
"Anything," responded Liz staring fixedly at her mother through blurry eyes, "Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection!"
Having heard enough of her mother's protests, she turned around and stormed off towards the tree line.
"Lizzy, don't go into the woods alone!" yelled her father after her. "I forbid you!"
Liz turned back around and glanced at her parents in the distance. After staring for a moment, she turned her back to them once more and began to run. It wasn't until she couldn't see the house did she wish she had thought to pick up the axe.
Author's Note: Unlike my Darcy story, this one just includes some of my favorite scenes from the movie and outtakes, so I apologize for any confusion if you are not familiar with Mr. Wickham. All you need to know is he is a sleazeball and you should root for Mr. Darcy!
