At first Elizabeth thought of her imprisonment as an absurd lark: Mr. Collins would lock her up, and eventually they would all get tired of the whole matter, and she would be allowed to go to London and the Gardiners. Upon finding her dressing to leave, Mr. Collins had called up a footman, and he had all of Elizabeth's coats and shoes removed.

She had contemplated running past him and the footman. But it would've been absurd to try walking all the way to London in her stockings at the start of winter. No matter how determined she was, she would catch a dreadful cold, and that would be the end of it.

While the footman went through her things, Elizabeth sat on her bed, holding her head high and her shoulders straight. Eventually the effort of sitting so firmly caused her back to ache. She refused to let the pain make her relax her posture. Mr. Collins stood in the doorway, as though he planned to stop her if she made a dash for it. He probably did.

His paunch stuck out from his overly tight coat and waistcoat, and Mr. Collins looked old and weak as he held a large candleholder high to light the servant's search of her room.

The noise woke her family. Mrs. Bennet bustled out into the hallway, with her nightgown and voluminous robes waving around her. Her hands fluttered nervously. "Mr. Collins, Mr. Collins! What is going on?"

"Your daughter." His voice was harsh, and he snarled out each syllable. "She was to make a mockery of me. A mockery of every authority. She planned to flee our authority in the middle of the night."

"Oh heavens! What shall become of us? Lizzy! How could you? And after you refused kind and generous Sir Clement. Oh. Oh. Oh. Mr. Collins certainly will throw us all out."

"No." Mr. Collins laid a wrinkled hand on her mother's shoulder. "Sir Clement's generosity knows no bounds. He told me before he left that he will still marry Elizabeth, even though she is a wicked and troublesome girl."

"He is the best of men. And so kind. But Elizabeth will not have him."

Elizabeth's sisters woke and gathered to watch the scene. The footman went in and out of Elizabeth's room, piling clothes and shoes and books and her collection of letters on the hallway floor. They peered in through the door at Elizabeth's angry red face. Elizabeth clenched her fist and sat even straighter.

Mr. Collins replied to Mrs. Bennet. "Then she shall stay in this room forever. She has been a disobedient girl, and I will lock her up until she sees reason and agrees to marry my friend."

"Oh my. Oh my. But, Lizzy is so stubborn. If she does not agree…what will the neighbors say? It shall be a greater scandal than if we sent her to London after everyone saw her seduce Sir Clement. For a little while we can put out that she is ill, but the servants, the servants will talk."

"She flouted your authority as well as mine. The scandal is nothing to letting such a creature get away with her wickedness."

"But my friends will talk…"

"Mrs. Bennet. You cannot be blamed for the wicked disobedience, the vile ingratitude, the complete imbecilic insensibility of Miss Lizzy. Some children are born with the devil in them, and there is nothing which discipline can do. But, if you do not make an attempt to correct Lizzy's behavior, if you do not let me do as I must to help her recover her sanity, I will have no choice but to send you and your daughters away from this house, the house they were born in."

Mrs. Bennet paled, and her face turned gray and small. "You could not truly do so, not when my Jane has married your son."

"I would. I would never let little William see his grandmother again."

Mrs. Bennet swayed in horror at the suggestion. She adored her grandson.

"We have been friends." Mr. Collins laid his hand on Mrs. Bennet's shoulder again. "Let us not quarrel over this matter. Perhaps the scandal will be bad, but that shall be forgotten when your daughter is a lady and the wife of the baronet. Do you not want her to become Lady Elizabeth? Think about what your friends will say then."

"Yes. Yes. I would dearly like to see her be married so well." Mrs. Bennet pulled in a long shaky breath, and the nervousness left her posture. She stepped into Elizabeth's room. "You will. You will marry Sir Clement. He is the kindest, gentlest, and best man in England, and he does not deserve such a wicked girl as you, but you will marry him. Mr. Collins has my permission to do whatever is needed to make you see reason."

Elizabeth did not reply. She looked at her sisters gathered around. Jane held her heart-shaped face between her hands and muttered, "Oh. Oh." Jane's eyes darted backward and forward, and when her rotund husband joined her, she whispered to him, but when he looked at his father and shook his head, she nodded sadly.

Mary was pale and gripped a book. Kitty seemed torn between nervousness and amusement, while little Lydia giggled and smiled as though it was all a great joke.

During the course of the first day, Elizabeth wrote a letter to Georgiana, describing her predicament in what she hoped was humorous terms. They would give up soon enough, and a well-stocked mind must be a protection against boredom.

While Mr. Collins had taken all of her books, her blank paper and some ink had been left.

Elizabeth was not worried, though perhaps it would be absolutely impossible to visit London until long after Fitzwilliam returned home. She wrote a letter to her uncle, Mr. Gardiner, begging him to do something to force Mama to release her. Surely Mr. Gardiner would be able to do so.

Sarah agreed to post Elizabeth's letters and retrieve any reply. Elizabeth gave her what remained of her pocket money, which fortunately had already been in her pocket when Mr. Collins caught her, so that she could pay the postage.

The door was kept shut, and Mr. Collins had installed an extra deadbolt lock on the outside.

That evening Jane sat against her door and said, "Lizzy, can you hear me?"

"Jane. Jane. This is absurd. Surely you see that. Can you get me some shoes and try to get the key from Mr. Collins?"

"That would cause so much trouble. No. I can't do that. Lizzy, I talked to Sir Clement today."

Of course she did. Elizabeth remembered that Sir Clement had told Mr. Collins that she must only speak to those who would try to convince her to marry him.

"You've misjudged him. He was so worried about you, Lizzy." Jane's voice was appealing, sweet, and hateful. "He isn't a bad person, and he loves you very, very much. He wants to expand the library at Netherfield just for you. Isn't that kind? I've come to like him."

"Go away."

"He likes listening to you talk. He admires your spirit and liveliness. He isn't that old, and you always talked about not being bothered by superficial things. And he won't treat you the way he did his first wife."

Elizabeth shivered remembering how he forced her against the wall. "Jane, if you cannot talk about anything else, go away. I refuse to hear Sir Clement praised by anyone, even you."

"I will not. Not until you are sensible and admit you've taken an awful prejudice against poor Sir Clement. It was not kind of you to kiss him and then treat him in this manner."

"I didn't kiss him! He forced himself on me."

"I asked him about that. He said your manner was very encouraging. Maybe you wanted him to kiss you, but did not realize it, but he could see it."

Instead of screaming, Elizabeth clumped her thick blankets around her ears and tried to not hear any more of what Jane said.

Elizabeth did so again when Jane came back the next day.

The second afternoon, Mary sat outside her door and read a long extract from a book about the duty of daughters to respect their guardians. Elizabeth said nothing to her either.

By the end of the first week something in Elizabeth began to crack.

She had not realized muscles could ache from too little use as well as too much. For several days she felt wild and nearly crazy for a walk. Her legs tingled with a need to move. The outside beckoned through her window, and she spent hours staring at the almost unchanging scene of Longbourn's front lawn and the bramble on the side. She'd never realized how often the cats would go back and forth during a day. She counted how many birds she saw. The last few leaves drifted down. The room was cold and her toes ached. She kept her blankets bundled around her all day long.

Even though Jane still said the same things about how kind Sir Clement was, Elizabeth wanted to reply just so she could use her voice again. She didn't.

The only person Elizabeth spoke to was Sarah when she changed Elizabeth's chamber pots and brought her food and water. Once she snuck Elizabeth a letter from Georgiana that had been posted the day of the assembly. The two girls exchanged letters about once a week, and a little more often when Georgiana was in London.

It was a bright and cheery letter, talking about dresses and music masters and novels, and their favorite subject: would Fitzwilliam be back before Christmas.

Elizabeth read the letter literally a hundred times. The letter from Fitzwilliam had been in her handbag, and it was now gone. She desperately hoped that Mr. Collins did not take it in his mind to burn her correspondence to spite her.

As she had some paper and ink, Elizabeth entertained herself during the first days by writing long letters, to Georgiana and to Fitzwilliam. She did not plan to post the letters to Fitzwilliam, as they were too whiny and self-indulgent. But railing against Mr. Collins, and Sir Clement, and most of all her mother, Charlotte, and Jane made her feel better.

Eventually Elizabeth's store of ink ran low, and she chose to save it for when she might wish to write an actual letter. After all, the only reason the ink and paper had not been removed was because the footman and Mr. Collins had not realized she could entertain herself with it.

The earliest date Georgiana or Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could have replied passed. Didn't she have any friends? Not even her sister of the heart?

Elizabeth imagined that maybe Sarah had kept the money for herself instead of posting the letter. But she felt bad for the supposition. Letters occasionally went to the wrong place. Had she written the addresses neatly? Perhaps a gang of highwaymen had attacked the post carriage — such things did happen on rare occasions. She would absolutely not let herself feel abandoned.

The letter from Georgiana was read yet more times.

The room shrank each day. She had been moved into this room after her father's death and Jane's marriage. It was tiny, although she was better off than Kitty and Lydia who needed to share a room. It had barely enough space for her bed and dressers. Elizabeth could not properly pace. It took her seven steps to get from the window to the door. She walked in tiny circles.

It stank. She had no baths. When Elizabeth asked if she could be let out for one, Mr. Collins decided to stop permitting her dresses to be laundered. The smell wasn't noticeable normally, but when Sarah opened the door to take the waste from the chamber pot and bring the food, Elizabeth would be sensible of it.

At last, one week after the dramatic assembly, Sarah snuck two long letters to her, one from Georgiana and one from her uncle.

Elizabeth stared at them both with a bright, bright smile on her face. Georgiana's was thick and held more than one paper. Whatever had kept her from writing a prompt response, she had made up by sending a lengthy one. Elizabeth set it aside to read and reread at her leisure and opened Mr. Gardiner's first. Surely he had figured out a way to get her out of here, and that was why it had taken so long for him to reply.

Dear Lizzy,

I am shocked to hear your story. It is like a story out of a distant past. Yet, I have heard of similar things occurring in high families when great fortunes, or what seemed to the possessor to be a great fortune, were at stake. Still, I am very surprised that Sir Clement has bribed your guardians to overturn your refusal of his proposal.

I know for certain fact the story of a man who just a few years ago had as a ward the wealthy orphaned daughter of a friend. She was in love with his younger son, but desiring to create the largest fortune possible, he had that son given a commission that took him to India in the recent war and then locked his ward in a room for five months until she agreed to marry his older son.

If no gross physical abuse occurs and the necessities of life are provided, there are no limits on what a guardian might do. I delayed writing so I might speak with a friend who is a successful barrister, and he believed that even were I to spend several hundred pounds to challenge your mother's guardianship of you in court, it would uphold her rights.

Were you to escape, if asked, the court would send out men to return you to your mother's control.

It is a year and a half until your twenty-first birthday, and only then would you be able to completely disregard your mother's wishes. It is a very long time, and I would be shocked if your mother will ever force Mr. Collins to release you. He might leave you in the room out of spite, even after Sir Clement gives up.

I wish I had anything encouraging to say. Your situation is poor. I know you greatly dislike Sir Clement for his treatment of his late wife. It further speaks poorly of his character that he prompted Mr. Collins to treat you in this manner. However, while I hesitate to write this, you should marry him.

It is not an easy thing to be locked up for such a long time. And, from what you have written, I imagine the scandal must already be very great. It is likely that if you are kept in your room for the next two years, your reputation will be such that it will be impossible for you to marry afterwards. Sir Clement is a baronet, and a far better match than you can expect.

Even though his actions show a lack of character, they also display a great deal of affection and strength of feeling towards you. You may dislike him now, but many women grow to love their husbands over time, and many sorts of marriages can permit happiness. You have at least a possibility of happiness and contentment with him.

I am composing a lengthy letter to your mother, and I shall ride to Longbourn to speak to her at the first moment the rush of my business allows. I will do what I can to persuade her to release you. However, you know what her character is like. It is unlikely that I shall succeed.

Sincerely yours,

E Gardiner

Elizabeth felt frozen. Even Mr. Gardiner thought she should marry Sir Clement. He was a good match.

One and a half years. Elizabeth looked wildly around the tight room. Never being able to walk, or bathe, or read, or do anything. The room was impossibly smaller than the tiny space it had been ten minutes previous.

Her heart beat hard.

Elizabeth hyperventilated as she opened Georgiana's letter. Georgiana violently denounced Sir Clement and Mr. Collins. Elizabeth smiled at her words and relaxed a little. She had the support of one person. Her truest sister.

Georgiana promised that she would make her brother Stanley do something to rescue her, and that if he would not, Fitzwilliam certainly would when his ship arrived.

Elizabeth remembered how Stanley had behaved with an odd mixture of silence and contempt the times she had visited Georgiana when he was present. He would not help her. But Fitzwilliam would. She hoped. Elizabeth closed her eyes and saw the words of his letter thanking her. The underlined "profoundly grateful." She had written so much to him, but Elizabeth knew she could only guess at what parts of his character were his, and which parts were her imagination. But, she would believe in him.

But what could he do?

If there was no legal way to remove her from this prison…she would break out and escape. And she would live with him and Georgiana, and she would hide whenever someone tried to take her away.

Except how could she escape?

She was being absurd. No one could or would do anything. Fitzwilliam would be placed in prison if he tried to break her out, and Mr. Collins would use his pistol to stop him. She didn't want that. She was trapped.

Elizabeth continued to read Georgiana's letter. It ended with a promise that she would mail it the next day and a salutation. There was another page and Elizabeth opened it feeling confused.

Stanley is dead. The very night I received your letter, he was killed in a carriage accident. I have cried and cried for the past days.

Uncle Matlock took me to his London home, and I forgot I had not posted my letter to you until this morning. There has been so much to do, and I have not had time to pause. I've begged Uncle Matlock and Richard to do something to help you, but they refused.

Richard was strange and angry when I asked. He said that if you hadn't written to me, and if I didn't believe everything you said, then Stanley would still be alive. That makes no sense to me. I do not understand, but since Richard has refused to speak anything more on the matter. It makes no sense. I always believed he would have some sympathy. I believe my uncle told the servants at Matlock house to not let me receive letters from you, so I will give this letter to Mrs. West when I come to Darcy house to collect my things.

She will make sure I get any letter from you.

This has been the worst week of my life. You are in such horrid trouble, and Stanley died. I fear Fitzwilliam's ship has sunk, and he is dead, and we will not know for months or years. I know I should not entertain such melancholy thoughts, but I cannot help it. I am miserable and terrified for you.

Lizzy, promise me, on our bond as sisters, for we are more truly family than anyone else, my uncle and cousin will do nothing for you, and I do not consider them truly my relatives while they act so heartlessly. We still have each other. Promise me, swear that no matter what, you will not marry him.

You are not alone, even if they stop us from sharing more letters, I think of you every hour, and we will find some way. No matter what your mother or sister or anyone says, you cannot marry him. We will both marry men we love and be happy together.

Your loving sister,

G Darcy

Elizabeth wrote a letter she knew was incoherent to Fitzwilliam, and another to Georgiana, mourning her brother. Sarah took them from her with the remains of Elizabeth's meal and hid the letters inside her dress.

The next morning Elizabeth stared at the lawn — a fox had actually crossed in front of the window a half hour ago. Elizabeth hoped it got into the henhouse and killed all of Mr. Collins's poultry. She was interrupted from this contemplation when Mr. Collins unlocked the heavy pad he had installed on her door and marched into the middle of the room followed by a footman. "Letters! Damn girl! Telling vile lies about me. Disobeying, again. Well, we'll have a finish of that. I just dismissed your girl, and I will spread about the story that she stole from us. Which she has — where is the letter?"

Elizabeth felt sick and guilty about Sarah losing her position. She should have expected this. Elizabeth solemnly watched Mr. Collins.

"I will have you stripped and searched! Don't doubt it. Give me the letter your uncle wrote to you."

Elizabeth realized that, obviously, Uncle Gardiner writing a letter her mother would show that she had communications with the outside. Hopefully, Mr. Collins knew nothing about the letters from Georgiana.

Elizabeth went to her dresser and pulled the letter from Mr. Gardiner out from where she had hidden it beneath her folded petticoats. With a resigned manner she stuck it out, holding the edge by her fingertips so as to keep Mr. Collins as far from herself as she could.

He seized letter and read it. "To bribe her guardians! To bribe her guardians. You sly sneak. You vicious deceitful creature. You were eavesdropping. Don't you know that is a sin?"

Elizabeth had plopped herself inelegantly back on her bed. She rolled her eyes. Mr. Collins accusing someone of unchristian behavior was rich.

"Did you tell anyone else? Maybe that little rich friend you always write to?"

"No, I did not tell Georgiana that you were selling me like a slaver, just that you had locked me up until I married your friend."

He peered at Elizabeth. She stared back at him.

At last Mr. Collins seemed satisfied and shook his head. "Good."

He left the room, slamming the door behind him. Then one by one the bolts clanked and the lock was turned. Elizabeth was left with her tiny space.