Gentle Reader,

Thanks for reading. Please feel free to let me know what you think of the story. Thanks,

Grace

Though she had seen him only yesterday, Elizabeth nearly gasped at Mr. Collins' visage today. He looked much worse. He was noticeably thinner, and newly sharp cheekbones jutted under his pale skin. He looked as though he had aged 20 years in the last ten hours. Elizabeth had seen death before up close. Elderly neighbors grew sick and passed–and of course, animals on the farm–but she had rarely known someone relatively young who succumbed to illness so quickly. It was a daunting thing.

His eyes opened when she sat down. "Cousin," he said weakly and seemed to smile.

"Shhh, you mustn't speak, Mr. Collins."

He opened and closed his graying lips as though he tried to speak.

"You seem parched, Mr. Collins," Elizabeth said aloud as much to herself and to him. She poured some water in a basin and wet a cloth, wringing it before she pressed it to his face.

"You are too good," he said weakly. She blushed and made him speak no more.

Elizabeth sat with a book while Mr. Collins drifted in and out of sleep for an hour. Often, Elizabeth worried that each exhale would indeed be his last and sat and watched his chest to see if it was. Each time, his breast stilled for a moment–but then he stirred again and slowly inhaled again.

She watched his face, so changed even in the last twenty-four hours, believing he may quite expire at any moment. An hour or so later, a carriage rode up to the house. Elizabeth saw it from the window as Mr. Smith, the Meryton vicar, came out of the carriage.

"Lizzy," her father knocked gently on the door. "Mr. Smith is here to see Mr. Collins, as he has requested."

Elizabeth stood and opened the door. "Yes, papa. Welcome, Mr. Smith. I will allow you to tend to Mr. Collins and be out of your way."

She followed her father downstairs and sat with her sisters. "He seems quite diminished," she said. "He has completely lost the roundness he had when he came here a week ago."

"Poor man," Jane said as the maid served tea. "Any sign he may be improving?"

"I see none, but I am not a physician."

Mrs. Bennet reclined on the loveseat in the corner with Kitty next to her, fanning her. "We shall be ruined if he perishes,"

"Mama, a week ago you said we will be ruined if he inherits."

"We are definitely ruined now. There was some hope when he might have taken one of you as a wife, but Lizzy refused him! Now our home shall be inherited by who knows whom?" Kitty fanned her more rapidly.

Lydia sighed. "It is good Lizzy refused him. If he were to die, she would be his widow, old before her time."

"Yes, but she would keep Longbourn!"

Mr. Bennet looked askance. "Let us not bury him before he even passes, Mrs. Bennet."

Mrs. Bennet sat up and dabbed at her tears in an attempt at propriety as the clergyman joined them. "And how is he, Mr. Smith?"

Mr. Smith was a thin, bald man who wore an expression that implied he was constantly vexed or embarrassed.

"He is greatly diminished, Ma'am. But he does not seem to suffer greatly. Small mercies, I suppose," Mr. Smith shifted his weight awkwardly.

Mr. Bennet stepped toward him. "Is there anything we might do?"

"There is one thing, but it is of a peculiar nature. Might I speak to you and your wife alone?"

At the word "peculiar," all their ears pricked up.

"Of course. Daughters, you heard him, do give us a private audience," Mr. Bennet said, waving them toward the door.

Mr. Smith turned toward Elizabeth as she stood. "Actually, Miss Elizabeth Bennet may stay."

Lizzy's stomach tightened. What might this have to do with her? Whatever it was, she didn't like it. She sank down onto a chair near her father.

"Mr. Collins has a last request. And I hesitate to air it, but he truly does seem to be losing strength. It is his last wish that he marry Miss Elizabeth before he passes."

Elizabeth saw her mother's eyes open wide.

"No!" Elizbeth stood and looked upon the rest of them.

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "Out of the question."

Mr. Smith raised his hand. "Do hear me, I do understand this is not a love match. I have known your daughters, Mr. Bennet, for years now, and do not wish to see anyone unhappy."

Elizabeth felt some of the tension leave her body and sank back down.

Mr. Smith continued. "I do know Longbourn is entailed and Collins is the last in the line to inherit. I know entails create hardships on families. But as the last in the line, his wife- if he has one-will inherit. Might it be worthwhile to consider his request if he is certain to pass? The physician in town seems to believe it is very likely he will."

Elizabeth tried to keep from squirming in her seat.

"Yes!" Mrs. Bennet said, sitting up straighter. "That is what I've been trying to tell her!"

"And what if he does not?" Elizabeth said.

Mr. Bennet nodded. "If he marries Lizzy, he almost certainly will rally. And then she will be in a joyless marriage. No."

Mr. Smith's jaw tightened. "I suspected those were your sensibilities. I wanted to be certain. If you were amenable to it, I could perform the ceremony here. In a case of ill health such as this, no banns need be read. I do fear Mr. Collins may not last the night."

Elizabeth felt light-headed. She turned to one side and tried to calm her breathing. She would never consider it except for the security it would bring her family.

Mr. Bennet's voice grew low. "My daughter has given her answer."

"Miss Bennet, the physician returns in a few hours. If he does not improve…"

Elizabeth swallowed uneasily. She wanted to stand by her previous answer and tell him no, absolutely. Her chest tightened. Mr. Smith was correct, a marriage to one of them would help her sisters considerably. She thought of Jane and Bingley's unexpected departure from Netherfield. Longbourn would be theirs. She need not fear Jane–or any of them–having to marry a tradesman simply to have a home. It was a simple solution. She inhaled, trying to calm herself. Maybe this was how she could help her family.

"I will do it," Elizabeth heard herself say.

Mrs. Bennet jumped to her feet. "Oh! I'm so pleased!"

"Lizzy, are you quite sure?" her father stood over her, his eyes held fast to her face.

She tried to smile, but tears pooled in her eyes. "Yes, Papa. I believe it is a way I can help my sisters."

"You do not have to do this."

She swallowed again. "I know. But you cannot deny we all would benefit."

"What about marrying for love?"

She smiled to herself. "The men of Meryton have always seemed lacking to me. Perhaps this is a better outcome than spinsterhood."

Tears glistened in his eyes and he squeezed her hand.

Mrs. Bennet ran to the door and called out. "We shall have a wedding after all! Girls! Make haste!"

Elizabeth stared at the cold, unfamiliar band Mr. Collins slid on her finger and held her breath. She realized the clergyman, Mr. Smith, had asked her a question as part of her vows and he was awaiting her response. She was lost in a fog.
"I…I will."

Behind her, her mother sighed audibly and dabbed at her eyes.

Mr. Smith held another ring for Elizabeth to place on Collins's hand.

God forgive me for this lie.

She pushed it up Collin's withered finger though he was still bedbound.

"Do you, Williams Collins, vow to take Miss Elizabeth Bennett as your wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and honor," here his voice faltered and he cleared his throat. " Er, In sickness and in health?"

Mr. Collins lay propped up against a clean pillow, a weak smile on his gaunt face. "I will."

Elizabeth felt something rise in her throat. It was nearly over. She held herself as still as possible so as not to turn and run away from Collin's cloying smile.

At her side, Jane held Elizabeth's hastily-picked bouquet, flowers not traditionally used for a bridal bouquet–embellished with fake greenery from two of Lydia's spring bonnets, but it would do. Tears flowed down Jane's cheeks.

Don't cry, Jane, let us get through the ceremony.

Mr. Smith was still speaking. Elizabeth tried to focus on his words. "You are now man and wife," Mr. Smith said, looking relieved.

"A wedding kiss?" Mr. Collins rasped to say loudly enough for the clergyman to hear.

"Yes, a wedding kiss," he proclaimed. Elizabeth forced herself to lean down toward Mr. Collins, holding her breath so she would not inhale the illness vapors as he pecked her cheek. Her younger sisters applauded awkwardly. Elizabeth stood up and looked at her father for the first time since the ceremony began. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were damp, and it squeezed her heart painfully.

"Oh, Papa," she said and managed to take a few steps before she nearly collapsed into his tall frame.

"Dear Lizzy," he whispered into her hair. "I am so sorry."

This finally made tears fill her eyes. "Papa, it is all right."

"I will never forgive myself." He squeezed her harder and she held onto him. It was too much for her to bear. A sob escaped her lips, but she held back any more and straightened and pulled away.

"There is nothing to forgive. Bid me, I mean, us congratulations."

Mrs. Bennet stepped next to her daughter, beaming. "There is breakfast being set downstairs. It is not what it should be for a wedding, of course. The Lucases will be joining us. Shall we not give the newlyweds a few moments alone?"

Elizabeth's heart sank again. She looked reluctantly at Mr. Collins. She sank into the chair near his bed.

Now he was her husband.

Mr. Collins rested his eyes momentarily as the members of her family left the cramped room. Jane was the last to leave, eyes still teary. Elizabeth nodded to her and she closed the door behind her.

"I am the happiest of men," he said, but then began to cough violently.

"Mr. Collins, please rest."

"William," he said when he caught his breath. "Call by my Christian name, William."

Elizabeth nodded and allowed him to take her hand. "I will strive to make you v–," his terrible rasping coughing returned.

Elizabeth held his hand as he struggled to calm his breath. Mr. Collins put a handkerchief to his mouth and exhaled into it. As he pulled it away, it was bright with dark blood.

"Mr. Collins!" Elizabeth said, rising. "Let me fetch the physician."

He tried to shake his head no, but she left the room and called for Dr. Taylor. Returning, she dipped his cloth in the basin and watched the streaks of blood turn in the water dark pink. So much blood. She pressed a clean cloth to his forehead as the doctor entered, saw the bloody cloth in the basin and frowned.

"Did this just happen?"

Elizabeth nodded her head. His brows furrowed. "I'm afraid this may not be the wedding day you hoped for," he said.

Elizabeth said nothing.

Dr. Taylor, who held Collin's wrist in his hand, sighed. "There is nothing to be done, Miss Benn–I mean, Mrs. Collins. He may not last through the day."
Elizabeth felt ill. No one–not even Mr. Collins–deserved this. And here she had taken advantage so that his illness might benefit her. For her sisters, she reminded herself. But her stomach burned with the knowledge that what she had done was wrong.

"You could go downstairs and try to enjoy your wedding breakfast," Dr. Taylor said, and Elizabeth noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

She shook her head. "If my hus–-Mr. Collins is dying, I should be here."

Because there was nothing else to do, Elizabeth sat down at his side.