CHAPTER NINE
Mr Collins was back at Longbourn. Mary spent all her time trying to get out of his way, which wasn't easy, as her conniving mother insisted she wasn't well enough to move from her couch in the sitting room. He would sit there, prosing on about anything and everything, but especially Lady Catherine de Bourgh, secure in the knowledge that Mary was enjoying every titbit he could think of to amuse her. Sometimes, she cleverly managed to retire to her room, but she so tired of lying on her bed pretending to sleep that sometimes she thought she would rather be downstairs talking to Mr Collins, until she went downstairs and had to bear talking to Mr Collins. She knew his intention, and her mother knew it, and her mother was not going to waste an opportunity of getting her daughter married, and therefore, Mr Collins and Mary were left alone as much as possible.
Finally, it was two days after he had arrived, and Mary was enduring Mr Collins' conversation as much as possible, when he suddenly stood. He cleared his throat and shut the door, and began. "My dear cousin Mary," he said, "you can hardly doubt the reason for my being here. Your natural intelligence makes this certain. I have returned to Longbourn to search for a wife. And my dear cousin Mary, you have fulfilled every expectation I had of you. As soon as I had the pleasure of meeting you again, I knew you were the woman who was created for myself alone – I should say, one of the woman, for as you know, I was married to my dear Charlotte, but I am sure you are more than able to take her place. Your genteel and polite nature cannot help but make you acceptable to my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and her sanction would be the only thing wanting for my domestic bliss if I had not already asked for it. I told her of you, and of your excellence, and do you know, can you imagine, she told me to marry you, for, she said, that you seem, without a doubt, completely suited to be my wife! Imagine such condescension! And so, my dear cousin, I may lead you up to the altar without any doubts on that score."
"Mr Collins!" gasped Mary. "I assure you, if I were to marry you, I would not feel at all worried about what Lady Catherine thought, but sir, you forget I have not made my reply yet! I thank you, very much, for your proposal. I am very much honoured, sir, but I cannot marry you!"
"My dear cousin Mary!" beamed Mr Collins. "You are, no doubt, worried that your parents will not give their consent. Do not worry yourself on that score, for I have consulted both of them on the point, and they give their consent heartily, in fact, they both say they would advise you very strongly to accept."
"Both of them!" whispered Mary. Her father could not have done so!
"Yes, of course!" beamed Mr Collins.
"Excuse me, sir," said Mary, her face white, "I must go and speak to my father."
"Of course, my dear."
Mary rushed into the library. "Father!" she said. "Mr Collins doesn't mean it, does he!"
"I'm sorry, my dear?" said Mr Bennet. Mary thought she could see a trace of consciousness in his face though.
"You did not give your sanction for my marriage to Mr Collins, did you?"
Mr Bennet sighed. He carefully sat down his book. "Sit down, Mary," he said carefully. "Now, child, I fear for you. You are not the type to attract men, and so far, as far as I know, you have not. Mr Collins may be a very silly man, but he has a secure life, with the promise of plenty. All I want for you is to be safe."
"With Lizzy it was different!" Mary blurted.
"With Elizabeth it was. I did not realise the extent of my foolishness in not saving for my children then. I feel bound to make sure you are provided for, Mary. And my dear - Elizabeth was different. I could feel certain that she would find someone later, and she did. But you..."
"You think I will never make anyone fall in love with me..." Mary said blankly.
Mr Bennet looked at her sympathetically. "Look, Mary, I know you are a good girl, but men don't look for good girls with no riches."
"But you will not make me marry Mr Collins!"
He looked down at his hands. "I will not be able to... force you," he said carefully, "but Mary, if you do not, things may be very uncomfortable for you here."
She stood up, pushing the chair back abruptly. "Father!"
He avoided her eyes.
"You loved Lizzy; you didn't make her marry that.. that... idiot!" she said. "Do you love me?"
"Of course, of course," said Father uncomfortably. "And that's why I must insist on you marrying Mr Collins, Mary."
Mary sat down again. "Father..." No, she could not tell him about Mr Alcott. That was impossible. All she could do was wait. She didn't know what would happen. "I.. I suppose I have no choice."
She stood up. She walked out of the house. She started to run, run, run, as fast as she could, behind the house, down to the woods. She didn't stop running until she came to the river where she had sat with Mr Alcott only a week or so ago. And Mary started to cry. What was happening? How could her own father do this to her? She thought she had known him, and now he did something so completely unlike that image she had had of him. She had thought he would positively beg her not to marry someone like Mr Collins, and now he was making her do so! She tried to wipe away the tears, but they would come, and she couldn't do anything about them.
And then she heard the voice she had longed for the most ever since she had left the house. "Miss Bennet, I had hoped I would find you here." It was him. She didn't turn round, and he came walking round the stump to look at her, wearing a kind smile. His smile soon turned to shock. "My dear Miss Bennet, what is the matter? What's wrong?"
Mary sobbed harder. She tried to explain, but all she could come out with was "My father..." and then she burst into tears again.
"Your father? He is well?" probed Mr Alcott, a very concerned look on his face.
Mary nodded. She wiped her tears away resolutely. "Forgive me," she sobbed. "Forgive me."
He took her hand. "Don't distress yourself, Miss Bennet, please don't. If you will, tell me what is wrong. I will do anything to help you!"
She slowly took some deep, calming breaths. "Mr Alcott... my father and mother - they have made me very upset... I do not think you have met my cousin Mr Collins?"
"No, never," replied Mr Alcott.
"Well, he is a block!" said Mary vehemently. "An absolute idiot. Obsequious, grovelling, full of self-consequence, abysmally foolish, and... and... unctuous!"
"I see," said Mr Alcott, secretly trying not to smile.
"He has made me an offer of marriage," Mary said, and was pleased to see Mr Alcott's sudden look of anger. "My parents insist on my accepting it. I thought my father would not, because he would not allow my sister Elizabeth to marry him two years ago, but they think that I... that I cannot attract any other man and so I should accept the first offer that comes my way! You know from my description of him that it is absolutely out of the question to marry such a dolt, but my parents see differently, and they will force me to marry him!"
Mr Alcott was breathing hard. "Miss Bennet, I agree with you that it is utterly impossible for you to marry such a man... you would be disgustingly wasted, and I cannot countenance such an idea, it is fully repulsive to me! I could not bear to see you... you! With such a man! With any man, in fact," he said quickly, "but especially with a man such as you have described, and I assure you that I will do anything in my power to stop you being forced into such a match!"
The look Mary gave him positively melted his heart. "You will!"
"Miss Bennet," he said, and sighed. "Mary." He said her name so softly, so intimately, that Mary felt a delicious chill running up her spine. "I think it is time to be entirely open with how I feel about you." He looked at her. "Never," he said, breathing hard and fast, "have I loved anyone the way I love you."
Mary gave a little gasp. Her chest was going up and down too.
"When I am with you," he said, "I just..." he shrugged. "I am happier than I have ever been before. I cannot imagine living my life without you. I think you all things good, you are the light of my life. You are kind, you are good, you are enchanting, you are delightful, you are honest, you are artless. You do something to me, Mary, inside my soul, you make me feel so..." He gave a helpless little shrug. "I love you, Mary."
It was so beautiful that Mary could only stare. She gripped the hand that had somehow found its way into hers, and realised that he was on his bended knee.
"Do you think... do you think you could ever love me back, my darling?" asked Mr Alcott nervously. It was so unlike him to act anxious that she nearly laughed.
Mary looked at him, her eyes alight. "Sir... I... I do not know what to say.. I have not been in this situation.. oh goodness, what can I say but that I love you with all my heart, sir?"
"Don't call me sir, but we can sort that out later, you love me!" said Mr Alcott eagerly.
Mary smiled. "Yes, I love you, you goose!"
She was swept into his arms, his lips pressed firmly against her hair. She clung to him, feeling his strength. She could only compare the feeling to that of arriving home after an interminably long journey, and it outweighed that by far. "My love!" he murmured. "You are my fairy, you know that?"
Mary giggled lightly. He held her at arm's length, searching her happy features. "You are happy!" he said. "And so am I! And we will be all our lives, my angel!" And then he pulled her to him, and lowered his mouth to hers mercilessly, and didn't let go until she was gasping for breath.
"Now, my love," he said, leading her over to a comfortable patch of clover. "What are we to do? You know I cannot marry you, or announce our engagement, for at least another month. As much as I want you now, it just wouldn't be proper. I'm afraid we will have to wait, but what to do about this Mr Collins?"
"You can't talk to Father?" asked Mary.
"No, my love," he said, seriously threatening Mary's calmness with his endearment, "I can't. Your father is a man of honour, and once he has promised you to Collins, I doubt he will recant. It's going to be complicated getting you out of this, but I think I may have an idea. You may have to escape to London for a few weeks, my love."
She gasped. "London?"
"Yes," he said. "You obviously can't stay with me there, so do you know anyone who will support your cause?"
Mary thought hard. Then she had a brainwave. "Lizzy! Lizzy and Mr Darcy are in London at the moment! My sister will support my cause, because she knows how impossible it is to marry him, he asked her several years ago, you see. And if she knows about you... It's just going against Father that she might find hard to do. She has a great respect for him. But we could try her."
"If she doesn't want to help you, Mary, you can stay with my sister Carmen; she will welcome you with open arms," said Mr Alcott.
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Mary - firstly, I am sure, Carmen knows all about you, I told her everything when I last went to London, and it is a great wish of hers to meet you, and secondly, my name is not sir! Please - call me Matthew!"
"Matthew?" Mary was stunned. "I can't call you Matthew!"
"You already have now - twice."
"Matthew..." she said, smiling. "I love you, Matthew."
He smiled, and pulled her to him again, kissing her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and finally her mouth. When they finally parted, he spoke again, if a little dazedly. "Mary... you will have to go back to Longbourn today, and act like you don't mind too much. Don't act happy, because your father is a shrewd man, and will see through that directly, but pretend you've thought it over, and have decided it to be your only option. Tomorrow, act the same. And then on Thursday, we will act. You write a letter to your parents, explaining that you have gone because you cannot marry him. Now, this is very important - do not mention me. Let them believe you have some friends who don't want to see you unhappy, and they will think of Lady Selina Grayling or someone. Leave the house very early in the morning, let us say about three o'clock. I will have a carriage waiting by the Longbourn gates. Do you think you can do that?"
"Yes, I think so," nodded Mary, who had been nodding all throughout his little speech. "But sir - I mean, Matthew - if you take me with you, everyone will know who has taken me, if you are the only person in the neighbourhood who is leaving at three o'clock in the morning on Thursday."
"You're right, my darling." He thought for a moment. "I know. I will go to London tomorrow. I will leave my groom behind, to follow with my carriage the next morning. No one else will know, but he will pick you up early in the morning, and then return to Netherfield, not leaving until six in the morning. He will leave you... in the inn in Haverfield, where no one knows you, and then pick you up again when he leaves at six. Allright?"
"So," said Mary uncertainly, "I will sneak out of the house at three o'clock, leaving the letter for my parents, with a valise of clothes and other things?"
"Yes, that's it," he said, giving her a big smile. He carefully continued. "I understand it may be hard for you to leave Longbourn... will you manage?"
"Do you love me?"
"With all my heart," he said emphatically.
"Then I will be fine," she said, "and I must go now." She stood up.
"Wait a moment," he said, kissing her gently on the lips again, stroking her hair. He finished with a flourish. "There. I will be seeing you soon. My groom will bring you to my house, and then I will take you to see your sister."
"Goodbye," said Mary. "I love you so." She walked away from the spot, almost walking on air, before she remembered she had to look unhappy to a degree. But she couldn't help being happy, and she skipped home, only putting a dismal look on her face when she entered Longbourn.
"Mary!" said Mr Bennet. "We had quite given you up."
"I have been thinking about it all, Father," said Mary, gravely. "I have come to the conclusion that perhaps it is the best thing for me to do, to marry Mr Collins." It took all her self-control to utter those words without bursting out in a crack of laughter.
"I am glad, my dear," said Mr Bennet. "You know I do not want to see you unhappy, and I am happy you came to this decision by yourself. Come and greet your fiancé."
Mary almost choked as she was greeted by the oily Mr Collins, who grabbed her hand and kissed it rather romancelessly.
If you liked this chapter (even if you didn't!), come and check out some original fiction and poetry at an e-zine myself and some other writers have created:
www. halfwaydownthestairs. net! We've put a lot of work into it and had a lot of fun, so it would be great to get any comments on it. We also accept outside submissions for our next publication.
See you there!
Also, have a look at my new fanfic on here: The Bennets—A Prologue, which is a story about what I imagined up when I wondered what Mr Bennet and Mr Collins' father argued about in the first place.