Mr. Collins was pompous, ignorant, and worst of all had the audacity to offer for Elizabeth's hand. Darcy composed his features and braced himself for a tirade of obsequious blathering, but found himself faced with something worse.
Mr. Collins entered the room with all the self-important gravity of a king announcing war. He wore such a solemn expression that he momentarily caught both Darcy and Mrs. Collins off-guard. When they stood at his announcement, Mr. Collins held up a hand of dismissal and made a great show of shaking his head in what he must have thought was a dignified manner. For what may have been the first time in his life, the man said nothing. He moved slowly to Elizabeth's bed and attempted to remove Darcy from his position there with a wave of his hand, as if parting the red sea. Darcy did not stir.
Mr. Collins seemed a bit put out that he was forced to compromise his grand performance by speaking, but used as deep and momentous a tenor as he could muster. "Mr. Darcy, you must remove yourself and allow me to perform my sacred duty."
"Husband, please explain yourself. Why have you come here?" Mrs. Collins spoke in such a flat, nearly exasperated manner that Mr. Collins' pretension seemed quite ridiculous by comparison. Becoming flustered, he slipped into his more comfortable simpering.
"Mrs. Collins, while I have the highest respect for you and appreciate your excellent reason in all things, in this, I believe my station as an agent of the church, and as a representative of my most distinguished patroness Lady Catherine De Bourg, equips me with superior judgment. It is beyond the comprehension of a woman, even one as admirable yourself, to understand the duty of a clergyman."
Darcy felt the heat of anger creep up his neck. Mr. Collins believed he had a reason for all his pompous affectation. He enjoyed this situation and had no apparent interest in his cousin's well-being. Darcy had an uncomfortable suspicion of Mr. Collins' true purpose.
"Mr. Collins, I too care to know your intentions in being here."
"Mr. Darcy, as the nephew of my esteemed patroness, I have the utmost respect for you—"
"Mr. Collins—" Darcy worked to keep his voice low. If that man presumed what he thought—it would be too much. That Mr. Collins continued his speech only angered him further.
"Lady Catherine herself has informed me of the prodigious care you took of my most unfortunate cousin. I extend to you my sincere gratitude as her temporary guardian, and relieve you of any obligation you may feel to remain here. Indeed, I feel it my duty to inform you that your most excellent aunt disproves of your continued involvement in Miss Elizabeth's situation. Lady Catherine believes my cousin's irresponsibility led to her injury, and as much as I admire my dear cousin, I must agree with my patroness."
"Mr. Collins. I have as little intention of leaving as I have patience left. Please answer very plainly. What is your purpose in being here?" Though Darcy's voice did not raise a decibel above what was decorous, this did not seem a lasting arrangement.
Pulling himself up to his full height, Mr. Collins gravely spoke. "I am here to perform the Sacrament of Holy Unction for my dear dying cousin, as is my sacred duty."
Darcy looked murderous. Though he had expected as much, to hear the rambling idiot actually say that he came to perform the last rites, that Mr. Collins presumed Elizabeth to be on her deathbed, and to continue enjoying his inflated sense of importance in spite of, or because of this fact, it was too much. She was not dying. There must still be hope, and this oaf of a man would not deprive him of it with ceremony.
"Mr. Collins!" It was not Darcy who spoke first, though he saw his own anger, touched by disgust and an added layer of placidity, mirrored on Mrs. Collins' face.
"How came you to presume that Lizzy required such a ceremony? She has not been met by a doctor and her pulse is steady. Your services are neither needed nor desired, husband, and I believe we should leave."
There was a terrible moment of stillness where Mr. Collins seemed to struggle for a response. He stared blankly, blinking a few times at Charlotte, who reached to give Elizabeth's hand a parting squeeze. Mr. Darcy was both grateful for Mrs. Collins' quick thinking, and aware that without her in the room, he would also have to leave Elizabeth.
"Mr. Darcy, please forgive my wife's outburst! She must be overwhelmed by Miss Elizabeth's state. We must sympathize with the irrational emotions and occasional well-intentioned improprieties of the gentler sex." Mr. Collins threw Darcy a conspiratorial smile and was met with open disgust before continuing. "Though, even in times of distress, the wife of a clergyman must remember her station." Here Mr. Collins made a show of raising his eyebrows at Charlotte as though to chide his chiding wife.
"Yes husband, I am distraught. Perhaps we should go so that I do not disturb the residents of Lady Catherine's house any longer with my excessive emotions." Mrs. Collins stared blankly at her husband with so much grace that it seemed as if she had never expressed an irrational emotion in her existence.
Dear Mr. Collins was horribly at a loss for what to say. Things were not at all going to his plan. Lady Catherine had specifically told him to remove Mr. Darcy and to perform the Holy Unction for Elizabeth, and now he seemed at risk of failing on both counts! She had stated plainly that his cousin was near death, having fallen off some cliff, likely from her headstrong ramblings and intentions of snaring Mr. Darcy. That a relation of his would attempt to seduce someone in Lady Catherine's family was as selfish as it was appalling! He was sure Elizabeth had meant no harm; he well knew how his cousin lacked discretion in where she bestowed her charms, but she would not disgrace herself by aiming so high above her station. It was his duty to Elizabeth as her guardian to preserve the family honor, and Her Ladyship's good graces, by settling the matter quickly. Oh, there would be time for mourning later, and he was already planning some heartfelt condolences to include in a letter to his relations, but a man of the cloth must not allow worldly attachments to interfere with his work. Yet, Mr. Collins was well obstructed from his task by two very worldly and angered beings.
He could not understand why Mr. Darcy refused to leave after he had generously released him from any sense of obligation. And Mrs. Collins! Why she chose such an inconvenient time to give over to her feminine sensibilities, Mr. Collins could not understand. He was saved from responding by a knock on the door.
Dr. Miles Horton was accustomed to being called to Rosings on "urgent" matters. His most visited patient was easily Miss Anne De Bourg. It seemed that every time the poor woman coughed or sneezed her mother demanded his immediate assistance, though he often questioned the rationale. Once there, Lady Catherine barely let him examine the Miss, so incessant was her chatter about the proper way to give examinations. With all her "expertise" it was a wonder, really that she bothered to call for him so often.
Dr. Horton was therefore not alarmed by the sight of one of the Rosings boys, Charles, flying down the slope to his home on horseback. He sat and patiently sipped tea in wait for the news of today's ailment. Perhaps this time Miss Anne would have the decency of running a fever and he would not feel the trek to and from the great house completely wasted.
When Charles was let in, however, the boy did not spare time to chat as usual, he looked as if he had seen a ghost.
"Dr. 'Orton, come quick! A lady up at the 'ouse 'as fell and 'ere's blood erryware."
Horton was in motion at once, bag in hand, speeding off to Rosings. Once there he was greeted by a confusing stillness. He usually entered the house as though there was a state of emergency. Lady Catherine would meet him at the door, exclaim over his lateness, and hurry him to Miss Anne's room while badgering him with her diagnosis. The staff would usually look anxious, likely more about Her Ladyship's overbearing nature than worry for Miss Anne's health, but Dr. Horton thought he would have preferred that situation: the scrambling footmen and unsolicited advice, to the quiet house he entered. There was the perfect appearance of calm. A footman smoothly let him in and disappeared, there were no other servants, no Lady Catherine, no chaos, and yet he felt that for once a real tragedy had occurred.
Mrs. Worthington finally relieved him of his eerie reflection. "Dr. Horton, follow me if you please."
"Mrs. Worthington, what happened?" Horton, usually accosted with idle information, sought answers during the walk to the Blue room.
"A young lady staying at the parson's fell in the park and hit her head something horrible. Mr. Darcy dragged her in here. I tried to clean her up as best I could, but to be honest, I don't know if there's much hope in it. The girl won't wake up, and you've never seen a living body so pale. It's a shame too. She's young, and seemed so alive just the other day. She went and said something snarky to the Lady that had all the maids giggling below stairs."
Mrs. Worthington knocked, and the door was opened to reveal the missing chaos. The smallest room he had ever seen in Rosings now filled with five standing adults, seemed quite cramped by both bodies and tension.
"Ah- if you please, I need the room to examine the patient."
The effect of Dr. Horton's small speech was immediate. The tallest man, who looked vaguely familiar, gave a sigh of relief, and Mrs. Collins was fast in motion. She took her husband's arm and steered him out of the room before he had time to voice the protest on his mouth. As Dr. Horton moved to allow them exit, he thought he overheard mumblings of "most displeased" and "sacred duty". The other gentleman in the room stepped aside from the bed but did not leave the room.
"Dr. Horton, as soon as you have an assessment, please find me in the library. I am sure Mrs. Worthington will show you the way." Dr. Horton had before heard that tone of subtle pleading, had seen the desperation in the eyes of his patients' loved ones. It suddenly struck him that he had seen it on this particular man before, though then it was on the face of a teenager, worried over a young sister's turned ankle.
"You must be Mr. Darcy. You found the lady, is that correct?" Dr. Horton moved to examine the young woman in bed.
"Yes. In the park. She seemed to have fallen off a ledge and hit her head on a rock."
"Was she conscious when you found her?" The doctor asked this while gently feeling her neck and wrists.
"No."
"How long ago was this?" This question startled Darcy. It seemed years had passed since his largest concern was delivering that damned letter. He glanced at his pocket watch and balked.
"Not above three hours." The doctor recognized that look of shock and knew that for someone who cares for a sick or injured person, minutes seem like hours.
"Mrs. Worthington says the young lady had the gall to challenge Lady Catherine." The still present housekeeper looked aghast and missed the doctor's smile. She expected to be rebuked for the impertinence of talking about the family. To her surprise, Master Darcy emitted a short laugh.
"Yes. I believe Miss Elizabeth has gall to spare."
"She must have a strong constitution, I do not believe I could go against the Great Lady in anything. That's a note in her favor. Please allow me to examine her. I will meet you in the library when I am finished."