"Miss Elizabeth, shall we dance."
Elizabeth looked at her cousin with some consternation. She considered the relative benefits of just saying she was done with dancing for the evening. She still had not added anything to her dance card beyond the current set and thought the evening had been so enjoyable that it might be sensible to leave it on a high note. However, even thought she might not quite be willing to admit it to herself, she was seriously considering taking Mr. Darcy up on his offer for another set. The only thing stopping her was the fact that she was still, even at that late date, tremendously conflicted about just how to deal with the gentleman and his sister; and she had very little time before she would have to decide.
"Shall we, Mr. Collins."
Mr. Collins offered his arm, but Elizabeth, somewhat impolitely, ignored it and walked to their place in the set beside him.
As expected, next two dances started out bad and got worse over time. They were in fact dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.
At least, it should have been ecstasy. Instead, Mr. Collins followed her to the side of the room, and then followed her around for the next dozen minutes like an entirely different breed of dog than her previous dance partner. He was much more akin to a small yapping dog, following at your heels yipping and yapping, biting your ankles, and stopping occasionally to mark some imagined territory, before running after you yet again, yapping constantly.
Mr. Collins, thinking this was finally his chance to make some more progress with his pretty cousin, spent some considerable time talking about the glories of Rosings, the suitability of his 'humble' parsonage, and the wonderful condescension of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Elizabeth tried her best to shake the man, but he may as well have latched onto her dancing slippers with his sharp little teeth, and no amount of subtle discouragement seemed able to dislodge him.
The supper set was just about starting, and Elizabeth seriously considered taking Mr. Darcy up on his offer, but something stopped her. Dancing the first and supper sets with him would be a tacit admission that their relationship was something well beyond indifferent acquaintances, and it would absolutely raise expectations. She believed they were probably already being raised among her mother's gossip circle and the general neighborhood, but such a collection of dances would be clear and unambiguous. She was not ready for that, nor would she ever be, so shaking Mr. Collins seemed to be a priority.
Elizabeth just barely managed to bring her attention back to her verbose cousin in time to hear the most shocking thing he had said all night. "… and I am certain you would enjoy Lady Catherine's company and advice. Miss Elizabeth, with your permission, I would like to spend the remainder of the evening close to you."
Elizabeth gasped at the audacity of the attention, and nearly shouted, "Mr. Collins, I can see my writing to Lady Catherine is far more crucial than I had previously assumed. Your manners Sir, require considerably more instruction if you believe that is a proper question to ask a lady in this circumstance."
Mr. Collins started sputtering, "But Miss Elizabeth… but… but…."
Elizabeth was just about to run away from the cretin when she was brought up short by a hand grasping her around her arm hard enough that it felt like Mr. O'Malley's vise, and she heard a screeching voice that was unmistakable.
"Mr. Collins, would you please excuse us. My daughter and I have some things to discuss."
"Of course, Mrs. Bennet."
Mr. Collins, feeling like the situation was finally to be set to rights, bowed several times so low Elizabeth feared he might end up an embarrassing mess laying on the floor as he backed away… directly into a servant who only barely managed to avoid dumping a half‑dozen glasses on the floor.
Profusely apologizing in an even more confusing manner than usual, Mr. Collins was still babbling when Mrs. Bennet dragged Elizabeth away into an anteroom next to the library and closed the door.
"Now Miss Lizzy, you will tell me exactly what you were doing. You were abominably rude to Mr. Collins. Can you not see that he is particularly interested in you?"
Horrified by the entire line of reasoning, and angry at being dragged from a dance like a spoiled child, when she had two sisters who were spoiled children made Elizabeth's blood boil, and her politeness disappear entirely.
"Yes mother, nobody with the slightest bit of discernment could fail to see his intention, but I am not interested."
"Not interested… Not interested… It is not for you to pick and choose, Elizabeth. Do you have any idea what I suffer with five daughters to marry off? If you think you can toss away the heir of Longbourn on a whim, you are very much mistaken."
"It is not a whim, mother. The man is utterly ridiculous. No woman with the slightest bet of sense or pride could attach herself to such a man. I would rather starve in the hedgerows."
"Oh pish, a man is a man. It does not matter who you marry. You will need to bear him an heir, and then you can mostly ignore one another. It is the way of marriage. The man is respectable. He is not vicious. He has a good living, and he will, sooner than you might think, be the master of Longbourn and you could be its mistress. He is entirely suitable."
Elizabeth's heart was once again racing, but she found she was enjoying it. She had felt palpitations in her chest something like what her mother imagined she felt for six months, but most of those were driven by fear. It was liberating to be acting on pure unadulterated anger. Anger was good… or at least it was better than fear and shame.
"He is not suitable, mother."
No stranger to anger herself, Mrs. Bennet decided to take another tack.
"Are you disdaining Mr. Collins because you think you have a chance at Mr. Darcy, Lizzy. I see how he looks at you. He is not in your power yet, but he could be. It is a risky strategy giving up the bird in the hand, but Mr. Darcy is certainly worth a dozen of Mr. Collins. If that is your aim, I shall not complain."
Her mother talking about Mr. Darcy in the same manner she would use on choosing a leg of lamb or fabric for a dress sent Elizabeth into the highest flights of fury.
"Mr. Darcy's friendship with me is none of your business, Mother! He is a gentleman, and a friend. He is not, nor will he ever be any more than that."
"Believe what you like Lizzy, but that man is interested in you… or would be if you helped him along a bit. You dress more demurely than Mary. Show him a bit of what is on offer, and I assure you, he will be brought to the point. Men are such simple creatures."
Elizabeth had thought that she could never in her life be angrier than she had in Ramsgate, but her mother's flagrant suggestion that she practically compromise Mr. Darcy left her ready to spit. She stepped up inches from her mother and hissed like a snake, "You are very much mistaken, Mama. Mr. Darcy is a gentleman – a pure gentleman – the finest man I have ever known. He is not for the likes of me."
In a shift so sudden it left Elizabeth's head spinning, her mother deflated from the angry rooster stance she had previously adopted, stepped back a step, and said the most surprising thing of the entire conversation.
"So, Elizabeth Bennet is not dead after all!"
Shocked and confused, Elizabeth came down off her toes, walked back a step, and asked, "I do not understand, Mama."
"What happened to you, Lizzy? You went to Ramsgate an impertinent girl full of fight and fire, and then you came back a shadow. For half a year you have been more Mary than Mary. This is the first bit of fire I have seen since you left in your uncle's coach."
Wondering exactly what her mother knew and did not know, and what she was getting at, Elizabeth was at a loss for how to proceed.
"I grew up, Mother."
"Did something happen, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth just nodded, while feeling a flurry of confusion, with her anger about her mother's conversation and her feelings of shame about Ramsgate vying for her attention. For several hours, 'GW' had been batting around the periphery of her conscience, and now he was staring at her front and center.
Mrs. Bennet, not recognizing the thoughts going through her daughter's head continued apace.
"I presume you will not tell me, no matter what I do."
Elizabeth nodded again.
Mrs. Bennet sighed, took Elizabeth's hand, walked her over to a sofa, and sat down with her. Giving Elizabeth a minute to calm down, she continued.
"I know it is difficult Elizabeth, but you cannot go on like you are forever. You have two eligible suitors, neither of whom can be diverted to my other daughters. Your father and I have saved very little for you, and it is my duty to have my daughters married and settled. It is the only true path to comfort and respectability; do you understand Elizabeth."
Elizabeth looked at her mother as if for the first time, and replied, "I understand far more than you might think, Mother. I just cannot."
"You would rather starve in the hedgerows. I know you like to poke fun at me by echoing my words back, but I can assure you, poverty is not pretty. Are you certain you wish to expose your sisters to it under the almost certainly vain hope of doing better than Mr. Collins? Mr. Darcy would do nicely and taking a chance on his affections would be worth the risk. I can convince Mr. Collins you were already attracted to the man, so he does not take it too hard."
Elizabeth sighed in exasperation.
"You mistake me, Mother. I will not be attached to either gentleman."
Mrs. Bennet had just about exhausted her meager store of sympathy, and with her ire rising once again, she said, "I will not allow you to put our entire family at risk, Miss Elizabeth Rose Bennet. You cannot carry on as you are forever. You must choose one. If not, you might wish to spend a bit of time in the hedgerows to see how you like it. I will not support you forever."
Elizabeth was astounded her moments of sympathy with her mother had lasted as long as they had, and her ire rising in parallel, snapped back, "I shall NOT! You entirely mistake me, Mother."
Elizabeth felt like her entire life had been spent coalescing to this point in time. She felt all the pressures that were being put to bear on her crushing her as if she were squeezed in Mr. O'Malley's vise in Harpendon in one direction, his tongs in the other, and her mother beating on her with his hammer. She had the Darcys from one direction, the death of GW from another, her sister's barely restrained behavior from another, Mr. Collins from another, the assize from another; and she just wanted to climb up on the table next to the sofa and scream. She thought the pressure was just about to either crush her or make her as hard as a diamond; and could not possibly predict which it was to be.
Elizabeth's ire calmed down to a barely restrained fury and continued in an iron-edged whisper that reminded her of the file used to smooth out the edges of a piece of iron. She needed to be the iron, so she replied, "You are mistaken, Mother! You propose two potentials for me. I can assure you that I am not good enough for Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Collins is not good enough for me. I will choose my fate, Mama! I am resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or any other person."
Mrs. Bennet, seeing the implacable stubbornness, she knew was at the core of her daughter, decided enough was enough.
"Choose wisely, Elizabeth. You may not get another chance."
With that, she turned and headed for the door. Just before closing the door to give her recalcitrant daughter a few minutes to comprehend the gravity of the situation and the obvious course of action, she offered one last bit of advice.
"Choose wisely."