A/N: Welcome back to my loyal readers and a hearty welcome to new ones! This is another short: 12 chapters & 15k words.

I wondered what would happen if Elizabeth was way-way more cynical about men than in canon (something like Charlotte), and it took Mr Collins longer to come to the point. Elizabeth would know about Bingley's defection and Caroline's letter before Mr Collins proposed, and she might have to take that into account. She at least talked a pretty cynical game after Charlotte accepted Mr Collins, and you would have to admit that Hunsford was a pretty good setdown. Elizabeth and Mr Bennet both certainly have some cynicism in their souls.

I probably should add a cynicism warning if there's any such thing.

Of course, being a man, I feel thoroughly entitled to beat up on my own sex all I want.

Wade

"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. You wish to think all the world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I only want to think you perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege of universal good-will. You need not. There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense. …
P&P Chapter 24

"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly–which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. … … … and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."

"… … You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy of your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into further consideration, that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females."
P&P Chapter 19

Elizabeth sat preternaturally still at Mr Collins's latest effusions, but they at least made her stop and think. She realised, just as a stopped clock was right twice a day, Mr Collins may have hit on a home truth by accident. The stark reality of her situation was coming into focus, and it was not auspicious. She need look no farther than Charlotte Lucas to see her likely future. Charlotte had been out for a full decade without the slightest whiff of a proposal. Even Jane, the universally acknowledged beauty of the county, was seven years into the hunt with nothing to show but some awful poetry and one rather nasty letter from a false friend. Her father was as indolent as ever, while her mother and younger sisters were just as ignorant, loud, and silly. Her portion was small as ever and unlikely to grow.

In summary, Mr Collins might be correct. It very well might be the last proposal she would ever receive.

The parson continued to flutter around like a nervous bird until she snapped, "Please be seated! I cannot think with all this noise," mostly to see if he could be silent for a few minutes while she tried to work out if she should give serious consideration to his proposal.

While her initial rejection, and the second and third which followed, were much to her wishes; she abruptly and belatedly realised not everybody got what they wanted. Much as she loathed the idea, she was positioned to help and protect her sisters (the lovely and the silly) through personal sacrifice. The situation, unfortunately, required a decision more of sense than sensibility.

Elizabeth set about trying to think rationally. There seemed little doubt Charlotte would have already accepted, given a reversal of places, so she should at least consider it.

Mr Collins' parents were thankfully dead, and hers would be fifty miles away, so she at least would not need to suffer interfering in-laws. The parson stated outright he did not mind her small portion, which was not a given with any other hypothetical suitor. That she found Longbourn a perfectly acceptable place to pass her life and already knew how to run it must favour the match. Mr Collins showed no signs of being vicious—and to be perfectly candid, she thought she could thrash him if it came to a fight (and she could certainly outrun him). He had a respectable living and a comfortable home in a small village not so different from what she was accustomed to. She would eventually return as mistress of Longbourn, and her eldest son would be its next master, which was not the worst fate in the world. He showed no signs of being intemperate or a spendthrift, nor did she believe he was a good enough actor to hide such proclivities.

The drawbacks to the union were obvious. Mr Collins was not a handsome or even particularly hygienic man, and he was a terrible dancer. That said, he was not the worst looking man she knew, and she need not dance with him ever again since married women were excused from dancing with their husbands. The man babbled an extraordinary amount, but as Mrs Bennet sometimes pointed out, there were certain advantages to a stupid husband. He was probably easier to direct than a clever man. Despite the always tense and disrespectful relationship between her parents, Elizabeth noticed Mrs Bennet got her way in most disputes. With a man half as intelligent as her father, it should be relatively easy to rule the roost. If the parsonage was any better than a hovel, she could set up a private parlour where he was banned, then send Mr Collins off to visit Rosings or his garden every half hour. With clever hints here and there, she might only be in his company an hour or two each day.

Marital duties would no doubt be quite disagreeable—but that was the case for most married women she knew. Lady Lucas had once imbibed a bit too much wine and confided that the act itself was rather unpleasant but mercifully brief.

In the end, Elizabeth thought a union with Mr Collins was at least survivable. Presuming he did not meet a bad fate before she birthed a son, she would be guaranteed two suitable homes, first at the probably comfortable enough parsonage, and eventually at Longbourn. To those advantages, she could add security for her mother and sisters, since their disposition would be covered in the marriage articles. Should her father die, they would be welcomed at Longbourn as long as necessary, but under her rules.

Last but not least, she could certainly force him to bathe more and talk less (considerably more and considerably less).

Elizabeth thought if even JANE could not bring a man to the point, what hope had she when they were one rabbit hole away from genteel poverty?

In the end, though her every sensation revolted at the idea, she admitted it was an eligible match. The biggest potential fly in the ointment was his noble patroness. Lady Catherine sounded like an interfering termagant of the worst sort. Elizabeth was accustomed to dealing with the like so it would be nothing new per se—but the lady sounded even more annoying and controlling than even Mrs Bennet. Therein lay the most serious consideration. Elizabeth could probably tolerate Mr Collins if Lady Catherine butted out of parsonage business, but she could not readily tolerate two such interferences in her life. To make the sacrifice, she would need to at least run her own home.

With a sigh, Elizabeth realised she did not know enough to decide. She had not come remotely close to a single prospect in the five years out, so she was not weighed down with preferable options. She eventually admitted that much depended on whether Lady Catherine was barely tolerable or not.

With a frown, Elizabeth said, "Mr Collins… I have reflected on your words. I cannot say at this moment, but if you wish me to seriously reconsider your proposal, I will promise you a definitive answer before you return to Hunsford on Saturday."

Mr Collins looked confused. "What do you mean, Saturday?"

"Exactly what I said: Saturday, the last day of this week. I feel a need for my own investigations and reflections. You had several weeks to think about your decision. I think it is only fair to ask for three days."

"But my dear Cousin Elizabeth —"

Elizabeth cut him off with a snap. "Mr Collins! If you need an answer this minute, you may accept my previous refusal, consider your conscience clear, and search elsewhere. If you need an answer today, I suspect Mary or Miss Lucas would accept you without qualms. If you wish me to seriously consider your suit, I require three days."

"My dear, I appreciate your natural modesty, and understand the female mind does not always perform as quickly as —"

"Very well! You will leave me to consider in peace," she said with enough force to make the man jump to his feet and head for the door.

Elizabeth thought his actions a moderately encouraging sign since he had previously been entirely impervious to instruction. However, his obeisance to Lady Catherine suggested he needed to follow somebody's orders. With the proper guidance, Elizabeth reckoned she could instruct the man as well as anyone, so long as Lady Catherine left her mostly in peace.

As Mr Collins exited, Mrs Bennet and her three youngest daughters practically fell through the door and started jabbering questions incoherently, but it sounded closer to a pack of hounds than an intelligent interrogation.

Mrs Bennet asked shrilly, "Well?"

"I told Mr Collins I will give him an answer before he leaves in three days."

"Three days!" the matron screeched. "You call him right back now and give him the proper answer."

Elizabeth did not feel up to arguing all day, so did something for the first time. She walked right up to a foot in front of her mother and stood as tall as she could to stare the matron in the eye.

"The only answer available today is no! If you are satisfied with that, I can call the man back and be done with it. If you want me to give serious consideration to yes, you will wait three days, just like Mr Collins. He has accepted those conditions, and you will as well."

Mrs Bennet puffed her chest up to retort forcefully, but the matron found the words did not come out properly when she was facing empty air as her daughter slipped by her, ran out into the corridor, and closed the door in her face.

Mrs Bennet yanked the door open and hurried out into the hall, only to encounter Mr Collins. "Never you mind, Mr Collins. She is only nervous, as are most young women. She will know her mind soon enough."

The gentleman puffed out his chest and stood up straighter (somewhat). "My dear, Mrs Bennet. Have no concerns. As I explained to Cousin Elizabeth, It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy of her acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and in spite of your daughter's manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made. I have no concerns. She has asked for time to come to terms with her good fortune, and dare I say, see the manifold benefits of the match. I have not the slightest doubt I shall lead her to the altar soon."

Mrs Bennet, while perfectly capable of reassuring Mr Collins multiple times, was not sanguine herself. She never understood her second daughter, but recognised Lizzy was the second or third stubbornest person of her acquaintance. She would never be truly satisfied until the vows were said and the register signed.

The matron decided to move things along.