Disclaimer: Still don't own a thing! Amanda Price is ITV's and everything belongs to Jane Austen!
Special Thanks: EdwardisMine95 and Fire Dolphin!
Note: This is my longest chapter yet! 21 pages in word! ROTFL Contains some quotes from Lost in Austen in the end
Chapter 6 - The Odious Mr. Collins
"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." - Emma Woodhouse from Emma by Jane Austen
Once the carriage starts to move, Jane turns to me, "Mr. Darcy seemed sad to see you go."
I look out the window; my back to Jane, "Oh? Was he? I did not notice."
There was something wanting in the way that Mr. Darcy conducted himself with me during my brief stay at Netherfield and I confess that I wanted something more substantial. I wanted to finally, in all my twenty-eight years, to have been swept off my feet. My voracious mind had read all those fairy tales and love stories and I had wanted to experience that. I wanted to have something other than deep like with someone. I wanted to feel appreciated and loved for who I was; not who I could be!
But, that was obviously not going to happen.
No matter how hard I tried to lend a hand; the story would not work itself out and I felt that I was stuck here for good.
After some silence, Jane says, "Lizzy, are you not excited about the ball next week?"
With my back turned to Jane, I reply, "Yes."
"Yes, you are not excited," asks Jane.
"Yes," I look out the carriage window, "I am excited."
I say this with false sincerity. For, I shall have to face Darcy at this ball and fear that nothing good will come out of it. I can see the ball unfold in my mind. I shall most likely say something that will offend Darcy and he will most likely say something that will cause me great discomfort and offense that I at once, fighting scruples, will wish to throw him out the window.
In silence once again, I watch the English countryside whisk by me. I can hear the carriage wheels rubbing upon the tan dirt road. In the distance, I can hear white collared doves whooping in the distance. The smell of fresh bread permeates through the atmosphere from a small cottage in the distance. I see a shepherd standing upon the downs; flanked by his sheep. Next, I see a small brook; cascading through a hill; only to stop by a bed of wild flowers.
"Dear Eliza," Jane says calmly, "turn around and talk to me."
I turn towards Jane, "Yes?"
"You have been so quiet," Jane's brow crinkles.
I turn away as tears enter my eyes. I focus upon the landscape once again as my voice shakes, "Yes, I know."
"Lizzy," Jane asks; worried, "what is wrong?"
I turn towards Jane as tears flow out of my eyes, "Nothing. I am fine."
"Lizzy," Jane looks at me in concern.
"I am fine," I quickly wipe my eyes with the back of my hands.
Jane takes hold of my hand and does not say a word until we reach Longbourn. I confess that despite how homely Longbourn might seem; it provides me with a sense of warmth that the coldness of Netherfield did not.
Netherfield boasted dozens of Grecian columns and tapestries and velvet brocade walls, but, did not have an inkling of life in it. Though there were people that resided in Netherfield; it seemed more like a failed museum that none venture to. Frankly put, it was a little too rich! Longbourn was warm and inviting and though Mrs. Bennet meddled here and there; she was a far better companion than Caroline Bingley. Longbourn was not as vogue as Netherfield, but, it did have what Netherfield lacked and that was a warm hearth, down-to-earth people, and most of all, love!
When the carriage stopped by the drive, I saw that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were standing in the front along with Lydia, Kitty, and Mary. "Did you get engaged yet," was the first thing out of Lydia's mouth.
"Good morning to you too," I say grumpily as I exit the carriage only to have Mrs. Bennet look at me.
"Have you been crying Lizzy dear?"
"What?" I look down, "No."
"Your eyes are rather bloodshot and swollen," Lydia peers at me.
"Is there anything that you would like to discuss," Mrs. Bennet asks.
I think for a moment that it would be good to talk to Mrs. Bennet about what is going on. But, I shake my head, "No. I am fine."
I know that if I told Mrs. Bennet that I liked a man. She would ask who and then would turn into the matchmaker from hell.
"We have had a rather long journey," I say to everyone.
"Oh! Do have tea with us," Kitty pleads.
I look at my substitute family and shrug, "Yes. I shall have tea, but, after that I need my rest."
We assemble in the sitting room. Mary sits at the piano; practicing sheet music that she had purchased from Meryton. Mrs. Bennet sits in front of Jane and I; watching us like hawks. She wants to know all the details; however, there is nothing to discuss or nothing that I care to divulge.
The maid comes into the parlor room with the tea serving set and sets the tea set in front of Mrs. Bennet. She curtsies and leaves the room. I watch as Mrs. Bennet pours seven cups of tea and leaves it up to us how much sugar and cream we would like. It is a very informal gathering as we all congregate at a small card table.
I place two lumps of sugar into my tea cup as Mrs. Bennet watches my every move. When she turns around, I place a third sugar cube into my tea cup and look at Mr. Bennet. A smile appears upon his lips as I mouth the word Ssh. He nods with a smile and places two lumps into his tea cup. Once Mary is done with the cream, she hands it to me. I look at Mrs. Bennet and finally she sighs, "Lizzy, will you not tell me what went on?"
"What Mrs. Bennet means is," Mr. Bennet teases his wife, "will you tell me every detail?"
"Mr. Bennet, how you tease," Mrs. Bennet giggles. Mrs. Bennet turns to me, "Yes! I must know every detail!"
"What shall I begin with," I distractedly blow on my tea, "The stables were in quite good condition. The horses seemed very happy to be part of such richness and decency."
Mrs. Bennet's jaw tightened, "Lizzy, you make fun now, but, when you have your own daughters; you will know that getting them married is a business in itself."
"Who said I was going to have daughters," I ask as Kitty and Lydia begin to giggle.
"I dislike all this talk of children," Mrs. Bennet blushes.
"Why?" I tease, "You brought this topic up."
"Because I am your mother," Mrs. Bennet's face turns red, "Let us comment on the weather or something less trivial."
"Certainly," I look out the window, "Shall I give a play by play weather report? Or, shall I just say that it shall rain and leave it at that?"
"Oh Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet cries, "How you do prey upon my nerves!"
"The details," I look to see that Mrs. Bennet has completely forgotten about her nerves as she leans over; eagerness spread across her plump features. "Mr. Bingley is a very pleasant man and down-to-earth. Caroline Bingley, in my opinion, is very pretentious and thinks very highly of herself. Mr. Darcy is the male version of Caroline. These are the details as simple as they are, but, are details nevertheless."
"It is a pity," Mrs. Bennet frowns slightly, "That Mr. Darcy may seem so proud."
"His manners are not wholly blemished," Jane speaks up, "He has flaws as any man and Lizzy ought to look past that."
"Jane," I shake my head, "he is monstrously uncouth and thinks it proper manners to not say farewell to guests."
"I should like to meet this man," says Mrs. Bennet, "so that I may see for myself how mistaken you are, Lizzy."
"You will have the chance next week," I smile, "for, Mr. Bingley is throwing a ball at Netherfield."
Lydia and Kitty jump up from their seats and start squealing in delight. "I must sort out my dress right away," Lydia takes a sip of tea.
"You have one week and that is an ample amount of time. Sit down," Jane laughs, "finish your tea."
Lydia and Kitty oblige Jane as they both sit down. However, they both look at each other again and squeal like the overindulgent girls that they are.
Lydia takes another sip of tea, "I must get a new dress. I just must."
"What is wrong with your white dress with the bows on the sleeves?" Jane asks.
"Everyone has seen me in that," Lydia sighs.
"Why don't you put a ribbon around the waist?" I ask.
Lydia sighs, "We are not so poor that I cannot purchase a new dress. Are we that destitute?"
Mrs. Bennet shakes her head, "Destitute, I should think not! All my daughters will have new dresses for this ball."
Mr. Bennet groans and hides his face behind his tea cup. He is, no doubt, thinking of the money involved in what is, undeniably, a meat market.
***
The next morning, Jane and I, take a stroll through the country side. When we return, we find a man of short stature; standing outside, his fingers pressed against his nostrils and inhaling deeply. "Oh goodness," Jane swings to the side of the house; taking me along with her. "It is our cousin, Mr. Collins."
"Mr. Collins?" I gasp, "But, he doesn't come until Chapter Thirteen!"
"Chapter Thirteen," Jane sends me a confused look.
"I am probably in need of rest," I lie as I peer at Mr. Collins.
"Shall we pretend that we are not home?"
"We cannot," Jane frowns. "Father knows that he is coming. He has written to us. I did not know that he would come so soon."
"Is there another way to get inside the house?"
"Through the servants' door," Jane smiles.
"Then," I smile, "We shall run upstairs and avoid Mr. Collins for the better part of the evening."
"If only we could avoid him for a week," I think to myself.
***
What is there to say about Mr. Collins? He is boring! He makes me want to yawn out of turn. He swears by the bible and carries a pocket size book of sermons in his coat pocket just so he can preach at any given moment. But, worse of all, he wants to marry one of us!
Dinner with him is a most abhorrent task. He eats like a cow; side to side. I look away and start folding and unfolding my napkin; a quirk of mine that I do especially well at boring banquets.
"Everything he says sounds like a sermon," I think to myself.
Mary clears her throat, "There is a ball next week at Netherfield Park."
"Hmm," Mr. Collins pauses for a moment as if his brain cannot function without taking a long pause to think. He brings his fingers to his nose and deeply inhales. "What wonder balls can be," he says with an air of false manners. "And you," he looks at me, "what do you think of dancing?"
I raise an eyebrow up, "I only come for the food."
Mr. Bennet snickers as he pretends to focus upon his plate of food. Mr. Collins seems affronted, "Surely, you cannot mean that a young lady such as yourself does not care for dancing."
"Lizzy lives for dancing," Kitty innocently adds in.
"Kitty," Jane scolds, for, she understands why I am so apprehensive.
"I cannot dance," I look down.
"Oh," Mr. Collins looks his nose down at me. "What a pity!" He turns towards Jane, "Pray, do you dance?"
Jane looks at me and I quickly reply, "No. Her ankle is sprained."
"Is it," Mr. Collins' features change from creepy to creepily concerned. "Shall I ascertain it for breaks?"
"No," I stand up from my chair and hold up my hand before he can touch Jane. "It's quite all right. I've already ... um ... ascertained it. Thank you."
Once dinner is over, we move towards the fireplace and are forced to listen to another boring sermon from Mr. Collins. I yawn and Mr. Collins turns towards me, "Miss Elizabeth, I take it that you are not dutiful."
I scoff, "How do you define dutiful? A farmer may not have as much time to be as dutiful as a clergyman, but, that does not make him any less pious than the clergyman."
Mr. Collins pauses to form what I believe to be a very long sentence. I stand up and pull Jane up along with me, "We are to bed. It has been a very tiring and I daresay, dutiful day."
Mr. Collins bows with a flourish of his hand as Jane and I curtsy. "What a foppish coxcomb," I hear Lydia whisper to Kitty.
Once Jane and I are in the bedroom, she turns towards me, "What shall I do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"My ankle is supposedly sprained, Lizzy!" Jane laments, "How am I to dance with Mr. Bingley now? Shall I lose my chance?"
I shake my head, "We never said how bad the sprain was!"
Jane takes in a deep sigh and I place an arm around her, "Even if your ankle were broken, which it's not, Mr. Bingley would give up dancing just for you. That's how much he loves you."
"Are you certain?" Jane asks.
"Quite certain."
***
We met quite a few colorful characters on our way to Meryton, but, one stuck out like a sore thumb.
Mr. Wickham.
What can I say about Mr. Wickham ... a well-known rake! A cad! A scoundrel! A libertine!
I could make a list!
Yet, he states that he and Darcy had a fall-out that was a huge misunderstanding. He says that he will not be attending the Netherfield Ball (much to Lydia's dismay and protests).
***
It is the morning of the ball and everyone is running about the house like chickens with their heads cut off.
"Where are my lace gloves?" Lydia shouts from the top of the stairs.
"In your hands," I shout back.
"Oh!" Lydia laughs, "So they are!"
Everyone is busy, but, Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet and I. I have already laid out my dress (it is olive green and black) and my hair is fine the way it is, however, Jane seems to have a desire to do my hair in curls.
Mr. Collins looks at me disapprovingly and Mr. Bennet looks back at him with a wary eye. I look at Mr. Bennet and then at Mr. Collins.
I roll my eyes and snap at Mr. Collins, "What are you staring at?"
"Should you not be busy making yourself special for the ball?"
Oh! I am not above kicking this man!
"Should you not be busy making yourself scarce," I snap back while Mr. Bennet watches us in amusement.
"I confess," Mr. Collins continues; slightly offended, "that Charlotte Lucas painted a rather different portrait of you."
I stand up, glaring at him, "Well, she lied and you might be better off considering her."
Mr. Collins turns towards Mr. Bennet, "You should have better control over Miss Elizabeth."
Oh! I want to hit him! I want to punch him! I can feel my hands forming into fists!
Mr. Bennet speaks up, "I would never control my daughter. She has a good head on her shoulders and can think for herself. That is all she needs." Mr. Collins looks away; his face red with embarrassment.
When we are finally dressed up, Mr. Collins states that all of us would make a pretty painting. "Whatever Collins," I think to myself, "Blah, blah, blah. Let's just go to the ball!"
Mr. Collins states that we will need to take two barouches (as he so eloquently puts it) and he suggests that Jane and I ride with him.
As we near the ball, my stomach begins to feel queasy. It is a feeling that I have not had since my first day of school. I look at Jane, "I do not feel good."
"What is wrong?"
"My stomach," I look down, "I think I am nervous."
Jane looks at Mr. Collins (who is watching us with utmost curiosity). She leans towards me and whispers, "Darcy?"
I nod, "Yes."
"Don't worry," she whispers, "you'll be fine. There will be many people there and you might not even see him."
I take in a deep breath as I exit the carriage. I walk into the mansion and see several people are already dancing. I take hold of Jane's arm as Mr. Bingley and Miss Caroline come up to greet us.
Bows and curtsies are exchanged as my eyes scan the room, "Are you looking for anyone?"
I shake my head, "No."
Miss Caroline smiles and looks beyond where I am standing, "Mr. Darcy." She curtsies.
I turn around and see Mr. Darcy standing behind me. I curtsy and Mr. Darcy bows, "Mr. Darcy."
"Miss Elizabeth." His eyes gaze into mine.
My heart stops for a second and feels as though it is burning. It is a nice feeling and yet, it scares me at the same time. It feels as though my heart is going to explode (either that or I have a seriously dangerous case of heart burn).
He looks at me; tenderly, "How have you been?"
I look away, "Good. And you sir, how have you been?"
"Good," he mirrors my words.
I smile and look away; shyly, "Mr. Darcy, I-"
Caroline interrupts, "Mr. Darcy, I have met a few guests that I would like to introduce you to."
Mr. Darcy looks at me as I smile at him; his eyes fill with hope. Mr. Darcy bows and I curtsy. He leaves with Caroline to mingle with some guests that Caroline obviously believes are worth his time.
I turn towards Jane and find that she is already dancing with Mr. Bingley. I watch them dance as I lean against the threshold and notice that, from across the room, Mr. Darcy is watching me.
I unfold my fan and smile shyly at him. A few men come my way to ask me to dance. I oblige and Mr. Darcy watches me, for, I am not dancing my best, but, at least I am dancing.
Finally, Mr. Darcy starts to walk closer towards me. I walk outside to the balcony and close the French doors behind me. I turn around when I hear the French doors open. Mr. Darcy comes out from them.
"Mr. Darcy."
"Miss Elizabeth."
"You are out here alone," Mr. Darcy states.
"Yes," I smile, "But, please don't tell Mr. Collins.
"It is our secret," he sends me a small smile.
I smile, "I believe you just smiled."
"It will not happen again, I assure you."
"Oh!" I smile, "But, you should smile more. It becomes you."
Mr. Darcy's features turn slightly pink as he breathes in and softly replies, "Miss Elizabeth, I-"
The French doors open again and I hear a familiar voice, "Oh! There you are Mr. Darcy!"
I turn around to see Caroline Bingley, "Miss Bingley."
"Miss Elizabeth."
"Mr. Darcy," Caroline smiles, "Charles is looking for you."
"What is it now?"
With that, I am left alone on the terrace once again. I turn away and wonder what Darcy meant to tell me. The French doors open once again and I turn around with a smile; hoping that it is Darcy. But, my smile fades once I see Mr. Collins standing where Darcy ought to be.
"Mr. Collins."
"Miss Elizabeth," he bows, "May I have the next dance?"
I look away, "Why not ask Lydia or Kitty? I am in no mood for dancing."
"Dear cousin," he looks at me, "what is wrong?"
I look away, but, Collins is no fool. He moves closer towards me and sees that tears are falling out of my eyes. Quickly, I wipe my tears away, "What?"
"Mr. Darcy just came from here," he inhales deeply; fingers to his nostrils. "Did he upset you?"
"No," I look away.
"Then, what is wrong, dear cousin?"
"Nothing!" I look at Mr. Collins, "I think I just need to be left alone. I hope you understand."
"No. Not in this state," Mr. Collins pauses for a long while. "I will tell Mr. Darcy you are crying. You two must be close; being outside without a chaperone."
"No!" I shake my head, "Don't do that! Just leave this situation as is."
"Upon my honor," Mr. Collins shakes his head, "I cannot do that!"
Mr. Collins leaves the balcony and in a few minutes; the French doors open and then close. I turn around to face Mr. Darcy. He looks away from my tear-streaked features (as though it causes him pain) and asks, "Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?"
"I am fine," I look away.
He walks towards me, "Shall I stay with you a little longer?"
My shoulders begin to shake as I place my hands to my face; for, fear of being noticed. I have never cried in front of anyone in my life; so why now? And, why in front of him?
Mr. Darcy places an awkward hand upon my shoulder. "Shall I stay with you a little longer," he repeats the question.
"Only if you want to," I look up at him.
"Do you want me to," he asks.
I look down, "Yes."
He stays by my side and I can smell his scent again; vanilla and clean linen. I look up at him and find that he is looking down at me. "I apologize," I look away, "I am usually not like this."
"Is something wrong?"
"Nothing I wish to discuss," I look away, for, he is the reason that I am in such a state. "I met a Mr. Wickham last week. He says that you two are friends."
Mr. Darcy removes his hand from my shoulder and glares at me, "We are not."
"Acquaintances?"
"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy glares down at me, "what are you trying to uncover?"
"Are we at that part already?" I mumble to myself.
"What part are we at?"
"Nothing of consequence," I unfold my fan and smile.
Mr. Darcy looks at me slightly amused, "What would you have me say, Miss Elizabeth? For, I have found something of great interest."
"What?"
"You," he seems rather pleased with himself. "You are not what you seem."
I scoff, "I can't disagree with that." I sigh, "Look, I know you have a very poor opinion of me. That's the way you are at the moment and that's okay. But, one day, Mr. Darcy, you will thank me."
"In the meantime, Miss Elizabeth," he walks closer towards me, "you must content yourself with a warning. If you try my temper, you will find that-"
"Your good opinion once lost is lost forever," I shyly smile behind my fan, "I know."
The ball is in my court! Team Darcy = 0. Team Amanda = 1!
Now that I have him on his toes, I wipe my tears away and look up at Darcy, "I feel much better now. Thank you." I curtsy and leave a mystified Darcy in the dark.
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