Chapter 11: Elizabeth
She did not sleep all night. She could not. The pillow was too soft. The bed was too hard. Jane snored lightly (though she always did that) and the moonlight was maddeningly bright.
She would never forget his face, his eyes, his touch. All of it bathed in white light and made otherworldly.
What had happened? Had it been real?
The next day dawned and Elizabeth went down early for breakfast, half-hoping Mr. Darcy would be there, and half-dreading it. Would he regret what he said? Did he still want to kiss her?
Did she want to kiss him back?
But the only people in the dining room were her mother…and Mr. Collins.
"There you are, Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Come, come, sit by me, dear girl."
Elizabeth was instantly on guard: her mother's tone was amiable and there was a wide smile plastered on her face.
"Mother?" Elizabeth said hesitantly.
"Get your hot cocoa and come here, darling girl!" Mrs. Bennet crooned. "Mr. Collins and I have been having such a lovely chat."
Elizabeth slowly poured a cup of hot cocoa from the sidebar and sat gingerly next to her mother. Across the table, Mr. Collins ate his last bite of sausage and smiled up at her. He had a smear of marmalade on his lips and he took a moment then to loudly slurp his tea.
"About what?" Elizabeth said. She sipped her own drink warily. Everyone was being entirely too pleasant, and her mother was never awake this early.
"Well," Mrs. Bennet giggled like a girl. "It isn't my place to say."
She smiled at Mr. Collins, then motioned for him to wipe his chin. He did so and then announced in a voice as loud as he must use to address his congregation, "May I hope, Madam, for the honor of a private audience with your daughter Elizabeth in the course of this morning?"
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, her mother answered instantly. "Oh, my! Yes, certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy. I am sure she can have no objection!"
Elizabeth turned in horror as her mother began to exit the room. "Mama, do not go. I beg you, you will not go! Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear." But her mother simply waved at her and kept walking.
"I am going away myself!" Elizabeth cried.
Mrs. Bennet paused at the doors and hissed, "No! No nonsense Lizzy. I desire you will stay where you are."
Elizabeth stood, and for once Mrs. Bennet seemed to truly see her, to see how very vexed and embarrassed—and about to escape—she appeared.
"Lizzy," her mother barked, "I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins."
Elizabeth considered fleeing the room despite her mother's orders, but after a moment's consideration, she thought it most sensible to simply get it over with as soon and as quietly as possible. So she sat again, and tried to conceal her distress, even as her mother closed the dining room doors and left them alone.
She did not have to wait long, as Mr. Collins stood and began to speak at her, from across the table.
"My dear Elizabeth, believe me that your modesty, far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes, had there not been this little unwillingness. But allow me to assure you that I have your respected mother's permission for this address."
"Oh my," Elizabeth said, feeling trapped in a nightmare.
"You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse," Mr. Collins continued, "however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I arrived at Longbourn, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying—and moreover for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by his feelings made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him farther, and he continued:
"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 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 honor of calling patroness.
"Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject. And it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford—between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's foot-stool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her."
"Mr. Collins," Elizabeth said. This had gone far enough.
"Now, it remains to be told why my views were directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, where I assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honored father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place—which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem."
"Mr. Collins, please stop."
He ignored her and rounded the table, standing before her with all the grace of a second-rate thespian. "And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection! To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four percents, which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."
Elizabeth felt her world shift, and she was surprised that she did not fall off her chair entirely. And he was still speaking! She had to stop him. She had to stop this, all of this, now.
And that's when her father burst into the room, followed by her hysterical mother.