General AN: This is just a little PSA/note to anyone who follows my writing in general on ff dot net. My frustrations with some aspects of the site are causing me to switch permanently to ao3 as a means of publishing fics. I won't be publishing any new works on this site, so if you're interested in continuing to read my stuff, you'll have to switch over to my tumblr (jhoomwrites) or ao3 (jhoom) accounts. HOWEVER, because I have a number of unfinished WIPs and series on this site, I will continue to update those until they're complete. That means that the following stories/series WILL continue to be updated on ff dot net: The Mark; Academy Blues; love to hate; What's in a Name?; any fics related to Welcome to SKU. Anything new that I post that is NOT related to those stories will NOT be published here.
AN: short little update to (partially) deal with the Mr. Collins business before going back to our regularly scheduled nonsense :)
The fallout from the ball is not nearly so great as Elizabeth would've expected.
With the weight of her hidden names now at least partially shared, she expects things to be different. And yet they are remarkably the same. Her mother still goes on and on about how many dances Jane and Bingley shared, the food and extravagant gowns of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and the likelihood that Mr. Bingley will soon propose.
("Would you like a spring or an autumn wedding, my dear?"
"But Mama, what if she wants it in the summer or winter?"
"In the summer? In the winter? Good gracious, Lizzie, what are you thinking? Summer is much too hot for the type of dress I have in mind for our dear Jane. She'll sweat and ruin the fine lace. And winter's right out. Far too cold for a wedding and she'll want to be settled into Netherfield before the snows come."
"Yes, of course, Mama. How silly of me for suggesting otherwise.")
But though it feels as though much has changed, everything is the same. She still wakes up in the morning and gets dressed as usual. There's the same chatter during breakfast (with of course the addition of Mr. Collin's inane comments), the same morning activities. All of it's so ordinary that Lizzie finds herself longing for the thrill of her conversation with Darcy.
Or the thrill of having such a conversation with Wickham.
At Netherfield, in that secluded little corner and in that moment with Darcy, she'd felt a confidence about her predicament. A type of surety that ran bone deep and that has now dried up. It's unnerving to have felt it and now to be back where she was before. Because despite how Darcy was acting and how easily it would be able to interpret that as him being her soulmate, she still can't be sure.
Did she imagine the look of understanding? And what if he did understand what she was implying, but he's as nefarious as Wickham attests? Never mind the dark look he'd sent Jane's way when he saw her and Bingley so happily dancing. Whatever else he might say or do, she could never forgive a man who meant Jane ill will.
It'd be so easy if it were Wickham. Everything would be straightforward and everyone would have exactly the amount of goodness they initially appeared to have. But life is certainly not that simple and Elizabeth's not sure she would enjoy it if it were. Besides all that, she's not even sure she'd want it to be Wickham.
She finds her mind drifting back to the ball. The connection she'd felt with Darcy…
"Cousin Elizabeth?"
She startles slightly at the interruption and flushes, as though Mr. Collins could possibly have known the direction her thoughts had wandered. "Ah, Mr. Collins. You took me quite by surprise." She closes her book, not even bothering to note the page. What does it matter if she hadn't truly been reading it anyway?
"I apologize, of course. But I know how much long ladies enjoy the company of others, and thought I'd offer to join you."
"Ah yes. What my reading lacked was a conversation partner."
Mr. Collins either ignores or doesn't understand the jab and takes a seat next to her. Her sisters were clearly paying more attention, because both Mary and Lydia have disappeared. More's the pity that there's no one else to divide his attention and help save her from being the sole object of his attention.
"I am always happy to provide an opportunity for you to converse, dear cousin." He takes a seat next to her and angles the chair to face her. With a sigh, she does the same. The man clearly came here with something on his mind, so she may as well get it over with.
"Any particular topic you would like to discuss this afternoon, Mr. Collins?"
"Why yes, indeed. You have no doubt been wondering as to the true nature of my visit here to Longbourn."
"I was not."
Mr. Collins briefly looks taken aback. Slowly an unctuous smile forms on his face. "Then surely you must have already known! How clever you are, dearest Elizabeth! I of course came not with the nefarious intent of looking upon my future home, but rather with the hopes of finding a wife from amongst you and your fair sisters. Your mother was quite confident that your sister Jane would soon be engaged, so I cast my eyes elsewhere and thought I should offer my proposal to you."
For once in her life Elizabeth is rendered speechless. "Oh."
Never able to properly read his audience, he continuous. "My patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has gone on about the necessity of a clergyman not only being wed, but not having any family discord to take his mind away from his responsibilities and duties to his flock. You can of course see the wisdom of that, surely?"
"I suppose, but-"
"And she also suggested that the easiest way to mend the disagreements of my late father and your most honorable one would be for me to marry one of his daughters. You, Elizabeth, are quite intelligent and kind, and it seemed you would make a wonderful choice-"
"Mr. Collins!" Elizabeth angrily interrupts. "Are you not supposed to wait for my answer?" She doesn't wait for him to answer, knowing full well that she would only have to interrupt him again if she let him start again. "In addition to the multitude of other concerns I have with this proposal as a whole - and I assure you, there are many things to be concerned about - there is first and foremost the matter of our soulmates."
Mr. Collins stares at her blankly for a moment, and she wonders what on earth she ever did to land herself in such a ridiculous position with such a ridiculous man. "On our wrists?" She holds hers up . "You are not my intended husband, and I am surely not your intended wife. Pretending otherwise would only serve to make us both miserable."
"Oh." For the first time, the man actually appears flustered. Then he regains his usual confidence. "You needn't worry about depriving me of the opportunity to wed my soulmate." And because it's apparently Elizabeth's luck this week, he proceeds to pull up both of his sleeves to reveal his wrists. She watches in surprised horror, unable to turn away as he shows her…
Two completely bare wrists.
She's of course heard of the possibility of such a thing, but she'd never thought it was real or that she'd actually see it. Despite herself, she leans forward to take a better look, belatedly realizing that Mr. Collins is still speaking.
"As you can see, I have no soulmate or enemy to speak of. I've found it quite in keeping with a clergyman to make no enemies of his fellow man. And of course that I should not put anyone before God. I've always seen marriage as a means of companionship, which I believe is quite important to us all. And it would of course set an example for those in my flock on how to conduct oneself in-"
"My wrists aren't empty," she blurts out. She self-consciously rubs at them, by no means willing to show him.
Although Mr. Wickham and Mr. Collins might find it acceptable to show virtual strangers something so private, Elizabeth certainly does not. And of course, even if she were so inclined, Mr. Collins has met both men in question. It could only end in disaster for him to know. Even if he didn't make a spectacle of himself in front of them, he would make all manner of condescending remarks about her inability to tell the difference between own soulmate and enemy.
"Your wrists are not empty," he repeats slowly. "And have you met your soulmate? Because there's always the chance-"
"I have." Even if it were a lie, she would've said it anyway. The prospect of marrying Mr. Collins (or any man, really, who she felt no affection for) feels like a noose, and she would do anything to loosen it.
"I would never want to stand between the love and devotion of two soulmates," he says hesitantly. "Are you quite sure that he will make an offer of marriage-"
"Yes." Whether it be Wickham or Darcy, she's quite sure they will propose. Just as she's sure either man would be a better option than Mr. Collins.
"Oh dear." He sighs and fidgets uncomfortably in his seat. "I believe I've rather made quite a fool of myself for your benefit, then."
He has, but she's not so cruel as to mention it. "Think nothing of it. You were quite… noble in your intentions." She winces, not quite believing her own words, but Mr. Collins nods solemnly along. "Perhaps you would benefit from a moment of privacy to recollect your thoughts. A walk around the grounds might help…?"
"Yes, I daresay you're right." He pats her hand and she tries not to pull it away or flinch. She's more or less made her escape, but the possibility of being reeled back in troubles her. "I appreciate your candor with me. You would indeed have made me a most pleasing wife. Alas, it seems the fates have intervened and it is not meant to be."
"Indeed." She jumps to her feet and motions towards the door. "Your walk, Mr. Collins?"
"Ah, yes!"
Elizabeth has no idea what happens between there and the door, but she's sure to see him out and watch until he disappears around the bend in the road.
"Well, I've narrowly escaped one false husband," she muses to herself. "Now all I have to do is escape another and I'll be well off."
