A/N: What would happen if Darcy was an aficionado of lists? Start with the canon idea of Collins's 'reasons for marrying' and Darcy's 'two motives' for walking around the room together, or maybe 'consulting your own feelings or gratifying mine'? Let's presume Darcy had a greater affinity for lists than expected. It would go well with his general personality (organised or plodding, depending on POV), and might even account for some amusement. Let's see what happens if we riff on that idea a bit.
Wade
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance."
He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends–whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."
. . .
P & P Chapter 18
Elizabeth Bennet felt a great sense of indignation about Mr Darcy's reply regarding Mr Wickham.
Her first instinct was to reply with a biting comment about the gentleman's obvious fault in the matter, or at the very least, his refusal to defend himself; but before she could do so, the dance separated them long enough for at least one cooler head to prevail.
She reflected that Jane was being courted by Mr Bingley, and that gentleman was Mr Darcy's particular friend. The smallest bit of reflection showed her family's deportment was likely to harm Jane's chances (as well as her own sanity). She could do nothing about her mother or younger sisters' behaviour; but she could easily do something about her own.
Antagonising the gentleman seemed a poor way to advance Jane's suit, so a bit of finesse was called for.
When they came back together, Mr Darcy looked like he could chew nails, so she replied with considerably less venom than planned.
"Is it within your power to elaborate, sir? Perhaps, you could give me one of your famous lists?" she said with a slight smile that she did not really feel but thought might be strategic, or at the very least tactical.
Another turn left Darcy looking confused.
"To which lists do you refer?" he asked rather haughtily.
Another spin, another pause, then the dance afforded them a moment of stillness.
"I have often seen you organising your thoughts into lists. For example, with Mr Bingley you tell him the top three things he needs to watch in drainage or crop rotation, the three best ways to coppice woods, or the first two things to examine in a cottage. The last day I was in Netherfield, you gave him the first five questions to ask his steward after an absence."
He looked thoughtful, and slightly less hostile so she continued.
"In the parlour of this very house, you asserted that Miss Bingley and I could have but two reasons for taking a turn about the room."
With a bit of a flourish, she held up her hand and rather dramatically counted them off on her fingers as they waited their turn. "#1) Secret Affairs; or #2) Showing off our figures (such as they are)."
Darcy looked like he was not exactly enjoying taking a beating with his own words but gave a nod, which may or may not have included a grunt, so she smiled to remove the sting.
"You and Miss Bingley had a list to determine what makes an accomplished lady, though you disputed the length."
The dance forced them back into motion for a minute or so.
When they came back together, she once again counted off with her fingers: "#1) Music; #2) Singing; #3) Drawing; #4) Dancing; #5) Modern languages; #6) Walking, Tone & Expressions… although she was not specific about whether walking meant being a good walker (as she called me) or gliding around the ballroom like a swan with your beak in the air."
Another figure and another spin.
"You naturally feared there might be seven women of your acquaintance who met those criteria, so to make it more difficult you added: #7) She must have sufficient leisure after accomplishing the first six to improve her mind with extensive reading," she said with a final exaggerated flourish as she held up seven fingers.
He chuckled and actually smiled, looking somewhat less peevish.
The smile discomposed Elizabeth slightly, since he had never done so in her presence, nor had he even seemed capable.
She returned a slightly bigger smile, though she could not for the life of her work out why.
"Of course, most of the dreaded accomplishments are dull beyond belief, so extensive reading is a good way to maintain sanity, even if it does not expand the mind. I may at least claim one out of seven."
Darcy's slight smile turned into a grin worthy of Mr Bingley, which quite disconcerted Elizabeth, since she would have wagered that he was incapable.
She rather impertinently said, "You should smile more, Mr Darcy—or ever, for that matter. It suits you."
His eyes shot up in surprise, but the dance took them away before he could answer.
When they rejoined, she continued. "In fact, the very first words I ever heard you speak were a list of sorts …" but she belatedly thought better of baiting the man. "… but we need not discuss that."
Darcy's head scrunched in apparent confusion. "I have no recollection."
"Probably for the best. It was not your best effort," then after a quick turn, she only had a few seconds to finish. "About Mr Wickham. Is there anything you can say that will help me understand the situation?"
The dance fortunately separated them for a moment. When they came together the first dance of the set ended.
"If you would allow me to fetch some wine, we can speak quietly near that column," he said with a polite bow, pointing to a column beside the refreshment table. "What I have to say should not be overheard."
Elizabeth agreed, primarily because it surprisingly seemed the least fraught words they had ever exchanged.
A few minutes later, they stood publicly but in a small empty island where nobody could eavesdrop.
Darcy began, "I must caution you! To give even a tiny list of his infractions, I will need to break at least three rules of gentlemanly behaviour."
"Which rules," she asked, now genuinely curious.
He raised an eyebrow, and ticked them off on his fingers, exactly as she had with her own lists: "#1) Do not speak of unseemly topics with ladies; #2) Do not disparage others; and #3) Keep private conversations private."
Elizabeth gasped slightly. "I release you from those rules in this circumstance."
Darcy sighed and frowned, not liking the necessity of what had to be done but decided he had best get the miserable chore over with.
Holding up the same finger, he enumerated, "Here is my list regarding Mr Wickham: #1) He is a debtor, gambler, cheater, thief, and profligate; #2) He likes to seduce young innocents and will say or do anything to make another conquest; and #3) He is by far the best liar I ever met—the most skilled and the most prolific."
Elizabeth gasped and paled at the assertions but did not know how to respond.
Darcy leaned in closer to insure she was not in any danger of swooning, and even boldly took her arm, though it was obviously unnecessary.
"I apologise if I shocked you, but your questions cannot be answered with any delicacy. I can easily offer written proof from multiple sources, including his own hand. You should feel no guilt about being fooled. The man deceived my own father for years, and he was certainly no green boy. It is a testament to your basic goodness that you were not suspicious enough to question his account. I assume it painted me in a dreadful light. He always does."
Elizabeth frowned ferociously, and finally sighed in resignation. "I thank you for the facts of the matter. I shall have to work out what to do about it. I find myself ashamed I took his word so readily. I can now see his story is full of inconsistencies, but I bought it all."
"Out of curiosity, why did you?" he asked gently. "You are intelligent and have known me much longer."
She sighed. "I suppose I must give you the top three reasons."
"I would appreciate it."
"#1) My vanity; #2) My vanity, and of course; #3) My vanity!"
Darcy scrunched his head in confusion. "I hope you might elaborate."
Elizabeth let out a great heaving sigh.
"Are you certain you want to know? I believe if I tried to sketch your character at the present moment, there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either of us… though you probably would have a clearer understanding than I obviously do."
Darcy snorted. "You listed your vanity thrice, and yet I see no evidence of overweening pride or vanity. I suspect we are both operating under several misconceptions."
"That seems likely."
"Perhaps we should both refrain from sketching characters, and instead, take the chance to actually get to know one another. That seems more likely to be productive."
"I suppose so, though you may not like it."
"Eggs and omelettes, my lady," he said with a grin and a flourish.
Elizabeth groaned and decided to get the miserable chore over.
"All right. I will give you the expanded version of my list, but I will ask you to refrain from comment until I finish."
"I will try."
Elizabeth stared at the floor for a moment. "Well, sir… the first item on my list comes from our very first interaction, such as it was. I mentioned previously that was the first time I heard you use a list."
He looked confused, so she continued.
"You may not remember, but you told Mr Bingley I was: #1) Barely tolerable; #2) Not handsome enough to tempt you; and #3) Not worthy of giving consequence. As you might well imagine, that wounded my vanity and produced quite a disgust. I suppose you could add #4) Jane was the only handsome woman in the room—but that one at least has merit."
She looked at the floor in embarrassment, while holding up her hand to make him stay silent. "You can imagine how ridiculous I found your pretensions of pride at Netherfield. I suppose I could easily forgive your pride, if you had not mortified mine. I always believed in first impressions, and even more in my ability to sketch characters. Yours was dead and buried before I ever met Mr Wickham. He only lent a hand with the spade."
Still raising her hand to prevent his speech, she finally finished, "I suppose that is why I have been unwilling to listen to wise council from Jane and Charlotte, both of whom thought you were not so bad."
Darcy stared at her in horror for a moment, wondering how in the world he had created such a dreadful mess that Jane Bennet considering him 'not so bad' was the best thing Miss Elizabeth had to say for him.
He started speaking just as Miss Bingley called a cotillion for the next dance.
With little time before the dance started, he began. "It will take some time for me to apologise properly for that evening. I am hoping you will grant me sufficient clemency to comment on it, and later when we have more time, I might explain how I came to do such an awful thing—without excusing it of course. For the moment, may I just say I am deeply sorry, and also give you an idea of what was wrong with the exchange."
Elizabeth surprised herself. "I would like that."
The other dancers were leaving to the floor, so Darcy held her back and held up his hand in their now-traditional gesture and counted off with his fingers: #1) It was unkind; #2) It was ungentlemanly; and #3) It was most definitely untrue!"
"What do you mean?" she asked in complete confusion.
"You tempt me a great deal, Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said enigmatically, then took her hand, lightly kissed her knuckle, and led her back to the dance floor.
Elizabeth suspected Miss Bingley called the next dance specifically because she had observed the conversation with Mr Darcy. Such a supposition was not overly presumptuous since Miss Bingley watched the poor man like a hawk no matter what he did.
The cotillion was far too complicated to allow much in the way of discourse, which must have been the lady's objective.
The dance was characterised by intricate patterns of figures demonstrated by the lead couple and repeated by the rest, in groups of four who circled each other. It was led by one couple, who would choose the next figure to be danced and often demonstrate it first. This gave rise to a need for skilled leading couples who were familiar with a large repertoire of figures.
Unfortunately, as the highest ranked man in the room, Mr Darcy was expected to lead, so they became said lead couple.
The next quarter hour made Elizabeth learn three things that were not the least bit obvious when she started: #1) Leading was more difficult than following, but well within her capabilities; #2) The few minutes of respite while the other couples followed their moves left no real time to continue their talk; and #3) Much to her surprise, Mr Darcy could dance.
For a large man, the Derbyshire gentleman was surprisingly light on his feet, and with most of her uncharitable feelings in the past, she was forced (to her own mortification), to realise that he was incredibly handsome.
She had to think all the way back to his entrance to the Meryton Assembly to work out if that had been her first thought. She did recall that she thought he was handsome briefly, but his fierce scowl and fiery countenance had put a dent in his aura long before he called her tolerable. Now, the man was not grinning like a fool (or Mr Bingley for that matter), but his face showed such pleasure as to match his nature, and she discovered she quite liked the understated joy in his countenance. It was as if his joy was reserved for her alone.
They were about halfway through the dance when Elizabeth learned a mortifying truth that left her thunderstruck. She liked Mr Darcy. It seemed all the poor lunkhead had to do was refute Mr Wickham's lies to be forgiven in a trice. Coupled with a three-point apology that nicely dovetailed his own remorse with a well-appreciated boost to her vanity would ordinarily have just set her teeth on edge… but… the man was just so sincere. It turned out that his earlier taciturnity had given him a (somewhat undeserved) reputation for honesty in her mind, and when he became agreeable, she found herself becoming just as complaisant.
She had just formed the unheard-of thought that it was entirely possible she and the gentleman might actually become friends, when her musings were shattered by a piercing scream.
They were in the midst of a rather simple figure that involved both couples circling each other holding hands, so when her head snapped toward the commotion, it only took a blink to find herself being hauled in that direction. Since he already had her hand in his for the dance, his reflex was apparently to simply drag it along, if he thought about her at all. She thought she might have to chastise his presumption later… or not, since the feeling was not entirely unpleasant. It might even be somewhat thrilling.
When they reached the circle of dancers where all the fuss occurred, it came as a complete shock to see Charlotte Lucas laying flat on her back with her bodice ripped open, half of one leg exposed, and Mr Collins laying on top of her looking much like a fish out of water. The clergyman was not quite unconscious, but it seemed likely he may have either smacked his head on the floor or was simply stunned by the proceedings.
Elizabeth had no idea what to expect, but she was not the least bit surprised when Mr Darcy took charge. It seemed like the sort of thing he would do, and nobody else seemed inclined. She wondered if it was bad that she had no expectation of Mr or Miss Bingley doing anything useful at all, but that brief thought ended in a moment with the observation that it was Jane's problem—not hers.
Mr Darcy let go of her hand, leaned down on his knee, and removed his jacket.
It seemed obvious he was planning to cover Charlotte, so Elizabeth decided she should pitch in since most of the fathers who might be expected to help were most likely in the card room (and half-inebriated).
"Charlotte are you all right," she asked, finding herself kneeling beside Mr Darcy. Much to her surprise she landed very close to the gentleman, but she had no time to worry about such niceties right then.
"I will be if you get your cousin off me," Charlotte said in her ever-practical Charlotte voice.
Elizabeth always assumed her friend could handle nearly anything, and this was just the next ordeal for her to get over. Having her undergarments exposed to the populous was not likely to be all that pleasant, but she would get through it.
Mr Darcy said, "Mr Collins. Allow me to assist you," in a tone of voice that was not to be disputed.
Elizabeth could see the gentleman's motivation. Mr Collins had his hand in a place it did not rightly belong and was obviously so clumsy he was likely to expose poor Charlotte even worse if he tried it on his own—not to mention the fact that he still looked too stunned to move or speak.
With what Elizabeth assumed was a Master of Pemberley look, a glance at a large footman found the man kneeling on the other side of Mr Collins. A few seconds more found the two large men lifting Mr Collins like a leaf in the wind. Elizabeth assumed the two could have carried him out to his carriage without much more effort, but she was happy to see all they did was stand him up, beside her but far from Charlotte. She thought that was better than on top of her friend, thought not as good as in the next room (or next county for that matter). The footman remained, propping Mr Collins up as he regained his equilibrium, while Mr Darcy turned back to Charlotte.
Mr Bingley finally appeared, and any hopes she entertained that he would take charge as the master of the house were dashed. He looked more confused than anything until Mr Darcy spoke up.
"Bingley… I am thinking early supper might be a good idea… at least the wine. There is nothing to see here!"
With some direction, Mr Bingley perked right up, and proceeded to grab all the footman and maids to chivvy the dancers from the room. Elizabeth was half-tempted to go with them, but there was no way she would leave Charlotte to the wolves.
Mr Collins started speaking, but Mr Darcy gave him an intense stare. "I urge silence for the moment, Mr Collins. Let us get Miss Lucas situated."
She had never seen anyone shut the verbose clergyman up, but Mr Darcy certainly did the trick. Her cousin simply nodded and waited to see what his betters had in mind.
The next thing she knew, Charlotte was sitting up. Mr Darcy had his coat in his hand to drape over her, but he was interrupted by a footman who entered at a run carrying a small blanket. Elizabeth briefly hoped she was finally starting to see signs of good thinking on one of the Bingleys, but that idea was shattered when the man thanked the Netherfield housekeeper as their benefactress.
"Miss Elizabeth" he asked gently, pointing at the blanket, and she jumped over to wrap it around Charlotte, preserving as much of her friend's dignity as she could manage.
By that time, most of the room's inhabitants had been booted out.
The Netherfield butler stepped up to Mr Darcy and took no care to either include or exclude Elizabeth. "Sir William found his youngest daughter …" then paused.
Elizabeth helpfully added, "… Maria."
"Yes… she seems to have… ah… exceeded her limits regarding punch. He escorted her home a half-hour ago."
Then he looked squarely at Elizabeth. "Mr Bennet did similar for …"
With a sigh, Elizabeth said, "Lydia."
He helpfully added, "… and the next elder, I believe."
Elizabeth was ever so happy for her earlier concord with Mr Darcy, else the shock of admiring how well he handled the awkward situation, and would have to continue handling it, might have killed her.
Mr Collins still seemed either stunned, or at least nonplussed.
He finally regained some semblance of sanity and said, "Oh, this will not do… this will not do at all… Lady Catherine…"
Once again, Mr Darcy stepped into the breach. "Mr Collins. Lady Catherine is my aunt, so shall you grant me the privilege of speaking on her behalf. I can assure you of my authority to do so."
Elizabeth admired the way he shut the man up once again, doubly so when Mr Collins nodded compliance without any more words. His acceptance of Mr Darcy's edict was expected… his silence was not.
Mr Darcy turned to Charlotte. "Miss Lucas, may I presume you know how this sort of situation usually ends?"
"I do," she said bravely.
"Do you object?"
She gave a grim chuckle. "I am a spinster of seven and twenty, sir. Make your own conclusions."
Elizabeth was slightly surprised by the tone of her reply, but not the content. She was not entirely certain her friend even repined the situation, but surmised she was unlikely to ever know.
Jane wandered into the room with Mr Bingley, so Darcy rather untowardly took Elizabeth's arm and pulled her closer to Charlotte to whisper. Elizabeth should have been affronted, but she could not quite find it in her heart to be so.
Darcy asked, "Your father is a good half-hour away and rumours will be flying. Would you prefer I speak to Mr Collins on your behalf or wait for your father?"
Charlotte stared at him for a moment and sighed. "You know my father, Mr Darcy. Who would you choose?"
The man chuckled in grim humour while Elizabeth joined him. Sir William was a jovial man, but hardly the most stalwart. Charlotte was asserting she would rather have a rock on her side than a pudding, as any sensible person would.
Elizabeth thought it lucky that Charlotte never formed the bad opinion of Mr Darcy that she had.
Mr Darcy stepped back to address the small group which included the unhappy couple, Elizabeth, the butler, Jane, Mr Bingley, and the footman assigned to ensure Mr Collins's continued vertical orientation.
He stared at Mr Bingley a moment as if to suggest he should take over since it was his own house, but a quick shake of that gentleman's head declined the pleasure. Elizabeth was not entirely certain how she felt about it. On the one hand, the man had seemed rather cowardly about taking on his own affairs. On the other, Mr Darcy had been in the thick of it the whole time and switching horses midstream seemed counterproductive.
Darcy said, "Miss Bennet, would you mind taking Miss Lucas to repair her wardrobe and await her father, while Miss Elizabeth and I have a word with Mr Collins?"
Jane simply took it as a given that Mr Collins needed a talking to, and someone would work out the mess. The fact that 'someone' amounted to Mr Darcy, and he was taking her sister with him was a mystery she might have wondered about if not for her concern for her friend, who looked likely to be permanently attached to a man her sister, Elizabeth, maintained was the stupidest man in England. None of that, however, was for her to decide; nor did she think Mr Collins all that terrible. In her heart, she just believed Charlotte would be fine, and Lizzy would obviously be perfectly safe with Mr Darcy, whether she liked him or not.
She reached out her hand. "Come, Charlotte. Your father should be back within the half-hour."
Mr Bingley followed her like a puppy, and once again, Elizabeth was conflicted on what she thought about it.
Mr Collins seemed to be coming back to life. "Now, see here, Mr Darcy, Lady Catherine …"
Mr Darcy chopped his hand down like an axe in front of the clergyman, which was not especially threatening, but it was sufficient to shut the man up, for which Elizabeth was profoundly grateful.
"Mr Collins… Miss Elizabeth… let us go to the library to discuss this."
Elizabeth leaned in far too close for propriety, but desperate times called for a measure of privacy.
"Why me, Mr Darcy?" she asked in real confusion.
He leaned close to her ear (far too close for propriety, but nobody in the room seemed overly fastidious) to whisper.
"I have three reasons."
Then with much more subtlety than they had used earlier, he counted them off with his fingers out of sight of their audience.
"#1) You know the players and the history; #2) You can communicate between what you must assume will be bride and groom; and …"
Then he paused dramatically until she moved her ear away from his mouth to stare him in the face before he continued in a whisper, barely audible even to her.
"#3) I want you there because I like you, and I just want you with me."
Her mouth formed a small 'O' of surprise, but to claim she was shocked would overstate the case. It seemed as if they had been working their way up to this since he asked her to dance… or perhaps, even since he had refused to ask her to dance.
Elizabeth found, much to her surprise, that she was not the least bit opposed to the plan.
Mr Darcy gave the butler directions for what to do when Sir William and Mr Bennet returned, then marched Mr Collins toward the door as the other servants dispersed towards the increasingly boisterous dining hall. As the door opened, she could hear Mrs Bennet in full flow, though whether she was bragging or complaining about her youngest daughters' indulgences was anybody's guess. Elizabeth had to assume her mother had not quite worked out that her quarry had escaped the trap and rued the morrow when she found out.
Mr Darcy took her arm and held her back slightly to ask her to quickly summarise what he needed to know about Mr Collins.
She finally gave up the affectation of counting on her fingers, but still found the list format useful: "#1) Mr Collins is my distant cousin, and heir presumptive to Longbourn due to an entail; #2) He came here to admire his future estate and most likely, his future wife; and #3) Mr Collins and my mother seem to have chosen me as the sacrifice, but I have not the slightest intention of complying."
Darcy grunted like an ogre, but Elizabeth could not really tell if it was because of condemnation of matchmaking schemes in general, or a more specific disagreement with this particular plan. It was clear what he thought of the affair, but since those plans were moot, she no longer worried about it.
As they crossed the door of the library, Elizabeth suggested, "We should leave this open for propriety's sake."
He nodded, and led her in, giving a look to a footman indicating he should guard the doorway.
Mr Collins walked all the way across the library towards the fire without quite looking back, and Elizabeth wondered if his noggin was still scrambled… not that his powers of cognition were matchless to start with.
Darcy dragged her to a stop again. "Will anyone be harmed by his marriage to Miss Lucas?"
She shook her head. "I think not, because I would have rejected him if I could not redirect him elsewhere. Ironically, he probably would have come crawling to Charlotte in the end anyway."
Darcy nodded, though whether in agreement or approval was difficult to say.
He started again, but it was her turn to stop him. "Actually, Mr Darcy, I believe the events of tonight were beneficial."
"How so?"
She counted off in their traditional manner, starting to enjoy having a small private joke with an eligible gentleman (who was not exactly unhandsome).
"#1) Charlotte will be a better parson's wife than I could ever be, and just as good a mistress of Longbourn when the time comes; #2) Bad blood between the Bennet and Collins families will be avoided, because I would certainly have rejected him; and #3) You will get to keep the company of your lady-aunt longer because the alternate Mrs Collins is less likely to murder her."
A booming laugh from Darcy startled Mr Collins out of his stupor, and the footman looked in, only to be waved off with a smile. Elizabeth joined him in his laughter and thought the exchange had gone quite well—if she did say so herself.
Elizabeth found herself facing the gentleman and laughing along with him, and for just the briefest moment, wondered if there would be more of that in their future than mere friendship.
Right in that moment, she hoped so, much to her own surprise.
As their laughter died down, Darcy looked pensive, and raised his voice enough to carry across the library. "We will be with you in a moment, Mr Collins."
Elizabeth wondered why they were delaying but was not overly concerned. She, after all, was not about to be forced into anything, and in fact, had only recently been saved from what was certain to be some unpleasantness in the next few days.
Darcy looked around pensively. "Do you remember when we sat here for a half-hour without speaking?"
Elizabeth blushed. "If we repeat that in the future, I can assure you there will be more words."
He chuckled. "Since we are in a room that in a proper house would be for learning, would you care to indulge one lesson I got from my mother?"
Elizabeth was confused by the non sequitur, but gamely nodded complaisance.
With a sigh, he counted off: "With a ripped seam, look carefully at: #1) The ends of the thread. Very weak threads break differently than strong ones; #2) Count the number of broken threads. There should be at least eight threads per inch of seam, and twelve is better; and #3) Look at the mechanics of the tear, and the location of the supposed culprit and see if it makes mechanical sense for him to have ripped it."
Elizabeth gasped. "Are you implying …"
He sighed. "A ripped bodice is the oldest trick in the book… at least in this time and place. I cannot say definitively that Miss Lucas organised the events of the evening, but the preponderance of evidence strongly suggests so."
She frowned, now doubly worried for her friend. Previously, she thought the worst fate Charlotte was likely to face was a comfortable parsonage and prosperous estate, albeit with a stupid husband. Now…
"What will you do?" she asked worriedly.
"Get them married of course," he said nonchalantly, as if he did it twice a week.
She gaped at him, and finally said, "Why? When you know …" but could not quite make herself condemn her friend explicitly.
He chuckled, and she joined him nervously. "#1) I like Miss Lucas and think she will make a better parson's wife than Mr Collins or my aunt deserve; #2) I cannot really blame her. At seven and twenty she was probably desperate, through no fault of her own; and #3) All's well that ends well, and I think everyone except Mrs Bennet profits."
"You will not have to live with Mrs Bennet," Elizabeth grumbled, but then brightened, "But by the same token, I will not have to live with Lady Catherine. Everybody wins!"
Darcy chuckled and swept his hand toward Mr Collins with a gallant bow. "Shall we, my lady?"
It was the second time he called her that, and she did not hate it.
Mr Collins was not quite chewing his knuckles, but he seemed quite close to it.
"Mr Darcy, I cannot imagine how this happened. One minute I was dancing and the next… Lady Catherine specifically instructed me to marry one of my cousins and —"
Mr Darcy cut him off abruptly. "Mr Collins… BE SILENT!"
Elizabeth wondered if he had actually lost his temper, or it was a tactic. She strongly suspected the latter, as he was proving to be a man whose bark was far worse than his bite. Mr Wickham's continued ability to breathe air instead of dirt was a strong indicator of that, since he could make the man disappear with less money than his beaver cost.
"Mr Collins. I cannot stress this strongly enough. Your honour is engaged sir. You will marry Miss Lucas within the week."
"But I planned to propose to Miss Elizabeth. I have created expectations …"
Darcy growled. "Were you aware of how unskilled you are at the dance?"
Collins gulped, and tried to bluster, but was caught up short by Mr Darcy's cold stare before he finally gulped and nodded.
"You brought this on yourself, sir. You will marry Miss Lucas, and you will treat her well. In fact, you will treat her like the superior lady she is, or you will deal with the ire of both my aunt and me."
Elizabeth was certain that one was all bluster, but she admired the way he was hammering his point home. In fact, she thought she might be able to accustom herself to such a man in her house, particularly after twenty years of a father who never put his foot down on anything important.
Mr Collins was quaking in his boots, though Elizabeth could not really pay him much mind, because she was fascinated watching the Derbyshire gentleman sharpen his knives.
Just at the point where Mr Collins seemed like he might drown under the strain, Mr Darcy threw him a log.
He reached out a hand to the man's shoulder in a way that could easily be fatherly, or at least uncle-like and said, "Fear not, Mr Collins. I will explain everything to my aunt. All will be well. Would you like to know three things I know about you?"
Having set the bait, he watched Mr Collins nod vigorously and sprang the trap: "#1) You are honourable; #2) You are either brave or foolhardy; and #3) You are lucky."
Elizabeth enjoyed Mr Collins' confusion but could not say the same for hers. She looked to Darcy for an explanation and was somehow confident she would get a satisfactory one, and only slightly uncomfortable with how well she was coming to anticipate the gentleman after such a short reconciliation.
Darcy gentled considerably as he explained. "You are honourable because you came to Longbourn with good intentions. You appear to have been clumsy in your wooing, but your intentions were good—and to tell the truth, I am not a man who should boast of his wooing prowess."
Elizabeth wondered more about the latter part of the sentence than the first, but she did not have a lot of time to ponder it. If it meant what she thought it meant, well then —
Darcy continued, "You are brave for foolhardy because you planned to bring the most intelligent and impertinent woman I know to the parsonage. I cannot imagine you thought that would go well. You escalated from brave to foolhardy by proposing to bring the handsomest woman of my acquaintance, and I can assure you, my aunt would not appreciate the competition."
Elizabeth gulped at the raw statement and stared at him to see if he was joking. He was not!
Darcy continued along so happily Elizabeth thought unaccountably of a kitten laughingly playing with a roll of yarn. "You are lucky, because fortune gave you a wife who is better in every way for your domestic felicity, and all you had to do to earn the eternal devotion of Miss Lucas was dance clumsily. I applaud your good fortune, sir."
By that time, Mr Collins was happily nodding along, and Elizabeth could not repent his satisfaction. He was a clumsy man, but not a bad one. Charlotte could certainly make something of him.
Darcy continued, "That said, the events of the evening have left the Miss Bennets just as precariously positioned as before. I suggest you make provision for them in your marriage articles, and then none can fault you in any way."
"How?" Mr Collins asked in confusion.
"The marriage articles are something you cannot just change later in your will. I suggest you make a provision for Longbourn to support the widowed mother and any unmarried sisters with Longbourn funds. If you do that, I will promise to send you one of my under-stewards who will increase your income more than enough to offset the balance."
Mr Collins was practically bouncing on his heels, ready to run off somewhere and do something, but with no idea where or what.
Fortune favoured them, as Sir William poked his head in the door.
Darcy welcomed him in warmly, and in succinct terms, he told him about the agreements that had been made with Mr Collins, including very specific amounts for the Bennet's support. She had not actually heard Mr Collins agree to the amounts but doubted either of the men would gainsay him.
Sir William acted as any man with a near-spinster daughter who found herself in a promising situation was likely to, and barely refrained from hearty backslaps for all the men and hugs for the lady.
Darcy thought they really should go and talk to Miss Lucas, but that was her own father's responsibility; and to tell the truth, she was the instigator of the whole scheme, so letting her stew for another half-hour might build character.
While Sir William and Mr Collins started talking marriage articles (both apparently forgetting Charlotte entirely), Darcy pulled Elizabeth aside far enough to be out of their hearing. With Sir William, that turned out to be all the way over to a spot between the two chairs they had sat in for a half-hour without speaking, exactly ten days earlier.
Elizabeth took the first opportunity to warmly thank the man for all he had done for her friend… and for her, but Darcy silenced her through the thoroughly against-propriety expedient of holding his finger to her lips.
"Miss Elizabeth… I have a confession to make."
She laughed. "How many parts am I to expect?"
"Our tradition demands three."
"Proceed at your leisure, sir," she said with an uncountable bout of shyness that made her stare at the floor and blush momentarily.
Not to be put off so easily, he took his knuckle that was still lingering near her face and lifted her chin to look at him.
"#1) I did not actually need your help with Mr Collins, though it was most useful. I mostly dragged you here in an attempt to get you to like me better."
She laughed lightly. "Mr Darcy, are you suggesting Mr Collins is not the only man in this room who is awkward at wooing?"
With the point so bluntly and explicitly stated, she wondered if she had gone too far.
He answered with a chuckle. "I imply nothing. I state it as unambiguous fact!"
She laughed nervously and continued even more so. "Less than two hours ago, I put my whole mind into coming up with an excuse to avoid dancing with you. Now I will be inordinately put out if you do not ask me for the final set."
She looked him right in the eye to see if she had gone too far, but observed a look of heartfelt delight she was not the least averse to seeing again.
She nervously said, "Your wooing prowess seems adequate. Number two?"
He chuckled. "#2) I had hoped somewhere in this process you might like me well enough to allow me to court you."
"Done!" she said without the least hesitation.
He stared at her in wordless wonder and reached up to take both of her hands and kiss her knuckles. He would obviously not press his luck by kissing her, particularly with Mr Collins and Sir William jabbering away twenty feet from them… but, oh was he tempted.
She whispered, "We might even be well into that part. Number three?"
Just as he started to speak, Sir William boomed, "Mr Darcy, I thank you for your outstanding efforts on my behalf. We find ourselves entirely satisfied and Charlotte will as well."
"You have my congratulations," Darcy said jovially, though he mostly just wanted to kick the man.
"Come, Mr Collins. Let us go tell Charlotte the good news!" Sir William boomed out, and the two men headed for the door almost at a run.
As they slowed at the door, for some inexplicable reason, Mr Collins leaned down to remove a large pot holding the door open.
Darcy shouted, "MR COLLINS!… DO NOT close that door! It does not …"
CLICK
"… lock properly," he finished with a sigh.
Elizabeth stared at the door, and asked, surprisingly calmly. "Is that door locked?"
"I am afraid so."
"I suppose we have plenty of time for #3 then," she said with the appearance of brightness.
Darcy sighed. "I fear, #3 will devolve into its own list: #1) Trapped; #2) Compromised; #3) Engaged. This is not how I hoped for things to proceed when we were doing so well."
Elizabeth stared at him a moment, and grinned. "That is just because you are too close to the problem, and frankly, still not over the sting of my earlier chastisement."
He seemed more confused than ever. "What do you mean?"
"Let me suggest my own list, though I may reverse the usual sequence."
"I would love to hear it."
She walked up closer to him, and then deliberately took another step closer until they almost touched.
Elizabeth took her hand and touched the side of cheek with a caress, just short of flirtatious. "#1) Honour."
She moved her hand back to his neck and pulled him closer, so they definitely were touching. "#2) Cherish."
She reached up, stared in his eyes a moment, and finally moved her lips a quarter inch from his. "#3) Love."
~~ Finis ~~