To Have This Pleasure Often Repeated, a pride and prejudice fanfic

TO HAVE THIS PLEASURE OFTEN REPEATED

After Elizabeth had suffered through a most mortifying dance with Mr. Collins and found out that Mr. Wickham had not come to the ball she thought that things could not get much worse. But she was wrong. Mr. Darcy asked her for a set, and they managed to have both awkward silence and annoying words during the same dance.

"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may insure his making friends; whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth, with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."

Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. Thankfully, their set would soon be over. Surely after dancing with both the two most detestable men at the ball, the only way was up, and things could not get any worse than this, Elizabeth thought.

However, she had not accounted for moving obstacles, such as her cousin.

At that moment Mr. Collins appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but, on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped, with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified, indeed, my dear sir; such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and I am sure you have enjoyed her bewitching converse. Myself, I have the highest of hopes to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in!"

"A certain desirable event?" Elizabeth repeated.

"My dear Miss Eliza, I appeal to Mr. Darcy to give his blessings to our engagement, in place of his aunt who could not be here tonight to witness our felicity."

"What?" said Mr. Darcy, dazed.

"What?" said Elizabeth, equally confused. It had sounded like this Thames of Thoughts had just announced his engagement to Elizabeth. But they were not engaged, were they?"

"You are engaged?" asked Mr. Darcy.

"I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances, like myself, to set the example of matrimony in his parish, and I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness," Mr. Collins said. "It is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness, and whom you call your dearest aunt," he explained to Mr. Darcy.

"You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe, and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite," Mr. Collins then said to Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth's wit and vivacity will be acceptable if she is silent?" repeated Mr. Darcy incredulously.

In the ordinary course of things, Elizabeth would have been rather annoyed with his reaction. He did not need to sound so astonished that a person could find anything about her acceptable in any circumstances.

However, now she had a bigger problem than Mr. Darcy.

"Mr. Collins, we are not engaged," Elizabeth said.

"Say no more," Mr. Collins said. "You are completely right, my dear cousin, I should not speak before our marriage has been properly sanctioned by your father. But I feel assured that it is merely a formality to ask him."

Again, Elizabeth may have thought that things could not get any worse. But there were more moving obstacles that she had not considered. For Sir William Lucas had heard this conversation and expressed his joy in the loudest terms possible. Apparently it was capital news. When her mother heard Sir William she was instantly thrown in the throes of most violent delight, and thereafter Elizabeth was much congratulated, complimented, and envied for her good fortune by everyone present.

She attempted to say that the congratulations were premature and misdirected but her mother shooed her protests away. "Mr. Bennet, you will consent immediately!"

And thereafter it was a complete nightmare. Everyone thought she was engaged to Mr. Collins, and there was nothing she could say or do to convince anyone otherwise, least of all Mr. Collins.

The next morning, she was relieved to realise that it had all been just a bad dream. Everyone at Longbourn was preparing for the ball, and no one had any idea about the engagement.

But that evening, Mr. Wickham was again absent from the ball, her first set with Mr. Collins was just as mortifying as it had been in her dream, and just as annoyingly, Mr. Darcy arrived to ask her to dance.

She experimented and said the same things she had done in her dream, as near as she could remember, and Mr. Darcy responded the same way.

And then there was Mr. Collins.

This time Elizabeth had the wherewithal not to ask Mr. Collins to clarify. But once more, she had failed to account for all the moving obstacles in her way. Trust Mr. Darcy to muck things up.

"Which desirable event would that be?" Mr. Darcy asked. And Elizabeth soon found that she was assumed to be engaged to Mr. Collins again, in a nightmarish repetition of the previous deluge of felicitations.

The next morning, she woke up in a blessedly unattached state. She could tell because her mother was wailing about all her unmarried daughters. Lydia and Kitty were arguing because they both wanted to wear the same pair of shoes to the ball. People were saying vaguely familiar things that she thought she remembered from her previous nightmares and it increased her feelings of foreboding.

When everyone was getting ready to leave for the ball, at the last moment she decided she would not go. She faked a stumble on the stairs and pretended to sprain her ankle.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "Do go on without me, I am sure I could not dance and would just be in everyone's way."

Mrs. Bennet scolded her for her carelessness. Jane offered to stay home to tend to her health, but Elizabeth firmly declined her kindness.

But Mr. Collins was very distressed that he would miss his dance with his dearest cousin Elizabeth. "For, you see, this was to be the first night of the rest of our life together, and everyone was supposed to see how well we will get along in our future married life, my dear."

Mrs. Bennet heard the endearment, and shrieked in joy. "Oh, Mr. Collins!"

Elizabeth attempted to protest the casual assumption that they would have a future married life together but Mrs. Bennet was so happy that nobody paid Elizabeth any heed and her fate was sealed once again. "Come along, girls! We should not be late for the ball. We shall have such good news to share, and Lady Lucas will be so jealous!"

But the next morning Elizabeth woke up to a familiar scene of ball preparations again. She had never been so happy to listen to her sisters squabbling and her mother's lamentations had never been such a source of pleasure. If Mrs. Bennet was scolding her for being single she was not engaged to Mr. Collins and there might still be some way to avoid it.

The sprained ankle scheme had not worked too well, so Elizabeth decided to go the ball.

Maybe the fatal conversation could be avoided if she was able to avoid her dance with Mr. Darcy. So at the time she thought he was about to ask her, she went into the retiring room and hid there for a couple of sets. When Mrs. Goulding came back the second time and looked at her oddly, she decided to go hide in the library instead.

Mr. Bingley's collection of books had not improved but learning about the vagaries of sheep farming had to be a better way to spend her time than getting engaged to Mr. Collins.

But her attempts to improve her mind by extensive reading were cruelly interrupted by none other than Mr. Darcy.
"Miss Elizabeth!" he exclaimed. "You are safe!"

"Of course," she said. "Why would I not be?"

"Your family has been searching for you all over the house," he said. "Mr. Collins was the first to raise the alarm. He was very concerned that he would miss his second dance with his betrothed because he could not find you anywhere."

"Betrothed?" Elizabeth cried out in dismay. "I am not engaged to Mr. Collins!"

"Have you considered telling him that?" Mr. Darcy asked. "He does not seem to be aware. The news about your engagement is all that anyone is talking about, besides wondering whether you have died or been abducted by vagrants."

"You must help me!" Elizabeth pleaded. "Sir, I am in very dire straits. I know you do not like to speak with anyone, but I cannot marry that oaf! Please, you must tell as many people as you can that Mr. Collins and I are not engaged."

"For you, I am willing to become the biggest gossip in England," Mr. Darcy promised.

And he did try. For a while there in the ballroom, Mr. Darcy was her only ally, the only one to speak up for her, the only one to believe her.

But in the end it did no good, for Mrs. Bennet never paid attention to any his protests, Charlotte told him it would be a very good match for Elizabeth, prudentially speaking, and Mrs. Long said that Mr. Collins had seemed quite sure.

"Mr. Darcy, we have not seen you in the ballroom much tonight," Sir William said jovially. "You must have missed the news."

"Miss Elizabeth could not, and should not marry her cousin," Mr. Darcy said. "Not under any circumstances. It is unthinkable."

"Oh, I understand your concerns about Miss Elizabeth, and the rest of the family," Miss Bingley said sympathetically. "But I am sure Mr. Collins can overlook them, he is part of the family after all. And now closer than ever."

"I knew it during the first set," Mrs. Hurst said. "Mr. Collins and Miss Elizabeth looked like a match made in heaven."

The next time Elizabeth was at the ball, she kept an eye on Mr. Collins and hid behind groups of people, a potted plant, and a door, in order to avoid her first set with Mr. Collins. He looked affronted, and Elizabeth was hopeful for a moment.

But her mother had been looking forward to the first set and to crowing about the vicar's marked attentions to all her friends. So Mrs. Bennet had noticed Elizabeth's avoidance and put a stop to it.

"You ungrateful wretch! If you do not dance with Mr. Collins you cannot dance with anyone else either."

"I am sorry we missed our first set together," Mr. Collins said. "I was looking for you, and could not find you. But dear Miss Elizabeth, if you are not dancing tonight, then we can sit together all night and finalise all our wedding plans."

"Wedding plans!" Mrs. Bennet shrieked. "Oh, Mr. Collins! How wonderful!"

And Elizabeth was doomed all over again.

The next time Elizabeth woke up, she was desperate and saw no way out of her predicament. Things seemed very dire indeed. She could not marry Mr. Collins, so avoiding the engagement was crucial. But how? Nothing she had tried so far had worked.

Elizabeth spent the day trying to make herself disagreeable to Mr. Collins. Whenever he praised his patroness she made sure to say something critical. "She sounds rather meddlesome and unbecomingly interested in gossip, do you not think? What is an earl's daughter likely to know about the proper care for poultry, anyway? Oh, good heavens, do you really think that she ought to help to write your sermons for you? After all she is only a woman who has not been ordained and neither did she get your university education."

Elizabeth was sure that this approach was likely to work. Mr. Collins had looked rather offended, once or twice, and occasionally he went very quiet and thoughtful, and wore a concerned frown.

Mrs. Bennet worried that it was working, certainly. "What on earth are you about, Elizabeth? Are you trying to put him off on purpose? If you drive him away I swear I shall not be responsible for what happens to you."

At the ball, Elizabeth danced the first with Mr. Collins, as usual. But his confidence had been shaken, and he was even more inattentive than his normal wont so Elizabeth stepped wrong and injured her ankle for real while trying to avoid colliding into him. "Do not worry, Mr. Collins," she said. "No doubt it is a sign from Lady Catherine."

"A sign?" he asked.

"A sign that we should not dance together," she said. "Our steps are not compatible, which is a bad omen overall, do you not agree?"

Mr. Collins seemed about to protest this pronouncement and launch into another recital that might end in a disaster of an engagement. "Myself, I have the highest of hopes to have this pleasure often repeated," he said.

"No!" Elizabeth exclaimed, a little too loudly, causing some heads to turn in her direction.

As her friend Charlotte approached to express her concern Elizabeth was able to reassure her and to shunt Mr. Collins off to Charlotte. Charlotte deserved him after her betrayal on a previous occasion. Prudential!

"My friend Miss Lucas would be a very desirable dance partner for you, Mr. Collins," she said. "And she would love to hear all about Lady Catherine."

"Would I?" said Charlotte. But as she could have no real objection to dancing with the heir of Longbourn she very obligingly took Mr. Collins away for a set. If tomorrow ever came, Elizabeth would owe her a huge favour.

Elizabeth had forgotten all about Mr. Darcy but apparently, that gentleman had not forgotten about her. Like a clockwork, he came to ask Elizabeth to dance. Elizabeth mentioned her ankle and said she was not going to dance any more sets that evening.

She thought Mr. Darcy would go away but no, she was not to be so lucky. He expressed his concern for her injury, but she did not think she needed the apothecary.

"Some rest will no doubt put me to rights," she said.

She expected him to take his leave but no, he offered to escort her to a comfortable seat, and once she sat down he had to be kind and bring her refreshments. And then he sat down next to her. She was astonished by his gallantry and thought she was able to read equal amazement in the looks of her neighbours who were watching.

They sat for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the set. At first, she was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time, with—

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

"Very well; that reply will do for the present. Perhaps, by-and-by, I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones; but now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule, then, when not dancing?"

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to sit together in silence for very long; and yet, for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be arranged so that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."

"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."

"I cannot believe I have ever said anything that was the least likely to do that," Mr. Darcy said. "I am sorry but we might very well need to be silent for quite some time while you wait for me to come up with something with the éclat of a proverb."

"I have nothing better to do," she said. "I am at my leisure."

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.

"Books—oh no!—I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions."

"No—I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."

"The present always occupies you in such scenes—does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.

"Yes, always," she replied, although she knew it was a lie as soon as she said it. Tonight she was occupied with the multitude of present moments that felt like the past to her, and with the danger of the future as her cousin's helpmate that seemed to lurk behind every corner.

Lydia, Kitty and Miss Long were dancing with officers. They were a merry group, even if none of them were as handsome as Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth remembered his promise to attend the ball, and wondered if his absence had anything to do with the time loop she was stuck in. Was she doomed to repeat the evening because Mr. Wickham's failure to attend had somehow jinxed things?

She sighed. It was merely idle speculation, and she had no evidence to back it up. But something must have jinxed her.

Maybe Mr. Darcy asking her to dance had upset the delicate balance of opposing forces in the universe. Maybe it was a crime against the supreme majesty of the great lady Catherine De Bourgh.

Yes, it was probably all Mr. Darcy's fault.

"I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave," she said. "If your resentment is unappeasable, you must be very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created?"

"I am," said he, with a firm voice.

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."

"We rarely get second and third chances to react to things differently," he said. "And usually only one shot at making a first impression. May I ask to what these questions tend?"

"Merely to the illustration of your character. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

"From whom?" he asked.

"Oh, my cousin is convinced that as a relation to the great Lady Catherine De Bourgh you must walk on water," she said. "Miss Bingley has said nothing about water but I understand you leave most earls and marquesses in the shade."

"Really?" he said. "Well, I have heard that some of them are mostly creatures of the night so they must thrive in the darkness."

"And when you met us in Meryton the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance who claims to know you," she said. "I wonder if you know why he is not here."

Elizabeth fancied that she could see a tumult of emotion on Mr. Darcy's face, before it was masked by an expression of constrained hauteur.

"You might yet be glad that he did not appear. Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may insure his making friends," he said in a clipped manner. "Whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth.

"Yes, according to Mr. Wickham," Darcy said. "But luck had very little to do with it."

"How so?"

"Cause and effect," he said. "If Mr. Wickham was concerned with keeping his friends he would find it in his best interests to behave very differently, I dare say."

"Indeed?"

"In my experience, Mr. Wickham is one of those cases in which the second, third and fourth impressions may turn out to be more accurate than the first ones."

"Are you saying that he is a scoundrel?"

"In a word," Mr. Darcy said. "Yes."

"What has he done?"

"It is not a subject fit for such a public setting," he said. "But I might tell you about it later."

"Later," Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, by all means, you should tell me later."

Mr. Darcy did not seem to understand her consternation. She wondered if she was the only one repeating this ball, or if there was somebody else who was also stuck and could never find out how to get to later.

But then she saw Mr. Collins and Charlotte ending their dance and Mr. Collins was looking around as if searching for someone.

Quickly she said, "Please, Mr. Darcy, you must help me. If my cousin comes our way, you must tell him that your magnificent aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh would never recommend me as a suitable marital prospect."

"Oh, why?"

"I do not care! Any reason would do. You have been looking long enough, you must have found many faults in me."

"No, indeed, I have found no faults in you."

"Very gallant of you," she said. "But you must try harder. Lady Catherine insists."

He seemed confused. "I am not going to ask my aunt to recommend marital prospects to me. Lady Catherine does not decide whom I should marry."

She saw Mr. Collins weaving through the crowd. "I am not talking about you! If Mr. Collins speaks to us, and he will, you must tell him that Lady Catherine would hate me, and under no circumstances should he make me Mrs. Collins."

"Mrs. Collins!" Darcy exclaimed. "Your cousin wants to marry you?"

This was far too loud, and Sir William Lucas heard it and assumed Elizabeth had announced her engagement. Sir William, in turn, was far too loud with his congratulations, and Mrs. Bennet heard. She was not any louder than usual, but her usual was enough to launch a thousand pandemoniums, and the nightmare started all over again.

The next day, Elizabeth was at her wit's end. She had attempted every strategy she could think of, and nothing seemed to work. What else was there to try? Was there anyone she could elope to Gretna Green with? Mr. Wickham had not come to rescue her at any night, and if Mr. Darcy was to be trusted she would not wish Mr. Wickham to rescue her anyway. Avoiding Mr. Collins had not worked. Annoying Mr. Collins had not worked. Asking for Mr. Darcy to intervene had not worked. Each time, she had thought it could not go as badly as before. But it could always get worse.

She danced the first set with Mr. Collins with a resigned air. It was usually safe, she concluded, as he was normally too busy attending to his feet to accidentally propose to anyone.

An officer asked her for the next dance, and she went through the motions listlessly. She saw Jane and Mr. Bingley standing near the refreshments and laughing quietly together, and Elizabeth wondered if her sister would be able to find her happiness before Elizabeth's time loop ended. Elizabeth might have ended up engaged to Mr. Collins each night. But just as reliably, Jane had ended up not engaged to Mr. Bingley every time.

When the dancing recommenced, Darcy approached to claim her hand. They stood for some time without speaking a word until she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent.

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the number of couples, or the relative frequency of our dancing together."

He smiled, and assured her that if she wished to have this pleasure often repeated he had no objection.

"Very well; that reply will do for the present. Perhaps, by-and-by, I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones; but now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet, for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "But if you wish to say something that would amaze me, I have no objection."

"Amaze you? I suppose I can always try."

Elizabeth saw Mr. Collins approaching and panicked. "Oh no, here he comes. Please help me, what am I going to do about him?"

"Are you afraid of Mr. Collins?" Mr. Darcy demanded to know. "Has he hurt you somehow?"

"No, I am just trying to avoid an inevitability," Elizabeth said. "Do you know of a way to get rid of unwanted suitors?"

"If you married someone else a few of them might give up," Mr. Darcy said.

"At this point I would marry anyone, even the butcher's boy, before Mr. Collins," Elizabeth said.

"Surely he cannot make you do anything against your will," Mr. Darcy said.

"Oh, you can have no idea," Elizabeth groaned.

Mr. Collins came closer, and on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped, with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified, indeed, my dear sir; such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you: and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza, shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy;—but let me not interrupt you, sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."

This was all too familiar to Elizabeth, and all too oppressive, terrifying, and apocalyptic. Mr. Collins was just like a harbinger of doom, assuming harbingers of doom were slightly sweaty, combed their receding hair ridiculously, and bowed far too deep.

"Yes, you are right, we have had a very interesting conversation," Mr. Darcy said. "Miss Elizabeth has promised to amaze me in front of the whole room."

"Have I?" Elizabeth asked.

"I am counting on you," he said.

"All right, maybe this will work," Elizabeth said. "Mr. Darcy, will you marry me?"

Elizabeth was never quite sure how it happened, but evidently Mr. Darcy had agreed to her impulsive suggestion for she found herself in his arms and he was kissing her soundly.

Mr. Collins, Sir William Lucas, and Mrs. Bennet were very loud, in their outraged, surprised, or stupefied reactions. Mr. Bennet was apt to be angry about the kiss at first but he could not very well call Mr. Darcy out for his presumption after being told that it was Elizabeth who had proposed to him first. Miss Bingley's shrieks curdled milk as far as Shropshire. Jane and Mr. Bingley offered their congratulations warmly, if somewhat confusedly. Charlotte Lucas was utterly delighted about the match and told everyone smugly that she had told them so.

It was the pandemonium all over again, except louder. Everyone had seen the kiss, and everyone had an opinion about it. And all of Meryton expected to hear the banns called the next Sunday.

Elizabeth was engaged to Mr. Darcy, and it was her own fault. Things could not get any worse than this.

But the next morning she woke up, and things got worse.

The ball was over, and she was still engaged to Mr. Darcy.