Meant to Be: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 3

  “I thank you, sir, but I fear that was not a proper decision.”

  “I appreciate your modesty, but you are wrong in this! As her esteemed ladyship said to me: ‘Mr. Collins…you should take the example of Mr. Darcy and find love within your family. My nephew has done it. For family comes first.’ I am quite sure that Lady Catherine would not disapprove of you, dearest Elizabeth.”

  “Mr. Collins, I thank you for your interest and the compliment you are paying me, but this cannot be! I strongly believe that neither I nor my sister Jane could make you happy, and such a match would be discontented. Therefore, I thank you, but I must refuse your proposal.”

  He seemed disconcerted for a moment; then he continued to insist on his feelings for her and the reasons that supported his decision until she was forced to raise her voice.

  “Sir, with all the respect I bear for her ladyship or her family, I do not care about Mr. Darcy’s views on marriage or her ladyship’s!”

  “My dear cousin, never say that again! It is unacceptable! When you are my wife, you must—”

  “Mr. Collins, that will unfortunately never happen! I thank you, however, for your interest, but I must refuse your proposal. Have a good day, sir.”

  ***

  Both the conversation and the din raised by its acknowledgement continued until late in the afternoon as Mr. Collins complained to Mrs. Bennet about Elizabeth’s ill treatment of his proposal. Mrs. Bennet left the dining room in an agitation, denouncing, all the way to her chamber, the ingratitude of a daughter who dared throw away her chance of being married. She remained there for the rest of the afternoon, labouring over a remedy to the catastrophe that had settled upon her house. When she came out, she demanded that Elizabeth speak to Mr. Collins again, retracting the words spoken—which Elizabeth refused on the spot. This, however, did not stop Mrs. Bennet from finding ways to bend her will. She talked to Elizabeth again and again, pleading and attacking her for her carelessness—as that was how she saw it—then making her see the advantages such a union would bring to her family.

  Elizabeth did not falter; the whole situation became ridiculous, and she could barely contain her mirth. She was still shocked at Mr. Collins’s decision to choose her but grateful that it happened. She could not help wondering what would have happened if Mr. Collins proposed to Jane and whether her sister would have sacrificed herself for the family.

  A few hours after the madness of Mrs. Bennet’s cries, Mr. Bennet finally agreed to summon his second daughter and make her come to her senses as Mrs. Bennet demanded.

  Elizabeth awaited her father’s words with apprehension.

  “Lizzy, is there anything I can say that would induce you to marry Mr. Collins?”

  “No, Papa, there is not,” Elizabeth spoke with the utmost conviction.

  “Very well, the matter is settled. Lizzy will not wed Mr. Collins. He may try again with another of our daughters if he pleases, but for now, we are done. Please, close the door when you leave,” the gentleman said to a shocked and nerve-wracked Mrs. Bennet who almost fainted in her distress.

  Mr. Collins’s vexation was beyond words, even for him. As a proof of his displeasure, he left the house to visit Sir William—whose title was declared to be proof of his worthiness—and stayed for dinner.

  The next day, many things repeated: Mr. Bennet isolated himself in the library, Mrs. Bennet constantly argued with her second daughter, and Mr. Collins went hunting with Sir William and remained for dinner.

  On his return, he declared solemnly, “Resignation, I am afraid, has become unavoidable, and I would like to say that, in asking for my cousin’s hand, I was searching for nothing less than a companion. I did not expect such a reckless refusal from someone who might never receive another marriage proposal, considering your poor situation in life. I have written her ladyship about my lack of success, and I have great hopes that she will understand. Yet, I have not lost hope. A clergyman must never give up the fight for righteousness and always pray to reach a higher purpose in life.”

  Two days later, two major events brought happiness to Mr. Collins’s life. Lady Catherine answered his letter and assured him that he was entirely faultless and that the entire blame was to be put on his cousin, for she was a most ungrateful young lady. And almost equally important, he proposed to Charlotte Lucas, and she accepted before he had ended his eloquent speech. The joy he felt at hearing a positive answer was only surpassed by the notion that he would thus prove to his noble patroness that he did not fail in following her advice.

  Charlotte Lucas’s wedding—which happened right after the marriage proposal—disappointed Elizabeth and made her reconsider her previous opinions and admiration of her friend. However, the passing days softened her feelings, and by the time her friend departed for her new home, Elizabeth was able to embrace her lovingly and accept an invitation to visit the new Mrs. Collins in Kent very soon.

  Three insistent letters were needed before Elizabeth finally decided to keep her promise and join Sir William in visiting the Collinses at Hunsford. Fortunately, the timing proved to be perfect as it coincided with an invitation for Jane to visit their aunt and uncle Gardiner in London.

  Elizabeth was pleased to escape her mother’s constant complaints for a while, concerned about leaving her father and eldest sister, glad to see her beloved uncle and aunt, and bored at the prospect of her time in Kent. She knew perfectly well that she would have nothing to enjoy at Hunsford except her friend’s company. The notion of making Lady Catherine’s acquaintance was both amusing and tedious—as was the thought of spending so much time in the same house as Mr. Collins. But it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She was certain, however, beyond any doubt, that her time in Kent was nothing to be excited about and would create few memories for the future.

  Chapter Two

  On a bright day in early June, Elizabeth travelled to Kent, accompanied by Sir William, who proved to be a delightful companion for a long journey, talking only when he had something to say or when he gave an explanation regarding the tour, but remaining silent otherwise. Elizabeth enjoyed each mile, looking out at the marvellous land always fresh and new—discovery after discovery. The prospects of their journey increased with each hour, and to her astonishment, she barely noticed when they reached Hunsford.

  Elizabeth saw her friend first; Charlotte appeared at the door welcoming her father and her dear friend, but Mr. Collins soon made his appearance, unwieldy as ever. Marriage had no effect on him whatsoever. He spoke with the same affectation, stressing each word, trying to sound polite and humble at the same time yet having the opposite effect each time. Charlotte hugged her friend warmly, and in her embrace, Elizabeth felt how the loneliness she had acquired in just a couple of months.

  In the house, Mr. Collins spoke for both of them, explaining each room in great detail as if he were intent on making Elizabeth sorry for what she had missed in rejecting him. He was determined to take his guest for a stroll in the garden as well—a place he had cultivated with his own hands, although it could not compete with the gardens of Rosings. Charlotte put an end to his enthusiasm, stating that both her father and Elizabeth needed to rest after their journey. Sir William approved of Charlotte’s words and asked to be directed to his room, a task undertook by Mr. Collins, thus leaving Elizabeth and Charlotte alone in the parlour for a private discussion. It was neat and cosy and Elizabeth knew immediately that it was all the work of her friend.

  “I am so glad to have you in my house, Lizzy! I do hope the journey has not been too strenuous. When I first came here, I rested for two days before I could assume the duties of a wife.”

  Elizabeth could almost swear she saw Charlotte blush, but she encouraged her friend by praising her house to the best of her ability.

  “There is a lot of work around here. Mr. Collins is always busy with parish duties or at Rosings Park when her ladyship requires him. She calls him at all hours, sometimes even at night.” Charlotte spoke with a mischievous voice
, not minding that it was close to gossip. “Mr. Collins enjoys being at her ladyship’s disposal. And so do I. And now that she has company, Mr. Collins is always there; it is only a coincidence that he was here to receive you both. This benefits me as it gives me quite a lot of time to spend on my own.”

  Elizabeth gave a civil reply, knowing there was no falsehood in Charlotte’s words about wanting to remain alone as much as possible, and she was thankful that Charlotte trusted her with it. Sir William soon joined them in the parlour, and the trio entertained each other with stories from Meryton.

  In the evening, Sir William was too tired to come down for dinner and had his dinner tray brought to his chamber, which left Elizabeth alone in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Collins once again. As expected, Mr. Collins informed his cousin that, in the course of the following day, she and Sir William would be taken to Rosings Park to meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  “It is only natural to have my guests brought before her. She insists on immediately being introduced to anyone who sets foot on her land. I took Charlotte on the first day; her ladyship found her likeable.” Mr. Collins’s speech was produced without once looking directly at Elizabeth, as if he were speaking to someone who was not in the room and Elizabeth had become invisible.

  Mr. Collins went on. “We shall leave in the morning, so try and be ready, Cousin Elizabeth. Her ladyship does not like anyone being late.”

  “I understand that her ladyship has visitors,” Charlotte commented, expressing a genuine interest in the subject.

  “Do not be alarmed, dear cousin,” Mr. Collins re-directed his answer. “I am sure that both Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam will be preoccupied with their own dealings to pay you any attention.”

  Charlotte tried to say something, but Mr. Collins went on.

  “Lady Catherine is a very sensible woman. So fear not, you can put whichever gown you have brought, Cousin Elizabeth. Her ladyship is not averse to the simple fashion of the countryside, poor as it may be—on the contrary.”

  “I shall try then not to spoil her need for simple things. Details like these could be the ruin of a perfect day,” Elizabeth retorted, amazed by Mr. Collins’s unfortunate choice of words.

  Mr. Collins seemed to be gratified with such an answer while his lady checked on her soup. Mr. Collins then changed the subject completely, asking for news from Meryton. There was no novelty other than what Elizabeth, Charlotte, and Sir William had said previously in Charlotte’s parlour. Elizabeth spoke, nevertheless, making sure the evening ended on a carefree note. In her chamber, however, Elizabeth thought of the meaning of such a day. Charlotte had changed, yet she had not grown as married people often do, being the same self-contented woman but now with a refuge of her own. Elizabeth longed to be back home at Longbourn in her old chamber, writing a letter to Jane, whom she missed dearly. With these thoughts in mind, Elizabeth fell soundly asleep to the tapping of rain on her window.

  As the visit to Rosings Park approached, the agitation of the house was felt acutely next morning. The overnight rain had left mud throughout the alley and garden, but Mr. Collins proclaimed that not even frightful weather would be an impediment for an encounter with her ladyship.

  At breakfast, everyone was instructed on proper behaviour in her ladyship’s presence. Each word must be considered twice before speaking, each thought filtered to its essence until the only respectable answers would be a safe “yes” and “no.” Sir William was sent to his chamber twice to change his clothes—he was Mr. Collins’s father-in-law, after all—whereas Elizabeth’s gown received approval on the spot.

  Mr. Collins headed the party, hastening everyone on account of their already being late. Mr. Collins chose a shorter route to the estate to make up for the lost time. The ground was muddy, and Elizabeth found with dismay that her shoes sank into the sticky soil up to her petticoat and prevented her from keeping up with the rest of her party. Eventually, everyone moved with difficulty, and more time was lost than gained.

  At the end of the path and almost at the entrance to the Rosings’ gardens—thus almost at the end of their tortuous walk—the group heard the sounds of approaching horses. Mr. Collins stopped the party behind him with a hand gesture, listening attentively to the sound ahead of him. Elizabeth, caught in a mud puddle, felt herself sinking even deeper into the slippery sludge.

  “That should be Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Mr. Collins turned to the party, eager to explain. “They are rather fond of racing their horses in the morning. We had better wait here.”

  As the noise came nearer, Mr. Collins urged them to stand still. Elizabeth made a slight attempt to move, but felt a pain in her leg that grew stronger and more acute.

  At last, when the pain was unbearable, she made a movement to lessen the tension in her leg. However, her sudden manoeuvre did not have the expected results; instead, she found herself unbalanced and on the point of falling into the sludge. With her remaining strength, she boldly took a step to a larger stone on her left to avoid the dreaded conclusion. It still was not enough, so she jumped on a small stone to her right and, from there, right in front of Mr. Collins who, taken by surprise, had little time to adjust to the situation, let out a sharp cry, and accidentally pushed his wife standing next to him.

  Elizabeth’s movement, unintentional though it was, had produced a catastrophe. Charlotte fell to the ground, half her face covered in mud, and was unable to stand because of the slippery ground beneath her feet, in spite of Sir William’s attempt to help.

  “Dear Mrs. Collins, stand up!” Mr. Collins said, reaching his hand to Charlotte in an attempt to salvage the situation.

  “I cannot, Mr. Collins!” Charlotte replied falling again and to the muddy terrain and dragging Elizabeth after her. Elizabeth was the first to stand then and, finding her stability, extended a hand to help Charlotte up.

  They succeeded at last, to get Charlotte on her feet, but they barely had time to notice the two riders approaching them.

  “Mr. Collins, are you well?” a voice was heard.

  Elizabeth turned ’round instantly, startled by the unexpected sound.

  It was not the time or place for careful observation of the man’s face, but Elizabeth was struck by the gentleman’s effort not to laugh openly at the scene before him. The second gentleman, a much slimmer figure than the first, looked at them severely. She could not be sure of his eyes, as his hat hid most of his face; however, his expression was more reproach than commiseration.

  With Elizabeth’s current state of mind, she could not be sure whom she found more infuriating of the two gentlemen. She tried to correct her appearance, for she was painfully aware of her look, but to little avail. Her hair had become loose while her face was tainted by dirt, and she tasted the mud in her mouth. Her clothes were also unrecognizable under the thick coat of murky terrain, and she felt her face glowing with the effort to stand.

  “We are quite all right, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Collins said panting, finally revealing the identity of the stout gentleman who could not contain his laughter. “It appears we have had a slight accident. But we have managed it,” he continued as he helped his lady stand next to him.

  Charlotte made a move but discovered that her leg was in pain, barely being able to step on it. She whimpered softly, relying on Elizabeth’s shoulder this time. The unexpected gesture unbalanced Elizabeth once again, and the young lady turned to seek something on which to steady herself. She looked around desperately for something to cling to and found only the horse’s reins of the second gentleman—which could only have been Mr. Darcy. His horse neighed uneasily, ready to bolt, but Mr. Darcy calmed the stallion with a word. Elizabeth turned to thank him, but Mr. Darcy looked away, staring directly ahead, as if she had caused him serious trouble. She resented him for it instantly.

  “Mrs. Collins should be seen by a physician,” Mr. Darcy spoke shortly, revealing a cold voice. “I shall tell her ladyship to send for one. Meanwhile, you can head to the house. Your w
ife will be properly taken care of.”

  “You are most kind, sir,” Mr. Collins declared with gratitude, though the gentleman seemed not to take notice.

  Mr. Darcy said nothing more; instead, he cast a brief glance at the unfortunate party and urged his stallion to speed away. Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Elizabeth with the same amusement on his face, but contrary to Mr. Darcy, he did not seem insulting. At last, he greeted them with politeness.

  “Well, take care then,” he said before joining his cousin in the race.

  “Come on, Mrs. Collins. We are nearly there.” Mr. Collins said encouragingly to his wife, and the whole party made a longer journey to the manor than expected.

  ***

  The walk to Lady Catherine’s house would have required no more than a few minutes to reach by foot, but Charlotte’s injured leg slowed the party to twice that time. Mr. Collins had intended to his lady to the house himself, but he discovered it to be impossible, so the task was undertaken by Sir William, who, although more physically fit, was slower. Charlotte was brave, barely making a whimper although she was clearly in pain.

  Elizabeth, who was feeling hurt herself from the earlier fall she had taken, followed the men quietly without complaint, trying to ignore the conversation between the two gentlemen.

  Mr. Collins was uneasy but not for the usual reasons of a husband when confronted with such a predicament; his worries involved the possible reproach he might receive from Lady Catherine over what had happened on her estate.

  “I just hope she will not think we did it on purpose to avoid meeting her!”

  Elizabeth dismissed the idea at once. “I should not believe her ladyship so absurd that she would think someone wilfully injured themselves just to miss an encounter with her.”