To Refuse Such a Man: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (3 page)

Ah! The much-anticipated ball.
Elizabeth could not believe her youngest sister, Lydia, had instigated such a thing by taxing Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield. Bingley’s eager agreement was even more of a testament to his increasing regard for Jane. Elizabeth was certain of it.

As was to be expected, Bingley extended his arm to Jane and commenced walking with her outside to the awaiting carriage. Elizabeth’s astonishment was great when Mr. Darcy approached her side and extended his arm.

Does he mean to escort me?
Apparently he did. Although startled, she did what any well-bred woman would do in such circumstances; she accepted his proffered arm, and along with the gentleman, fell in step behind Jane and Mr. Bingley.

When Elizabeth and Jane were settled next to each other in the carriage, it slowly pulled away. The gentlemen who had so graciously escorted them to the carriage remained standing there still—likely waiting for it to pass beyond their sight, each with decidedly different emotions.

Jane was no doubt pleased to be escorted by a man she held in such high esteem. Elizabeth, on the other hand, did not know what to make of her former companion. She awoke that morning with the distinct impression that he barely tolerated her, as evidenced by his taciturn behavior in the library the day before. Had he awakened with the notion of somehow admiring her, or was he in such a rush to have her banished from his company and thus went out of his way to see that she was gone?

Turning her face upward to welcome the sun’s warm caress, Elizabeth released a sigh.
Perplexing man!

The evening of the Netherfield ball was upon them. Elizabeth prepared for the event with more than the usual care. Having spent the past several days confined indoors owing to an abundance of rain, she was eager for a change. She had been so unfortunate as to have missed attending a recent dinner party at the home of her aunt Mrs. Philips, who resided in Meryton. Her younger sisters described the occasion as one of the happiest days of their lives, for they had been ever so fortunate as to have made the acquaintance of a Mr. George Wickham.

By her sisters’ eager accounts, Elizabeth surmised the gentleman’s appearance was greatly in his favor. The girls eagerly proclaimed that he had all the best parts of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and a very pleasing address. What young woman would not be excited by the prospect of meeting such a gentleman?

This idea of making the acquaintance of the newest addition to their society is what gave her the strength to endure what would be a rather tiresome evening should her ridiculous cousin Mr. Collins, whom she had recently met, make good on his promise to stay close by her side. Indeed, Elizabeth persuaded herself that Mr. William Collins was not a sensible man. Wanting to clear himself from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn upon her father’s death as soon as he may wish to, he had come to Meryton desirous of choosing a wife from among the Bennet daughters. To her dismay, the odious man apparently had singled her out as the object of his fondest regard.

Elizabeth was not formed for ill humor. She certainly did not intend for her cousin to destroy her prospects for the evening, despite being obliged to stand across from him for the first two dances. What ecstasy she suffered when she was released from him and thus at liberty to dance with more agreeable partners, the first being an officer.

His manner was gentlemanly and his conversation was delightful, especially given that it afforded her a chance to learn more about the elusive Mr. Wickham. Hearing that he was universally liked by all increased her desire to meet him, and she hoped he would soon arrive so that she might enjoy such a pleasure.

Later, while she was standing with her intimate friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas, from a neighboring estate, Elizabeth was taken by surprise when Mr. Darcy approached her. He asked if she would grant him the honor of the next dance. Having received a favorable reply, he walked away as suddenly as he arrived, leaving Elizabeth confounded. She had only seen the perplexing man once since the day he escorted her to the carriage at Netherfield. That had been during a chance encounter in town when he barely acknowledged her. She quickly surmised that the absence of a certain Bingley sister meant he had no reason to make a pretense of admiring her on that particular day.

Remembering the pleasing, albeit puzzling, sensations that accompanied his touch, she secretly wished that was not the case. Even his pretensions were preferable to the attentions of her ridiculous cousin. Recalling herself to the present, she smiled.
No doubt, he will do a fine job pretending to admire me when the dancing recommences … solely for Miss Bingley’s sake, of course,
she reminded herself.

What was the point in denying his attraction to Miss Elizabeth any longer? The memory of the touch of his hand upon hers, when he assisted her into the carriage that day, lingered still, stirring his passion and finding him wishing for something more. He would soon be gone away from Hertfordshire. He had admired her too much not to carry the memory of having danced with her at least once. Thus resolved, Darcy had made his way to the part of the room where Elizabeth stood with her friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas, and applied for the next set. Now standing opposite her, Darcy was at a complete loss for what to say. The idea of performing to strangers was one he abhorred, yet he was not unaware of her neighbors and their manner of looking at him standing opposite her, their hushed whispers which no doubt spoke to their amazement that he had singled her out from among all the other young ladies in attendance.

He heard her make some remark on the dance, to which he replied, but then he was again silent.

Having satisfied herself with the knowledge that she had done her part to converse with the taciturn man, she was content to go through the rest of the dance in silence. Her mind was now elsewhere. Elizabeth was looking for evidence that the dashing Mr. Wickham, who had garnered so much approbation from all around, had arrived. Regrettably, she did not detect a single gentleman in the gathering whose acquaintance she had not already made.

“Are you looking for someone, Miss Elizabeth?”

“No,” she replied rather hastily. She half smiled. “I was rather admiring the size of the room and the number of couples.”

Darcy returned the cordial gesture, heightening his handsome features, but said nothing.

As a means of making amends for her inattentiveness, she said, “My sister tells me that Mr. Bingley shall return to London on matters of business in the morning, sir. I wonder whether you will be taking your leave as well?”

“I hope that is not your way of saying that I have overstayed my welcome here in Hertfordshire.”

“That is not for me to say, sir.”

Biting his lower lip as a means of holding his tongue, Darcy’s curiosity won out. “That gentleman who was standing with you earlier shows a decidedly devoted interest in you.” Here they were parted by the dance and when they were reunited, he continued, “I am aware that he is the heir to your father’s estate.”

“Mr. Darcy, forgive me, but discussing Mr. Collins is the last thing I wish to do.”

“What do you think of books?” said he, obliging her obvious desire to change the subject.

“How interesting that you wish to discuss such matters now, Mr. Darcy. The topic of books might easily have been discussed when we were in the library.”

Thoughts of that day leaped into his mind. Indeed, they were surrounded by books. However, the last thing on his mind were thoughts that did not center on her light and pleasing figure, the faint scent of her perfume, and the manner in which she twisted locks of her dark hair around her fingers when she was reading. What’s more, there were the thoughts that were no more appropriate now as they were then. How thoroughly he had gotten to know every inch of her body over the past weeks—even if only in his dreams. Intoxicating, passion-filled dreams that he ought not to have about a gentleman’s daughter; dreams that started long before the two of them found themselves sleeping under the same roof, quiet footsteps apart.

Endeavoring to relegate such thoughts to the back of his mind, he said, “Surely we must have some conversation.”

“Sir, I do not know that we must. Miss Bingley is nowhere in the immediate vicinity.”

“Miss Bingley? I have to ask you why you would mention her at such a time as this.”

“I have always considered myself a fair studier of people. No doubt, she is a woman who is quite enamored of you. Do you pretend to be ignorant of this?”

“I do not.”

“Then do you pretend that you have not used me as a pawn in your scheme to frustrate the lady’s hopes?”

The cutting effect of her accusation was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features. They were parted by the dance once more, giving both of them a much needed reprieve. When they were joined again, his expression was changed. “Miss Elizabeth,” he began, “you have sadly mistaken my character if you believe such a representation to be well founded.”

“Then perhaps you’ll enlighten me, sir. How else do you explain your changeable moods?”

“In what regard?”

“The only thing I can honestly speak to is your well-timed wont of flattering me with attention when in the young lady’s company, and then acting as though I do not exist when she is not present.”

“I can only beg for your forgiveness, Miss Elizabeth, if that is indeed the impression that I have given you. The truth is you impress me like no other woman I’ve ever known.”

He wanted to say more, but his character prohibited him. Soon enough he would be away from Hertfordshire, perhaps forever. The two of them might never see each other again. Even if their imminent parting unsettled him, he knew it was better that way. Thus resolved, he said no more.

His words astounded her. What could possibly have been his purpose in making such a declaration? Elizabeth might have said something in reply had he given her a bit of encouragement. As he did not, she contented herself to follow his lead. Moments later, the dance ended.

They had not long separated when Miss Bingley hurried towards Mr. Darcy. With an expression of unmasked distaste, she said, “Perhaps I was too quick to ignore those nasty little rumors painting you and that Eliza Bennet in a most unflattering light.”

Darcy, who rarely listened to anything Miss Bingley had to say with the consideration that she felt was warranted, was somewhat taken aback by this revelation. “I am in no mood for your taunting as regards my domestic felicity with Miss Elizabeth Bennet this evening.”

Twisting her strand of pearls, she said, “It is not my intention to taunt you, sir. I merely mean to suggest that your singling out the young woman this evening is rather a confirmation of what’s being whispered and bantered about behind closed doors regarding the two of you.”

“If it is true that such speculation exists, then why have I heard nothing of this before?”

“I immediately dismissed such talk as scandalous falsehoods. However, observing the two of you just now, I am forced to consider that I acted too precipitously in discharging the servant who first brought this intelligence to me.”

“You ought to have made me aware of the situation, but instead you’ve made it worse by dismissing the servant.” His temples throbbing, he added, “Allow me to thank you for your interference in my affairs.”

“I thought I was sparing you the indignity of hearing any of this,” she cried.

“Instead, you have made him or her desperate. Who is to say how extensive the ensuing damage will be?”

The morning after the ball, Bingley returned to London on business as had been planned. Concerned by the angry words that passed between them the evening before, Miss Bingley suggested to Darcy that they might follow her brother to town and, thus, put the entire sordid experience behind them.

Not contented to rely solely upon Miss Bingley’s word that his spending time alone with Elizabeth had been the means of a looming scandal, Darcy had taken it upon himself to learn the truth of the matter. He questioned the one person who made it his business to know such things—his valet, Mr. Waters. Waters did not say much except that whenever he entered one of the rooms below stairs a severe dropping off in conversation always ensued. To Darcy, it was enough said.

Without looking up from his paper, Darcy replied, “You are at liberty to leave as soon as you wish. I, however, will not be joining you. As you very well know, I have a matter to attend this morning that will not be put off.”

“You cannot be serious, Mr. Darcy. Do you pretend to be ignorant of the appalling behavior of those Bennets last evening? True, you left before supper, but I am beginning to think you should have stayed. Then you too would have been privy to the dreadful manner in which Mrs. Bennet boasted aloud that there would be a wedding at Netherfield Park in three months. Thank heavens my brother has returned to town. To the extent it is within my power, I shall make sure that he never returns.”

Darcy folded his paper and set it aside. “Miss Bingley, you are within your right to be concerned about your brother’s marital prospects, but your wishes and concerns have nothing at all to do with me. I shall not allow Miss Elizabeth’s reputation to suffer as a result of rumors of ungentlemanly behavior on my part.”

“You would be wise to spare yourself such an indignity as aligning yourself with the likes of those Bennets. Think of what your family and friends will say! Return to town. These rumors will fade, and one day, if she is lucky, surely Eliza Bennet and her fine eyes will attract the notice of some poor unsuspecting man of no consideration in the world who is her equal.”

“I beg your pardon, but Miss Elizabeth is a gentleman’s daughter. I am a gentleman. That makes the two of us very equal, would you not say? Unlike you, I might add.”

Having forced him to say that which gave her no pleasure, the young lady cried, “Mr. Darcy!”

“What have I said that is untrue?”

“It may be true that she is a gentleman’s daughter. What does that mean in the eyes of the world when said gentleman has no fortune, no connections, and nothing to recommend himself save an estate that is entailed to the likes of that ridiculous Mr. Collins? Pray think better of what you are about, sir. Do anything but align yourself with such a family.”

“Your admonishments are wasted on me, Miss Bingley. I know exactly what I am about, and I know exactly what I must do.”

Not long after that, Darcy found himself sitting across from Mr. Thomas Bennet in Longbourn’s library. His arrival had gone unnoticed by the ladies as they were busily engaged with their ears perched against a door of one of the other rooms when the housekeeper ushered Darcy right past them on the way to the library. He did not fail to notice that the object of his being there was not among the indecorous group. He surmised that she was out and about on one of her solitary rambles.

The question of whether she would continue such pursuits when he brought her to Pemberley entered his mind, but he supposed he was getting a little ahead of himself.

The news Darcy conveyed to Mr. Bennet that his favorite daughter was fodder for malicious gossip and how he was fully prepared to stand by her side was received about as well as Darcy had expected. Silent and grave, the older man said, “I take no pleasure in entertaining a request such as this—one that surely would never have been made were it not for the threat of scandal.”

“Sir, your sentiments are perfectly understandable. You want your daughter to marry a man she can respect—a man who cares for her above all others. I will be that man. I admire your daughter already—much more than even she is aware. I value her.”

Mr. Bennet said, “I do not doubt that you would appreciate my daughter. She is charming and witty and every bit deserving of her reputation as being the brightest jewel of the country. But what of her family?”

“I dare say that there are members of my own family that I find objectionable.”

“Then you admit to finding the Bennets objectionable, yet you expect me to congratulate myself on my daughter’s behalf that you have condescended to request her hand in marriage.”

“Sir, what I am saying is that I will afford my wife’s family all due deference and I shall endeavor to treat them with no less consideration than I afford my own.”

An odd mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice, Mr. Bennet could not help being impressed that the younger man was making a concerted effort to say all the right things. He began to consider that Mr. Darcy was a decent man—in spite of what others might think. After all, he could have absconded to town or even Derbyshire the instant he was made aware of the rumors, and yet he had chosen to do the honorable and decent thing.

Standing and thus encouraging Darcy to do likewise, Mr. Bennet offered the younger man his hand. “You, sir, have my permission to speak with my daughter and, should she agree to your petition, the two of you shall have my hearty consent.”

~*~

Elizabeth stood there. She did not know where to look or even how to look. Never in her life had she expected her first proposal of marriage to be extended in such an appalling manner by such an appalling man.

Here standing before me is the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed on to marry, and yet he has the audacity to stand here with every expectation of a favorable reply.
His talk of forever holding his tongue on the matter of her lack of fortune annoyed her beyond measure.
Who does he think he is?

“Sir, if I may be allowed to speak.”

Her plea fell on deaf ears. He would not cease his dreadful proposal. He felt it necessary to explain why he was offering his hand. What did she care? He proceeded to congratulate Elizabeth on her good sensibility. He was confident she would measure up to the high standards befitting the woman who would soon be the mistress of his home—the mother of his children.

It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. “You are too hasty, sir,” she cried. “You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do so without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. However, hear me when I say, Mr. Collins, that I will not marry you. My conscience, my sense of right and wrong, and everything that I am forbids such an alliance.”

“I am not unaware,” replied Mr. Collins, “that it is usual for young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept when he first applies for their favor. There is the general expectation that the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said and shall hope to lead you to the altar before long.”

“Upon my word, sir,” exclaimed Elizabeth, “your hope is a rather extraordinary one after my declaration. I assure you that I am not one of those young ladies who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.

“Nothing would persuade me to accept your offer, for it was not long after I met you, sir, that your obsequious manner impressed upon me that you are indeed the last man in the world I would wish to marry.”

His expression retained that same air of expectation that she was merely prolonging his suspense and, therefore, encouraged her to say more.

“Sir, I have not met your esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. If a modicum of what you have to say about her is true, I can honestly say that I never wish to meet her. If it is indeed your intention to choose a wife who will meet with that woman’s approval, then you have made a grave error in selecting me as your future wife. Indeed, you ought to be thanking me for rejecting your hand.”

“There must be some kind of mistake. Your mother has assured me that you would be eager to accept my proposal, especially as you were not even my first choice. Indeed, your sister Jane is the Bennet daughter I immediately considered worthy of the honor I meant to bestow subsequent to my arrival in Hertfordshire.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

“I am saying that, despite what your mother said, your eldest sister is no closer to receiving an offer of marriage from Mr. Charles Bingley today than she was when I first singled her out as the object of my affections. There is no reason to suppose that she would not be just as willing to entertain a proposal from me as she would from him. Perhaps I am speaking with the wrong Bennet daughter.”

Elizabeth colored. Heaven forbid that the odious man should retract his proposal and offer for Jane out of spite. As well as she knew her sister, she considered that Jane did not deserve such a fate. Oh, if only Mr. Bingley had offered for Jane by now. Then Elizabeth would not have cause to temper her stance.

“Sir, I believe I have spoken too hastily. What I meant to say is that … well, your proposal took me quite by surprise. I never once suspected that a man like you could ever possibly be interested in a woman like me given that Jane truly is the beauty in the family.

“I am not insensitive of the honor of your proposal.” She then heard herself uttering, “I suppose what I mean to say is that I should like time to consider the merits of your offer before I give you my final answer.”

The proud man dusted imaginary lint from his sleeve and then gave his waistcoat a firm tug. “I knew you could be prevailed upon to be reasonable. As a sign of my affection for you, I shall allow you additional time to think better of what you are about.”

Mrs. Bennet nearly fell inside the room when Collins opened the door. “Mrs. Bennet!”

A woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper who had once known her fair share of beauty, Mrs. Bennet cried, “Oh, Mr. Collins ..., my dearest Lizzy, am I to wish the two of you joy? Oh, of course I am.” She looked at the gentleman. “Did I not tell you that my Lizzy was a sensible girl, Mr. Collins? She shall make an excellent wife!”

Mr. Collins said, “I would ask you to defer your good wishes, at least for the remainder of the day. Your daughter has asked for time to consider my proposal, and I have indeed agreed to her request.”

The business of her life was to get her daughters married! Her astonishment she did not repress. “Lizzy, you foolish child! What is there to think about?”

“My dear Mrs. Bennet,” Collins said, holding up his hand. “I am happy to allow your second eldest daughter this additional time, for once she and I are man and wife, it will be my mission to see to it that she is happy. I will gladly wait a while longer before she makes me the most fortunate man in the world, for I have no doubt that she and I have established a proper understanding.”

~*~

When she laid her head on her pillow to rest during the wee hours of that morning, she never could have imagined she would be pondering such weighty matters that day. Indeed, Elizabeth had much to consider. She would do anything for her sister Jane, even throw away her own chance for felicity to see Jane happy. Elizabeth had a thought. What if she could speak to Jane and obtain her assurance that she would not accept Mr. Collins should he make her an offer? She knew herself well enough to say that she could tolerate her mother’s ire. But as for Jane’s ability to endure her mother’s disapprobation, Elizabeth was rather less confident.

She paced the garden path. The warm autumn sun on her face was doing its best to chase away her melancholy—all in vain. That odious man who called himself a parson had effectively blackmailed her into considering his proposal by summoning her dearest sister’s name. She racked her brain for some means of escaping what she was certain would be a most unwelcome prospect for herself as well as her sister. Could she put her cousin off until Mr. Bingley returned?

What if he never returns? What if he returns and still does not make Jane an offer of marriage?

The sound of a gentleman clearing his throat interrupted Elizabeth’s silent deliberations. She covered her face with both hands and exhaled a pained breath.
My life as I know it is over!

Nevertheless, she knew what she must do. Dropping her hands, she turned, fully prepared to accept her sentence.

There he stood: his countenance handsome and his eyes questioning, the exact opposite of the man she had been expecting—nay dreading—to see in that instance.

“Mr. Darcy?”

“Miss Elizabeth, I have been walking about the garden for some time hoping for a private audience with you.”

“Mr. Darcy!”

“There is something important I must say to you. I have already spoken with your father, and I have obtained his permission to speak with you. You see, a matter of the utmost concern was brought to my attention last evening—one that involves you.” He now stood directly before her.

Elizabeth studied the gentleman in silence. Gone was the man whose cultivated aloofness typically defined his countenance. In his place was a man whose eyes bore uncertainty, his voice tenderness.