“You were eager to pin the carriage incident on Mr. Wickham, and when it became clear you would not have success casting the blame off yourself, you suddenly became eager to leave. Why is that, Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth asked.
Several gasps pronounced the silence. Now they knew, too.
Mary’s scornful voice added to Elizabeth’s accusation. “Did not the Lord chasten the false Pharisees, calling them the offspring of vipers and of their father, the Devil? It is an abomination for a man of God to act deceitfully, and even worse for you to put the vainglorious whims of your patroness above the will of God.You will receive just payment for your sins on Judgment Day.”
The threat of eternal damnation, the same prospect he held over his parishioner’s heads every Sunday, broke Mr. Collins. He lurched forward, hands pressed together in a plea. “I wished to please Her Ladyship and cause a delay. Only a delay. Nothing more.”
Lady Catherine objected, as she was wont to do, but in this case, Elizabeth did not blame her. “I never asked you to do such a thing, nor had such a scheme entered my mind.”
An idea took root in Elizabeth’s mind — one which might benefit everyone. In her gravest tone, she said, “What if I had died, Mr. Collins? Your sabotage could easily be seen by a jury as an attempted murder. What if my father had been the victim of your interference? Anyone would assume your attempt was motivated by impatience to collect your inheritance and cast us out to the hedgerows.”
Mama fanned her flushed face. “Appalling!”
Fitzwilliam nodded. “Indeed. The charges against you are grievous, Mr. Collins.”
The colonel added, “An accusation of murder is enough to draw the Archbishop’s attention. You would be stripped of your title and of your living, cast out of society with no hope of redemption.”
Mr. Collins blubbered, “Anything … I will do anything to … rectify … the situation. Only, please say nothing to the Archbishop.”
Calm settled over Elizabeth as she seized the opportunity she had been seeking since her Mother’s hope of bearing a son had shriveled and her nervous spells had begun. “There are only two things I require.” She paused, securing Mr. Collins’ full attention before continuing, “The first is that you dedicate all the devotion you currently grant to your patroness on your family, foremost of whom is the wife you have been neglecting by your continued presence here. You will strive to become a man worthy of her respect and admiration, fulfilling your duties in such a way as to raise her whole family in the esteem of the rectory in which you reside.”
Hunsford had the potential to provide handsomely for the Collinses. A rector’s position was not a lowly one, and if Mr. Collins made himself more agreeable, he would reap the benefit of his parishioner’s kindness along with the tithes and fees he received. Charlotte would suffer no disadvantage or discomfort.
Mr. Collins nodded vigorously. “I will. I swear it. I will depart immediately to Hunsford and attend to Charlotte.”
A promising start, but Elizabeth was not done. “That brings us to my second requirement.” She paused, feeling the impudence of her demand. “You will agree to end the entail on my father’s estate, allowing us a common recovery and forfeiting your inheritance in favor of my mother and sisters.”
He did not like that part of the agreement. Elizabethhad not expected him to, so she added convincing incentive. “If you accept these conditions, I will agree to overlook your attempt against my life. Furthermore, I will not send a letter detailing your grossly immoral conduct to the Archbishop.”
Mr. Collins sat down hard in the nearest chair. After some minutes, he said, “I have no choice. I must accede to your wishes.”
Elizabeth inhaled and exhaled deeply. “On both accounts, Mr. Collins. If I hear you are neglecting Charlotte, the letter will get sent.”
His face in flames now, Mr. Collins nodded.
Satisfied, Elizabeth said, “Very well, Papa will make arrangements with Uncle Philips first thing in the morning — before the wedding — so as not to delay your return to Hunsford.”
Mr. Collins nodded again, quite speechless.
Mama, on the other hand, had never been more pleased. “Bless you, Lizzy. I always said you could not have been born so clever for nothing.”
Clever? Elizabeth was not so certain her cleverness was not more of an impediment than a gift. She had thought herself an excellent judge of character until Fitzwilliam challenged her prejudice against him. And, more recently, she had feared that without her full memory, he would lose interest in her … or worse … stop loving her.
Foolish thoughts for one praised for her cleverness.
Elizabeth would never stop cultivating her mind;she would always enjoy deep conversation and witty banter. But she had learned the strength of her heart, and the strength of her love for Fitzwilliam Darcy ran far deeper than his position and property, encompassed far more than their matching intellects and shared interests.
Having lost a piece of herself for a while, Elizabeth now understood the meaning of love.
Fitzwilliam was her heart — her missing part.
CHAPTER 37
Elizabeth opened her window, appreciating the puffy, white clouds in the azure sky, and closed her eyes to better take in the sweet aroma of the bloomed roses scenting the air. The day was perfect.
Mrs. Hill hummed a merry tune as she flitted from one room to the next, her footfall pausing outside Elizabeth’s bedchamber. “You look absolutely stunning, love,” she said, frowning when her appraising gaze reached Elizabeth’s worn half-boots. “Except for those.”
Chuckling, Elizabeth pointed at the pair of slippers with shimmering satin rosettes by the door. “It is only for the short walk to the church. You can hardly expect me to ride in the carriage.”
