Mr.Collinswasgrowingmore impatient by the hour.
Papa continued to put him off, saying that he was considering not even selling the Eros statue, or at least that he would not be selling to the first person to offer. I continued to plead with him when we were in private not to sell it to Lady Catherine at all, and at last, he said he agreed with me.
But it was not until the fourth day of Mr. Collins’ stay that Papa finally consented to see the man in his study. Jane and I shared a glance, and we both let go a sigh of relief. Surely, Papa would send him away now, having toyed with him long enough.
But, my father reasoned, Mr. Collins was the heir to Longbourn, so it was not altogether improper that the man should receive some hospitality in his future home, over and beyond his stated object of securing the sculpture. And Mama would not hear of him going until he had a chance to know her daughters—save for Jane—so that he might choose a bride from among us.
Not that any of us were interested in that scheme. I had caught Lydia and Kitty behind the house, giggling Mr. Collins’ name and then pretending to cast up their accounts. Mary refused to make eye contact with him, and I had decided that I would rather sit beside Collins than opposite him at table because watching him eat revolted me. No, Mama would not find a willing daughter to become the next mistress of Longbourn.
And so, it was with a sense of deliverance that I watched Mr. Collins disappear inside the study. Mama and my sisters, and I had just returned from shopping in Meryton, and I’d put a hole in my stocking on the way back. I settled down with my sewing basket to mend it and expected all would be right in half an hour. Collins would take his leave by the morrow, and life would resume as before.
Five minutes later, however, he was back. “Cousin Elizabeth, I wonder if I might have a word?”
The stocking fell into my lap. Jane’s eyes found mine with a fresh horror, and she shook her head ever so subtly.
“Of course she will!” Mama answered for me. “Jane, I want you upstairs. And you, too, Kitty. Come! I need to speak with you about something!”
Collins stood in the middle of the doorway while everyone tried to crowd past him. He didn’t even think to move out of the way—just stared at them as they squeezed out. Then he smoothed back the long hair he’d combed over his balding spot, walked up to me, and hit the rug.
“Dearest cousin Elizabeth! I know not when the fancy overtook me, but it has been many moments that I have considered you the handsomest woman of my acquaintance!” He grabbed my hand right out of my lap and kissed the backs of my fingers.
I pulled my hand away, but I could not stand up because he was blocking my escape. “Mr. Collins! You forget yourself.”
“Oh, but I have not, my dear cousin! Perhaps you will allow me to delineate my reasons for marrying. First, Lady Catherine has described the ideal course for a parson as that of a head of his household, marrying prudently, that all decorum should be served and I might gain for myself a modest and reliable helpmeet. Second, I believe it is the duty of a parson to set the example of felicity—”
“Mr. Collins, forgive me for interrupting, but you could not prevail upon me with any reason whatsoever, for I do not intend to accept.”
He drew a shaking breath, his eyes bulging, and reached for my hand once more. “And lastly, it is the express desire of Lady Catherine that I ought to secure, by purchase or marriage or any means necessary, that upon which her heart is set.”
I blinked. Shook my head. “You want to marry me just so you can buy the statue for Lady Catherine? I have never heard anything so absurd!”
“Not merely to please Lady Catherine, but ourselves! It occurs to me that in the sad but inevitable future, your father’s decease may create such a hardship that is in my power to alleviate. My dearest cousin, allow me to protest the earnestness of my suit, the depth of my feelings—”
I lurched to my feet, heedless that I bumped him in the chin with my knee. “Feelings which cannot have existed for more than five minutes! Mr. Collins, I have had quite enough. I must insist that you respect my refusal. It is not possible for me to accept.”
Still squatting on the floor, he spun to face me as I stepped around him. “But Miss Elizabeth! Lady Catherine will be most seriously displeased!”
I marched out of the room, leaving his complaints and blatherings behind, and burst through the door of my father’s study. “Papa! You cannot imagine what that oaf has done now!”
Papa was just dipping his quill in the inkpot, but he looked up with a bemused smile. “I expect he has taken it into his head to try marrying one of my daughters. Was it Lydia?”
I crossed my arms and huffed. “This is no laughing matter! He actually plopped down in front of me and asked for my hand in marriage, and do you know why? Because he wants that cursed statue!”
“Elizabeth, my child, language. What answer did you give him?”
I snorted. “Of course I refused him!”
He nodded, his eyes on the paper before him. “Excellent, excellent. ‘Twould be very awkward if you accepted.”
“Awkward does not begin to describe my feelings on the matter. The man is a toad.”
“Hmm? Oh! Yes, I would think you could do far better than Collins, but I was thinking of the sculpture. I’m afraid Lady Catherine cannot get it for love or money at this point.”
I sighed and felt my racing heart slow. “Oh, Papa, I am so glad to hear it. It was not worth whatever risk—”
“What I mean is that I have accepted a better offer.” He squinted at his paper, then shook his head, his eyebrows jumping. “Afarbetter offer.”
My stomach dropped into my shoes. “Papa, what have you done?” I whispered.
