His mouth hung open, words unsaid, but I pressed on. “It’s about my... my clumsiness, you see.” I sighed deeply, looking mournfully toward the ceiling, as if my very existence were a burden. “You are a parson, are you not? You hear confessions from burdened souls, I imagine?”
His mouth closed, and he smiled. “But of course, fair cousin. And how may ease your cares? For the confession of sins, one to another, is one of the finest tenets of our faith—it keeps one pure, you see.”
“Ah. Well, then, I fear I must confess to the sins of envy and pride.”
He tilted his head and eased into a chair—regardless of the fact that I was still standing. Not to be dissuaded, I chose a seat nearby. “And… upon what matter does this… envy of yours trouble you, Cousin?” he asked.
“Oh, it vexes me in so many ways, I’ve hardly had the time to count them,” I gushed. “Especially now that I’ve seen how elegant all the other ladies in town are. I cannot help but feel entirely inadequate compared to them. Just yesterday, I tripped over a perfectly flat carpet, and as for my handwriting, well... it’s barely legible. I’m hopeless, really. What chance have I, clumsy as I am, to compare with the refined young women you must meet elsewhere?”
Mr. Collins blinked at me, thoroughly perplexed. He had clearly prepared for many scenarios, but self-sabotage wasn’t one of them. “Miss Elizabeth, surely you don’t mean to suggest—”
“But I do!” I insisted, my voice tinged with just the right amount of dramatic despair. “I’m afraid I lack the grace, the...je ne sais quoithat makes a woman truly attractive. The other ladies in Meryton—so elegant, so poised! And yet here I am, a poor imitation of refinement.” I shook my head sadly. “It must be a disappointment for you, I’m sure.”
He stared, trying to digest this unexpected detour. “N-no, Miss Elizabeth. You mustn’t be so... harsh on yourself. Lady Catherine herself has often remarked that—”
“Oh, Lady Catherine!” I exclaimed, cutting him off again. “She would take one look at me and instantly know what a disaster I am. Imagine! What would she say if she saw me falling flat on my face on the skating pond in Meryton?”
“Skating pond?” Mr. Collins repeated, his face blank.
“Yes!” I said, my voice rising with a sudden burst of inspiration. I glanced out the window and spotted my younger sisters, Lydia and Kitty, happily trudging along with their skates in hand. “You see, our housekeeper returned from Meryton only this morning with the news that the ladies in town are already out on the ice. My sisters were just heading there themselves! Oh, Mr. Collins, I cannot think of a better opportunity for you to see for yourself just how clumsy I really am.”
Mr. Collins’ mouth opened, then closed again. I could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. On one hand, I had just given him an excuse to avoid the unpleasant task of proposing to me. On the other, skating was undoubtedly an activity of dubious grace, and as a gentleman of good breeding, he probably hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with a pair of skates. The thought of watching me fall and flounder, however, seemed to intrigue him.
“Er... Miss Elizabeth,” he began, “I—I must admit I’ve never skated myself, but if you wish for me to accompany you—”
“Oh, but you must!” I declared, doing my very best to look pathetic. “I insist! After all, how could you possibly make a well-informed decision about my—er—suitabilitywithout first making a fair comparison to other ladies? Dancing—why, anyone can accomplish that, but it takes a true lady of breeding to master the art of skating well.”
His brow furrowed, and I saw the hesitation creep into his expression. He was starting to second-guess himself. “Well... I suppose... if it’s what you truly wish...”
“Oh, it is!” I assured him, already heading toward the door. “We shall meet the ladies in town, and you’ll see for yourself how little I possess in the way of grace or charm. My only fear is that you’ll find far more accomplished ladies there who would be much more suitable for a man of your standing.”
Mr. Collins’ mouth flapped open, but no sound came out. I could tell he was grappling with the confusion of having a woman practically reject herself before he’d even had the chance to offer. But his feet shuffled toward the door, and I knew he was hooked.
With a grin hidden safely from his view, I grabbed my shawl, thinking to myself how fortunate it would be if he took a fall on the ice. And, if I was especially lucky, perhaps he’d break something important—perhaps even his tongue.
Darcy
“Darcy, you look dreadful.”Bingley’s voice dragged me out of my stupor. I hadn’t realized I’d been staring into the empty hearth, my mind stuck replaying every humiliating moment from the ball the night before.
I blinked, shaking my head slightly. “Do I?”
Bingley grinned, all bright-eyed and cheerful as ever, despite the late hour. How he managed to look so fresh after a night like that, I’d never understand. “You do. A bit pale. Perhaps some fresh air would help? The pond in town is frozen over, and I hear there’s already some skating. Fancy that! I thought it would be another fortnight, at least.”
“Skating?” I repeated, blinking again, still half-dazed from lack of sleep. “You’re suggesting skating after dancing all night?”
“Why not?” Bingley replied, as though it were the most obvious solution in the world. “Fresh air, a little exercise—it’ll clear your head. Good for the nerves, you know.” He paused, then added with a sly grin, “Miss Bennet seemed to think it was a fine idea.”
Of course. Miss Bennet. I stared at him, realizing the true motivation behind his suggestion. It wasn’t the fresh air or the skating; it was her.
“Come, Darcy, it is not the time for gloominess. Do you know,” Bingley continued, waving a letter in his hand, “I’ve just had word from my solicitor in town. Some business that requires my attention, but I’ve decided it can wait. Much better attractions here, and surely old Robert can manage without me for a few more days.”
At this, Miss Bingley, who had been lurking by the window in a state of perpetual boredom, turned sharply. “Charles, youmustattend to your affairs. Meryton is hardly a place to linger when there are matters of importance awaiting you in London.”
Bingley waved her off with a good-natured chuckle. “Nonsense, Caroline. I’m enjoying my time here immensely. I’m sure my solicitor can manage just fine without me for a little while longer.”
Caroline’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue further. Clearly, she had hoped to drag him back to London as quickly as possible, but Bingley was not to be moved. His thoughts were clearly in Meryton—and more specifically, with Jane Bennet.
“I see,” I muttered, staring down at my hands, which had curled into fists at some point. Bingley was free to stay here, free to enjoy himself, free to court Miss Bennet. Free, in every way that I was not.
