Elizabeth stared at him, incredulous at such a suggestion, equally stunned as she had been when Mr. Collins introduced himself to Mr. Darcy back in Hertfordshire. For a clergyman, Mr. Collins was everything unwise and unreasonable, and his judgment was utterly faulty.
“My dear husband, surely you cannot consider such action!” Charlotte replied in a grave voice. “Going to London? All of a sudden? Intruding upon Lady Catherine, though she refused you explicitly? It would be most presumptuous!”
Mr. Collins turned upon her with uncharacteristic heat. “Presumptuous, madam? When her ladyship stands in need of every comfort and counsel?”
“If she needed it from you, she would have asked! You know that too well! Acting against her express wishes would anger her even further and might affect her whole opinion of you! If she requests your presence, I shall be the first to prepare your luggage.”
Mr. Collins seemed ready to argue; his eyes narrowed with rage, and he muttered something about the trials of a dutiful clergyman. After a while and two more drinks, he calmed down slightly but continued to speak absently about people’s lack of loyalty.
Despite Charlotte’s efforts, Mr. Collins was not to be kept in the house; he hurried back to Rosings, while the ladies remained to discuss the matter at length.
“I really do not see why this is such a scandal,” Elizabeth said. “Miss de Bourgh — healthy or ill — decided to go to London and spend some time with her uncle. Just as I decided to visit you and spend some time with you. What I find distressing is Lady Catherine’s response to her daughter’s decision. After all, Miss de Bourgh is older than Jane, is she not?”
Charlotte shrugged, poured them both a little sherry, and sipped from her glass.
“You cannot express such thoughts to Mr. Collins, or, God forbid, to Lady Catherine, but I agree with you utterly and completely. I find Lady Catherine’s insistence on keeping her daughter at Rosings strange and unreasonable. But who am I to tell?”
“From what I heard, Miss de Bourgh is her father’s heir, so the entire family fortune belongs to her, as well as the estate itself. She might do as she pleases with it, even sell it,” Elizabeth said, after she took a few sips from her own glass.
Charlotte looked at her in horror.
“Dear Eliza, do not say such a thing! Surely you know what a tragedy that would be for us! And how do you know that she now has control of it all? Does Lady Catherine not have a say?”
Elizabeth immediately regretted her indiscretion.
“I apologise. I spoke nonsense. I am sure Miss de Bourgh has no intention of selling Rosings. I just said that to make a point.”
“But how do you know it is hers to sell?” Charlotte insisted.
“I heard Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam talking about it, but I might be mistaken. Regardless, a mother cannot impose her will upon a daughter who is of age — that is my point.”
The afternoon passed with further discussion on the subject until Mr. Collins finally returned. He reported that Lady Catherine had left for London with Mrs. Jenkinson and Dr Blake.
“I tried to speak to her, but she would not have it. And she addressed Dr Blake quite angrily, too, I can tell you! She must be furious with Mrs. Jenkinson, as well, for not taking better care of Miss de Bourgh, and with Dr Blake for bringing his nephew to Rosings.”
Elizabeth held back an incredulous gasp, while Mr. Collins continued to rant.
“Anyone knows that a man who has been in the war cannot be trusted to act rationally! Dr Rease should not have been allowed anywhere near Lady Catherine and her daughter! So what if he was introduced at St James’s? He is still more a soldier than a gentleman!”
“Come, my dear sir, it is dinner time, so let us eat, and we shall discuss the matter further while enjoying your favourite dishes,” Charlotte said in a comforting tone, which had the desired effect. During dinner, Mr. Collins ate quite a lot and drank several glasses of wine while still blaming everyone for upsetting Lady Catherine. Eventually, the drink overcame him, and he retired early. Elizabeth also excused herself, grateful for a little bit of peace and quiet. Later that night, with Mr. Collins soundly asleep, Elizabeth went for another stroll.
The moon and the stars were bright, but everything else was dark around her. There were no windows glowing at Rosings, and somehow, the entire house, silent in the night, looked less impressive.
She remained close to the parsonage, reflecting that only a few days had passed since she had seen Mr. Darcy’s candlelit turmoil and Miss de Bourgh’s collapse.
Also, it had only been a week since she had received a marriage proposal from the last man in the world she had expected to address her in such words. In truth, she had never imagined that Mr. Darcy might ever use the words ardent love, let alone that he might have such feelings for anyone. And certainly not for her, the barely tolerable woman with whom he refused to dance.
What an amazing twist of fate! How her life and Jane’s had changed in just a few days! Dear Jane, how happy she must be! Elizabeth dearly missed her eldest sister, the one who had always been her comfort.
How she longed to speak to her, even if she could not reveal most of the things that burdened her soul.
As she walked back into the house, Elizabeth found herself wondering what she was still doing there, in Kent, listening to Mr. Collins’s annoying complaints, which would probably not cease any time soon.
She should be with her sister Jane, with her uncle and aunt and her dear cousins. In a corner of her heart, a timid voice whispered that she longed to be in the same town as Mr. Darcy, that Kent had lost its charm without him. But that voice, Elizabeth quickly silenced.
Chapter 8
During the night, Elizabeth slept little and poorly, and, in the morning, her resolution was made. At breakfast, Mr. Collins resumed his whining, and collecting herself, she addressed her companions with quiet determination.
