“But why must we depart at such an unfashionable hour? Lydia will be most displeased to be torn from her officers.”
“A matter we shall address tomorrow, Mrs. Bennet,” he replied firmly. “Now, come along, I wish to leave sooner rather than later.”
Upon gathering in Netherfield’s grand entrance hall, Mr. Bennet was taken aback to find his eldest daughters also prepared to leave.
“I believe we had an understanding that you would stay.”
“We could not in good conscience remain while you all departed,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, it seemed cruel to send the coachmen and horses out twice in one night.”
“My Lizzy, ever thoughtful.” Bennet’s expression softened. “Very well, let us be off.”
“I don’t want to go!” Lydia’s face contorted in a childish pout, and she stomped her foot. “Captain Carter promised me a special surprise in the garden.”
“He promised you what?” Bennet’s voice rose sharply.
“A special surprise. I’m a great favourite with all the officers. They are forever begging for my kisses.” Her lower lip jutted forward defiantly. “I want to stay and receive my surprise.”
“The only surprise awaiting you will be my hand against your impudent backside if you do not leave this house, and enter the carriage immediately.”
“Mr. Bennet,” his wife interjected in an attempt to cajole her husband out of his petulance. “Our Lydia is merely high-spirited. Can she not remain for her surprise? Surely there is no harm in allowing her this small pleasure?”
Bennet gave Lydia a sideways glance before turning his full attention back to his wife.
“Do you recall Miss Crowther and her unexpected ‘surprise’?”
All colour drained from Mrs. Bennet’s face. After a moment of horrified contemplation, she seized her daughter’s wrist and pulled her towards the waiting carriage.
“We depart immediately. Not another word, Lydia,” her mother forced out between clenched teeth when her youngest squawked in protest. “I will explain further when we get home.”
Elizabeth’s family, clustered aroundthe breakfast table the following morning, looked up when Mamma set her teacup down with unusual firmness.
“Will you now explain why we departed Netherfield with such haste last evening?”
“Let us finish our meal in peace,” replied her husband, buttering his toast with deliberate care. “The front parlour will better suit the discussion that awaits us.”
Before he could elaborate further, the breakfast room door burst open with such force, it rebounded against the wall. Mr. Collins stood in the doorway, his clerical garb rumpled and his countenance a portrait of indignation.
“Abandoned! At a prestigious social gathering!” he sputtered, nostrils flaring. “Left to fend for myself among strangers! Had it not been for Mr. Darcy’s gracious intervention, I might have found myself sleeping in the stables! Mr. Bingley’s footman delivered me here this morning in a cart, like an unwanted parcel, no less, when I should have been afforded the dignity of his personal carriage had he not had urgent business in London.”
“Mr. Bingley gone to town? For what reason?” Mamma’s voice climbed an octave. “Has anyone else… that is… Mr. Bingley’s sisters. Surely his sisters remain?”
“The entire party departs tomorrow with Mr. Darcy. The house is being shuttered, as we speak.”
“Impossible!” Mamma leapt up, only to sink back down, her well-used handkerchief flapping ineffectually in front of her face. Elizabeth caught Jane’s eye, and witnessed her sister’s expression of quiet devastation. Mr. Collins, still vibrating with indignation in the doorway, cleared his throat.
“Despite this grievous offense to my person, I shall proceed with my intention to offer for Cousin Elizabeth.”
“You shall do nothing of the sort,” Papa remarked, his voice as casual as if he was commenting on the morning frost. “Not to Elizabeth, nor to any daughter of mine.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Let me be perfectly clear,” her father continued, each syllable clipped and precise. “No proposals. None whatsoever. Have I made myself understood?”
“Thank you, Papa,” Elizabeth said, cutting off Mr. Collins’ssputtering response.
“I should have quashed this nonsense upon his arrival. Forgive me for indulging in my amusement at your expense.” Papa addressed the room without sparing his cousin another glance. “It seems as though I shall not get to enjoy the rest of my meal. Well, no matter, to the parlour, all of you. I have a few things to discuss. Mr. Collins is excluded as he will be occupied with packing his belongings and removing himself from our home.”
Meanwhile, Mr. Collins gaped, resembling a carp suddenly plucked from its pond. With a feeble – “Oh, my!” – Mamma swooned, and Jane rushed to attend to Mamma, while Mary shepherded her younger sisters towards the parlour. As Jane coaxed Mamma back to consciousness with sips of tepid tea, Mr. Collins seized his moment amidst the confusion. He captured Elizabeth’s hand, and dropped heavily to one knee.
