“Of course! Thank you, Mr. Bennet!” With that, Mr. Collins all but ran out the door to propose to his beloved Mary.
Mr. Bennet sighed and leaned back in his chair. Should he have told his heir that the estate was failing? There was nothing Mr. Collins could do, other than wait to inherit it, but did he not have the right to know?
***
“I have Mr. Bennet’s permission to speak with Miss Mary privately, Mrs. Bennet.” Mr. Collins spoke quietly, hoping not to make a scene out of his proposal.
Mrs. Bennet drew in a loud breath, but before she could speak – or screech – Mr. Collins stopped her. “I hoped to speak with her in the back garden.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” That Mrs. Bennet was disappointed could not be denied; doubtless she had hoped to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Mr. Collins slipped past her and went to his Mary, who was seated quietly in the parlour. “Miss Mary, I hoped to have a word with you. Would you walk with me in the back garden?”
“Of course, Mr. Collins. Let me see if Lizzy is available to accompany us.”
“I have your father’s permission to speak with you privately, Miss Mary.”
“Oh!” Mary changed colour rapidly, going first pink and then white. “Very well; let me just get my cloak.”
When Mary returned, Mr. Collins offered her his arm. In silence, the couple walked well out of sight of the house. Mr. Collins then turned to her and said, “Miss Mary, you can hardly doubt what I intend to ask you. I am certain that my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. I entered the house with the purpose of acquainting myself with my relations, but I have made no secret of the fact that I also hoped to find one of the Bennet daughters suitable to be my wife. It seemed a proper recompense for inadvertently depriving her of her home, when…well, when the time came.”
Mary’s entire body stiffened. She was simply a pragmatic choice? Made in order to soothe a wounded conscience?
Mr. Collins saw the slight motion of her shoulders and immediately understood the cause. Remembering Mr. Bennet’s advice, he hastened on. “What I did not expect, however, was to find my heart touched. Miss Mary, I love you. I beg you to make me the happiest of men! To share my humble rectory in Kent, to help minister to my flock! I say nothing of our eventual habitation of Longbourn, as this would hardly be a fitting time for such a discussion, but I have no doubt that you will shine in every particular, no matter our living situation!”
Mary was now fully satisfied. Her answering smile stretched across her face, as she replied. “Oh, Mr. Collins! I love you, too!” With that, she astonished them both by throwing her arms around him and pressing her lips to his.
Mr. Collins was in no way adverse to her advances. Thus, it was some time before the two returned to Longbourn. There,they found Mrs. Bennet, eyes narrowed at the length of time they had been absent. But she was immediately placated when Mr. Collins announced, “Mary has agreed to make me the happiest of men!”
Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands with glee. Mary’s sisters crowded around her, congratulating her and offering to help her with her wedding dress, her bonnet, whatever she might need.
“When will the wedding take place?” Mrs. Bennet enquired, once the general hubbub had died down.
Mary looked at her intended, who shrugged.
“Whenever you wish,Mary,” he said, emphasising her name as if proud to have the right to so address her. “Sooner rather than later, I should think.”
“Perhaps just before Christmas, so that the Gardiners might attend?” Jane suggested.
And so it was agreed. Mr. Collins would return at once to Kent to make his house fit for his bride, and then come back to Meryton for the wedding.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The next day, Mr. Darcy accompanied Mr. Bingley on his visit to Longbourn. As they traveled the three miles in Mr. Darcy’s coach – it being too wet to venture out on horseback – Mr. Bingley gave voice to a concern that had haunted him since his friend’s arrival.
“See here, Darcy,” he began, and then stopped, seemingly embarrassed.
“Yes?”
“Well, it is just that…” Mr. Bingley trailed off and seemingly could not find the words he needed.
“Bingley, what on earth is the matter?”
“Why, I suppose I am rather concerned that you will steal Miss Bennet – that is, Miss Elizabeth – away from me!”
“I would never do such a thing to a friend,” Mr. Darcy said, solemnly. “That would be everything ungentlemanly and completely unforgiveable.”
Mr. Bingley rushed on. “It is just that you are ever so much more eligible than I, and were you to set your sights on her –“
