Page 38 of The Widower of Pemberley

Mr. Collins followed them to the vestibule.

Mr. Darcy looked at the clergyman in the way he might study a rat that had found its way into the pantry.

Mr. Collins took Elizabeth to the side and said, “My loveliest cousin, though Lady Catherine is not presently on the best of terms with Mr. Darcy, he is still her beloved nephew and a man of great consequence in the world. Likely you will be in company with him on occasion when what I hope comes to pass—but let us speak no more upon that until the situation is proper. You must be as complaisant and obliging towards Mr. Darcy as if he were the king.”

Her cousin paused, giving Elizabeth time to rejoice and despair at the sentence which promised a future proposal from this gentleman more clearly than anything he had yet said directly. “That is, you must satisfy Mr. Darcy in any particular befitting your station as a gentlewoman and that respects every moral and social duty you possess.”

Elizabeth lowered her head modestly. “Yes, I shall.”

Mr. Darcy had already donned his greatcoat and gone out. He was pacing back and forth in the garden when she stepped out. There was a great scowl upon his face.

The manner in which Mr. Collins had spoken suddenly gave Elizabeth a different idea: perhaps he meant to make her an offer to be his mistress.

That would match the way he looked at her, but she could not believe that a respectable gentleman would make any such offer to a woman whom he had allowed his small child and his sixteen-year-old sister to become dear friends with.

They do say that he murdered his wife.

As Mr. Darcy paced, Elizabeth matched his step, but he did not begin the conversation. They made three turns about the garden in silence.

Elizabeth determined to speak at last and asked, “Mr. Darcy, what—”

He spoke at the same moment, saying, “Miss Elizabeth, I first—”

They both stopped and smiled at each other. Elizabeth gestured at him to continue.

“Miss Elizabeth, I first must ask whether you have entered into an engagement with Mr. Collins.”

What a beginning.

When Elizabeth did not answer, he added, “Bingley informed me that Miss Bennet thinks it is likely that he will make you such an offer.”

“I am surprised,” Elizabeth replied, her face heating, “to hear that my doings are discussed in such a way. I did not know that Jane was on such terms of intimacy with Mr. Bingley as to inform him of such speculations.”

“My question may seem an impertinence, and I apologise for that,” Mr. Darcy replied. “However, I assure you that I have a strong reason for wishing to know.”

Elizabeth’s insides turned to ice. “He has not.”

Mr. Darcy nodded slightly. His face became stiff. She could not read what emotion was in it.

“I believe he means to make me an offer,” she added, saying it quickly aloud to make it seem more real to herself. “And I mean to accept him if he does.”

“You wish to encourage him?” he asked.

“What choice do I have? Papa could die at any minute. Dr. Cliff said there is at best one chance in two that he will live out the week. What choice do I have?” she repeated.

“And you mean to do your duty? To care for Miss Bennet?”

“Yes!” A wave of sickness washed over Elizabeth. “Why must you ask me these questions? But yes, I shall do it. I only wish…”

“That Mr. Collins was less of a dullard,” Mr. Darcy finished for her.

“Lord! He is to be my husband. I give you no permission to insult him.”

They walked twice more back and forth in the garden, from the wall on one side to the trees on the other. Mr. Darcy’s face waslike carven stone. She could not read his thoughts, but he was greatly perturbed.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he spoke at last. “I mean to make you an offer of marriage.”

“You mean to make me an offer of marriage!” Elizabeth replied in complete astonishment, and yet to part of her mind it made perfect sense.