Page 42 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

“You have not had time to consider the privilege that I bestow upon you,” he insisted.

“That is true, but I have no interest in those privileges, so you must bestow them upon someone else, sir.” Elizabeth’s expression was exasperated and not a little apprehensive. She was bold indeed to speak to a man in such a manner, but she was determined to hear as little of what he had to say as possible.

“Miss Bennet, your refusal to hear me is hasty and disrespectful of me as your better, of the office of the clergy that I hold, and the wishes of my patroness, the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

“Perhaps, but that is a risk I am willing to take. If you take one more step towards me, sir, I shall scream loud enough to bring half of Ramsgate down upon you.” Elizabeth warned.

“But that would ruin you and all of your sisters, walking out alone, meeting with a man in secret, being accosted, whether by your own will or that of another. Would you risk such an event?” Mr Collins seemed pleased by the power he perceived that he held over her.

“You seem to have thought of everything, or more likely, your patroness did, but it is a risk I shall take. My sisters and I have ample portions to provide for us in such an event. I would rather see all of us living upon our dowries in comfort, unmarried, than submit to you in any fashion. I am not unprotected, sir. To say that my father will be displeased that you approached me is an understatement.”

She made another attempt to evade him, but his hand shot out, grasping her wrist hard enough that pain shot up her arm.

Elizabeth screamed so loudly that she hurt her own ears, and a flock of herring gulls took flight from a nearby hilltop. She twisted her arm away and in doing so, caused her own loss of balance. She fell, slipping upon loose stone and landing on her knee. Her bonnet fell askew, and as she struggled to rise, she was pulled up by her arm by Mr Collins. With her other hand, she grasped at anything she could, and her hand fell upon a large rock.

As he pulled her body to his, she hit him as hard as she could with it across his head and face.

Mr Collins, astonished and enraged, bellowed something incoherent and fell upon the ground. Elizabeth prepared to flee before he could gain his bearings, but another sound was heard from nearby.

Male voices; loud, familiar-sounding boots. Officers. The sound of officers was impossible to mistake. There were thousands of them in Ramsgate. One could not go ten yards without encountering them in large groups, marching, training, and going about the business of His Majesty's army.

At least twelve men in uniform crested the nearby hill from where the herring gulls had been disturbed. They approached, rapidly, and with obvious intent. The two who reached them first took in the scene. Elizabeth, bonnet lost and blowing away, her gown scuffed with dirt from falling on her knee. Her hair in disorder, her gloves ruined, gripping the rock in her hand, and out of breath. Her eyes were wild with terror.

A junior officer was sent to chase Elizabeth’s bonnet while two other officers dragged Mr Collins to his feet.

“Explain yourself, sir!”

“She…she…struck me!” Mr Collins cried. “That vile, pernicious vixen, she hit me! All I wanted was to speak to her!”

“Looks like he wanted more than talking!” an officer called out.

“My conversation never left any woman so badly used!” shouted another.

“Did the innocent, sweet lady who never bothered a soul injure your dignity, sir?” a third jeered from the back, to the taunts and laughter of several others.

A captain pushed his way to the front. “I agree with the lieutenant. This lady is known to us. We see her often, walking in the early mornings when we are out on manoeuvres. She never disturbs anyone. Is she likely to have just attacked an innocent man for no reason?”

Angry voices and shouts of dissent rippled through the group as the private ran back to them, out of breath.

“Your bonnet, miss. It’s in a fearful state.”

“I am a clergyman!” Mr Collins cried indignantly to the jeers of the men.

“Congratulations.” The captain replied. “What has that to do with your obvious disturbance of this gentlewoman?”

“I am not to be disobeyed by the likes of this she-devil!” Mr Collins shouted in anger. “My business with this woman is sanctified by my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”

“And that, sir, is the least compelling argument you could make for accosting a lady.” The captain’s face was grim with anger. “Tarlton! Sanford! Take him to camp and throw him in lock-up! Colonel Holton and the magistrate can deal with him! Walmsley, you will accompany us to Miss Bennet’s home. The rest of you are dismissed to camp. Not to the pubs, mind you! You know the colonel’s orders.”

The dismissed men followed the two who were ordered to deal with Mr Collins. Elizabeth would not wish to be her attacker on this journey, for the officers were angrier than a nest of disturbed bees.

The captain turned to her. “I apologise, Miss…”

“Miss Eliz-zab-beth B-b-ennet-t.” Now that the matter was done, the realisation of what might have befallen her was sinking in. Her bravado failed and she began to tremble.

“Oh, dear. Do not fall to pieces yet, miss. Not yet. We must take you home first. May Lieutenant Walmsley and I accompany you to your family?”

“Yes, p-please.” Elizabeth was so grateful she nearly cried. The captain was correct. She must reach the cottage before she fell apart.