Page 42 of Mr. Darcy’s Fiery Passion

Elizabeth looked at her foot on its cushion. She looked at the door across the room. There was no crutch in the house.

Stay where I am, she thought. I can hardly do anything else.

The door closed behind her mother.

Mr. Collins sat down. He drew his chair close to the sofa. Then he drew it closer. "Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth," he began, "your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness. But allow me to assure you that I have your respected mother's permission for this address."

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap. She decided to let him finish. It seemed the quickest way.

It was not quick. He gave his reasons for marrying, in order. A clergyman in easy circumstances ought to set the example of matrimony in his parish. A wife would add very greatly to his happiness. And it was the particular advice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

"Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion on the subject," he said. "'Mr. Collins,' she said, 'you must marry. Choose properly. Choose a gentlewoman for my sake. And for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, able to make a small income go a good way.'"

His eyes fell on her foot on its cushion. A small doubt crossed his face. "An active person," he repeated. "When you are recovered, of course."

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek.

He went on. He came to the entail, and his generous wish to choose a wife from among the daughters. He came to her fortune. "To fortune I am perfectly indifferent," he said. "I am well aware that one thousand pounds in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head I shall be uniformly silent. No ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."

One thousand pounds, thought Elizabeth. After Mama's decease. That was what she was worth, and Mr. Collins knew it to the shilling.

"Mr. Collins, you go too fast," she said. "I have not answered you yet. Thank you for the compliment. I mean that. But I cannot marry you."

Mr. Collins waved a hand. "I am not now to learn that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept," he said. "Sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged."

"Sir, I am not one of those young ladies. I mean what I say. You could not make me happy, and I am quite sure I could not make you happy either."

"When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the subject..."

"Mr. Collins!"

"...I shall hope to receive a more favorable answer. I know it to be the established custom of your sex. It is the usual practice of elegant females."

She tried to rise. A woman refused a man and left the room. She got her good foot on the floor and pushed up on the arm of the sofa. The bad ankle touched the carpet, and pain went through her to the hip. She sat down again, hard.

Mr. Collins took it for encouragement. He leaned nearer. "My dear cousin..."

Then she heard it. A step in the passage, slow and even. She knew that step. "Mr. Darcy!" she called.

The step stopped.

Mr. Collins turned his head. His mouth stayed a little open.

The door was rapped twice with an elbow, and it opened.

Mr. Darcy stood on the threshold. He took in the room in one look. He saw Mr. Collins's chair, and her foot on its cushion, and her face. "Miss Elizabeth," he said. "You called."

"I did." Her voice was very nearly steady. "Would you be so good as to lend me your arm, sir? I find I must go to the library."

He did not ask why. He crossed the room and stopped by the sofa, and held out his arm.

She took it, and he drew her up. Her bad foot came off the floor. Her weight went onto his arm, and he took it without a flicker.

Mr. Collins rose too, with his hands spread. "Mr. Darcy! Sir, I am delighted, of course. But my cousin and I were engaged in a matter of some delicacy. Your esteemed aunt herself... Cousin Elizabeth, I beg you will reflect."

"I am not an elegant female trying to plague you, sir," said Elizabeth. She hopped. "I am a rational creature, telling you the truth." She hopped again.

It was a long way to the door. She could not sweep out of a room on one foot. She had to hop, and stop, and hop, and Mr. Darcy matched her step for step.