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“Disruptions to her routine make your mother less calm.”

Elizabeth thought that was the nicest way to describe manic she had ever heard.

“You think it will be better after Mr. Collins leaves?”

“Perhaps. Please forgive me for saying this but I believe Mr. Collins has additional plans for you Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth had been trying to convince herself that Mr. Collins was not singling her out. That Claire said the same thing shattered her fragile construct. She sat silently, just nodding her head.

“If he asks and you say no, what are the consequences?”

“Other than the usual screeching, I do not know.”

--

The next six days were a daily trial for Elizabeth. The weather was ghastly and everyone was confined indoors. Her father hid in his study, ignoring Mr. Collins. Her mother was extra shrill, especially when talking to Elizabeth. And other than Mary, her sisters were no help. Lydia openly mocked her with no remonstration from either parent and Jane took the opportunity to hide. Because Mr. Collins would not leave Elizabeth alone. It would not have been her choice but she could have coped if he had at least been quiet. Of course this was anything but the case. Elizabeth idly wondered if Mr. Collins was an anti-Trappist. Rather than minimal verbal communication he adhered to the opposite. She had to stop herself from mentally wandering down heretical and sacrilegious musings. So she was stuck day after day with a dribbling idiot while her mother sat there looking smug.

And as had occurred far too many times since her return to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth contemplated her notions of family. Because she was thoroughly confused. The house was silent, everyone was asleep, but she lay on her bed unable to calm her whirring mind. Certainties of her youth were no longer the case. Even her thoughts of four years earlier were being challenged.

She had gone to London to aid her family. It was not something that took any time, there was no consideration of the costs of such an action, it had been the work of a moment, from thought to deed. Family supported family, when the rest of the world could not be relied upon, you could rely on family. The action she was sure of, the maxim on family was the exact opposite.

God’s will and the actions of others were her next source of consideration. That her parents had five daughters was God’s will. That scarlet fever had wiped out all of her father’s family was also in the hands of God. Yet the entail which seemed to consume every waking moment of her mother was the action of her great-grandfather, her own father’s grandfather. That there was still an entail on the estate was not the fault of any living soul. But the consequences of the entail on the other hand…

Her mother had strange notions of family. She expected to be saved by either her daughters or brother. A brother that she had visited once in four years. If Mr. Bennet was to die suddenly then Mrs. Bennet still expected her brother to save her, and any unmarried daughters. He had a new wife, four children of his own, young Edward could soon marry and become a father himself. But she expected her family to save her. And then there was Elizabeth, who despite having only returned weeks ago after four years helping Mrs. Bennet’s brother, was expected to marry the biggest buffoon in Britain. After all, family looks after family. Elizabeth’s own thoughts and action from four plus years earlier.

But it was the next stage that was provoking the most confusion. The actions of her parents, or rather their inaction. Elizabeth was not as devout as her sister Mary but she read her bible every week and had a good memory. Once she recalled the verse from Proverbs she could not get it out of her mind.

‘He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand: but the hand of the diligent maketh rich.’

When she first returned to Longbourn she had shied away from directly criticising her parents, even to herself. But it was fundamental to her confusion. Her parents had sacrificed nothing for their daughters. Elizabeth had, willingly, sacrificed four years for her family. And now it appeared that she was to be sold off so that her mother could continue to be Mistress of Longbourn. Elizabeth’s own wants and needs were not considered for a moment.

Which, of course, led not to confusion but anger. Daughters had no value other than to be sold off. It did not matter to whom, as long as the family gained from the transaction. And as Mr. Collins was the heir to the estate, the family would gain.

Elizabeth felt she had sacrificed enough for her family. Even if she had not spent four years in London then she still would reject the Reverend William Collins. She would not marry him if he was the last man on earth. Because what was clear was that her family did not know Elizabeth any more. And other than Mary, did not want to get to know her, understand her outlook on life, just be interested in her. Her sadness and anger were woven together.

--

It was Elizabeth’s anger that drove her response to the annoyance that was Mr. Collins. She borrowed her father’s copy of The Chronicles of the Kings of England by Robert Dodsley. She took to leaving it open at the page detailing the conflict between Henry II and Thomas Becket. Mr. Collins missed the reference entirely but both Mary and her father looked sharply at Elizabeth when they saw the same page again and again.

“Elizabeth, why are you always reading about the reign of Henry II?”

Her father’s tone was sharp, his usual indolence not in evidence.

“It falls open to that page. I am actually reading about Queen Matilda, the rightful female monarch ousted by the male usurper Stephen of Blois.”

For the first time in her life Elizabeth lied directly and without qualm to her father. Queen Matilda was a convenient excuse, and only a few pages away in the book. Sadly her subtle plan had been too subtle for Mr. Collins, though not for her father or sister. She knew it was wrong, and petty, but that was what she had been reduced to.

Finally the day of the ball dawned, the persistent rain had ended, leaving the paths and tracks muddy and sodden. Claire helped Elizabeth prepare but was unable to cheer her charge up as usual. Elizabeth was listless, her normal vitality missing. Claire and Robert were collected and left for Netherfield Park. The Bingleys had hired additional servants for the evening and Elizabeth had been happy for the two of them to earn some additional money. She also knew that she would be happier with both of them there, even if they were working.

There was no way that eight people could fit in the Bennet carriage so Mary and Elizabeth were once again able to ride with their Aunt and Uncle. Any concerns about a confrontation at the receiving line were for naught. Miss Bingley, equally concerned, had a footman call to her as Elizabeth approached. She greeted Mr. Bingley and then was able to slide past Miss Bingley while that lady looked over her shoulder. It was seamlessly done, a well-timed two second interruption. Miss Bingley appeared not to want to converse with Elizabeth, and she was happy to oblige. As they entered the ballroom Mr. Darcy approached.

“Miss Elizabeth, may I have the first set, if it is free?”

Elizabeth did not gape at this unexpected offer, but it was a close-run thing. Then she realised that the man in front of her had still not apologised to her sister. The petty devilment of the past week was still in evidence.

“I am sorry Mr. Darcy but that set is already taken by my cousin. No other sets are yet spoken for. And I happen to know that Mary here does not yet have a partner for the opening set. Would she be tolerable?”

Darcy visibly winced and lowered his head. Mary looked at her sister in astonishment.