Page 61
Elizabeth had not even managed to sit down at the dining table before her mother started.
“Lizzie! How dare you leave Mr. Bingley’s ball after supper. What must he think.”
Elizabeth looked round the table, a sardonic smile, smirks, lips pressed into a thin line, there were many expressions but other than Mary little sympathy. Elizabeth tried to calm her beating heart.
“I spoke to him before I left. He knew that I had been injured by Mr. Collins and understood that as I could not dance there was no point in staying. I thanked him for holding the ball and he thanked me for attending, and staying through supper despite my discomfort.”
Elizabeth’s honest answer stunned her mother into silence, she had been unaware that Elizabeth had spoken to Mr. Bingley before her departure. She took a moment to rally.
“That is as may be, but you did not inform either your father or I before you left. I found out from Mary at the end of the seventh set.”
There was not a question there so Elizabeth kept eating.
“Lizzie! Pay attention to me. Why did you not inform us?”
“To what purpose. I told my sister and our host. My foot is badly bruised and was starting to hurt something fierce. I looked for you but you were talking to Lady Lucas at the other end of the room so I asked Mary to inform you.”
“We are your parents. This conceited independence has to stop. Mr. Collins was most upset, he wanted to sit with you and offer his apologies.”
Elizabeth looked at the gentleman, surprisingly silent so far.
“He had already apologised, many times in fact. I wanted to come home, take off my stocking and ice my foot.”
She knew the reference to removing her stocking would cause another pause in the conversation. And even Mr. Collins could not talk about such things.
“Yes well, it was most upsetting.”
As Elizabeth was the one with the bruised foot and her mother had evidenced no concern in the first half of the evening, she was pretty sure this had nothing to do with her injury and everything to do with trying to control her. ‘Conceited independence’, an interesting turn of phrase. And, as seen from her mother’s point of view, probably true.
As soon as he had finished his breakfast Mr. Bennet left to his study as usual. Elizabeth saw Mr. Collins nod at her mother and she had a sudden chill in her body.
“Girls, attend me in the drawing room. Not you Lizzie, you are to stay. Mr. Collins wishes to have a private audience.”
On another day, and with her injured foot not hurting so much, she would have protested vehemently. But Elizabeth realised that there was no way to avoid this meeting, or to avoid the confrontation that would follow.
Elizabeth had been propositioned on three separate occasions to be the mistress of different gentlemen and yet this was still the most insulting 15 minutes of her life.
“You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse; however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble, my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life.”
That was almost the best part of the speech because it went downhill from there. Elizabeth was barely holding onto her temper and tried to tune out much of his speech. Mr. Collins rambled on about how he was marrying on Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s instructions, how she, Elizabeth, would have to temper her wit and vivacity, and even commented that she had no dowry. He managed to sound like Mr. Wickham, claiming that he would make no mention of it again. It was at this point that Elizabeth attempted to reject this most cack-handed of marriage offers.
“It is impossible for me to accept this proposal, I must decline.”
It was blunt, but bluntness was needed with Mr. Collins. When looking back on the morning, it was the next words that caused Lizzie’s temper to overflow her restraint. Mr. Collins proceeded to insult her by claiming that young ladies initially refused an offer they secretly meant to accept. He followed this up by extolling his virtues, as if being the toady of Lady Catherine de Bourgh was a virtue. And the final blow was his assertion that she may never receive another offer of marriage, especially given her lack of dowry. He and Mr. Wickham had gone to the same school of tone-deaf-ness.
“What do I have to say to you for you to understand that accepting your proposal is impossible. My answer, expressed as plainly as I can, is NO.”
"You are uniformly charming and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable."
Mr. Collins had brought it upon himself. Elizabeth’s temper went full Vesuvius.
“Mr. Collins! Please pay me the courtesy of acknowledging that I know my own mind. You are not proposing to my parents, who are already married to each other, you are proposing to me. Badly. I care not about Lady Catherine’s instructions what I care about is the man in front of me who thinks it acceptable to insult me while proposing at the same time. I will not marry you. I will never marry you. I would not marry you if you were the last man of earth. You are a poor man of God. You daily breach two of the Commandments and at least five of the deadly sins. No Mr. Collins. No. Never. Ever. Am I clear enough for you now.”
The fight was on.
“How dare you accuse me of such despicable things. I am an ordained minister granted a Living by Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself. You must be hysterical to think that I could ever breach the Commandments, or succumb to any of the deadly sins. I will be having words with your father and the local parson.”
“Really Mr. Collins. ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’ You venerate Lady Catherine before God himself. I do not have to be an expert on Canon Law to know this. And I have seen your gaze when here at Longbourn. ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s house’. That ties nicely into the deadly sins. Envy and greed right there; gluttony at every meal; sloth in your physical appearance and health; and misplaced pride in your situation. I look forward to a discussion with Rev Ferry. Good day.”
