A Gentlewoman for Her Sake

By Sofie

  Mr William Collins, rector of Hunsford parish, was not well pleased. He had come on what was essentially a goodwill visit to Longbourn, the home of his cousin Mr Bennet, and extended an olive branch against the express wishes of his own dearly departed father. He had also magnanimously given it be known that he intended to offer his hand to one of his cousin's five daughters to make amends for the fact that he was the heir to the Longbourn estate and upon Mr Bennet's death his wife and daughters would be homeless and virtually penniless. It seemed only fair to Mr Collins that such a gesture should be rewarded with ample gratitude, but shortly after arriving at his cousin's home and discovering that the eldest daughter was appropriately the most beautiful and even tempered and the only one of the daughters that perfectly fit his requirements in a wife, Mrs Bennet disclosed that Miss Bennet was not to even be contemplated as a choice for him. It turned out that he was not considered good enough for such a prize, and the family was holding out for the possibility of a rich neighbour offering for the young lady's hand. The other four daughters were set before him as acceptable alternatives, but he felt the full sting of the insult. Mr Bingley, with his five thousand pounds a year and the stink of the shop close upon his coattails, was preferred over a blood relative who was not only a highly respectable man of the cloth, put also had an illustrious patroness in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose condescension knew no bounds.

  If his pride had not been so irrevocably hurt, Mr Collins might have managed to transfer his interest to his cousin Elizabeth, for she had a light and pleasing figure and a pair of very fine eyes, but principles mattered more than superficial beauty. Mr Collins was a man of some intelligence and he was aware of the politics of country society. Where there was a family of any sort of fortune, with five attractive, sought after daughters, there was bound to be a family with an overlooked offspring who would like to see them put in their place. He found just such a family in the Lucases. Their eldest daughter was Elizabeth Bennet's best friend, which would make the revenge that much sweeter. Granted, Miss Charlotte Lucas was not as young or as pretty as Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but it was Mr Collins' experience that sometimes ladies less young and beautiful were more appreciative of the types of compliments and attentions he was apt to bestow. And Mr Collins rated appreciativeness high on his list of wifely attributes.

  It was with these thoughts in his mind that Mr Collins prepared for the ball at Netherfield. He did not let on to anyone in the Bennet family, however, that he no longer had intentions to wed one of them. Instead he singled out Miss Elizabeth, bestowing his remarkable company and ensuring that she understood just what a man of true importance in the world he was. He knew he had impressed her not only with his own erudition but also the cost of the fireplace at Rosings, his patroness Lady Catherine's sumptuous estate, and the numberless windows that graced the façade of that handsome mansion. When his engagement to her friend was announced, Miss Elizabeth would have a very clear idea of how great her loss, and the loss to her entire family, would be. But her loss would be greater than even she could possibly realise. Mr Collins had more than one reason to regret that he could not elucidate her to such an extent - but the very act of elucidation might cost him all, and he had set his plans too carefully for that.

  There was one variable Mr Collins had not accounted for, however, but when he found himself face to face with something that he had heretofore thought a complete fallacy and only to be found in the cheapest of the circulating library's novels, he was able to change his plans with lightning speed. The outcome for the Bennets would remain the same at any rate, but the challenge to his abilities would be increased exponentially. It was a good thing that Mr Collins had supreme confidence and faith in the efficacy of his singular charms for he did not quail at the prospect at all. In fact he looked forward to his new object with a determination and zeal that would have impressed the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself. It was at the receiving line at Netherfield when Mr Collins was struck by a bolt so powerful he could only imagine it had come directly from the heavens as divine intervention, rather than springing gamely forth from Cupid's quixotic bow.

  Mr Collins almost lost his power of speech as be bent over the hand of the vision of loveliness before him. She had all the attributes he could ever have hoped for in a wife: beauty, elegance, poise, charm, accomplishments, a certain something in her manner of walking and speaking, and a superciliousness which almost equalled that of his distinguished patroness. 

  “Your most humble servant, Miss Bingley,” he all but sighed. His heart fluttered in his chest at the expression of disdain she cast him. He had never witnessed such utter flawlessness, such complete arrogance, such flagrant snobbery, and such obvious wealth untied and packaged in a gown that was as revealingly low cut as it was stylish. Miss Charlotte Lucas was forgotten in an instant as he set about devising a method of courtship that would bring this paragon of perfection to her knees before him.

  After his obligatory dance with his cousin Elizabeth, where he displayed his dancing skills to the delight and amazement of the gathered company, Mr Collins slipped unnoticed from the ballroom and sequestered himself in the library. There he penned two letters, each one highly crafted in its own way, but not of his usual style and verbosity. Before the first dance, and while dancing with Miss Elizabeth, his eyes had followed Miss Bingley's every move and he had discovered a weakness that with quick action he could use to his advantage. The delivery of the two letters to their addressees would set his scheme in motion.  He returned to the ballroom, gave the letters into the hand of a footman along with a pound note for the man's silence as to their origin, and set about waiting for everything to unfold. His luck was holding for, as he had anticipated, Mr Darcy, Lady Catherine's own nephew, played directly into his hands by leading none other that Miss Elizabeth Bennet into the set.

  Mr Collins watched his first letter be delivered to Miss Bingley, saw her face, white with anger from her surveillance of Mr Darcy performing the figures of the dance with Miss Elizabeth, turn crimson with pleasure, and then he retreated to the library again. Once there he snuffed a few of the candles, giving the room an ambiance more in keeping with clandestine meetings. He then sat back upon a chair and waited in a leisurely fashion, running through his head the wording of the letter that had given Miss Bingley such joy as she read it.

  It was an obligatory dance and meant nothing to me - you are all I think of. Meet me in the library after this set is completed.

  He was pleased with how ever word in the letter was true but just ambiguous enough to mislead the lady into thinking it had come from someone else. Miss Bingley would be displeased with him initially when she realised he was not who she had hoped to meet, but he had no doubt that he would be able to express his ardour and desires in just such a manner that would win her over completely. Mr Collins knew he had a way with words - did not Lady Catherine and her daughter Anne delight in all his delicate compliments?

 

Caroline slipped the note into the bodice of her gown and smiled to herself. For all his talk about fine eyes, she had known Darcy was too refined to allow himself to be taken in by a girl of Eliza Bennet's stamp. Caroline supposed that he felt obliged to dance with the lady just because she had been a guest at Netherfield. Next thing he would stand up with Miss Jane Bennet too, his duty done. But first, first they were to meet in the library.

  Caroline let the last bars of the tune ring out and watched Darcy stride hurriedly out of the room, a scowl marring his features. He had taken little pleasure in the dance, then. She had been silly even to worry for a minute. Not wanting to seem obvious, lest anyone suspected the pair of them, she made her way to the library through quite a different door and rather a circuitous route that included the kitchens. Having to wait for her would heighten Mr Darcy's pleasure upon her arrival.

  As she pushed open the library door, a tall figure arose from a chair.

  “Mr Darcy - I am come,” she said, in a husky whisper.

  But it was not Mr Darcy. The gentleman who stood before her was tall and rather heavy set. At first she could not place him at all, and then she realised he was that self important cousin of the Bennets. She had nothing against people being self important if there was good reason for it, but in her opinion being a cousin to that family was no recommendation at all.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked brusquely.

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  “I wasn't expecting anyone at all!”

  “I thought I heard you mention a name.”

  “Indeed I did not. I do not make clandestine arrangements with gentlemen.”

  “A pity. But may I take this opportunity to tell you that I have never beheld a more lovely ornament to grace a ball than yourself, Miss Bingley? Such delicacy of character and refinement of taste as you possess is rarely found.”

  Caroline could well imagine that the sphere he was accustomed to could hardly boast anyone of her fashion and elegance, and yet she could not help but feel pleasure at the compliment. She did not, however, dignify it with a response.

  “I think it fitting that I should inform you that I know of what I speak. My patroness is none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself, aunt to your brother's friend, Mr Darcy. She is the epitome of sophistication and breeding, and her daughter is a rare jewel among all young ladies of society. I am accustomed to dine with them at their grand estate of Rosings each week. You by far outshine them both.”

  This was a compliment indeed. But still, she knew nothing of his situation in life and Caroline wondered if this Mr Collins was in any way worthy of her notice. “In what capacity is Mr Darcy's aunt your patroness?”

  “I have the privilege to be in charge of all the souls in her parish. Hunsford is a prodigiously respected preferment and I am much envied my good fortune to have won such a prosperous living. Furthermore, Lady Catherine relies on my discretion in all things - I have become her close confidante. She has also given me much good advice for the running of estates. When Longbourn is mine I shall be able to increase its revenues tenfold.”

  “You stand to inherit Longbourn?” asked Caroline. “What of the Bennets?”

  “Sadly, should Mr Bennet die, Mrs Bennet and her daughters will lose their home and be truly impoverished. My only hope is that they may marry - some clerk of their uncle Phillips or an honest farmer would do.”

  Caroline could not help but smile at the idea of Eliza Bennet reduced to penury.

  “But I myself can look higher for a helpmate,” he added.

  “You appear to have fine prospects,” Caroline conceded.

  Mr Collins took a step forward. “Yes,” he said. “I believe there are not many who can boast such a close connection to a lady as rich and powerful as Lady Catherine. And it is her due that I marry well. I have thoughts to marry as highly as possible, and I have chosen an object who I fear is almost too elevated for myself. Though I may exceed her in true breeding, she is incomparable in her style, beauty, grace, and wit. - that her fortune comes from trade I can easily overlook given that she is the most refined and delectable creature I have ever laid my eyes upon.”

  Caroline took a step backward. “And who is this paragon?” she asked, hoping that he could not be speaking of herself.

  “Who indeed?” asked Collins. “She is the delight of my life. The brightest star in the firmament. An enchantress who stole my heart the moment her fascinating eyes rested upon my humble visage. In short, she is you, most beautiful and lovely Miss Bingley. There is nothing that would please me more than for your rose petal lips to frame a `yes' in answer to my request for you to be my wife.”

  “I? Marry you? Why sir, I do not even know you!”

  “How well can any lady know any man before marriage with the constraints our society places upon one? In the drawing room there is little time for more than conversing about commonplace subjects, and at a ball one cannot converse at all, unless one can contrive a stolen moment such as this,” said Mr Collins, inching ever closer. “Once we are married we will have ample time to get to know one another in more ways than would be possible now.”

  Caroline blushed at the indelicate inference, but could not help but recall what hopes she'd had of Mr Darcy, should he have been in the library as arranged. She wondered what was keeping him, hoping that he would soon arrive to rescue her from her predicament. Though everything Mr Collins had said to her was very gratifying and his status was not as low as she had at first supposed, she was not tempted in any way by his offer. She had Mr Darcy firmly in her sights.

  “I have no interest or desire to accept your offer.”

  “Your heart must be otherwise engaged,” said Mr Collins in a voice trembling with emotion. “I can see no other reason for you to reject my hand with all the inducements I have offered you. Dining at Rosings regularly! Being under the guidance of Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself! The envy of the parish and the brotherhood of clerics! To be the future mistress of Longbourn!”

  Caroline stuttered. It was not done to mention an attachment to a gentleman who had not yet spoken for one, but she had to let Mr Collins understand in no uncertain terms that he had no chance to win her. It was not her fault that he had fallen for her - she could not help it that she was perfect in every way, but she did feel responsible in a small way for the pain she was inflicting upon him. “I have hopes that I believe are not unfounded.”

  “And who is the gentleman? What can he offer you that is equal to the patronage and protection of Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

  “He could make her my aunt!” said Caroline. She had to show Mr Collins just how far out of his league she truly was.

  “I am not aware of whether you are acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but still, I must conclude that you refer to Mr Darcy.”

  Caroline nodded in affirmation.

  To her surprise Mr Collins cast her a look of pity. “Has no one told you?” he asked, his voice becoming incredulous. “I thought Mr Darcy too much of a gentleman to lead a lady on - especially a lady such as you who deserves every consideration, every show of deference, every ounce of respect possible.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why, it is common knowledge that Mr Darcy and Miss Anne de Bourgh have been pledged to each other from the cradle.”

  Caroline felt her head reel. Mr Darcy engaged to his cousin? Not a whisper of such an idea had ever passed his lips. “It cannot be!”

  “Lady Catherine speaks of nothing else but the day they will be wed. You have been duped, to what purpose I cannot say - I do not want to think ill of so close a relative of my patroness, but this reeks of seduction!”

  Caroline seethed. How could Mr Darcy lead her on so shamelessly?

  Just then voices were heard in the hallway.

  “Where are you going? Why do you not return to the ballroom and dance?” came her brother's voice.

  Mr Darcy was heard to respond with his usual severity. “With ladies that I have no interest in? I think not! I have other, more satisfying diversions in mind!”

  One set of steps retreated and another came closer.

  Caroline could not believe what she was hearing. This assignation in the library was only a diversion to Mr Darcy? She glanced up at Mr Collins. His eyes were filled with sympathy. She felt degraded to be the object of his compassion. The door handle moved. Caroline resolved to show them both how wrong they were. She would drive a green stake of jealousy into Mr Darcy's heart! He would know that he loved only her and cast his stupid promise to his cousin aside. Mr Collins could choke on his pity!

  As the door opened wide and the light from the hallway streamed into the room she flung herself into Mr Collins' arms.

  She was completely unprepared for his response. He held her tightly around the waist with one arm. At the same moment his lips clamped down upon hers and his other hand stole to the soft swell of skin directly above her bodice. She could do nothing to escape his embrace and somewhere in the nether reaches of her mind she discovered that she had no desire to. She had never been kissed in quite the same manner before.

  “Caroline!”

  It was not Mr Darcy but her brother!

  “Who? What? Why?” he stuttered.

  She cast her eyes towards him, still unwilling to loose herself from Mr Collins' kiss, and saw, peering from behind her brother's back, the shocked faces of Lady Lucas and Mrs Long. Mr Collins let her go at that moment and strode forward to meet her outraged brother.

  “You must be the first to congratulate us,” he announced ecstatically. “Your sister has just this moment consented to be my bride. Our felicity knows no bounds.”

  Caroline stared after him, slack jawed. True, she had thrown herself at Mr Collins and she had allowed him to kiss her, and not wanted the kiss to end, but she had consented to nothing.

  “Your hand! Your hand!” said Bingley, shielding his eyes and still too overwhelmed to think straight. “You have ruined my . . .”

  “What I have done is attempt the nigh impossible and been awarded the most precious reward in God's great earth. I vow to honour and cherish your sister till death do us part!”

  “Oh la, how romantic!” cried Mrs Long.

  “A parson - who would have thought?” smirked Lady Lucas. And then as a second thought, “Mrs Bennet will not be too pleased with this!” She grinned.

  “Indeed not!” cried Mrs Long. “I cannot wait to tell her the news.”

  The two ladies hurried away, tittering as they went.

  Finally Caroline found her voice. “Just what are you doing here, Charles, and where is Mr Darcy?”

  “Why he went to the card room and I - I came as you requested in your note to me, and brought Mrs Long and Lady Lucas just as you instructed. Why did you want us?”

  “I sent you no note!” cried Caroline.

  “I am certain there must be some perfectly reasonable explanation,” quickly cut in Mr Collins. “But as you see all's well that ends well for we have been able to apprise your brother of our engagement and share our joy more readily than we had heretofore thought possible.”

  “Our engagement!” cried Caroline. “And those two gossips saw us, and your hand, and the kiss, and . . . oh no! What am I to do? Charles, do something!”

  Charles looked from Collins to Caroline and suddenly it all became clear to him. “Congratulations!” he cried. “I admit I was taken a bit by surprise. The suddenness no doubt - did you both not meet for the first time tonight?” He clapped Collins on the shoulder.

  “One cannot escape one's destiny,” said Collins. “Love caught us up in its wondrous coils and there was aught we could do to curb the inevitable.”

  Bingley sighed. “I should follow your example!” he cried. “Now let us repair to the ballroom where I will announce it so all can drink to your future health and happiness!”

  Caroline slumped onto a chair and put her head in her hands. She could not believe she was now engaged to such a prosing nobody! She, with all her pretensions to class and fortune! But . . . her lips still throbbed from the kiss and the skin below her throat still tingled from the fiery touch of his hand.

  In future years Caroline had much to bear in watching her husband debase himself before Lady Catherine, in listening to his boring sermons every Sunday in church, and in seeing Elizabeth Bennet married to Mr Darcy, but truth be told, there were such extraordinary sources of happiness attached to her situation that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.

The End

© 2007 Copyright held by the author.

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