"Mr. Collins, my lady." Hill's stern voice invigorated the languid atmosphere of the breakfast room.
A generous share of pound cake was added to Mrs. Bennet's plate. Mary's chocolate mug shook as she put it down on the table. I straightened myself, and kept my gaze trained to the dry toast I was buttering.
After the butler left the family alone, Mrs. Bennet nodded to her visitor. "Good morning, Mr. Collins. We missed you at breakfast."
Did not.
"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter, when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?"
The answer was instantaneous. "Oh dear!--yes--certainly. I am sure she will be very happy--I am sure she can have no objection."
I sighed, the beginning of a headache buzzing between my eyebrows. Couldn't the man read between the lines? I was not interested, and never would be. It broke my heart to lose Charlotte to such an idiot, but I needed to be at Rosings to receive Darcy's love confession.
Mrs. Bennet tore me away from my thoughts by clearing her throat. "Come, Lizzy."
Where? Where did Collins want to ask my hand? This place was good as any--or as bad as any, depending on how you looked at it.
"Mr. Collins wishes for a private audience with your sister. I want you up stairs." Without ceremony, she put my toast down and tugged at my wrist.
I stared at Mary's deep blush and at my Collins' impatient frown. "But... but..."
"Lizzy, I insist upon your coming with me." Mrs. Bennet's glare left no room for discussion.
We walked off, but as soon as the door was shut, Mrs. Bennet leant against it to eavesdrop. I gaped at her, but curiosity got the best of me. Forgetting all manners and respect for privacy, I mimicked her, my ear on the wooden panel.
Mr. Collins' proposal started as such.
"My dear Miss Mary, allow me to assure you that I have your respected mother's permission for this address. 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. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying--and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."
I snorted at the mention of Mr. Collins' feelings, but Mrs. Bennet shushed me, pinching my nose with the speed of a kung-fu master.
In the breakfast room, the young man went on. "My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly--which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness."
Marrying because Lady Pain-in-the-arse had suggested to do so. This monologue was comedy gold.
"Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.'"
My bad, she didn't suggest it. She commanded the poor chap to take a wife.
"Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; and your intelligence and smartness, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite."
Silence and respect? More like muteness and terror.
"Thus much for my general intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views were directed towards Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place--which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several years."
Hear hear.
"This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection."
Violence of my affection? Wow. Collins was in character.
"To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and 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."
Indifferent but well-informed, obviously.
"On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."
When we are married? I held my breath, waiting for Mary to correct this impudent man.
"You are too hasty, sir." She chuckled. "You forget that I have made no answer."
That was it? Quite a timorous rebuff, sis'.
Mr. Collins' voice softened. "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, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long."
The rustling of cloth, followed by slow steps, indicated that Mary had got up and was pacing the room. "Alas, Mr. Collins. Leave us, poor women, the illusion of having fooled you."
My brows furrowed with confusion. Was she... flirting with him?
Mr. Collins stood silent a few moments. He then cleared his throat, and a loud thump startled Mrs. Bennet and me. "There, I am at your feet."
Wait, was he kneeling? Urgh, I wished I could see them.
A light bulb went on in my head. "Bridge, any chances I could assist to this conversation? Please?"
I bit my lower lip, hoping that Theo was still online. His answer appeared within seconds.
Didn't curiosity kill the cat?
I muttered under my breath. "We already established that the cat's alive. Can I see inside, please? Pretty please?"
Set wall opacity to 0 and increased volume by 30 percents. Have fun ;)
The wall separating the hallway from the breakfast room disappeared, revealing a most surprising scene.
The morning light bathed their huddling silhouettes, adding a soft glow to Mary's dark mane. Mr. Collins was on a knee and holding her hand, his hopeful face towards the lady he was courting. Their tender gazes locked, and various shades of pink spread from their noses to their ears.
"I cannot live without you, Miss Mary. With each passing day, the similarity of our minds became more and more evident. I believe I could make you very happy. So, again, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
She crouched down and made him stand up. "Of course, silly."
Awkward confusion agitated Collins' features. "Is that a yes?"
Mary grinned, a dimple forming on her right cheek. "Yes, Mr. Collins, I will become your wife."
Relief swept through his countenance, and he pressed his lips on her nimble fingers in adoration.
As they jumped into each other's arms, I groaned. "How? This isn't supposed to happen."
"Hush." Mrs. Bennet narrowed her eyes at me and mumbled, "I cannot hear a thing. Did he propose yet?"
Before I could answer by the affirmative, Mary and Mr. Collins walked in our direction. Quick. I grabbed Mrs. Bennet's forearm and pulled her away from the door, half-whispering, "They're coming."
We stood on the last step of the staircase, pretending to be going down.
The moment the happy couple spotted us, Mary's face broke into a sheepish grin.
"Mr. Collins, am I to congratulate you and myself on the happy prospect of our nearer connection?" Mrs. Bennet trifled with our guest, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.
"I thank you, dear Mrs. Bennet, and congratulate you in return." Mr. Collins' deep bow was dignified and poised.
Before he could launch into the detailed retelling of his successful proposal, I curtsied and scampered away to my bedroom, bashing into a surprised Jane on the staircase. After locking the door, I flopped on my bed, shaken by this unexpected turn of events.
I had read theories about my middle sister's crush. Indeed, in the novel, after Lizzy's rejection, Mary had pondered the subject of marrying Collins. Though she had indubitably concluded that he was not as wise as her, she had esteemed him worthy to be her companion, if given the possibility of improving himself through reading. Nonetheless, I was not prepared for their obvious chemistry. These socially awkward characters somehow complemented each other, but I sure hoped they wouldn't become twice as much pedantic.
My forehead creased. Did I cause this? In truth, I had strayed away from the original plot now and again. However, I did not remember pushing Mary into my suitor's arms, unless... Did I somehow trigger a butterfly effect when I refused to sit by Mr. Collins' side the day of his arrival?
What about Charlotte? Did my digressions condemn her to a life of solitude and social disgrace? Would she maybe take Mary's place and wed one of our uncle's clerks?
Dread and angst twisted my insides as I logged off, and laid on my real bed.
What other consequences would I have to face?