Chapter Text
When reflecting upon the matter later, Elizabeth Bennet would feel that the morning after the ball at Netherfield had been doomed to disaster from the first.
In the usual course of things, Elizabeth was in the habit of rising early. In a house as noisy as Longbourn, where one’s daily life was conducted to the accompaniment of Mary’s diligent practice at the pianoforte, Kitty and Lydia’s squabbling and Mrs Bennet’s frequent calls for Mrs Hill, early mornings were a rare time of peace and stillness.
Neither Elizabeth’s mother nor her sisters shared her predilection for being up at sunrise. Mrs Bennet, despite rarely sleeping past dawn, liked to linger in bed for at least an hour after waking; Jane and Mary were woken up by the maid precisely in time to dress before breakfast; and Kitty and Lydia frequently wandered into the breakfast room, still yawning, when the rest of the family were halfway through their meal already. Mr Bennet was the only one who was as fond of early mornings as Elizabeth. As he invariably spent them reading in his library, however, the house was no less quiet for his being awake.
Elizabeth would sometimes join her father, but most days she preferred to devote these early hours to solitary pursuits. If the weather permitted, she took a walk before breakfast; if it did not, she used the time to work on her correspondence. Despite enjoying company and having no particular aversion to the usual noise and bustle of her home, she found it pleasant to have these quiet moments to herself ‒ time which she could spend precisely as she pleased, without anybody to distract or interrupt her.
The day after the Netherfield ball, however, began as it meant to go on: entirely on the wrong foot. Elizabeth had gotten to bed exceedingly late, and despite her exhaustion, had been too vexed and mortified by all that had occurred to fall asleep. Instead, she had lain awake, dwelling on the evening’s embarrassments ‒ her family’s vulgar behaviour, Mr Collins’s unwelcome attentions and Miss Bingley’s snide remarks about Mr Wickham. She had not succumbed to sleep until close to dawn.
When she awoke, still tired and feeling quite dismal, she found to her surprise that it was already light in the room and that Jane’s side of the bed was empty. Upon consulting the clock, she discovered that she had slept far later than usual: the rest of the family must be at breakfast already. After dressing in a hurry, she rapidly made her way downstairs, feeling out of sorts for having overslept and a little cross that no one had thought to wake her.
Thus it was that Elizabeth arrived in the vestibule precisely in time to hear Mr Collins declare, loudly enough to be heard even through the closed door to the breakfast room: “I am surprised, Mrs Bennet, that my cousin Elizabeth has yet to venture downstairs. I hope that she is not indisposed, as I had intended to solicit the honour of a private interview with her in the course of the morning.”
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, she heard her mother exclaim, over the giggles and cries of Kitty and Lydia: “Oh! Certainly you may address her, Mr Collins! I am sure that Lizzy will be delighted to hear you as soon as she is up. I have no notion why she is so tardy this morning ‒ she is not usually in the habit of lying about in bed.”
“She was still sleeping when I came downstairs, Mama,” came Jane’s voice. “I thought it kindest to allow her to rest, as she must be fatigued after being up so late yesterday.”
“Well, she has to be woken up immediately ‒ Hill! Hill!”
In the background, Mr Collins began to expound on the proper hours a clergyman’s wife ought to keep ‒ but Elizabeth was no longer listening. Instead, she was rapidly attempting to determine how to avoid his proposal.
Had she had time to think the matter through, she might have realised that the wisest course of action would have been to simply enter the breakfast room and get the matter over with. In the best case, she might have been able to forestall her cousin’s coming to the point, and at worst, she would have had to endure the embarrassment of listening to an unwanted proposal before refusing it as gracefully as she could. She had no real fear that she would be forced to accept Mr Collins’s suit. Her mother might attempt to press her, but her father, she was certain, would take her side.
However, Elizabeth was tired after a night of disturbed sleep, distressed by all that had happened at the ball the previous evening, and vexed by her mother’s presumption. Tired and cross people are not always wise, and at that moment, all she could think of was that it was imperative to prevent Mr Collins from attempting to address her in the first place.
Her first notion was to retreat upstairs ‒ but she suspected that Mrs Bennet, impatient to secure her future, would not be long in coming to her door to hurry her down. Therefore, she instead made for the hall closet and seized her half-boots and pelisse, with no better plan in mind than simply escaping the house for the present.
Even in her agitation, Elizabeth was aware that she would not be able to avoid Mr Collins forever. Still, the notion of enduring his proposal now ‒ in the breakfast room, with the food still upon the table and Kitty and Lydia competing with her mother to listen at the door ‒ was entirely unbearable. Perhaps, if she stayed out long enough, the family might have dispersed into their various pursuits by the time she returned, and she might at least endure her mortification with a smaller audience. Or, if she happened to catch her father alone and he was not particularly disposed to teasing her that morning, he might be prevailed upon to spare her the dreaded tête-à-tête with her cousin.
She had just finished lacing her boots when Mrs Hill came bustling out of the breakfast room and stopped short at the sight of her.
“Miss Lizzy! There you are ‒ the mistress is asking for you.”
“Tell Mama that I am not at all hungry this morning, Hill ‒ she need not expect me for breakfast. I find I have the greatest fancy to walk to Oakham Mount. I dare say I will be out all morning!”
And before the housekeeper could protest, Elizabeth was out of the door, rejoicing in her well-timed escape. Mr Collins, she was certain, was not so determined a suitor as to attempt to follow her all the way to Oakham Mount. She had bought herself a respite, and would have a long walk in the fresh morning air to plot her next move.
Mrs Bennet, unsurprisingly, was less than pleased when Mrs Hill returned to the breakfast room without Elizabeth.
“Walked out!” she cried. “Of all the possible times ‒ whyever did you let her leave, Hill? Did you not tell Lizzy that Mr Collins is expecting her?”
Mrs Hill, more perceptive than her mistress, had a fair notion that this would hardly have tempted Miss Lizzy to defer her walk, but wisely refrained from voicing it.
“Well, did she at least tell you where she was going?” Mrs Bennet demanded, not waiting for a reply to her previous question.
“Yes, madam,” replied the housekeeper. “Miss Lizzy told me she meant to walk towards Oakham Mount.”
“Why, she will be two hours at least!” exclaimed Mrs Bennet with displeasure. “As like as not, Mr Bennet will have ridden out to see to the tenants before she is back, and then there is no telling how long we may have to wait for his return so that he may give his blessing.”
Mr Bennet, who had been observing the exchange with a great deal of amusement, raised an eyebrow at this but remained silent.
“It will not do!” his wife continued. “Mr Collins, you had best go after her. Indeed, it will go very well that way, for while you are walking together, you will have all the privacy you desire to speak, without any servants listening at the door ‒ not that our servants would do such a thing, of course.”
Here, Elizabeth was proven wrong: she had underestimated both Mr Collins’s tenacity and his fondness for walking. Despite not being particularly athletic in appearance, Mr Collins, being a country parson who did not keep a carriage, had occasion to walk a great deal. He was also not at all averse to being outdoors. Therefore, when informed of the distance to Oakham Mount, he did not find it a particularly daunting prospect. On the contrary, he assured Mr and Mrs Bennet, the charming countryside would surely provide a most fitting ambience for a romantic declaration.
Whatever Mrs Bennet may have thought of the romantic potential of a grey and cloudy November morning, she was not one to begin quibbling about details when she was on the verge of getting a daughter married. She deftly silenced her youngest daughters’ titters and cut Mr Collins’s ramblings short with her enthusiastic agreement; and then hurried him out of the door so that he might catch up with Elizabeth as soon as possible.
Thus it was that, three quarters of an hour later, Elizabeth was most unpleasantly surprised to hear a voice behind her, calling: “Cousin Elizabeth! Cousin Elizabeth!”
She briefly contemplated pretending not to hear and continuing on her way, but common sense soon prevailed. Mr Collins had already seen her, and it would have been both unpardonably rude and entirely ridiculous to attempt to outrun him. Besides, she had now effectively cornered herself in a position where she could not hope to return to Longbourn without encountering him, as he was between her and her path home. She therefore reluctantly stopped to wait, mustering all her grace to handle the situation with as little unpleasantness as possible.
“How fortuitous that I have caught up with you, my dear cousin!” Mr Collins panted as he reached her. It was apparent that he had exerted himself to walk above his usual pace in his bid to catch up. “I am come expressly to join you on your walk,” he continued, bowing rather more deeply than necessary. “May I offer you my arm?”
“I am not certain that it is proper for us to walk together unchaperoned,” Elizabeth prevaricated in a last attempt to escape the inevitable. “I shall direct you to the spot with the best view, and will myself return to Longbourn, so as not to give our neighbours reason to gossip.”
Alas, this discouragement was in vain. Mr Collins replied, with an ingratiating smile: “I congratulate you for your sense of propriety, cousin Elizabeth, but I assure you, you need have no anxiety in that regard. I am here with your mother’s knowledge and blessing, and thus even the strictest requirements of propriety must be satisfied. There is no need to curtail your walk; and indeed I particularly desire your company, so that you may direct my attention to the finest views. ”
Elizabeth could thus do nothing but accept Mr Collins’s escort, though she persisted in declining his arm. He found this a sufficient opening for a deluge of praise of her maidenly delicacy, which Elizabeth did her best to deflect while attempting to steer the conversation towards safer topics.
However, all too soon they reached the crest of the mount, and it became apparent that Mr Collins had chosen this spot as the stage of his declaration. In vain did Elizabeth attempt to prevent him from making it. With an indulgent smile, Mr Collins ignored her protests and began: “Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that 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.”
Thus saying, he stepped closer, taking Elizabeth’s hands in his. She instinctively tried to retract them, but Mr Collins’s grip was surprisingly firm, and she found herself unable to pull herself loose without resorting to unladylike struggling. Therefore, she was obliged to stand there, rather too close to her cousin to feel quite comfortable, and reluctantly listen as he began to describe how he had singled her out as the companion of his future life.