Page 36 of Mr Collins in Love
“Miss Lucas, you may as well know that I am looking for a wife because Lady Catherine has indicated in the strongest terms that she wishes me to do so.”
My words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.It was as if her candid and open manner, albeit shocking, had called to my own natural tendency to honesty.She did not fail me, but met me at once.
“But it is not something you want for yourself.”Her manner was matter of fact and she did not sound surprised.
“It was not my idea,” I allowed.
“You are not like most other men, are you, Mr Collins?”
A cold thread of fear ran up my back.I had gone too far, allowed her to see too much of me.
“No, you’re mistaken,” I said, censoriously.“I am very like them.After all, many men are not much fond of the company of females and many men never marry.”
“You are quite right, sir.I beg your pardon.And if we were to marry, I would understand if we did not spend much time together.”She paused, then said in a voice so low I barely heard, “Indeed, if we lived together more as brother and sister than husband and wife, I would accept that without question.”
She fell silent, which was a relief, for she had given me much to think about.Almost everything she had said was improper, and I could not bring a woman so heedless of the bounds of propriety into my household.One could not tell what such a person might take it into her head to do.She had said that, if we married, she would ask me before following any course of action, but how could I know she would hold to that?It was true she did not strike me as a flighty kind of female, but I had known her less than a fortnight and was not disposed to trust her on such a short acquaintance.
However, from the outside, and setting apart the scandalous behaviour of this evening, she was quite respectable.She was generally polite and sensible.She was capable and of an acceptable age.Her father was decent and amiable and could be introduced to Lady Catherine without concern.Miss Lucas was, in short, almost exactly the kind of woman Lady Catherine would find suitable.
“Do you play quadrille?”I asked.
She looked a little startled, but answered calmly, “Yes, sir.I used to play with my grandmother.”
So that was a mark in her favour.I tried to think of more questions that would be pertinent to the topic, but what she had said about living together as brother and sister kept ringing in my ears.But why was I even attempting to question her?The very fact she should make such scandalous offers meant I could never accept them.I should do as Trafford would, and withdraw at once.
Yet I did not, but continued sitting there beside her, while the flames danced and the wind outside brought a rattle of rain against the windows and my heart pounded with the possibility she had set before me, and what it might mean, for me, and for Jem.
CHAPTER 9
To my amazement, that night I slept almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I dreamt of Jem.We were walking the streets of Oxford, where I had been so miserable, but in the dream it was bright morning and we were happy.Some disturbance came from behind us—I had neglected to perform some important duty that I had not known was expected of me.Someone furious was behind us, but whether it was my father, or Lady Catherine, or Jem’s brother Jack, or an angry bursar, I did not know.
Jem grabbed my arm and we ran, but we were not afraid.We were laughing.We knew we should get away.The streets vanished and we were transported as if by magic to Butler’s coppice, which in turn transformed into the place behind the raspberry bushes in my father’s garden.Jem pulled me into a green and secret nook and we lay there panting, laughing, ferns dancing over our heads.We were safe.He was warm and everything good and I pressed myself against him and my pleasure woke me in the dark of the best spare bedroom of Longbourn.
I mopped up with the handkerchief which I had placed beneath my pillow and lay down again.I would rinse it tomorrow in the ewer and no one the wiser.My body was limp and my mind so lucid that the darkness seemed as velvet, soft and friendly, and my way lay before me, bright as the beam of a candle.
Presently, Molly came in, made up the fire and poured hot water into the ewer.She had barely closed the door when I sprang out of bed.I splashed my face and hands, rinsed my handkerchief and laid it over the jug to dry, dressed and put on my shoes.I crept downstairs.The front door was barred, but it was also locked.I had not expected that and rattled the handle uselessly.
“Oh, sir, was you wishful to go out?”
Molly’s voice made me jump, even as I realised it was her.
“Yes,” I said.“I want a walk.By myself.Do you have the key?”
“No, sir.Mr Bennet keeps it.”
“I must get out.”
“Do you come the back way, sir.”
She led me down the narrow corridor that led to the kitchen.From inside came the thumping of dough.Mrs Hill must be making her breakfast rolls.I did not want to speak to anyone, and had indeed lifted a hand to touch Molly’s arm to tell her so, when she ducked about a corner to the right and then immediately to the left.Here was a narrow door, and a full chamber pot waiting like a cat that wishes to go out.
“Beg pardon, sir,” Molly said, covering the chamber pot with a duster.
“No, no, it is quite all right.Thank you, Molly.Er…I shall be back later.”
Outside it was barely light and very cold.I turned my coat collar up and strode to Lucas Hall, icy clouds of breath parting in the air before me.In my frenzy to be out of Longbourn and on my way, I had not considered that Lucas Hall would also still be closed up for the night.But thus it was, with most of the rooms presenting blank curtain linings, very white.I could hardly go banging on the door, for I did not want anyone to know of my presence beyond she who had brought me here.I had certain questions to ask of her and certain demands to make.How she answered would determine my next course of action.
