Page 2 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
“Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth turned, startled, just in time to see Kitty rush into the room, followed closely by Maria Lucas. Kitty’s face was blotched with tears, her entire body trembling with distress.
“Kitty! What has happened?” Elizabeth asked, moving quickly to catch her sister by the shoulders.
“We must go home,” Kitty sobbed. “There was a letter from home—Father… Father has been in an accident!”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. “An accident? What do you mean? Is he… is he…”
Kitty shook her head wildly, struggling to speak through her tears. “His carriage overturned. He was on the London Road, coming home, and… oh, Lizzy, it is dreadful!”
Elizabeth felt her sister slump into her arms, her weight heavy with despair. She tightened her grip, whispering soothingly as Kitty’s sobs wracked her body. A moment later, Elizabeth turned to Maria, her voice trembling.
“Maria, where is Mr Collins?”
Maria stepped forward hesitantly, glancing nervously at Kitty before holding out a crumpled letter. Elizabeth releasedone arm from around her sister and reached for it, smoothing the paper as best she could with trembling hands.
Only then did she became acutely aware of Mr Darcy’s presence behind her. She glanced back to see him standing still, his expression unusually grave as he watched the unfolding scene.
“Mr Darcy,” she said curtly, her tone barely civil.
He bowed slightly. “I will excuse myself. I do hope the news is not too terrible.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left. Through the doorway, Elizabeth saw him pause briefly outside, glancing back over his shoulder. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met. The smouldering anger she had felt moments ago flared, but as quickly as it came, it evaporated.
Her family needed her.
Elizabeth turned back to the letter, cradling Kitty with one arm. The ominous words on the page blurred as tears pricked her eyes. But she would not falter—not now. Whatever awaited them, she would face it head on, for her father’s sake and for her family’s future.
Chapter 2
Elizabeth
Elizabeth sat in a stiff-backed chair opposite Charlotte, her friend’s steady composure showing signs of strain at last. Charlotte leaned forward, her hands tightly clasping Elizabeth’s, her face pale with worry. Upstairs, Kitty, still trembling, busied herself packing her belongings with Maria Lucas’s assistance, leaving Elizabeth and Charlotte to grapple with the weight of the family crisis in hushed tones.
“Charlotte, it is dreadful,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice low but trembling with barely contained emotion. “Mary writes that my father is unable to move or speak. He was in and out of consciousness for two days. It must be his head. The accident… it seems to have been quite severe. The apothecary was summoned while the surgeon was out of town, but he has now returned and was brought from Meryton to attend to him, but neither could offer a definitive account of his condition.”
Charlotte gave Elizabeth’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “Do not give yourself over to despair so easily, Eliza,” she said gently. “It is often the case that such injuries appear worse at first than they prove to be with time. When you arrive home, you may find the news better than you feared.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line, staring at the floor as though its worn boards might offer the solace she could not find in her heart. “I dearly wish to hope so.”
The sound of the front door opening interrupted their subdued exchange. A moment later, Mr Collins’s rotund frame filled the doorway, his customary air of self-importance ill-suited to the sombre occasion.
“Well!” he began, clasping his hands together with an affected solemnity. “The carriage is readied. Charlotte, be so good as to fetch my bags. Pack for at least a fortnight—nay, better make it a month!”
Elizabeth lifted her head sharply, the tension in her neck pricking like a needle. “You intend to accompany us, sir?”
“But of course!” Mr Collins replied, his tone suggesting it was the most natural conclusion imaginable. “You are my cousins, dear Elizabeth, and as such it is my sacred duty to see you and Catherine safely home. The road to Hertfordshire is long, and propriety demands that a gentleman undertake such a journey to ensure the safety of young ladies.” He straightened his waistcoat importantly. “Moreover, your father’s grievous misfortune calls for a steady hand to render what assistance may be required.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, hardly able to believe his audacity. Though her instinct was to protest, her mind raced with the undeniable reality of the situation. The journey from Kent to Hertfordshire would take two days, possibly more, given the recent rains—and travelling unchaperoned would invite censure at best, and outright scandal at worst. Indeed, they had been accompanied by Sir William’s cousin on the journey there, for propriety’s sake.
Despite the irksome truth of Mr Collins’s practicality, Elizabeth could hardly credit his self-congratulatory sincerity. Her long-held suspicions about his priorities, however, wereonly confirmed when his next words all but shattered any pretence of altruism.
“Charlotte, my dear, pack my best garments,” he instructed, barely glancing at his wife. “For, should Mr Bennet’s condition be as dire as it seems—heaven forefend—I must stand ready to assist by taking on the duties of the head of the family.”
Elizabeth bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to restrain the sharp retort that sprang unbidden to her tongue. So this, then, was Mr Collins’s true purpose—not compassion, but calculation. His keenness to attach himself to Longbourn during such a time betrayed not concern for her father’s health, but rather an eagerness to establish himself as its inevitable heir.
Still, she forced a calm reply. “Your willingness to accompany us is most generous,” she said with the utmost civility she could muster, though her lips threatened to press into a thin, disapproving line.
