A Wife for Mr. Darcy

Elizabeth, but not before he had seen to his number one priority.
    “Miss Elizabeth, may I be so bold as to ask for two dances this evening? I would like to dance with you before the supper break as I wish for you to meet my sister.”
    “I would be honored, and I would very much like for you to meet my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner who are visiting from London.”
    “Of course, it will be my pleasure.”
    “May I ask if you have already decided on the second dance?”
    “If you would be so kind, may I request the last dance of the evening?” He had chosen the final dance as it would be their last and not just for the evening.
    “I look forward to both dances.” When she started to turn away, he called her back.
    “May I ask if you know the name of the gentleman who is speaking to Miss Lucas? I feel as if I have seen him somewhere else.”
    “That is Mr. Collins. You may know him as he is Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s vicar.”
    “Ah, yes. Now I remember him,” he said in a flat voice.
    “Did you hear Mr. Collins preach while you were in Kent?”
    At this point, Mr. Darcy went silent, and after a long pause, he said, “I have been in attendance when he was preaching, but…”
    “You find such discourse to be tedious.”
    Darcy smiled as he recalled their first conversation. “I never was one for listening to sermons. My parents insisted I sit between them in the family pew, so that I would not fidget. But how is it that he has come to be at Netherfield?”
    “He is my father’s cousin, and the family estate is entailed away from the female line to his benefit. In an act of generosity, he came to Longbourn in search of a wife, so that we would not find ourselves homeless in the event of our father’s death.”
    “Surely, you are not saying that Mr. Collins was interested in making an offer to you?” he asked in genuine amazement.
    “I hope I am not so unattractive as to be beneath Mr. Collins’s notice.”
    “Are you fishing for a compliment, Miss Elizabeth? Have I not already told you that you are more than tolerable?”
    “You did not always think so, Mr. Darcy. At the assembly, you easily resisted my beauty. If I recall correctly, your full statement was, ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’”
    “I imagine you will probably remember that one sentence forever.”
    “Yes, I am sure that I will. However, it was greatly appreciated when you came to Longbourn to amend your original statement.”
    “It was necessary that I do so as I was in error.”
    Lizzy looked embarrassed. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I really was not fishing for a compliment.”
    “I did not think you were. If you recall, at Netherfield, we had a discussion on pride versus vanity. I think we agreed that vanity is a failing, but I also mentioned that where there is a real superiority, pride would always be under good regulation. Although you may not comment on your own beauty, as that would be vanity, you may certainly take pride in your appearance as Nature has been exceptionally kind to you.”
    “I believe this conversation began with our discussion of Mr. Collins,” Lizzy said in full blush. “He is to be married to my good friend, Charlotte Lucas.”
    “Ah, now I understand why people were congregating around her at Lucas Lodge. I think Mr. Collins has done very well for himself as Miss Lucas seems to be a sensible lady and that will serve him well.”
    “Most men are in need of sensible wives,” Lizzy added, thinking of her father, “but Mr. Collins most particularly.”
    Knowing that the crowd had grown closer, they departed to find other dance partners, all the while thinking of the dance they would shortly have together.

Darcy was relieved when his sister finally came downstairs because he had found that making himself agreeable to all and sundry was fatiguing, especially if it included a discussion with Mr. Collins about the inhabitants of Rosings Park. Darcy dearly loved his cousin, Anne de Bourgh, and although frail, she was a handsome woman. However, he had never considered her to be a candidate for being the “brightest ornament in the British court if her health had allowed her to be presented to the king and queen,” and the praise Collins heaped upon his grouchy and overbearing Aunt Catherine was not only inaccurate, it was nauseating.
    “Where have you been, Georgiana? I was beginning to think you had climbed down the trellis and escaped.”
    “Will, as you very well know, I