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A Singular Propositionby TanyaRating: R (C)Summary: What if, upon meeting Elizabeth in Kent, Darcy would not offer her marriage, or anything remotely romantic?Chapter OneIt had to be the saddest wedding in the world, Elizabeth Bennett reflected. All the more so, because of the bride’s goodness and her forced circumstances. Because the bride, a lovely, good-hearted, clever blonde, deserved a very different wedding-and a very different husband.As far as Elizabeth was concerned, her sister Jane deserved the Moon and Prince Charming on bended knee.But, as her circumstances went, Jane, the oldest daughter of an impoverished gentry family was forced to marry a man of mean circumstances and a meaner character; a man so wholly unworthy of her it made her favorite younger sister shudder and shake with fury. All to help the family and to save their estate of Longbourn, entailed, through the malevolence of some long-deceased uncle, away from the family of five daughters.Jane accepted her plight with admirable-and insufferable-resignation. She had resolved herself to be content with her situation; after all, her fiance, Mr. William Collins, was an eminently respectable man, living under the patronage of the very wealthy and grand Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And so great was his attachment to Lady Catherine that he had announced, at dinner three nights ago, that he would be glad to have the Bennett family remain at Longbourn for an indefinite stretch of time-all because he loathed to leave the good lady’s side.“After all,” he said one night at supper, “I hope to be so fortunate as to retain the favor of my great patroness for years to come.”Elizabeth ground her teeth. “And what,” she asked a little too shrilly, “what if you should lose it, Mr. Collins?”“Lizzy!” her mother hissed, swatting her arm with a napkin. “Why should you say such a thing, girl?”Mr. Collins straightened out in his seat and mopped his bloodless lips with the corner of his napkin.“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth,” he said shakily, “I am all astonishment as to why you should suggest such a dreary possibility! There is nothing I cherish more in this world than Lady Catherine’s kind favor. To lose it would be most terrible.”“One would think,” Elizabeth murmured into her plate, “that there were people in this world whose favor you valued slightly higher-your wife’s, for one!”“Pardon?” Mr. Collins asked, with no little hint of irritation in his voice.“No, ‘tis nothing, sir,” Elizabeth looked up from her plate, smiling pleasantly. “I am certain that your enviable position with Lady Catherine should endure, and I wish it so, very much-if only for the sake of my sister.”He smiled broadly, showing some rather poor teeth, and raised his eyes to the skies.“Indeed,” he mused, out loud, “I do not see why a lady as illustrious as Lady Catherine has chosen to bestow her attention at someone so wholly inferior as myself, but the truth remains, she has been the kindest and most solicitous patroness one can aspire to have!”“Of course,” Elizabeth murmured, “if one aspires to have a patroness to begins with.” But thankfully, Mr. Collins did not hear this little barb; and if he did, we can safely assume that the sentiment expressed would hardly be understandable to him.If nothing else, Elizabeth was a very decent human being. A clever girl, she had always found solace in books and contemplation. But that night, sitting on the windowsill in her room, gazing steadfastly at the moon, she did nothing to down the feelings of bitterness and resentment that at the moment invaded her heart. If asked who or what was the subject of her anger, so very irrational-the cruel system of entail, which rendered daughters penniless in favor of distant male cousins, or her father, perhaps, who had not saved for them, so as to prevent the necessarily ignoble pecuniary marriages to men so beneath them, or her mother, who spent money so indiscriminately-she would probably name herself as a main culprit. For most of all, she ached at her own inability to help her sister. If only she could find employment-make herself useful! But the only employment possibly available to her would be that of a governess, and that hardly paid enough to provide for a family of six ladies; in addition, she knew of no family in Hertfordshire in need of a governess, and she could not imagine giving an advertisement.“Oh,” she half-growled, half-sighed in frustration, before striking the window-frame lightly with her fist. “What ignominy!”There was a light scraping at the door, and Elizabeth bade the visitor come in. It was Jane, of course; hardly a night passed that the two sisters did not congregate in one bedroom or another, to discuss the day that had passed, the books they had read, or to simply talk-about life, their future, their dreams.Dreams, which at the moment, were so drastically curtailed.“Lizzy!” Jane climbed on the bed and pulled her knees tightly against her chest. She was wearing, over a long nightshift, a daintily painted shawl Elizabeth had embroidered to her for her eighteenth birthday. Elizabeth despised embroidery; and for no other person in the world would she have undertaken so daunting a task. “Oh, darling, pray don’t look so sad-you are breaking my heart.”Elizabeth swept off the windowsill. “I am not sad,” she said, curtly. “I am simply… I am incensed, that is what I am!”“Why, dearest Lizzy?”“Because I cannot bear see how gladly you stand to sacrifice yourself-and how gaily Mama has acquiesced to your sacrifice!”Jane regarded her dark-haired sister with such prodigious love in her eyes, the latter was almost moved to weep (but she rarely cried, and hardly ever in the presence of others).“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane whispered sweetly, patting the bed next to herself. “Come sit with me,” she said, scuttling over to the side. Elizabeth walked back over to the bed and climbed on top of it, sitting herself in a manner similar to her sister’s, with knees pulled up tight and in a girlish fashion. “Lizzy, it is hardly a sacrifice,” Jane said.“Do not be disingenuous with me,” Elizabeth snapped. “I’ll not take it from you! Can you say, in all honesty, that, that-that that man is not abhorrent to you?”Jane sighed, looking away. “I try not to think this way,” she whispered. “If I do, I’ll hardly bear it myself! Lizzy, do you not see? My only solace is in convincing myself that my situation is not altogether so bad. After all, I am to marry a respectable man-“ she threw a reproachful glance at Elizabeth who had rolled her eyes disdainfully. “-and you know not what joy it gives me to be able to help my family.”Elizabeth, who knew her sister very well and cherished what she knew about Jane, had to consider that. Jane was the kindest person of Elizabeth’s acquaintance; to her, the knowledge that she was considerably easing her beloved family’s lot would be a solace, indeed.“And you, my love,” Jane sat, throwing her arms around Elizabeth, “should find comfort in knowing that I am not altogether unhappy. And you simply must come and visit me!”“Oh Jane,” Elizabeth sighed, laying her head upon her sister’s shoulder. “I only wish I could help you. I only wish I could help all of us.”And today, on the day of the wedding, she wished that most of all. She was, of course, the bridesmaid, and, standing next to Jane in church, wished sorely that it was not Mr. Collins on the other side of her sister, but someone worthy of her-someone kind, someone intelligent, someone truly respectable-not so much by the society at large, but by Elizabeth’s own heart.But they were poor, and if they were to lose Longbourn, they would be left in the most desperate of circumstances. And so, it was not to be.Later, as they were saying good-bye to the newlyweds after an absurdly short wedding breakfast (“I should like to stay very much,” Mr. Collins said, sounding awfully important, “but I am most eager to introduce the new Mrs. Collins to my excellent patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”), Jane drew Elizabeth aside and the two held each other.“Promise me,” Jane said, sounding somewhat stifled, “promise me, Lizzy, that you will come to visit.”“Oh, I promise,” Elizabeth replied fervently. “Soon as may be.”“Then I shall wait for you,” Jane whispered into her sister’s hair. It was not said, but both knew: she would live for her sister’s visit.As the wedding carriage drew away, Mrs. Bennett said, finally lowering her handkerchief, and sounding very pleased. “Now, that is an agreeable match! God has been very good to us!”Elizabeth, who could not abide such willful blindness, said nothing, but begged to be excused.Chapter TwoThe winter passed in contemplation and reading. Elizabeth, like she never had before, sought solitude within her own home—for she found she had not realized how much she had relied both on her father and Jane amidst the sea of silliness that was the rest of her family. She was missing her father’s wry wit and Jane’s calming presence; to be sure, she loved her mother and her younger sisters, but perhaps not enough to constantly close her eyes at their continued lack of decorum and their remarkable ability to maintain a deafening level of noise at any given moment. Elizabeth’s mother never said anything, except to bemoan their sad situation, praise Mr. Collins or blame her late husband for everything. Neither Lydia, nor Kitty ever spoke about anything but clothes and officers and dances, and whined and whined to their mother about new toilettes for the balls (which infuriated Elizabeth in particular, since she knew that they had barely enough money to keep Cook and Hill). Mary, on her part, only opened her mouth to chide or mora...
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