The Scotsman’s Ghost: or How to Wreck a Yule Party (Christmas With Darcy and Elizabeth)

27. Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Seven

Elizabeth

M r. Collins cleared his throat in the drawing room, and I immediately braced myself. There was no escaping him this time. The rest of the household was busy elsewhere, and the moment he approached me, I knew exactly what was about to happen.

“Cousin Elizabeth,” he began, puffing his chest up as though Lady Catherine herself had placed a medal of valor upon it, “I trust you understand why I wish to speak with you in private.”

I suppressed a sigh, pasting on my most patient smile. “Mr. Collins, I do believe I have an inkling.”

His chest inflated even further, if such a thing were possible. “Indeed, indeed. I am sure you are not unaware of the... admiration I hold for you. And I come now with an offer that I believe you will find most advantageous—”

Ah, there it was. The moment I had been dreading, unfolding before me like one of those awful plays where the ending is known from the start, but one is forced to sit through it anyway.

“Miss Bennet, it is with the greatest respect and the most ardent affection that I humbly offer you my hand in marriage,” he declared, beaming as though he’d just handed me the keys to a kingdom.

“Oh, Mr. Collins,” I began, voice dripping with sincerity, “I am truly honored that you would even consider me for such a position. But...” I paused, glancing down as if I were filled with doubt. “I fear I may not live up to the high expectations that Lady Catherine de Bourgh surely has for your future wife.”

His smile faltered. “I... beg your pardon?”

I pressed on, adding a note of regret to my tone. “Indeed, a woman of my limited refinement might bring embarrassment to such a distinguished household as Lady Catherine’s.” I gave a small, sorrowful sigh for effect. “I trust she will not be too disappointed with me, knowing you could have done so much better.”

“I…” He tilted his head. “Why, Cousin! Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, surely, Mr. Collins, you must know that I cannot cook. I do not even know how to boil water without scalding myself.”

“Well, naturally, Cousin, that skill could be learned in time.”

“And I can hardly read.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

I shrugged. “I’m afraid it is all a sham—every bit of it. All the times you have seen me with my Papa’s books, the things I try to say to Mary—fake. All of it. I can barely make out my own name, and it is not for want of effort. I believe there is something wrong with my eyes—it must be hereditary, for Mama is the same. The letters swim all over the page, and poof . I cannot make heads of tails of them. Fancy me being good enough for a parson’s wife, illiterate and unable to cook! Good sir you are too kind.”

“Well!” He swallowed and glanced to the side. “I… ah… Surely, Cousin, that would matter little once we are married.”

“Oh, I dearly hoped you would say that. You are too good,” I gushed. “Mama told me never to say a word of it to anyone, and I almost never have, but you are so terribly generous and kind-hearted that I doubt you shall even be disappointed that I cannot have children.”

Mr. Collins blinked, clearly thrown off course. “Miss Bennet, I... I had not considered—” He gulped and leaned toward me with a questioning look. “Ah… you will forgive my indelicacy, Cousin, but… exactly how are you aware of this… infirmity?”

I shook my head mournfully. “I was not ‘usual’ like my sisters when they came into womanhood, and Mama brought in a midwife to confirm it. But truly, what is that in light of a lifetime of happiness? Oh, Mr. Collins, you have made me the happiest woman alive! I daresay even Lady Catherine will become accustomed to me in time. You know I can hardly hold my tongue in company, but as she is such a great lady, I’ve no doubts that she will bring even my stubborn tongue to heel.”

The wheels in his head started turning, and I could see the moment he began reconsidering his offer. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke again. “Yes, well... Lady Catherine does prefer a certain... level of decorum, that is true. And I had hoped…” He cleared his throat and bit his lip. “Of course, in my position as your father’s heir, I had hoped for a son of my own one day.”

I let my face collapse in sorrow. “Then… are you saying I am not good enough for you? That you would put me aside for such a little thing?”

“Well! It is hardly a little thing when it is one of my chief requirements in… That is to say, I had certain expectations, and… well…”

I nodded in understanding. “That is what the last gentleman said. Oh, I really ought to have listened to Mama and not said a word. But truly, Mr. Collins, I would absolve you of any wrong if you chose to retract your offer. I think perhaps you should seek a lady of... quieter manners. Someone truly worthy of Hunsford.”

He nodded, looking increasingly convinced that this was all his idea. “Exactly as I was thinking, Miss Bennet. I see now that, in my eagerness, I may have overlooked certain... qualities. It is possible Lady Catherine would prefer someone with... greater refinement.”

I smiled sweetly. “You are wise, Mr. Collins. I’m sure you will find someone more suitable in no time.”

By the time I excused myself from the room, Mr. Collins was nodding so vigorously that I feared he might dislodge his wig. But at least he was no longer proposing.

I made my way straight to my father’s study after that little debacle. A victory like that deserved an audience, and Father would certainly appreciate the performance.

I knocked once, not bothering to wait for a response before slipping inside. “Papa, I have important news.”

He glanced up from his book, an amused eyebrow raised. “Well, Lizzy, what could possibly be important enough to interrupt my reading?”

“I have just refused a very eligible offer of marriage. I believe it is now your duty to denounce me as the most ungrateful daughter in all of Hertfordshire.”

Papa’s lips twitched, but he held his composure remarkably well. “Ah, yes. I have long awaited this moment. And how shall I go about denouncing you? Shall I send you out into the snow to fend for yourself? Perhaps your mother will build a gallows in the back garden.”

“Only if there’s room beside her gardenias,” I quipped, settling into the chair across from him.

He chuckled and set his book aside. “Come now, Lizzy. Who’s the poor soul who had the misfortune of proposing to you? Mr. Collins, I presume?”

I nodded. “Indeed. I believe I handled him quite well.”

Papa leaned back, smirking. “I imagine you sent him running for the hills?”

I shook my head, feigning modesty. “Not at all. I simply... encouraged him to realize that he was the one who should retract the offer.”

Papa let out a bark of laughter. “Good girl. Well done, Lizzy. I feared for a moment I might actually have to approve of the match. A relief, truly. I daresay you’ve spared him a lifetime of misery, though your mother may never forgive you for it.”

“I’m certain I shall recover,” I said airily. “But now that I am officially off the market—at least in Mr. Collins’ mind—what am I to do with the rest of my time?”

Papa leaned back, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, you could always come back to the serious business of returning my books. Are you quite finished with them yet, or have you found yourself compromised by the same scoundrel who’s stolen them away?”

The words, spoken in jest, made my smile falter. Papa noticed, of course. He always noticed. His gaze sharpened, the lightness in his tone fading just slightly.

“What is it, Lizzy? You look troubled.”

Compromised… I hesitated, the memory of those snow-covered woods flickering in my mind. The footprints Wickham had surely seen. My heart twisted at the thought, but I pushed it down. Surely, he would not have followed them for over a mile to learn where I had gone.

But how to explain all my dealings with Mr. Darcy? Papa was whimsical, to be sure, but he was also a rational man. He wasn’t the sort to take kindly to talk of ghostly happenings, and I could hardly confess all that was on my mind. But there was something else I could admit.

“It’s not about Mr. Collins, Papa,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I’ve... come to rather like Mr. Darcy.”

Papa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? Well, this is news indeed. Your mother will be over the moon.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that. I just... he’s not the man I thought he was.”

Papa leaned forward, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “I see. So, you’ve given up all hope of ruining yourself with a good-for-nothing officer like your sisters and have taken a fancy to the idea of letting a fine, upstanding gentleman disappoint you instead?”

“It’s not a fancy,” I protested, though the heat creeping up my neck betrayed me. “I simply... he’s been through a great deal, and I misunderstood him at first.”

Papa gave a slow nod, though his eyes were still twinkling with mischief. “And does he return your admiration, or is this a strictly one-sided affair?”

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. “I’ve no intention of getting my heart involved, thank you very much. Mr. Darcy and I have simply... reached an understanding.”

Papa’s smile faded slightly as he studied me, his expression more serious now. “An understanding? You’ve never spoken like this before, Lizzy. What has changed?”

I bit my lip, searching for the right words. “I suppose... I’ve seen another side of him. He’s... vulnerable, in a way. He’s been dealing with more than anyone realizes.”

Papa leaned back in his chair, his gaze still on me. “And this other side of him... do you like it?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“Lizzy, if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you never do anything halfway. If you’ve come to like this Mr. Darcy, then there’s more to it than simple admiration. You always see things through to the end, even if it’s uncomfortable.”

I stared at him, taken aback by his perceptiveness. “I’m not sure it will come to anything, Papa. He’s... well, he’s Mr. Darcy. And after the ball, everything might change.”

He chuckled again, though this time there was a note of sympathy in his voice. “Ah, yes. The grand ball. And what will happen after all the Christmas festivities have ended? Will Mr. Darcy vanish back into his world of riches and responsibilities?”

I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he’ll be freed of all the... distractions that have been plaguing him. Either way, I don’t know what the future holds.”

Papa studied me for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Well, whatever happens, Lizzy, I trust you’ll make the most of it. Heaven knows you’ve more sense than the rest of your sisters combined.”

I smiled, though the unease still lingered in my chest. Father had a way of simplifying things, of making them seem less daunting. But in this case, I wasn’t sure sense had anything to do with it.

L ater that evening, before bed, Jane and I were laying out our gowns for the Christmas Eve ball. Jane leaned over hers, adjusting her ribbons and inspecting any flaws in the lace with serene concentration, while I fussed unnecessarily with a shawl, pretending it needed far more attention than it did.

“I confess, Lizzy,” Jane began, “I believe I’ve quite lost my heart to Mr. Bingley.”

I glanced up, watching her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were a soft pink, her eyes sparkling. I smiled, setting aside the shawl entirely. “I’m so happy for you, Jane. He’s a good man, and it’s clear he cares for you.”

She blushed, her lips curving into a shy smile. “It’s almost too good to be true, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if it’s all a dream.”

I chuckled. “Dream or not, you deserve it. More than anyone I know.”

Jane turned to face me fully, her expression soft but filled with that unmistakable glow of someone very much in love. “You’re kind to say so, but I still can’t believe he seemed to choose me. He could have had any of the fine ladies in town, and yet...”

I waved off her modesty with a flick of my hand. “Oh, Jane. He didn’t ‘choose’ you like you’re some dish at the local tavern. He fell for you. Thoroughly, completely, and probably before you even batted an eyelash his way.”

She gave a small laugh, fiddling with the ribbons in her lap. “Perhaps. But it’s still overwhelming. I’ve never felt this way before. I never knew it could be like this.”

The soft vulnerability in her voice made my heart warm. “Mr. Bingley is the lucky one, and if he has any sense, he already knows it.”

Jane glanced at me, then gave me a sly look, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “And what about you, Lizzy? I’ve noticed something between you and Mr. Darcy. There’s... something there, isn’t there?”

I nearly dropped the ribbon I was holding. “Jane, don’t be absurd. Mr. Darcy and I are... acquaintances, nothing more.”

“Acquaintances?” she repeated, her tone sweetly disbelieving. “Yet his eyes seek you out whenever you’re in the room. He always seems to look for you, doesn’t he?”

I waved her off, though my heart gave a little flutter at the thought. “You’re imagining things. Mr. Darcy seeks no one out.”

“Am I?” Jane tilted her head, her soft teasing laced with gentle curiosity. “Lizzy, I think you care for him more than you let on.”

I busied myself with my gown, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles and adjusting the sleeves, anything to avoid Jane’s knowing gaze. “You’re reading too much into it.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Lizzy, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the tug of truth in her words. Over the past few weeks, my feelings for Darcy had shifted in ways I wasn’t ready to admit, even to myself. First, I thought him a madman, then a reluctant partner in this bizarre ghost business. But now... now I feared something else entirely had taken root.

The thought terrified me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said quietly, finally meeting Jane’s eyes. “After the ball, everything will change. He’ll be... free. Free of all this. Free of me.”

Jane frowned, concern softening her features. “Free of you? Lizzy, why do you say that? You speak as though he’s trying to escape.”

I let out a long breath, dropping the pretense of fiddling with my gown. “Once Christmas Eve is over, he’ll have no reason to stay. He’ll go back to his life, to London... and to whatever future he had before all of this.”

“What is all this nonsense about Christmas Eve? As if we’ve not twelve more days of festivities after Christmas! You think Mr. Darcy will suddenly leave all his friends in the middle of the season? Do you honestly think he’ll forget you?”

I hesitated. “Perhaps he won’t forget me... but that doesn’t mean there’s a future for us.”

Jane reached out and took my hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “You don’t know that, Lizzy. He... he may not be as indifferent as you think.”

I tried to smile, but it felt strained. “We’ll see. But for now... let’s focus on the ball, shall we?”

“If you insist. But don’t give up hope just yet.”

I turned back to the vanity, adjusting the ribbons on my gown for the third time. “Hope? I didn’t think I had any left to lose.”

Jane gave a soft laugh, standing to help me with my shawl. “I’m sure you have more than you think. I’ve never seen a man as serious as Mr. Darcy quite so... serious about you.”

“Oh, he’s serious, that is certain,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Serious about frowning. I’m not sure he even knows how to smile properly.”

“I think you’ve seen him smile more than you’ll admit,” Jane teased, adjusting my shawl. “And I think he cares for you more than he’ll admit.”

I snorted, though a flicker of warmth stirred in my chest at the thought. “We shall see about that. Now, come on, let’s focus on you and Mr. Bingley, shall we? We wouldn’t want you to lose your sense before this ball.”

“Lose my sense?” Jane echoed, laughing softly as she tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “I think I’ve already lost it. To him.”