Lady Bridget's Diary(57)
She pinched him on the arm, hard, even though ladies probably should not pinch gentlemen callers, and he opened his eyes in shock.
“Mr. Collins, I have agreed to nothing!”
“Shall I woo you? I can tell you about the annuity an elderly aunt has provided me, and the pin money I will be able to set aside for you . . .”
“Mr. Collins, I will not marry you.”
“. . . It isn’t much by London standards, but you’ll find things are far more reasonably priced in the village. It’s a lovely little town . . .”
This was unbearable. It had to stop. There was only one thing to do. Channeling Darcy, she declared in her most I-am-Lord-Darcy voice, “Cease talking at once, Mr. Collins.”
He stopped. She was surprised. Behold, the power of Darcy, she thought, not without a surge of pride. She wished to tell Rupert—he would find it so amusing. No, she wished to tell Darcy. But that would have to wait.
Now that she finally had Mr. Collins’s attention, she proceeded to crush his hopes and dreams as delicately as possible.
“Thank you for your proposal. I am flattered. But I will not marry you.” She thought about adding, I would rather be pecked to death by pigeons a thousand times than be your wife, but it seemed a bit much.
She had shocked him. She knew this because his mouth flapped open and closed a few times. Then he stumbled over his words and her heart broke a little for him, but not nearly enough to reconsider.
“Very well, Lady Bridget. If that is your choice . . . I suppose I must accept. Even though it is a foolish and regrettable decision. But ladies never were blessed with sense or reason.”
She somehow managed to stifle the urge to kick him in the shins. Why, she was becoming more like Darcy by the minute. She ought to tell him.
“Good day, Mr. Collins,” she said firmly, still using her Darcy voice.
He opened the door and a group of ladies—including her sisters, Miss Green, a downstairs maid, and the duchess herself—straightened up and tried vainly to appear as if they hadn’t been shamelessly eavesdropping.
The butler had to hand over a bottle of champagne to a footman in order to hand Mr. Collins his hat and cane. It was deuced awkward. But finally her not-future-husband had stepped out of the house and hopefully out of her life forever.
“Don’t bother to open the champagne, Pendleton,” the duchess said with a disapproving frown. “It is clear we have nothing to celebrate.”
“Did you honestly think that we would?” Bridget asked her incredulously.
“You must marry. You must all marry!” For once, the duchess actually raised her voice.
“I do not think we are opposed to marriage,” James said evenly.
“We are just opposed to pledging our troth to cork-brained men with nothing to recommend them,” Bridget said.
“Well, if you continue to flaunt society, you may only have the likes of Mr. Collins to choose from!” the duchess cried. “And he is not the worst possible person. At least the dukedom would stay in the family. You would be provided for. What if your brother dies and you are all unwed? How will you support yourselves? Who will marry you then, when you have no reputations because you have flaunted the rules at every turn and when you have no dowries because everything has gone to Mr. Collins?”
“James won’t die,” Amelia protested.
“People die, Amelia. Look at our parents,” Claire said softly.
“Yes, but people love, too. Look at our parents,” Bridget said. “Don’t we all want that?”
Everyone, from the duchess to the butler, fell silent. Thoughtful. Amelia bit her lip. Claire exhaled deeply.
“We want what our mother and father had, Josephine. Love,” James said quietly. “The kind of love you throw a dukedom away for.”
Chapter 18
Sometimes I do not know which affects me more: Rupert’s charm or the dark and intense way that Darcy looks at me. It reminds me of the moment before our kiss—which has not been repeated, alas.
Alas?
Lady Bridget’s Diary
If Bridget had any doubts about Rupert’s feelings or intentions for her—and she did, given that he had been scarce and distracted of late—this evening assuaged them. And if she had any ideas about the goings-on of Lord Darcy’s heart or mind, this evening brought no clarity.
She and her siblings had only just arrived when Rupert sought her out. He looked so handsome in his evening clothes, especially when he smiled and revealed that charming dimple in his cheek.
Behind him, Lord Darcy glowered.
“Lady Bridget! I was hoping to see you this evening.”