To Fool a Fool
**This will get icky, but I promise it’s all in good fun.**
On her wedding night, Elizabeth Collins, nee Bennet, waited at her dressing table brushing her hair, her aunt’s advice replaying in her mind. She knew what to expect, and how to react, and had promised her aunt that no matter what happened, she would not laugh.
Another twenty minutes passed and she began to wonder about her new husband. She listened carefully, but heard nothing coming from behind the door that led to his chambers in the parsonage she would now call home. She extinguished the lamp on her dressing table and snuffed out all the candles but one. If she was going to have to spend the night with Mr. Collins, she would much rather not see him.
After standing nervously for a few more minutes, she decided to wait on the bed. She settled onto the mattress and leaned back against the headboard. Her hands fidgeted with her nightgown at first, but eventually she relaxed. Several more minutes passed, but her husband did not appear. Elizabeth was beginning to fall asleep when she heard the door creak open ever so slightly. In the dim candlelight, she could just barely make out his matted hair, falling in broad swaths across his forehead.
He opened the door only enough to barely squeeze through, and closed it behind himself. He jumped slightly at the sound it made as it latched into place. Collins kept his eyes glued to the floor and shuffled towards his bride, staying as near to the wall as possible. Elizabeth thought he appeared to be edging along a cliff and would have laughed had she not known she was the one waiting for him at the bottom of the precipice.
Finally, he was next to the bed. He looked up timidly, turning his head so that he could only see her with one eye, as if he could make the situation better by using only half his vision.
“Mr. Collins? Are you well?” she asked.
“Yes, Cousin Elizabeth. How kind of you to ask,” he replied, his voice slightly squeaky.
He sat down awkwardly on the side of the bed, and she slid over a bit to make room for him.
He took her hand in his and placed an awkward kiss on the back of it, then nervously asked, “Shall we begin, Mrs. Collins?”
She raised her brows a bit, then realization began to dawn on her.
“Mr. Collins, have you done this many times before?”
He spluttered and made a choking sound that she supposed was meant to be a laugh. “My dear Cousin Elizabeth, I can assure you that I am quite capable of handling this situation. You are in excellent hands, my dear. There is no need to worry.”
“Thank you. But have you ever actually done this yourself?” she asked carefully.
“Well, I have, that is to say, I… there was a…. sometimes I… I have…um, well.” He took a great breath. “No,” he finally said, and hung his head.
Elizabeth’s mind whirred into action, and before she knew what she was saying she blurted, “I think that’s wonderful!”
“Oh, yes! It can be something we learn to do together. Our first new experience as man… and wife.” She nearly choked on the words but just managed to get them out.
“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that! What a wonderful way to view our first experience into connubial bliss! How clever you are, wife.”
Elizabeth forced herself to smile and carry on. “Both my mother and aunt spoke with me, so I am quite well prepared. Did anyone speak with you?”
Mr. Collins flushed immediately. “They did not so much, of course there were, though they were not as… they were more… it was not very… instructive.”
Elizabeth sympathetically squeezed his hand and reassured him. “Do not worry. I was thoroughly instructed and I know just what to do. Please, husband, I would be honored if you would trust me in this.”
Mr. Collins looked at her with a mix of relief and hope, and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for him. Then his gaze drifted down to her bosom and she quickly lost all compassion.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” she said with false cheer.
“Yes, of course, I am quite eager to… begin.” His eyes lit up and his face fairly glowed with enthusiasm.
As he removed his robe and was before her in just a nightshirt, Elizabeth thought that one candle was uncommonly bright. She quickly moved it across the room to the mantle as her groom settled himself under the covers, a look of excited anticipation on his face.
She walked to him slowly, steeling her resolve and cementing her plan in her mind.
“You look tense, Mr. Collins. Shall I rub your shoulders?”
“Yes, please wife. That would be delightful.” He presented his back to her gleefully, almost tittering in excitement.
Elizabeth seated herself behind him and gingerly placed her hands on his shoulders. She closed her eyes and grimaced as she began to massage his fleshy back. Better to touch his back than… other parts, she thought.
She couldn’t help but jump slightly when he let out a most ungentlemanly groan. “What exquisitely talented fingers you have, fair cousin,” he said in what was meant to be a seductive voice.
“Thank you,” she mumbled uncomfortably.
Elizabeth was quickly gathering courage to enact a desperate, almost dangerous, hastily thrown together plan. But being in such close proximity to her new husband only served to strengthen her resolve. She summoned all her powers of persuasion and steeled herself for the performance of her life.
“Are you feeling more relaxed now?” she asked gently.
“Much, thank you, wife.”
Mr. Collins turned toward her and she couldn’t help but notice how his nightshirt was tented up over his lap. Swallowing a groan, she looked into his moon-like face and smiled brightly.
“Lie back, husband.” She flicked her hand in the direction he should go and indicated he should lie on his side.
Mr. Collins obeyed dutifully, the look of anticipation in his eyes greatly disturbing his wife. Once he was settled on his side, Elizabeth lay down in front of him, her back to his chest. On more than one occasion, she had seen him watching her walk – and Jane, Kitty, and Lydia, and once even her mother walk as well – and she gleaned from this that he was rather enamored of a woman’s back. Her aunt had told her that many men were quite drawn to the female posterior, and Elizabeth could only hope that Mr. Collins was one of them.
Closing her eyes tightly and clenching her fists into the sheet, she snuggled backward until nearly her entire body was pressed against the length of him. She felt his rush of breath on her neck and another low moan, and could only assume that her position was pleasing to her groom.
It is now or never, Lizzy. This is no time to be missish! she told herself.
Saying a quick prayer, she began to rub her derriere against her husband’s body. He moaned and she barely held in check the laugh that threatened to erupt as she was reminded of Daisy, one of her father’s best milking cows.
Realizing he was not questioning her activities or trying to take charge of the situation in any way, she continued her motions, moving more firmly and a little faster, then in a circular pattern that elicited more guttural sounds from the mound of flesh behind her.
She knew she was close to success when he began breathing rapidly, as her aunt had told her he would, and increased the speed of her undulations. He began to cry out in a whinnying sound as he reached around and clutched the front of her nightdress, wringing it in his sweaty hand, while the other awkwardly petted her head. She assumed he was trying to stroke her hair, but the action felt more like a dog being praised for fetching the right stick.
Finally, he pressed hard against her for a moment and seemed to stop breathing altogether as he clutched her tightly to him. Elizabeth felt a warm moistness on her lower back where her nightdress was sticking to her. Then Mr. Collins went limp behind her and his arm hung heavily across her waist.
She opened her eyes, looked around anxiously for a moment, then took a steadying breath and schooled her features into a smile.
“There! I believe we were quite successful, don’t you, Mr. Collins?” she said cheerfully.
His eyes were droopy and he looked as if he would fall asleep any moment. “Oh, yes wife. It was quite successful. You have pleased me very well! What perfect buttocks you have, like ripe peaches in the summer heat.”
He ran a hand over her bum clumsily as Elizabeth waited on tenterhooks, hoping he would not go any further. Finally, he laid his head on the pillow and looked about to drop off.
“I see you are very tired, husband. Shall I help you to your room?” she asked helpfully.
He opened his eyes and looked around him dazedly. “Oh, yes, I am tired. Thank you, wife.” He absently patted her arm and left for his own bed.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Elizabeth jumped out of bed and removed her soiled nightgown, dousing the offending spot with water from the basin. She washed her neck, face, and hands, and anything else that had touched her husband. Fighting feelings of revulsion and determined to keep her meager dinner down, she took several cleansing breaths and put on a clean nightshift.
Well, that could have been much worse, she thought. In fact, she was quite proud of herself for how she had handled the situation.
She wasn’t sure how long she could continue in such a way without Mr. Collins finding out they were, in fact, not doing it properly, but she had a reprieve for now. With any luck, she could convince her father to annul the marriage soon.
After being forced to choose between marrying Mr. Collins and being barred from her own beloved home, she had acquiesced on the condition that Mr. Collins and her father sign the papers that would break the entail, and upon her husband’s death, Elizabeth would inherit Longbourn. Feeling paternal guilt over forcing his favorite into an unfavorable union, Mr. Bennet made the arrangements. On reflection, she thought she had gotten the short end of the deal.
If the fates were particularly kind, Collins would die before too long, the entail would go with him, and she could marry whomever she wished. She would go to her new husband with her maidenhood intact and without any of Mr. Collins’s unfortunate offspring.
Settling onto the opposite side of the bed from where her husband had lain, Elizabeth quickly fell asleep. Not normally of a violent nature, she was somewhat disconcerted when she dreamed of Mr. Collins drowning in the pond, being stung to death by a swarm of wasps, and being mistaken for a stag by Rosings’ hounds.
I will not worry overmuch, she told herself. It is not as if I can control the contents of my dreams.
Despite her reassurances to herself that dreams could not tell the future, she was deeply disturbed when not a week later, Mr. Collins bowed low to Lady Catherine’s carriage as it passed by the parsonage and clipped the top of his head. He was immediately rendered unconscious and carried upstairs where Elizabeth faithfully tended him until he succumbed to the fever caused by the festering wound.
Shocked to find herself a widow a fortnight after she wed, Elizabeth went to sleep in a daze of confusion and awoke after a startling dream containing the stern Mr. Darcy, a beautiful country house, and several dark haired children. It is only a dream, Lizzy. It means nothing, she chided herself.
Not of a nature to brood, she shrugged it off and went down to breakfast, conveniently remembering that three of her gowns could easily be dyed for mourning.