Tea had done nothing to ease Elizabeth’s mind. As she might have expected, Lydia and Kitty had shared Wickham’s sad tale with their aunt as soon as they walked through the door. By the time Jane and Elizabeth joined them, the room had decidedly settled upon Mr. Darcy’s guilt and was speaking of Mr. Wickham in hallowed tones. Both Jane and Elizabeth kept their opinions to themselves, and if anyone noticed, no one had said a word.
Elizabeth was grateful to be nearing Longbourn. Kitty, Lydia, and even Mary were proving to be trying company after so many hours. Elizabeth nearly screamed with frustration when Lydia had insisted on stopping for ribbons on the way home. Longbourn offered very few spaces for respite, but she had long experience in seeking out those quiet places to sort through her thoughts. She longed for the chance to take refuge, even for just a few moments.
However, refuge was not to be had. As soon as they began to walk up the drive, Elizabeth saw Mrs. Bennet hurrying toward them.
“Mama,” Lydia called. “Mama, look at these lovely ribbons I got! I’m going to redo one of my bonnets. Won’t it be lovely?” Lydia held up her purchase for Mrs. Bennet to examine, but their mother pushed them away without a second glance.
“Lovely, Lydia, dear,” she said, clearly distracted. “Girls, I am so grateful you are back.” She wrung her hands and glanced nervously over her shoulder.
“Mama, is everything well?” Jane asked, sounding concerned.
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Bennet said breathlessly. “Everything is quite well. We have a guest.”
“A guest?” Elizabeth asked with surprise. Could it be Mr. Bingley to visit Jane once more? She glanced at Jane and could tell she had the same thought.
“Yes,” Mrs. Bennet said. “It is the cousin.” She said the words dramatically. Elizabeth was confused for a moment before understanding settled upon her.
“The one who is to inherit?” She asked, surprised. They had heard about the cousin for years, but she had not expected to meet him so unexpectedly.
“Yes,” Mrs. Bennet said, looking quite put out. “Mr. Collins. Here to count the silverware and add up the accounts, to find out exactly what he is to inherit when my poor Mr. Bennet is no longer with us.”
“I am sure he has other reasons to visit,” Jane said reassuringly, laying a hand on Mrs. Bennet’s arm. They all turned and continued walking to the house.
“He shall turn us out before Mr. Bennet is cold!” Mrs. Bennet said macabrely. “Us poor, defenceless women. Cheated by the law.”
“You mustn’t speak like this, Mama,” Jane continued in soothing tones. Elizabeth quite agreed. She did not like to hear her mother talk about her father’s death in such a forthright manner.
“And why should I not?” Mrs. Bennet shot back, dabbing her cheeks with a handkerchief. “Why should I pretend to open my home to the circling vulture?”
“Papa is hardly on his deathbed,” Elizabeth pointed out dryly. Her father enjoyed fine health and Elizabeth was certain he had many years left. “Do not be so eager to put him in his grave.”
“Yes, yes, you’re quite right,” Mrs. Bennet said, her voice taking on a shaking tone. “We might as well see what he wants.” An idea seemed to hit her, and she gave Elizabeth a calculating look. “Perhaps he has come looking for a wife…” She tapped her lips with her finger while Elizabeth gave her a horrified look. This was not what she had meant when she encouraged Mrs. Bennet to withhold judgement.
A short, round man with thinning hair was standing by the front door, nervously tapping his foot, apparently waiting for Mrs. Bennet to return. He was dressed in the severe black suit and white colour of a clergyman, and he wore a pair of spectacles perched on the end of his nose. All five of the Bennet sisters drew up short, surprised to meet the cousin out-of-doors.
“Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet bustled forward. “I told you it was unnecessary for you to wait here. Only a few minutes more and we might have greeted one another out of the chill air.”
The strange man gave a jerky bow.
“Mrs. Bennet,” he said in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “I simply had to admire the landscape of the estate. It is quite lovely for so small a park. Nothing compared to my patroness’ estate at Rosings, to be sure, but quite nice for so humble a place.”
Elizabeth felt her mouth drop open in surprise, but quickly recovered herself. The man certainly had high standards, it seemed, and easily found fault.
“Yes, well,” Mrs. Bennet said, uncertain how to respond. A lengthy pause drifted over the group before Mrs. Bennet began to introduce her daughters. “Mr. Collins, may I present my daughters? Miss Jane, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, though we call her Kitty, and Miss Lydia Bennet.” Each of the girls dropped into a polite curtsy when Mrs. Bennet named them.
“Dear cousins,” Mr. Collins said, bowing ridiculously low. Lydia and Kitty glanced at each other and were turning red with the effort of not laughing. “What an honour to make your acquaintance. I hope our time together creates a feeling of familial felicity.” He straightened up and looked directly at Jane. “Who knows? Perhaps my visit will create more than familial felicity.”
Jane’s eyes grew wide and she looked nervously at Elizabeth. Elizabeth, for her part, was having as much trouble not laughing as Lydia and Kitty.
“Thank you, Mr. Collins,” Mary said suddenly. Elizabeth looked at Mary in surprise—she rarely spoke in such situations. “Your concern for strong family connections is no doubt a reflection of your commitment to God and the church.”
“Indeed, it is, Miss Mary,” Mr. Collins said pompously. “I am but recently ordained, but my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has made it quite clear that she expects me to soon take a wife. A clergyman’s duty.” He licked his lips nervously. “And I quite agree. Naturally.”
“Naturally,” Elizabeth echoed, in a teasing tone. Jane elbowed her sharply, but she could not help it—they man was an utter fool! Mr. Collins, for his part, did not seem to notice Elizabeth’s jest at his expense. Mrs. Bennet, however, noticed.
“Let us go inside and prepare for dinner,” she said quickly, giving Elizabeth a glare.
“And to which of my fair cousins shall I direct my compliments for the cookery?” Mr. Collins asked.
“We are quite able to keep a cook, Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet said, sounding flustered.
Mr. Collins nodded, blushing deeply. “Ah, apologies for my mistake, I am glad to hear the estate is doing so well,” he stammered in reply. Mrs. Bennet gave a tight smile and turned her attention to the girls.
“I shall call you when dinner is ready. It should not be more than a few minutes,” she said, nodding to the girls.
Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief to escape to her room to freshen up, even if was only for a short time. Mr. Collins’ appearance had one positive impact: she was much less occupied with thoughts of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham.
Fifteen minutes later, Jane and Elizabeth were making their way back downstairs and to the dining room.
“I cannot believe he is the one who is to inherit,” Elizabeth said in a harsh whisper. “He seems foolish in the extreme!”
“Lizzy,” Jane whispered back imploringly. “We cannot change the entail. We may as well become accustomed to Mr. Collins, for it is his hands in which our future rests.”
“A sad commentary if ever I heard one,” Elizabeth whispered back.
“Perhaps you have judged him too quickly,” Jane suggested. “Anyone would be nervous meeting so many at once. And imagine how awkward the situation is for him—I am certain he does not relish the fact that he is to inherit away from us.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said doubtfully. She did not share Jane’s tendencies toward seeing the good in people. No, she was rather quick to judge a person’s character—but she was accurate more than she was not. But Elizabeth hoped she were wrong about Mr. Collins.
“Come, Lizzy,” Jane continued, taking her arm and going into the dining room with the rest of the family. “Dinner will prove a much better place to observe his true nature.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth smiled at Jane and patted her arm. “I shall try to behave. I promise.”
However, it only took half a course for Elizabeth to know that her first instinct had been correct.
“Mr. Collins,” Mr. Bennet said from behind his wine glass. “Tell us of your parish. It is in Kent, if I am not mistaken?”
“Indeed, it is,” Mr. Collins confirmed. Elizabeth noted with distaste that he did not bother to swallow his food before speaking. “The church and rectory about the great estate of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” Mr. Collins continued to eat, as if he had not had a full meal in days. But that did not stop him continuing to speak of his patron.
“Lady Catherine has been quite generous in both her resources and her advice in outfitting my home. She once condescended to visit my humble parsonage, and she at once could see where I would benefit from some additional shelving. She is a rare person of rank. I have never before met someone who is so affable and condescending.” He paused, as if waiting for someone to agree with his assessment. When no one spoke, he continued.
“Yes, I am quite fortunate. Lady Catherine is always willing to share her opinions on my Sunday sermons, and has invited me to dine with her and her daughter, the Miss Anne de Bourgh, several times.” He again looked around impressively.
“Miss Anne de Bourgh,” Mrs. Bennet said thoughtfully. “I do not think I have heard of her. Has she been presented at court?”
“Unfortunately, not,” Mr. Collins said sadly. “For even though she is far more handsome than even the fairest of her sex, she suffers from poor health. Though quite strong in spirit, I assure you.” He laughed pompously. “I have often observed to Lady Catherine, even if it were not my place to say so, that Miss de Bourgh seems born to be a duchess.”
“You seem to possess a talent for such compliments,” Mr. Bennet observed. Elizabeth glanced at her father with amusement—she recognised the jest in his voice.
“I often find that a kind word does much for her ladyship, and it is the sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay,” Mr. Collins answered, a certain pride in his voice.
“May I ask,” Mr. Bennet continued. “Do these pleasing attentions proceed from the moment or are they result of previous study?” Elizabeth brought her napkin to her lips, hiding her smile. Mr. Collins, however, continued on in his serious tone.
“I find they mostly arise from what is passing in the moment,” he said, but he gave a guilty grin. “However, I would be perjuring myself if I did not admit to amusing myself by arranging situations in which pre-arranged compliments might arise. But I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”
“I am sure you perform the task admirably,” Elizabeth said, struggling to contain her amusement.
“Your good opinion is most appreciated, cousin,” Mr. Collins replied with a thin smile. He stared at her, and she again hid behind her napkin, all amusement gone. She did not emerge again until the conversation had moved on to another topic.
“Tell me, are my cousins familiar with Fordyce’s Sermons?” Mr. Collins asked, glancing about the table. Elizabeth could almost hear Kitty and Lydia groan—they hated reading, and they hated Fordyce above all. Elizabeth found it was one subject in which she fully agreed with her younger sisters.
“Of course,” Mary answered. “I find his instructions for young women to be most illuminating.”
“As do I!” Mr. Collins said excitedly.
Elizabeth watched in amazement as Mary and Mr. Collins struck up an animated conversation. However, her disinterest in the topic soon overwhelmed her amazement and she felt her eyelids growing heavy. Between Mr. Collins’ ridiculous nature and his insistence upon dismally boring topics of conversation, this was turning into a horrible meal.
By the end, she was almost willing to dine with Caroline Bingley again—at least that had been interesting! But as she remembered the meal at Netherfield, a shudder ran through her.
Almost willing. Almost.