Darcy stood transfixed by the ridiculous little man before him. This Mr. Collins seemed perfectly at ease to speak at length without comment or encouragement from Darcy. He seemed utterly devoted to Darcy’s aunt, and Darcy could hardly believe such a person existed. He knew his aunt likely greatly appreciated the unending stream of appreciation and affirmation that undoubtedly came from her pet clergyman, but Darcy did not know how to receive such a torrent.
“Lady Catherine has often deigned to visit me in my own home, coming with her wonderful carriage and horses. When last she came, she suggested some truly marvellous improvements—shelving in the pantry that completely revolutionised the functionality of the space…” Mr. Collins droned on.
All the while, Darcy found himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. The man seemed to lack any notion of propriety. He continually looked to Elizabeth, and he could see how embarrassed she was, but she did not interject. He could not blame her. If one of his relations behaved in such a way, he too might be paralyzed with humiliation. Of course, he thought, none of his relations ever would behave in such a manner.
“I am surprised, Mr. Darcy, that I have not seen you about Rosings. Perhaps you should visit your aunt more often,” Mr. Collins said sternly.
Darcy’s mouth tightened: he had excused much of the man’s behaviour, but he was not certain he could stomach the rebuke. Blessedly, Elizabeth finally intervened.
“Mr. Collins,” she said sharply. “I hardly think it is appropriate to make such suggestions.” Mr. Collins did not even have the decency to look ashamed. On the contrary, he drew himself up.
“Clergymen are often called upon to reveal unpleasant truths, like the hated prophets of old,” he said, arrogance dripping from every word.
Darcy cleared his throat, anger welling up within him. The man had no right to claim such a position of judgement!
Elizabeth was glowering at the clergyman, anger showing up sharply upon her face. Mr. Collins seemed to deflate under her stare.
“But perhaps this is not one of those situations,” he mumbled, finally finding a look of humility. He looked from Elizabeth to Darcy, whose face also bore traces of anger, and quickly bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I will greet your companion.”
Darcy inclined his head an inch, but did not say anything. Mr. Collins swallowed hard and scurried away, all the bluster he had built up while talking about Lady Catherine gone. Elizabeth watched him go, anger slowly draining from her face. However, her look of humiliation remained.
“I apologise,” she said softly. “I had no idea…”
“Of what?” Darcy asked. “That Mr. Collins would behave in such a way? Or that I am Lady Catherine’s nephew?”
“Both,” she admitted. They stood side-by-side, both observing the other conversations in the room. Elizabeth seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts and Darcy could not blame her. He too was considering this newest experience.
He had known that her family was poor. Her father may be a gentleman, but he was among the lowest of the gentry. He knew her mother was from the trade class. Catherine had been quick to emphasise both these points during the uncomfortable dinner. However, these facts had never been apparent to him—until today.
Elizabeth was related to that smug little man. Distantly, he was certain, but still related. If local rumour was accurate, this was surely the cousin that would inherit upon Mr. Bennet’s death. It was a sobering thought.
A high-pitched giggle pierced the air, drawing Darcy’s attention to the other conversation. He expected to see that the laugh had come from one of Elizabeth’s younger sisters, but he was shocked to realise it came from Mrs. Bennet!
“Come now, Mr. Bingley,” he heard the youngest, Lydia, if he remembered correctly, say. “You must throw a ball! It would be ever so much fun!”
“A ball?” Bingley replied, clearly off balance by the suggestion.
“Yes, a ball!” Another of Elizabeth’s sisters exclaimed. “To become better acquainted with your new neighbours!”
“Kitty, Lydia,” Elizabeth said sharply. “You cannot insist someone throw a ball.”
Darcy glanced at Jane and then Elizabeth, noting that each shared a similar look of embarrassed horror. They, at least, seemed to know how to behave. But he already knew that, having spent a lovely evening with them only a few nights prior.
“If the goal is relationship between neighbours,” another of the Bennet girls said, this one the plainest of all, “then a ball is a terrible idea. Conversation, not dancing, should be the order of the day.”
“Oh, Mary,” Kitty, Darcy thought he had them all straight now, said. “You would insist upon ruining everything.”
“No, no,” Mr. Collins interjected. Darcy was surprised he had waited this long before speaking. He seemed to share his opinion quite freely, especially for someone with so little to add to the conversation. “Miss Mary is quite right. I admit, as a clergyman, I have been known to enjoy a dance or two.” He laughed indulgently. “But, conversation is undoubtedly a morally superior activity.”
“But balls are superior for people enjoying themselves,” Lydia said stubbornly. Darcy privately agreed. Though he generally disliked dancing and balls, it was a far more attractive option if the alternative was an evening of “morally superior” conversation with Mr. Collins.
Watching Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet, and the youngest daughters, Darcy could not help but wonder if Caroline Bingley had a fair point about the Bennet family. It was clear that their behaviour among guests was questionable at best. Perhaps they truly were too different from him…
“You shall name the day,” Bingley said, bringing Darcy’s attention back to the conversation. Darcy wasn’t surprised by Bingley’s decision—he loved balls and parties and had already been thinking of hosting one. The Bennet girls’ request seemed to be the push he needed.
Kitty and Lydia jumped with delight, and Mrs. Bennet looked nearly as excited. Darcy wanted to shake his head—Mrs. Bennet seemed quite as silly as her daughters. Youngest daughters, he corrected himself. Elizabeth and Jane continued to look appropriately abashed at their family’s behaviour.
Bingley caught sight of Darcy ruefully shaking his head, and called out to him, “And we shall have to ensure that Mr. Darcy enjoys himself as well!”
“A challenge to be sure,” Elizabeth said, her eyes dancing.
Darcy felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. Not out of anger, but actually enjoying that Elizabeth would say such a thing. It was a jest, to be certain, but one that showed she understood him.
“Mr. Darcy’s aunt shares his low opinion of such gatherings,” Mr. Collins said confidently. Darcy groaned as Mr. Collins again moved in to speak with him. “Not that her opinion stems from a deficit of grace or ability on the dance floor. Rather, Lady Catherine believes that dancing takes away from one’s enjoyment of music.”
“An interesting viewpoint,” Darcy said. He hardly knew his aunt’s opinion on various aspects of society, but it was annoying for this man to educate him on a woman he had known since birth! He glanced down at the man, for Mr. Collins was several inches shorter than he, and hoped that his disinterest in the conversation would forestall any more discussion of the Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
“Lady Catherine is a rare soul in her appreciation for fine music,” Mr. Collins continued, taking no notice of anyone else. “I have often told her that the world lost a magnificent talent when she was denied the opportunity to learn to play. And, undoubtedly, the same is true for her daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh. Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?” Mr. Collins finally looked up at him, a questioning look on his face.
Darcy did not know how to respond. He thought the best course of action would be to agree, however, he disliked being forced into such a position. His aunt already had a tendency towards treating him in such a manner, it was too much that she was able to do it from afar through this foolish man.
“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth walked into the conversation smoothly. Unlike her last intrusion, there was no rebuke in her voice. “I am so glad you are here. Mary has a question for you, upon a matter of scripture?”
Mr. Collins looked surprised at Elizabeth’s intrusion. His mouth tightened.
“Cousin,” he said stiffly. “I am speaking with Mr. Darcy. Could this question not wait until another time?”
“I was under the impression that questions of theological import should not be put off,” Elizabeth said, her face serious. “For such questions have eternal ramifications, do they not?”
Darcy was amused—Elizabeth had done a neat job backing him into this corner.
“Yes,” Mr. Collins said quickly. “Yes, of course. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy nodded his head at once, eager to see the man go.
“I had no idea that Mary was a student of theology,” Darcy said quietly.
“Well, if she is not now, she will be after Mr. Collins finishes speaking with her,” Elizabeth said, amusement dancing across her face.
“Thank you for the rescue,” Darcy said wholeheartedly. “I do not think I could have survived another minute of that.”
“What, does the glamour of the great Rosings Park bore you?” Elizabeth said, laughing aloud now. “It is almost beyond belief that you would be so uninterested in a place with over fifty windows!”
“It sounds as if you have heard much of my aunt and Rosings,” Darcy said.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed. “Your aunt could hardly have bestowed patronage upon a more grateful subject.” She blushed suddenly. “He is not a close relative,” she said in a rush. “In fact, I have not laid eyes on him until two days past. Yet, he is to inherit everything, so we must endure.”
She looked troubled, and Darcy felt sorry for her. He had not considered the matter before, but having no son must be quite difficult for the Bennets.
“The law can be most unjust,” he said sympathetically.
“We will manage,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head and squaring her shoulders. “Even with five daughters, we will manage.”
“I have no doubt,” Darcy agreed. “I sense that you possess a strength of will that will allow for nothing less.”
Elizabeth glanced at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly. Under her look, Darcy realised his comment might have been out of place.
“You are a good judge of character,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “If you ask my mother, she will tell you that my strength of will is not our salvation, but will be the death of her.” She turned her gaze to where Mrs. Bennet was still talking with Jane and Bingley. “But she means well. She cares for us deeply, even when her efforts might appear otherwise.”
Darcy nodded; he sensed this was Elizabeth’s attempt to explain her mother’s behaviour. He still disapproved of the foolish woman, but he was beginning to understand a bit more. Beyond understanding Mrs. Bennet, he could see that Jane and Elizabeth were of a different mould than the rest of their family.
Whatever Caroline’s concerns had been for the Bennet family, he was coming to see that they did not apply to Jane and Elizabeth. What that realization meant for him, however, he was still trying to decide.