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The walk back to Longbourn was a much subdued one, with Lydia in particular—suitably chastised now after stern reprimands from her older sisters—keeping her thoughts to herself. The sky had begun to turn grey after the bright, blustery morning, and rain threatened on the distant horizon. The sisters hugged their pelisses and cloaks tighter around them and hastened their steps.
When they arrived home, it was to find that Mr Collins had finally returned from his mysterious outing and that, at the same time, Sir William Lucas had come to give them an invitation to dine at Lucas Lodge that evening. It was common for the Bennet family to dine at Lucas Lodge at least once a month, so Elizabeth gave no special thought to this invitation. Indeed, she was pleased that they would have company that evening so as to avoid the strain of Mr Collins’s resentful company. His manner towards her since his return was still one of stiff disapproval. Elizabeth comforted herself with the thought that his present mood would likely preclude him asking her to dance at the ball. Such was the small silver lining to be found in this cloud.
She dressed in her usual fashion for their dinner at Lucas Lodge, wearing an older, long-sleeved linen gown that was no longer in the height of fashion but which would provide warmth in the chill night air. The families were so familiar with each other as to remove the need for ceremony, therefore she was surprised when they arrived to find Charlotte wearing a new gown of deep blue silk, with her brown hair dressed in an elaborate style.
“Charlotte—you look particularly fine this evening,” she said with a smile as she greeted her friend.
Charlotte returned her smile, but Elizabeth fancied that her friend appeared nervous and ill at ease. Though puzzled, she had no opportunity to enquire further as the entire party was escorted into the dining room for dinner. As they sat down at the table, Elizabeth was surprised to see that the meal Lady Lucas had ordered far exceeded the usual ten dishes provided for their family evenings. In addition, more candles than usual were lit everywhere and the silver looked like it had been polished to a particularly high shine. Perhaps it was the birthday of one of the Lucas children? Or was there some other cause for celebration?
Mr Collins’s temper appeared to have improved considerably since their arrival at Lucas Lodge—indeed, he was almost jovial over dinner and full of effusive conversation. He appeared to be on particularly friendly terms with Sir William; in fact, with the whole Lucas family. Elizabeth was surprised, but reflected that perhaps his visit to Lucas Lodge yesterday morning, while waiting for her arrival—and his period of conversation with Sir William in the library—may have significantly improved their friendship.
It was not until the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the drawing room and coffee was served that the reason for Mr Collins’s good mood was made known to them. The clergyman stood up and cleared his throat, then walked over to stand beside Charlotte. Casting his eye about the assembled party, he gave a self-satisfied smile and announced:
“As a clergyman with the benefit of my position and easy circumstances—and the rewarding association with that great lady, the honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh—I feel that it is my duty to set the example of matrimony in my parish. Indeed, it is the particular advice of Lady Catherine herself that I should find a mistress for Hunsford Parsonage at the earliest opportunity, and thus I have come to Hertfordshire with this object, added to my desire for a reconciliation with the Longbourn family. Scarcely dared I believe that so much amiability and beauty awaited me here and that I should be so fortunate as to gain the brightest jewel in the neighbourhood!” He reached down and clasped Charlotte’s hand. “It is therefore with great pride that I announce my engagement to Miss Lucas. She has accepted my proposal and made me the happiest of men.”
“Engaged to Charlotte?” gasped Elizabeth, unable to contain herself. She saw her friend flush slightly and withdraw her hand from Mr Collins’s clasp.
Mrs Bennet’s surprise and displeasure were even greater. “Engaged to Charlotte? Mr Collins, what can you be talking of?”
“Aye,” Lydia spoke up. “For you had given us to understand that you would be proposing to our Lizzy!”
The awkward silence which followed this exclamation was mortifying to all assembled. Mr Bennet cleared his throat and Jane hastily spoke up, covering for both her sisters and her mother.
“That is wonderful news. Congratulations,” she said in her gentle voice. “I am sure that I speak for all my family when I say that we wish you every happiness.”
Mr Bennet quickly followed his eldest daughter’s example, and soon every member of the Bennet family had offered their congratulations for the forthcoming union. Mr Collins accepted their good wishes with smug complacency and spent the next few moments continuing to extol the virtues of his future wife, his flattery at times so exaggerated that Charlotte blushed in embarrassment. The party listened to him with ill-concealed impatience and at length, when he paused to draw breath, Sir William Lucas hastily interrupted with his own expressions of delight at the prospect of improved connection between the two families. Lady Lucas added her own compliments, though she could not resist hinting at the triumph of being the first to have a daughter well married. Mrs Bennet’s face grew pinched as she listened to her old friend and, from the scathing looks she sent her second daughter, it was apparent that she placed the blame of losing Mr Collins squarely on Elizabeth’s shoulders.
Elizabeth sat in a state of speechless surprise as the others continued to talk around her until, at length, she was approached by Charlotte and taken aside for a private discussion. Her friend begged her forgiveness for not giving her the news first and explained that Mr Collins had only made the proposal that morning. He had left Longbourn with sly haste and come to throw himself at her feet. Once everything had been settled between the couple, Sir William’s consent had been speedily applied for and happily bestowed.
“You are surprised, Eliza,” said Charlotte, looking at her friend anxiously.
“Charlotte, I scarcely know what to say!” said Elizabeth. “You have known him but a few days... why, I believe you were only introduced during that evening at my Aunt Philip’s!”
“I have had ample time to converse with Mr Collins and make his further acquaintance.”
Elizabeth looked at her friend incredulously, then said, “Well... if you should feel that Mr Collins is the man to make you happy, then I am grateful for the development of such a relationship.”
Charlotte sighed. “I know you are romantic, Eliza, but I am of a more practical bent. It is my firm belief that happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. You will always have your share of vexations and I believe it is better to make such choices based on the security of a comfortable establishment. There will be time enough for falling in love at leisure once you are partners in life. Indeed, I think it is best to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are about to enter matrimony.”
“But you do know of his defects, Charlotte!” said Elizabeth passionately. “Mr Collins is neither a sensible nor an agreeable man—indeed, his society is irksome and his manners pompous. Surely you cannot be insensible of these faults? How can you consider a future with such a husband?” She paused as she realised that perhaps she had spoken too plainly. She grasped Charlotte’s hand and pressed it tightly. “Dear Charlotte, I do not mean to attack your choice, but it would distress me greatly to see you unhappy.”
Charlotte smiled complacently. She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand in return. “Do not fret for me, Eliza. I have never been one to seek romantic attachments—indeed, I have desired nothing but to be well married, with a comfortable home and a secure position in life. Mr Collins is a most eligible match and I believe that my chances of happiness with him are as fair as with any other. I am twenty-seven, Eliza, and I am well aware that it is by no means certain another offer of marriage may ever arise. Therefore, I must make this my object. When you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done.”
Elizabeth felt herself suitably chastened and resolved to speak on the subject no more. They rejoined the rest of the party and she exerted great effort to give every appearance of happiness and animation. When she returned home that evening, however, she was unable to prevent herself giving vent to her feelings again and making her indignation known to her older sister. She felt bitterly disappointed in Charlotte; she had always considered her friend a strong and faithful ally in her campaign against the commonly held mercenary attitudes to marriage. She now felt herself betrayed and her belief in her friend’s character shaken.
There was no comfort in any approach: were she to think that Charlotte had accepted the match purely out of a desire for material advantage, she found the sentiment disgusting and reprehensible. However, to believe that Charlotte had accepted Mr Collins’s offer because of any real regard for him was even worse and lowered her friend even more in her esteem.
Jane attempted to alleviate Elizabeth’s suffering by reminding her to make allowances for differences of situation and temper.
“In some regards, it could be said that Mr Collins’s respectability and Charlotte’s prudent, steady character are a good match,” she said. “I believe you may change your mind when you see them dealing happily together.”
Elizabeth, however, was inconsolable and eventually retired to bed, still full of indignation at her friend’s defection.
