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“Well, Mr Collins, what do you think of our home?” Mrs Bennet put an unhealthy emphasis on her final two words as if to highlight to their cousin their moral right to Longbourn, whoever its ownership would cede to upon Mr Bennet’s demise.
“Lovely!” Mr Collins beamed, obsequiously, at each of his cousins, in turn, his wide grin faltering only slightly when he met Elizabeth’s unwavering gaze. “Quite, quite lovely!”
“Come, Collins, we shall take a turn of the grounds.” Mr Bennet’s voice was resigned, but stalwart, brooking no disagreement. He caught Elizabeth’s eye as he passed, and she read his motives well enough in his otherwise impassive features. He wished to separate his cousin from his wife before that lady forgot subtlety altogether and told Mr Collins precisely what she thought of him.
He might have been an utter gentleman, handsome, well-mannered, and charming, but still, Mama would have despised him for “robbing us of our home!”, Elizabeth thought, wryly recalling Mrs Bennet’s wails upon her hearing of Mr Collins arrival. Whilst Elizabeth had wondered at the wisdom of delaying until that very morning to tell her mother of their anticipated guest, she now recognised his plan, which had been to deny his wife as much time to dwell as possible. If she had heard of it a week before, when Mr Bennet did, the entire house would have been in extravagant mourning, and Mrs Bennet would have been upset enough to take to her bed. She marvelled at her father’s canny ability to manage his lady wife, in all her moods, and wondered anew at their ever finding enough in common to suggest to them marriage as a preferable state.
“Vile man!” Mrs Bennet whispered, as soon as the door closed behind the two gentlemen.
“Mama!” Lydia giggled.
“You cannot despise Mr Collins for the accident of his birth,” Mary began, slipping almost unconsciously into the tone of voice she normally reserved for sermonising and rendering her pronouncement just as easily ignored. “After all, it is the way of the world that property must pass to sons...”
“What a great misfortune that none of us are sons, then, Mary,” Elizabeth said, swiftly stopping her middle sister in her tracks. She watched Jane help Mrs Bennet into a chair, and the girls gathered around their mother to be of some support, or, in Lydia and Kitty’s case, to join in her despair.
“Come, Mama,” Jane said, soothingly. “Mr Collins is not so very bad.”
“Not so very bad!” Mrs Bennet wailed. “He is reprehensible! Did not you see the avaricious way he glanced around the room, as if he were already claiming our belongings before we have relinquished the use of them?” An altogether more horrifying thought occurred to her, and she bolted upright. “Perhaps we ought not to let him and Mr Bennet alone, and out of sight. What if some misfortune were to occur -”
“I hardly think Mr Collins capable of murder,” Elizabeth remarked, drily. “Even with so great a prize as Longbourn in the balance.” She glanced at her sisters. “Kitty, might you perhaps fetch some tea to settle Mama’s nerves?”
“My nerves?” Mrs Bennet screeched. “How can they ever be settle with that - that - interloper here. How long is he to stay, Jane, did he even mention it? I wager he plans on not setting foot from the house until your father is dead in his grave, that he might evict us within the hour of my dear Mr Bennet’s final breath. Oh! We shall be homeless, destitute, forgotten!”
“Father is not dead yet, Mama,” Jane reminded her mother. “He is still quite well in mind and body and doubtless has many more years ahead of him. You must not worry, so, for it serves no purpose other than to upset you.”
“Ought I not to be upset? Oh Jane, Lizzy, you cannot possibly understand how trying it is, to be the mother of daughters. If only you were married, if I knew you to be safely wed, or engaged at least, then I might rest from my labours...” Mrs Bennet took a long breath as if it were she, and not her husband, on the very verge of death.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, lifting a comical glance to her sister, and was gratified to see even saintly Jane’s lips quirking in amusement.
“Come, now, Mother,” she said, in an effort to cheer Mrs Bennet out of her decided devastation. “You must not worry the children.” At times like this it could be a suitable trick to remind Mrs Bennet that two of her daughters were young enough, still, to require her concern, and whilst Lydia and Kitty were absent they might be referred to as “children” without voicing their complaint.
“Oh, Kitty! Oh, Lydia! What is to become of us?”
Instead of working, Jane’s plan had the opposite effect of rendering Mrs Bennet almost hysterical at the thought of her youngest children being ousted from their home without prospect.
“We really ought to think about happier things,” Elizabeth said, at length, trying to bring the matter to a conclusion as quickly as possible, before the whole house was lost to Mrs Bennet's “low mood”, which was never quiet, nor easy to ignore.
“Indeed, to despair is to forsake the Lord -” Mary began.
“Be quiet, Mary!” Elizabeth hissed. Glancing around the room seeking inspiration, she noticed a hair ribbon left on the mantel and seized upon it. “Think, Mama, there is the Meryton assembly in just a few short days. How can you despair when there is such a gathering upon us?”
“Ye-es...” Mrs Bennet conceded, turning the matter over. With a loud sniff, peace was restored, and she sat upright once more, reaching for Jane’s hand and pulling her eldest daughter closer. “You must continue to win Mr Bingley’s affections for surely he is an angel sent to save us all from this plight. Think, Jane, if you were to marry Mr Bingley, his fortune might secure us!”
“Marry Mr Bingley - Mama, we are scarcely acquainted.”
“What consequence is that?” Mrs Bennet scoffed. “I had met your father but twice when we arranged to marry and see how happy we are all these years later!”
Elizabeth bit her tongue, whether to prevent herself from laughing or rising in contradiction she could not be certain. She met Jane’s gaze, who had looked directly to her for help, and sought to offer some.
“I am sure Mr Bingley is quite, quite in love with you already, Jane, although you are right that you do not know him altogether well. Perhaps he is as awful as Mr Collins!” Mrs Bennet’s eyes narrowed, and Elizabeth hurried to undo her comment. “But I doubt he can be. He seems to me to be a most amiable gentleman, almost deserving of a wife as wonderful as our dear Jane.” She smiled warmly at her sister, Mrs Bennet’s histrionics momentarily forgotten. “I give you leave to like him, even if his choice of companions leaves a little to be desired.”
“Companions?” Mrs Bennet frowned. “Oh, you mean that Mr Darcy, I suppose. Well, I shall be intrigued to see him for myself at Meryton. Do you suppose he will attend?”
This thought had not occurred to Elizabeth, and she paused for a moment before replying.
“I imagine he might, as he is to be Mr and Miss Bingley’s guest.” She did not know whether this realisation encouraged her into more or less enthusiasm for the upcoming festivity. It would certainly be interesting to compare the two newest arrivals to Hertfordshire side by side. Elizabeth swallowed a laugh and turned her face away that her thoughts might not be read in her features. Mr Collins and Mr Darcy are both utterly dreadful but in entirely different ways. I wonder how they will manage one another!
***
“What house is that?”
Darcy pointed to an estate ahead of them, and Bingley wrangled his horse so that he might, at last, regard it and answer his friend’s question.
“I believe it to be Longbourn,” he said, the concentration required by his being on his horse fading into a smile. “Miss Bennet’s home. I say, do you think it would be dreadfully rude of us to ride this far and not call upon them?”
“I think -” Darcy began, but before he could finish his sentence, Bingley had goaded his horse into motion and headed off directly towards the house. I think we might turn around now and they will never know it, he grumbled inwardly, before setting off after his friend. If he did not know him better he might think that this had been Charles’ plan all along, to ride close enough to Longbourn that it would be entirely polite to call on their neighbours and let the whole thing appear to happen by chance. Fortunately, he did know Bingley better and credited his friend lacked the brains to come up with such a scheme. It was not lost on him that this was precisely what Miss Elizabeth Bennet had herself undertaken upon their first meeting, and this thought banished all suspicions of his friend, for Charles was certainly not so scheming.
“Good morning!”
He heard Bingley’s call as he rode closer, and realised there was a gentleman in the grounds that had caught his friend’s attention. Not merely one gentleman, but two, and Darcy greeted them both with a bow.
“Darcy, this is Miss Bennet’s father, Mr Bennet.”
“Delighted to meet you.”
Mr Bennet looked up at him curiously, and Darcy could see Elizabeth Bennet’s likeness in her father’s wry smile and sparkling eyes.
“Mr Darcy.” After a moment’s pause, Mr Bennet appeared to recall his own companion and gestured to the gentleman beside him, a rather short and squinting man dressed in the plain attire of a curate. “This is my cousin, Mr Collins, recently come to Longbourn.”
“It is such a pleasure to meet you - ah - Mr Darcy, I believe that was your given name?”
Mr Darcy said nothing but nodded shortly in response.
“Might I venture a guess that you could be the Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire that I have heard so very much about?”
“The very man!” Bingley confirmed, turning with a grin to his friend. “Goodness, Darcy, what have you been about that your reputation precedes you even to Hertfordshire?”
Darcy frowned, curious as to what connection he might possibly share with such a man as Mr Collins.
“Have we met?” he asked.
“No, no.” Mr Collins laughed, a strangely high-pitched, affected little laugh that did little to endear him any further to either gentleman present. “It is through my patroness, only.” He drew in a reverential breath. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Of course. Darcy could just imagine the use his Aunt Catherine might find in such a man as Mr Collins, so adept at paying homage and offering her all the reverence she believed her status and wealth entitled her to.
“I did not think my aunt prone to gossip,” he said, irritably. His aunt was rarely prone to discussing anything that did not directly concern her, and the fact that his name had passed her lips often enough to be worthy of remarking upon by a veritable stranger raised his concerns. She has not yet abandoned her plan to match me with Anne, then, he thought, with a grimace. He thought fondly of his cousin as a friend, but certainly had no intention of marrying her. It was one of the reasons he avoided visiting Rosings himself just as often as he could, for fear that Lady Catherine might take his presence as encouragement.
“Oh, no, not at all, not at all!” Mr Collins cried, fearful he might have misspoken and his error might reach Lady Catherine’s ears by way of her nephew. “It is simply with pride that she speaks of you, of your family. I merely reflect on my good fortune at being able to make your acquaintance, and here, amongst my own family.” He beamed.
“Ah, the very people we have come to call upon!” Bingley interposed, turning to Mr Bennet. “Darcy and I were on a ride when we came across Longbourn. I wonder, sir, if you might permit us to call upon the house?”
Mr Bennet hesitated, and for half a moment Darcy fancied he might refuse them, which course of action intrigued him. What could Mr Bennet possibly gain from preventing Mr Bingley from seeing his daughters, if his goal was to marry off his troublesome offspring to a wealthy gentleman just as soon as was possible?
After another moment's internal debate, however, Mr Bennet relented and even permitted a cautious smile to light his wan features.
“Gentlemen, you would be most welcome to call at my home. We will, of course, join you, although I fancy it will take our frail selves rather longer to walk back than it will take you to ride.”
Instinctively, Bingley slid off his horse and handed the reins to Darcy.
“Here, I will walk with you, sir! Darcy, you do not mind taking the horses?”
Darcy minded very much, but he could tell that his friend’s actions sprung from his concern for Mr Bennet, rather than any nefarious attempt to win his good favour. Once more he marvelled at Bingley’s innocence, particularly when the man’s own sister seemed more than a little skilled at manipulation and scheming.
“Let us all walk, then,” he said, with resignation, and dismounted his own horse. He held both pairs of reins and permitted Mr Bingley to walk with Mr Bennet, realising too late that this left him free and available to converse with Mr Collins, with no avenue for escape.
“Mr Darcy!” Collins was beaming at him, in a manner Darcy found disconcerting and not a little irritating.
“Have you recently come to Hertfordshire?” he said, determined he would not be drawn on discussing his aunt any further.
“Very recently!” Collins laughed again, and Darcy felt his shoulders tense instinctively. “Just today!” He lowered his voice to a whisper and stepped uncomfortably close to Darcy, who maintained his position by sheer force of will. “I am here to make amends with my family after a long estrangement, perpetuated by my father, God rest his soul.”
Darcy cleared his throat, which Collins took for sympathetic encouragement, and continued.
“And to see what aid I can offer my cousins.” He shook his head, sadly.
Darcy got the impression that Mr Collins had anticipated his enquiry into what kind of assistance the Bennets required, but he said nothing, preferring to walk in silence.
“It is so difficult for them, you know, with a family of five daughters.” Collins sighed. “I have decided that I must marry one of them, and offer her some future life, for without that....!” He shook his head, and Darcy was left to grasp the tragedy of a life lived without marriage to Mr Collins.
“Indeed,” he said, struggling to maintain his composure.
“Their mother has been wary of discussing matters, of course, but when pressed has suggested that Miss Elizabeth Bennet will be the most eager to receive my suit, and I confess that although she lacks that classical beauty of her sister she is still a very pretty, very amiable young lady. I anticipate our reaching an agreement before the week is out.”
“Indeed.” Darcy strove to make this picture of Elizabeth Bennet fit the already conflicted image he had of her. The spirited young woman he had met yesterday scarcely aligned with the society belle he had heard tell of in London. And now, hearing that she would not only accept but encourage a man like Collins in a suit leading to their marriage? The idea annoyed him, but he could not have explained why.
“You have spoken to Miss Elizabeth concerning this?” he asked, quietly. The inference that Miss Jane Bennet was not within Mr Collins consideration had not passed Darcy’s notice, but presently he felt himself more concerned with Elizabeth Bennet’s fate than her sister’s, and he would not permit him to question why. That internal inquiry could wait until he was alone once more, and could puzzle out his feelings in peace.
“Oh no, not yet!” Collins said, cheerfully. “I am still getting to know the family, you see. And I rather fancy that my cousin, being a delicate, feminine creature would rather wait until we are at least a little acquainted before raising the issue of our future happiness. Look! Here is the house. Come, Mr Darcy, and allow me to introduce you to my cousins.”