Chapter 11
T he Bennet family sat down to breakfast the morning after Jane and Elizabeth’s return from Netherfield. The house was unusually quiet—at least by Longbourn standards—as Kitty and Lydia had chosen to sleep later than their wont. That peace, however, was short-lived.
Mrs. Bennet sighed heavily, her spoon clanging against her bowl with exaggerated frustration. “I simply cannot understand, Miss Lizzy, why you insisted on you and your sister returning so soon.” She gave her second daughter a baleful glare. “It would have done Jane wonders to remain at Netherfield just a few days longer! How could you be so unfeeling to my poor nerves?”
Jane, ever the peacemaker, spoke before Elizabeth could respond. “Mama, Mr. Bingley was most insistent that we remain until I had fully recovered, but I truly felt well enough to come home. I missed my family, and it would not have been proper to remain in his home once I had recovered sufficiently to travel.”
Mrs. Bennet waved off her words with a dismissive gesture. “Nonsense! A lady’s comfort is secondary when such opportunities arise! After all, when your father is dead and gone, we will be cast into the hedgerows unless one of you marries well. You have squandered perhaps the only chance you had of catching him.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Bennet interjected dryly, peering over his newspaper, “we might leave Mr. Bingley’s house to himself and focus instead on preparing for our own imminent guest.”
Mrs. Bennet stilled, her fork halfway to her lips. “Guest?” she repeated, her brow furrowing in confusion.
“Yes,” Mr. Bennet replied with a measured calm that only seemed to heighten his wife’s agitation. “I received a letter several days ago. It seems my esteemed cousin, Mr. Collins, intends to visit. He will arrive this afternoon and stay with us for several days.”
Mrs. Bennet’s reaction was immediate. She set down her utensil with a clatter and stared at her husband in disbelief. “Mr. Collins?” she repeated dumbly. “Your… cousin? The odious man who is to inherit Longbourn?”
“The very same,” Mr. Bennet confirmed, folding his newspaper neatly. “Well, I do believe it is his son, as his letter is much more well-written than his illiterate father’s. Here, Lizzy, see what you think of your distinguished relative.”
He passed over the missive to his favorite daughter, who took it with an arched eyebrow. She scanned the document, then began to read aloud for the table.
Dear Sir,
The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honored father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with any one, with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.
My mind however is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has proffered to me the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavor to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.
As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessings of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures of good-will are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate, will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologize for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends,—but of this hereafter.
If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'night following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.
I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins
“He is arriving at four o’clock today, to stay for nearly a fortnight?” Mrs. Bennet rose from her seat, her voice rising with her. “And you are only telling me this now? How can I possibly prepare the house in time? What will he think if everything is not in perfect order?”
“Why should it matter what he thinks, as he is such an odious man?” Mr. Bennet replied.
“Because he is coming here to offer an olive branch! Do you not understand what this means?” Mrs. Bennet’s words were so high-pitched, Elizabeth almost expected the dogs to begin baying in their kennels.
“What do you think it means?” Mr. Bennet’s face was positively gleeful at having so thoroughly provoked his wife.
“He is here to marry one of our daughters!”
At that pronouncement, Mrs. Bennet swept from the room, her shrill instructions for Hill echoing so loudly, Elizabeth began to fear for the glass in the windows.
Elizabeth leaned toward her father, a wry smile on her lips. “How long have you known of this visit, Papa?”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Long enough to ensure that your mother has precisely the amount of time necessary to stir the house into a frenzy but not enough to overdo it.”
Elizabeth, who normally would have laughed at her father’s antics, winced instead in commiseration for her mother. “You are incorrigible, Papa,” she told him.
∞∞∞
The morning passed in a flurry of activity. The maids rushed about, dusting and polishing every surface. Mrs. Bennet bustled between rooms, inspecting their progress with wails of ill-use from her husband. The drawing room and guest rooms in particular received special attention, with fresh flowers arranged on each table and the best china set out for tea.
Elizabeth and Jane, seated in the drawing room with their embroidery, watched the commotion with a mixture of amusement and resignation. “I suppose we must be on our best behavior,” Elizabeth murmured, threading her needle with care. “It would not do to frighten off Mr. Collins before Mama has had her say.”
Jane suppressed a smile. “Lizzy, you must not tease so.”
By the time the carriage bringing Mr. Collins pulled into the drive, the Bennet household was as prepared as Mrs. Bennet could manage.
Mrs. Bennet, who had been hovering near the window, let out a delighted squeal. “He is here! Hill, see to the door!”
The family gathered outside of the house to receive him, equal parts curiosity and apprehension. I can only hope he will be more intelligent than he seems to be in his letter, Elizabeth thought.
Mr. Collins descended from his gig, his appearance exactly as one might expect from his rambling words. He was a tall, heavyset man with a florid complexion and an air of self-importance that could fill a room as thoroughly as his physical presence. His manners, though scrupulously polite, carried a faint air of condescension that quickly set the tone for his visit.
“Mrs. Bennet!” he exclaimed as he bowed low, his gaze lingering just a bit too long on her bosom before darting back to her face. “How delightful it is to make your acquaintance at last. I must say, you have an air of grace that reflects most favorably upon your household.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, but Mrs. Bennet flushed with excitement and exertion. “Mr. Collins! Welcome to Longbourn. We are most pleased to have you here.”
Inclining his head in what he clearly thought was a stately manner, he replied, “The honor is mine, madam. To be invited into the home of my esteemed cousin and his delightful family is a privilege indeed.”
Mrs. Bennet preened under his flattery, while Mr. Collins’s gaze flitted to Jane and Elizabeth. His eyes widened slightly as they settled on Jane, his expression shifting to one of barely contained admiration.
“Please allow me to introduce my daughters: Jane here is my eldest, then Elizabeth, Mary, Catherine, and Lydia.”
“Miss Bennet,” he said, bowing deeply. “Your reputation for beauty does not do you justice.”
Jane blushed and murmured a polite response, but Mr. Collins’s attention had already shifted to Elizabeth. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than was strictly proper, and Elizabeth felt a flicker of discomfort as his eyes darted downward briefly before snapping back to her face.
“And Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his tone attempting to be gallant but coming off as overeager. “Your presence adds a certain radiance to this gathering. I am most fortunate to be in such company.”
Elizabeth’s smile was tight, though she replied with practiced politeness. “You are too kind, Mr. Collins.”
As Mr. Collins turned his attention towards the other three girls, Elizabeth exchanged a quick look with Jane, who gave her an almost imperceptible shrug.
The newcomer greeted the remainder of the Bennet girls with an eager smile that did little to disguise the way his eyes flickered over each of them in turn. “Ah, such beauty!” he declared, clasping his hands before him. “Truly, Mrs. Bennet, you are blessed beyond measure to have such charming daughters.”
Mr. Bennet, who had observed the entire exchange with an expression of wry amusement, stepped forward. “Mr. Collins, I trust your journey was uneventful?”
“Indeed, sir,” Mr. Collins replied, clasping his hands behind his back. “The roads were agreeable, and the carriage most comfortable. I must say, I was quite impressed by the efficiency with which my luggage was handled upon arrival. Your staff is to be commended, Mr. Bennet.”
“Your praise will no doubt be appreciated,” Mr. Bennet said with a faint smile. “And now, if you will excuse me, I must see to a few matters before dinner. But please, come into the house and allow my wife and daughters to entertain you.”
As Mr. Bennet made his escape, Mrs. Bennet, clearly enamored with their guest’s effusive praise, began to lead him into the drawing room, all the while exclaiming over his “gracious manners” and “elegant speech.”
Once seated, Mr. Collins turned his attention back to the ladies, his demeanor eager and expectant. “Mrs. Bennet,” he began, “I must say how grateful I am for your hospitality. It is my hope that during my stay, I may come to better understand the many virtues of your household and, perhaps, strengthen the ties between our families.”
Mrs. Bennet, sensing a potential opportunity, beamed at him. “Of course, Mr. Collins! We are delighted to have you with us.”
As the conversation continued, Elizabeth could not help but notice Mr. Collins’s gaze wandering once again, this time toward Mary, whose modest dress and studious demeanor seemed to pique his curiosity. When she looked up from her book and caught him staring, she adjusted her spectacles and promptly returned to her reading, her cheeks pink.
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. It was going to be an interesting visit.
∞∞∞
The following morning dawned bright and brisk, perfect for a walk to Meryton. Elizabeth, Jane, and their younger sisters decided to take advantage of the fine weather. Mrs. Bennet, ever eager to showcase her daughters, was delighted by the plan and insisted they take Mr. Collins along.
“Lizzy,” she said with a meaningful glance, “do make sure Mr. Collins has every opportunity to enjoy your company. It is only proper to show him the best of Longbourn’s hospitality.”
Elizabeth suppressed the sigh rising within her and replied, “Of course, Mama. I am sure Mr. Collins will find the walk most agreeable.”
Jane, who had fully recovered, gave Elizabeth a sympathetic smile as the party gathered to set out. Lydia and Kitty skipped ahead, giggling and chattering, while Mary strolled at a slower pace with her ever-present book. Elizabeth and Jane fell in step together, but Mr. Collins wasted no time inserting himself between them.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began with an eager smile, “it is a delight to have this opportunity to converse with you. Walking is such a healthful activity, and the company of such amiable young ladies makes it doubly so.”
Elizabeth nodded politely, though her thoughts wandered as Mr. Collins prattled on about the virtues of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, her “gracious” habits, and his good fortune in securing the living at Hunsford.
By the time they reached Meryton, Elizabeth’s patience was wearing thin, but her spirits were lifted by the familiar sight of the bustling market street. Mr. Denny, a young officer of the militia and a favorite of Lydia and Kitty, approached the group with a warm smile.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, and ladies,” he greeted with a bow. “What a pleasure to see you this fine morning.”
Lydia and Kitty, already flushed with excitement, pressed closer to him. “Mr. Denny,” Lydia said, her voice bright, “you must introduce us to your new friend!”
Elizabeth’s lips tightened at the somewhat forward behavior of her younger sisters, but she knew that to offer any correction would only serve to increase attention.
“Of course,” Mr. Denny replied, gesturing to the man at his side. “This is Mr. Wickham, a recent addition to our regiment.”
A man stepped forward, dressed smartly in the red coat of the militia. His dark hair and easy smile made an immediate impression, and he bowed with practiced grace. “Ladies,” he said, his voice warm and smooth. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Elizabeth’s first impression was of a man with easy manners and a ready charm. His features were striking, and his uniform seemed to suit him almost too well.
Lydia, ever bold, spoke first. “Mr. Wickham, are you new to the regiment?”
“I am,” he replied. “I joined only recently.”
“And where are you from?” Kitty asked eagerly.
“From the north,” Wickham said casually. “Somewhere between Staffordshire and Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Then you will fit right in. It seems we are overrun with northerners of late.”
“Yes, like Mr. Bingley and his awful sister,” giggled Lydia, eager to be part of the conversation.
“And Mr. Darcy,” chimed in Kitty.
“Girls,” Elizabeth warned, but Wickham tilted his head, intrigued.
“Indeed?” he asked.
“Why, yes,” Elizabeth said, her tone playful. “Our friends, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley both come from up north. Perhaps you know them?”
At the mention of Darcy’s name, Wickham’s expression faltered ever so slightly. A faint pallor touched his face, and his easy smile became just a touch strained. “Darcy?” he repeated, as if testing the name. “No, I do not believe I have had the pleasure.”
Elizabeth, though quick to notice such subtleties, said nothing; she merely arched a brow in quiet curiosity.
“I do have to ask, Miss Lydia, as to how you feel about all northerners,” Wickham ducked his head. “I know I probably should not give in to the gossip, but I am eager to hear all the details and ensure that those from my part of the country are comporting themselves well.”
“Well, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are not so very bad,” Lydia said, “but Miss Bingley thinks she’s better than everyone—even Jane.”
“Oh, look!” Kitty exclaimed before anyone could respond, pointing down the road. “There they are now!”
All heads turned to see Darcy and Bingley riding toward them alongside a carriage. Wickham’s posture stiffened, and he quickly said, “If you will excuse me, ladies, I must attend to a matter with my commanding officer. A pleasure meeting you all.”
His departure was so smooth and unhurried that none of the younger Bennet sisters gave it a second thought. Elizabeth, however, felt a flicker of suspicion. His reaction to Darcy’s name and the sudden excuse to leave struck her as odd, but she pushed it from her mind as the Bingley carriage passed them. Darcy and Bingley came to a stop alongside the party from Longbourn. They dismounted, and Bingley beamed at Jane. “We were just on our way to Longbourn to see how you were doing. I trust you are fully recovered?”
Jane offered him a serene smile. “Thank you, sir. I am completely recovered.”
“I am relieved to hear it,” Bingley replied, his enthusiasm undiminished.
As the two engaged in quiet conversation, Darcy inclined his head at Elizabeth. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth met his gaze with a warm smile. “Mr. Darcy, hello. Are enjoying your morning ride?”
“I am, thank you.” His tone was polite, yet reserved.
“And how is your son? I trust little Andrew is well.”
Darcy’s expression softened, and his usual gravity lifted for a moment. “Quite well, thank you. Although he has been asking for the nice lady.”
“Please give him my regards. He is a charming young lad.”
His gaze lingered on her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before Mr. Collins pushed forward, his excitement barely contained. “Mr. Darcy!” he exclaimed, his voice nearly trembling. “What an honor to meet you at last, sir! I am William Collins, the rector of Hunsford. I must express my deepest gratitude for the living you have graciously bestowed upon me.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion, though he replied with measured courtesy. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Collins, though I believe the living at Hunsford was granted by my aunt while she was still managing the estate; I myself had little to do with it.”
Mr. Collins’ chest swelled visibly. “I consider it my sacred duty to uphold the high standards set by Lady Catherine. And, of course, I am deeply honored to serve under the patronage of such an illustrious family.”
Blinking, Darcy took a step backwards from the man, overwhelmed by his effusiveness. “I trust you are settling in well?” he asked neutrally, though Elizabeth thought she detected a flicker of impatience.
“Indeed, sir!” Mr. Collins replied , bowing deeply again with effusive enthusiasm. “I am most humbled to serve under the auspices of such a noble family. Your reputation, sir, is unparalleled, and I am delighted to assure you of my utmost dedication. Your aunt has…”
Mr. Collins, oblivious, continued to expound upon his gratitude for the living and his admiration for Darcy’s management of Rosings Park. Lydia and Kitty, meanwhile, grew restless.
“Oh, let us not stand here all day!” Lydia cried. “I must have some new ribbons, and Kitty says she’s seen the prettiest bonnets.”
Elizabeth sighed, but before she could respond, Bingley turned to Jane. “I hope you will allow me the pleasure of seeing you again soon,” he said earnestly. “Perhaps at Mrs. Phillips’s card party tomorrow evening?”
Jane inclined her head. “That would be lovely.”
Elizabeth’s gaze shifted to Darcy. “And will your sister be joining you, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy hesitated, his expression tightening slightly. “Georgiana has not yet been introduced to society.”
Elizabeth nodded, her tone gentle. “I understand. But I assure you, Mrs. Phillips’s gatherings are small and intimate—more of a family affair than a grand social event. I believe Miss Darcy might enjoy the company.”
Darcy studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers as though weighing her sincerity. At last, he inclined his head. “If she wishes to attend, I will permit it.”
With the plan settled, the group began to disperse. As Elizabeth turned toward the shops with her sisters, she found herself smiling. All thoughts of the odd interaction with the new officer had vanished from her mind when she saw Darcy riding towards them. There had been something undeniably striking in his bearing, something that made her heart leap unexpectedly.
Could I be developing feelings for him? she wondered. Her rapid pulse refused to be ignored, a sensation that was equal parts unsettling and exhilarating. Is this… could this be the beginnings of love?
She glanced back as he and Mr. Bingley mounted their horses once more, their figures framed against the autumn sky. Darcy’s expression remained composed, but there was a gentleness in his gaze when it flickered toward her. A small smile played at her lips as she followed her sisters into the shop, tuning out Mr. Collins’s chatter.