Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
April 1810, Kent
“ C ontinue straight, Cousin Elizabeth! After you ascend the hill, you will see it,” Mr Collins called out between gasps from somewhere behind her.
Elizabeth continued walking energetically up the grassy incline, anticipating the great stone building she had heard so much about. She paused for a moment, welcoming a gentle breeze as it wafted through her hair, carrying with it the scent of freshly bloomed flowers. She pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed her face. The spring air was crisp, but the mild sun, combined with the exertion of the climb, was warm enough to draw beads of sweat on her forehead. However, her curiosity—building since they set out for their destination and growing deeper as they drew closer to the grand Rosings Park manor house—remained undiminished.
She glanced behind her and saw Mr Collins drenched in sweat, trudging up the hill. Charlotte stood only a short distance in front of him. While she fared better than her husband with the physical effort, she appeared wary at the prospect of the rest of the climb.
Elizabeth placed the handkerchief back in her sleeve and proceeded forwards. She had been in Kent for five days visiting the former Miss Charlotte Lucas and her new husband, Mr Collins, before they had received an invitation to dine at Rosings. Her hosts were unreservedly excited and considered it an honour, while Elizabeth began to wonder whether it would be an ordeal. Since arriving at the parsonage, she had heard nothing but of how much the Collinses esteemed—an esteem which bordered on reverence—Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr Collins had described in great detail how wealthy she was, and his effusive commendation of even the most mundane things had begun to grate on Elizabeth. In every way that he described her, his patroness sounded to be overbearing, elitist, and arrogant. The overly manicured and manipulated gardens that they trudged past as they finally neared the great home only added to this impression.
Elizabeth paused at the top of the hill and looked down at the gargantuan Jacobean-style manor house that had finally come fully into view. She resisted every urge to let out an audible gasp at the sight. It resembles more of a castle than a home, she thought. In all of my eighteen years I have never seen a house so impressive.
She continued to gaze at the house until Charlotte and Mr Collins arrived at the peak a few minutes later. After taking a few steadying breaths, her cousin said, “I can see in your silence that you are nervous at such an opulent house, dear cousin. But do not concern yourself. Lady Catherine is all that is graceful and kind. She will not look down on you, no matter the differences in your rank. ”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him but could not refrain from sending Charlotte a look.
He continued, “It is a grand house, is it not? I am certain you could not add up all the windows without losing count. I would tell you how much the glazing costs, but I worry it would only further intimidate you. I would not want you to be so nervous that you would not be able to enjoy our dinner.”
Elizabeth looked to the side and held back a smile. If Lady Catherine is anywhere near as grandiose as her home, I doubt I could take any pleasure during a dinner in her company.
When they at last arrived at the magnificent front doors, the butler stated that Lady Catherine awaited them. Though he was a servant himself, he gave their small party a sidelong, disapproving look as he said in a drawn-out manner, “This way, please.”
He led them through the entry hall into a long corridor. Elizabeth’s heels clicked against the marble floor, save for the areas protected by plush rugs, as she followed Mr Collins and Charlotte. Ornate tapestries hung near portraits of men and women who she imagined were de Bourgh ancestors. She schooled her expression so that she would not appear as amazed as she felt by the display of wealth and lineage. The butler stopped at a door and a footman appeared from nowhere and opened it; the butler stepped through and announced, “Mr and Mrs Collins and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Elizabeth followed behind the others, surprised to find they had been led directly to the dining room as opposed to the drawing room. Not only that, but five people—two men and three women—were already in their chairs prepared to eat .
Still standing at the front of the room, she quietly surveyed the company with great interest. At the end of the table sat a middle-aged woman whose opulence in dress—a gold silk gown—was outshone only by the elaborate arrangement of her hair. Though no introduction had yet been made, it was clear from her position at the table as well as her superiority of manner that she was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Elizabeth glanced at the other two women. That must be her daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, she deduced as she looked upon the young, but frail woman wearing a lavender gown sitting directly next to Lady Catherine. She sat, her eyes down, without any acknowledgement that they had entered the room. And that must be the companion whom Charlotte mentioned, Mrs Jenkinson, Elizabeth surmised, noting the older but much healthier-looking woman wearing a small smile and a blue silk gown sitting beside Miss de Bourgh.
Elizabeth quickly cast her eyes to the other side of the table where the men stood, having risen from their seats upon their entrance. Her eyes were drawn first to the young man farthest away from Lady Catherine; he wore the uniform of an army officer. Though he was not handsome, he carried himself with an easy manner and looked in their direction genially as they walked in.
While the first man’s military uniform initially caught her eye, it was the second man who held her gaze. He appeared to be only a few years older than herself and wore a dark jacket and waistcoat and an intricately tied cravat. He was deeply handsome, almost in a classical manner, with dark hair and eyes.
However, his reception of their party quickly undermined any admiration she felt towards him. He glanced at them with a blank and disinterested gaze before quickly darting his eyes away. I wonder whether he can be as haughty as he appears. Elizabeth barely concealed a laugh at his expense. He must have noticed as he snapped his head back towards her and gave her an unreadable expression.
After they had fully entered the dining room, Lady Catherine surveyed them for a moment and then, without performing any introductions, said, “Now it appears that we may finally eat. Mr Collins, has punctuality become obsolete in the parson’s world?”
Mr Collins immediately began to bow and scrape, stuttering, “M-m-my dear Lady Catherine, we must b-b-beg your forgiveness for our unpardonable tardiness. I-I can assure you, that if you allow us to make amends, it shall never happen again.”
Lady Catherine responded with a curt wave of her hand, indicating that she did not want to hear anymore. Elizabeth could not understand it. They had arrived at the predetermined time and there were additional guests who, in her understanding, were not supposed to be in attendance. If anything were deemed rude, it would be their presence and the lack of welcome and introductions. Instead, she and the Collinses were received in such a manner to make them feel uncomfortable for being there. It was odd behaviour indeed, which she could only ascribe to the wealthy being accustomed to having their way.
Seeming unsure of how to proceed—as not all the introductions had been made—Mr Collins alternated between merely standing there stammering, and beginning to walk towards his seat, to ultimately remaining still with a blank look on his face.
In response to seeing his awkwardness, Lady Catherine gave what sounded like an exaggerated sigh and in a bothered manner, said, “My nephews, Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, are visiting for an extended period.”
Though no one had asked him to, Mr Collins took his turn introducing Elizabeth to everyone in the room. Excluding Colonel Fitzwilliam, who came and assisted Charlotte and herself to their seats in a friendly manner, it was amply clear that no one at the table particularly welcomed them. Elizabeth wondered why they were invited at all if they were to be treated thus. It was inexplicable behaviour, but because it was so nonsensical, she found it that much more diverting. She hardly knew which of the unusual characters to study first. Perhaps this evening shall be more enjoyable than I expected.
It was scarcely a quarter of an hour later that Elizabeth found herself returning to her original estimation of the evening. The dinner progressed in an unusually quiet and cold manner. Too quiet , Elizabeth thought as she heard one guest slurp on their soup and another’s silver clink. Any question to any person was answered by Lady Catherine in a manner which discouraged further discourse. Miss de Bourgh, Mrs Jenkinson, and Mr Darcy spoke not at all, and the colonel’s attempts to be genial were overcome by his aunt’s overbearingness. Elizabeth had never been to a family affair that was so formal or tedious. There was only minimal discussion about dull affairs such as the weather and Lady Catherine’s age-related health ailments, but nothing of interest or consequence.
When the conversation turned to travel plans, Lady Catherine questioned her nephews on how they had spent less time in London than they planned, thereby arriving at her home two full days earlier than expected.
“I apologise, Aunt. We found ourselves eager to see you,” Colonel Fitzwilliam offered with a charming grin.
Mr Darcy gave the colonel a barely perceptible smirk but Lady Catherine appeared flattered. She maintained a stern demeanour as she said, “Nice as that is, Nephew, you might have sent word. You are always welcome here, but I would have resisted making our party as large tonight had I realised you might be joining us.”
Elizabeth nearly choked on her drink and looked to Charlotte with raised eyebrows at the rudeness of their host. But Charlotte, evidently used to such treatment from the imperious woman, focused excessively on her soup.
To Elizabeth’s satisfaction, neither nephew responded; instead they looked ashamed at their aunt’s ill-breeding. This invited her to feel more comfortable with the gentlemen, especially when Colonel Fitzwilliam leant towards her and asked, “Miss Bennet, have you enjoyed your stay in Kent?”
“Very much so. The countryside is beautiful. One cannot see enough rolling hills or lovely meadows.”
“I could not agree more. Darcy and I spent many summers here as children.” He grinned and added with a slightly elevated voice clearly meant for Lady Catherine’s benefit, “Being back here makes me wonder why we ever leave.”
Lady Catherine responded with a head tilt and a curt smile from across the table. When her attention fell away, Colonel Fitzwilliam quickly winked at Mr Darcy, unaware that Elizabeth had noticed. In response, Mr Darcy gave a small shake of his head and looked down at his food. Elizabeth continued looking at Mr Darcy to see how he might react next and was surprised to see him raise his gaze to look straight at her.
She quickly turned her attention back to the colonel and said, “I am sure that is only enhanced since you are coming from town. I find the charms of the country are more striking when you have been away. Did you enjoy your stay in London?”
“Yes, we did enjoy it very much. There is always a new person to meet, new art to see, or music to hear.”
“But nothing could ever compare to the unparalleled beauty of Kent,” Mr Collins interjected. “Our own lovely piece of heaven, as I often tell Lady Catherine. Even in the small time that I have been here under the patronage of your honourable aunt, its splendour has only grown.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly in Lady Catherine’s direction.
Elizabeth, unable to set aside her love of sketching other people’s characters and finding Mr Darcy particularly quiet and inscrutable throughout the dinner, was curious to see his reaction to Mr Collins’ silly comment. When she looked at him this time though, she could glean from his incredulous expression that he thought her cousin as ridiculous as she did.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who appeared to be repressing a chuckle at her cousin’s expense, merely responded, “Yes, indeed.” Then he turned to Charlotte. “Mrs Collins, have you enjoyed living here as much as your husband?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“Wonderful.” Perhaps because of his pleasant nature, he seemed eager to continue the conversation. “And you are from Hertfordshire, are you not? How did you and Mr Collins meet?”
Elizabeth appreciated the gentleman’s kindness, but regretted his subject choice. She knew Mr Collins would take it upon himself to recount their ‘love story’. She had already heard the tale at least three times since she arrived, and it seemed as though Mr Collins had memorised his speech about it.
Mr Collins cleared his throat and began to answer for Charlotte. “I went to Hertfordshire to see my cousin, who is also Miss Bennet’s father, about a family matter. He and my father had a long-standing grudge, you see. After my father died, I wished to bury the hatchet, as they say.”
Elizabeth shuddered a little, wishing he had not made a private family matter public, but held her tongue.
“Upon my arrival, I was shocked to find all of the Bennets were abed with illness. Happily for me, Sir William Lucas, dear Charlotte’s father, graciously offered to shelter me at a moment’s notice. Initially, I scarce took notice of Charlotte, being preoccupied with the consideration of other eligible ladies in the vicinity.”
Awful as his insult was to his now-wife, Elizabeth was thankful and surprised he did not mention that she and her sisters were the targets of his original designs.
“When my attention did alight upon Charlotte, my interest was not immediately piqued. However, she persistently inserted herself into my presence, and in due course, her pragmatic disposition could not be disregarded. A clergyman, indeed, necessitates a judicious and sensible companion. Gradually, she captivated my regard. It did not require an excessive span of time before I could confidently assert that it seemed as though we were divinely fashioned for one another.”
Elizabeth made every effort to not roll her eyes and sigh, and somehow succeeded. Surprisingly, Charlotte only looked on gracefully, and remained silent. How is she not infuriated when he speaks of her so? In portraying her as a second option, he fails to recognise her worth.
Then again Mr Collins had surely not been any great romantic conquest for Charlotte, but a practical choice. Mr Collins was a man who could provide for her and would not be overtly cruel to her—merely embarrassing at times—and she felt she could not ask for more.
Elizabeth did not approve of looking at marriage in such a wholly prudent way as her friend did; she felt there must surely be affection between a man and wife. In this, however, it seemed that Charlotte was content and so would she be satisfied on her friend’s behalf.
She looked at Mr Darcy to see how he might be looking at her cousin now but almost jumped when she saw that he was staring at her, again. Once their eyes met, his darted away quickly. Am I imagining it or does he seem to look in my direction often? Is it to criticise? Or is it an absence of mind? She diverted her gaze away and almost shrugged as she took a bite of her soup. I suppose it matters very little either way. I doubt we shall ever see each other again after tonight.