SIX
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Mr. Collins was punctual. At half past eleven on Monday, the sound of wheels announced his arrival.
A moment later he descended from the hired carriage, paused to straighten his coat and cuffs, and approached the house with measured composure, as though fully conscious that all eyes ought naturally to be upon him.
He was tall, broad, and entirely unremarkable in feature, neither handsome nor unpleasant, simply the sort of face difficult to recall accurately afterward. He greeted Mr. Bennet with a bow so deep it bordered upon theatricality.
“My dear cousin Bennet,” he said, in a voice that managed to be both loud and unctuous simultaneously.
“What an honour it is to find myself at last at Longbourn. I have anticipated this visit with the sincerest pleasure, and I confess the reality surpasses even the very considerable expectations I had permitted myself to form.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Mr. Bennet. “Though I confess Longbourn has not changed much in anticipation of your arrival.”
Mr. Collins received this without the faintest sign of having understood it and bowed again.
The family was introduced in turn. Lydia and Kitty descended into barely suppressed laughter almost immediately.
Mary curtseyed with composed warmth, which caused Mr. Collins to linger before her a moment longer than strictly necessary.
Jane was gracious. Elizabeth was polite.
Both were sufficiently distant to constitute a contrast.
They went inside.
Mr. Collins proved, within the first quarter hour, to be everything his letter had suggested and considerably more audible.
He admired the house, complimented Mrs. Bennet on the parlour, noted that the prospect from the front windows was tolerable though naturally inferior to the views afforded by Rosings Park, and then spoke of Lady Catherine de Bourgh for twenty minutes without apparent need to breathe.
Elizabeth found herself irritated by the sound of his voice before he had been in the house an hour, which even she considered remarkably swift.
Through all of it, she noticed his eyes.
Not fixed, not deliberate, but moving with a quiet frequency toward Jane, who sat with her needlework, said very little and was, as she always was, entirely unaware of it.
Elizabeth could not entirely blame him. Jane was the loveliest person in the room by a considerable margin and had been since approximately the moment she learned to sit upright.
What Elizabeth noticed with rather more interest was her mother noticing the same thing, and the expression that crossed Mrs. Bennet's face as she did so, which Elizabeth recognised as the look of rapid calculation.
Mrs. Bennet said nothing. But she refilled Mr. Collins's cup with great attentiveness and asked him several questions about Hunsford that required lengthy answers. This kept his attention sufficiently occupied that his eyes, at least, were called back to the conversation at regular intervals.
Elizabeth watched all of this with the private appreciation she reserved for her mother's more artful manoeuvres.
Mr. Bennet sat by the fire with his paper held before him, but his attention appeared directed rather more toward the room than the print.
The Bennet sisters engaged Mr. Collins to varying degrees throughout the afternoon.
Mary, by far the most attentive, entered into a lengthy discussion with him on the subject of moral improvement, which appeared to gratify him exceedingly.
When he produced a religious tract from his coat pocket to support one of his observations, she remained patiently beside him while he drew his chair nearer to indicate a particular passage.
Lydia endured the conversation for approximately forty minutes before declaring herself suddenly required elsewhere. Kitty followed immediately afterward, though with no clearer notion of where she intended to go.
Elizabeth remained. She possessed too much curiosity to quit the room while Mr. Collins continued revealing himself. She continued observing him until luncheon was announced, a summons Mr. Collins appeared to receive with particular satisfaction.
* * *
By the conclusion of luncheon, Elizabeth had formed a decided dislike of Mr. Collins.
He ate noisily, delivered his opinions with unwavering confidence, and appeared entirely persuaded of his own authority upon every subject remotely connected to morality, propriety, or conduct.
Mary received much of this with earnest approval, while Kitty, to Elizabeth’s increasing amusement, had more than once offered observations of such doubtful sincerity that Mr. Collins accepted them as compliments without hesitation.
Elizabeth was still recovering from one such exchange when the sound of horses upon the gravel drew Mrs. Bennet abruptly toward the window.
“Good heavens,” she exclaimed. “It is Mr. Bingley.”
The room altered immediately. Jane became very still. Mr. Collins turned toward the window with mild and benevolent interest. Mr. Bennet’s newspaper remained open before him, though Elizabeth noticed he had ceased pretending to read it entirely.
Hill announced the visitor a moment later, and Mr. Bingley entered with all the warmth and ease natural to him.
He apologised for arriving uninvited with such unaffected good humour that the apology scarcely survived its own delivery.
Mrs. Bennet, still in excellent spirits from luncheon and delighted by so fortunate an interruption, insisted immediately that refreshments be brought again.
Mr. Bingley apologised once more, this time for not having called sooner upon the family, before allowing himself to be persuaded into remaining.
He was introduced to Mr. Collins with proper civility, which Mr. Collins returned at considerable length. Mr. Bingley endured the introduction with admirable patience, blinking only once during a particularly extended acknowledgment before recovering himself sufficiently to smile and continue.
He remained nearly an hour.
It required very little observation to determine where his chief attention rested.
He spoke readily to everyone, asked after the family with unaffected interest, and preserved throughout the same easy friendliness that distinguished him everywhere.
Yet, however generously his attentions were distributed, they returned continually toward Jane.
He listened when she spoke with a degree of attention he bestowed upon nobody else.
He laughed at remarks which, from any other person, would scarcely have earned more than a smile.
When she crossed the room to speak quietly with Hill, his eyes followed her without apparent awareness of doing so, and lifted again the instant she returned.
Elizabeth observed all of it with sincere satisfaction for her sister. She also observed Mr. Collins, whose attention now seemed fixed upon the scene with thoughtful concentration.
When Mr. Bingley at last departed, Mrs. Bennet accompanied him to the door herself. She returned to the parlour looking deeply gratified and resumed her seat beside Mr. Collins with an air of easy satisfaction.
“Mr. Bingley is a most agreeable young man,” she declared. “He danced with Jane twice at the assembly last week, has made every effort to seek her out since, and has now called at Longbourn as well.” Her smile broadened visibly. “Jane has always been admired wherever she goes.”
Jane coloured visibly and lowered her eyes to the needlework she had since taken up.
“Indeed,” said Mr. Collins. “The gentleman’s admiration appears founded upon very sound judgement. Miss Bennet possesses an uncommon sweetness of disposition.”
Mrs. Bennet seized upon the compliment immediately. “Jane is sweetness itself,” she declared. “Though I flatter myself all my girls are well regarded in company.”
Elizabeth noticed then the slight turn in her mother’s manner. Mrs. Bennet’s attention shifted gradually toward Elizabeth.
“Lizzy especially has a way of attracting attention wherever she goes,” Mrs. Bennet continued with studied casualness. “Very lively. Clever. Though she pretends not to know the effect she produces.”
Elizabeth, who had been pretending to read the book in her lap, looked up at once.
Mr. Collins turned toward her with a renewed degree of attention which made it perfectly clear he had understood the invitation being offered him.
“Miss Elizabeth possesses a most pleasing liveliness,” he declared. “I should be very happy to cultivate a closer acquaintance with her.”
Elizabeth smiled politely and immediately regretted it.
* * *
“Mr. Bingley is a most agreeable young man,” said Mr. Collins later that evening, turning toward Elizabeth as though the observation particularly required her agreement. “His manner today reflected very great credit upon his character.”
Elizabeth glanced up from the book resting open in her lap.
After dinner, the family had gathered in the drawing room with varying degrees of willingness.
Lydia and Kitty occupied the card table near the fire and disputed the rules every few minutes with increasing energy.
Mary sat nearby, observing the card game with solemn attention.
Jane sat near the lamp with her embroidery.
Mrs. Bennet was spread comfortably across the sofa, her expression one of quiet satisfaction at the sight of Mr. Collins addressing Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet read in apparent peace.
Mr. Collins, since Mrs. Bennet's efforts that afternoon, had attached himself almost entirely to Elizabeth. The present observation appeared to be his latest attempt to reopen a conversation she had not been encouraging.
“They do him credit,” said Elizabeth.
“And where does Mr. Bingley reside?” asked Mr. Collins. “I understand he is newly settled in the neighbourhood.”