Chapter 11 Tea At Rosings Park
One evening, Elizabeth nearly choked on her tea when her father placed a well-worn volume into Mr. Collins’s hands and said, “The Republic, I think, would be of particular use to you, sir, as it treats of the proper governance of men and the duties of those who guide them. A gentleman in your situation, charged with the moral direction of a parish, could not fail to derive improvement from such a work.”
Flattered, Mr. Collins accepted the volume and, opening it, said, “Cousin, I have not much favored the Greek canon, but I shall certainly apply myself to this work, since it is so strongly recommended by you, sir.”
“Mr. Collins, I am much taken with the notion that the minds of those in positions of influence may be improved by the wisdom of those who have gone before us. I propose we begin a correspondence in which we may exchange our reflections upon the work. Let us commence this very evening and continue our discussion at a distance, when I return to Hertfordshire.”
On the day their father left them, Mary clung to him and kissed his cheek. She shed tears and, in a lowered voice, spoke her gratitude for all he had done on her behalf.
“Papa, Mr. Collins told me last evening that if our dear old rector can visit one of his parishioners each day, then he may do the same. I expect to enjoy several peaceful hours to myself, if he proves faithful to his intention.”
Thomas Bennet embraced his daughter. “My dear girl, you will do very well if you continue in the course we have begun.” Both stepped outside to join the others, and then he took leave of Lizzy and the rector and departed.
After their father left, a void opened in his absence, for he had kept Mr. Collins fully occupied.
He had taken him into Westerham to procure seeds, cuttings, and plantings, had stood beside the rector in the back garden while his son-in-law directed the groundsman in the laying out of the beds and the proper watering of the garden, and in the evenings had engaged him in discussion of Plato’s Republic.
Elizabeth and Mary were both grateful for the hour of quiet Mr. Collins devoted to his correspondence with the gentleman whose estate he was one day to inherit.
It was a bright, warm day in early September. Mary stood at the entrance of the house. “Mr. Collins, here is your hat, sir.”
Elizabeth observed as the rector took it from his wife’s hand.
He showed her sister proper respect. She had lived a week at the parsonage, and from all she had seen, he was the model of a polite, decent man, though he spoke at excessive length, circling his subject more than once before arriving at his point.
Some might call him prosy, but to her mind, he was categorically verbose, and his inclination toward over-explanation proved tiresome.
It was little wonder her sister was exhausted.
The man surpassed even Mamma in this regard, for one might withdraw from their mother’s company, but Mary, out of respect for her husband, was obliged to remain at his side until he had concluded, having described his subject in full and often wearisome detail.
The two sisters were mending collars and cuffs in the small parlor reserved for Mary’s use when a tap sounded at the door. The housekeeper entered with the correspondence.
There was a note from Rosings Park, and the other was a letter from Jane. Mary said, “We are invited to tea. You are to meet Miss Anne de Bourgh.”
“And shall I admire this great heiress, Mary?”
“I believe you will, sister. She is a slight, shy woman of five and twenty, fair like her mother, though in every other respect they are quite dissimilar. Miss Anne puts me in mind of a pixie, with delicate features and a willowy figure, whereas Lady Catherine is tall, heavy boned, and very decided in her opinions. It is said Miss Anne favors her father’s family. ”
“Does Miss Anne have much conversation? Has she enjoyed balls and soirees in London?”
“She is an engaging conversationalist when we are alone, and no, she is of a delicate constitution and has never had a London season, nor does she desire one. She declares she will never marry, as she sees no advantage in it. She has inherited Rosings Park, subsists comfortably upon its income, and possesses a dowry of thirty thousand pounds. She asks why she should submit to a husband, when all she owns would then pass into his control.”
Elizabeth laughed. “If one considers it in that light, why indeed should any heiress marry, unless she desires love and affection and hopes to become a mother?”
Mary cast her a wry look. “You make a fair argument, but as for affection, that is far from certain. It depends entirely upon whether the gentleman is capable of loving anyone beyond himself.”
“That is true enough. Our parents endure a marriage devoid of affection, yet I wish to believe that true love is possible, and I shall not surrender that hope,” Elizabeth countered.
“What does Jane write?”
Elizabeth studied the letter. It had been misdirected to Gracechurch Street and returned to Longbourn.
Elizabeth’s brow puckered. “No wonder I have not received a letter from Jane. This one was misdirected.”
She broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Her eyes traveled swiftly down the page.
“Everyone is well. Mamma continues to pine for Lydia, as does Kitty. Charlotte is contemplating a lengthy visit to her relations in London in hopes of securing a beau.”
Elizabeth paused to read further before continuing aloud.
“Lizzy, Netherfield Park has been let, and I met the tenant at the assembly. Mr. Bingley is sensible, good-humored, and possessed of such easy, cheerful manners as to please everyone who meets him. I was greatly flattered when he requested the honor of a second dance, for I had not expected such a compliment.”
Elizabeth paused in her reading to say, “Compliments always take Jane by surprise. What could be more natural than for a fine gentleman to dance a second time with our dear Jane, who is five times prettier than every other lady in the room?”
Mary laughed, caught up in her sister’s teasing spirit.
“Lizzy, I have sorely needed your visit. You bring cheerfulness wherever you go. What else does she say?”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes once more to the page and continued reading.
“Mr. Bingley called upon me the day after the assembly, together with his sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. Mrs. Hurst is his eldest sister.
He asked to see the hermitage, and we all walked out together.
Lizzy, he looked at me with such earnestness and paid me such pleasing attentions.
He appeared almost unconscious of the world around us.
I believe he may be the one. I never imagined such a thing could truly happen, yet I think we may have fallen in love at first sight.
I shall close now, for we go into Harpenden to order a new walking dress.
Write to me of Rosings Park and all its inhabitants, and pray give this letter to Mary once you have finished with it. Write to me soon."
Mary stood and walked to the small mirror that hung on the wall. She pinned up a stray lock. “Come, Lizzy. If we are to arrive on time, we must change our gowns.”
The two sisters walked along the lane beneath the shade of the beech grove until they crossed the green, which they must traverse to reach the grand entrance of the house.
The formal gardens they passed were impressive, and though the carefully clipped topiary, trained into strict geometric forms, did not suit Elizabeth’s taste, they commanded admiration nonetheless.
They arrived at the imposing mansion in good time and were shown into a gilt drawing room, where the two de Bourgh ladies sat awaiting them.
Introductions were made, and the sisters took their seats upon a couch near Miss de Bourgh.
Elizabeth observed Mary and the young lady exchange smiles.
As she regarded Miss de Bourgh more closely, she saw her countenance bore the marks of restless nights, for the delicate skin under her eyes was tinged with blue, and her eyelids were puffy.
The pretty young woman did call to mind a pixie, with her flyaway curls escaping from a loose chignon, her slight, slender figure, and her large blue eyes, which regarded her with keen curiosity.
Her attention was claimed when Lady Catherine spoke. “Mrs. Collins, your sister is very like you. Is she the elder?”
“Yes, my lady. Elizabeth is the second-born, and I follow her.”
The great lady fixed her gaze upon Elizabeth. “How is it neither you nor your elder sister married your father’s heir? It is quite improper to set aside the claims of two elder daughters.”
Elizabeth smiled at Mary, whose face had flushed, and replied with composure.
“My lady, my mother determined which of her daughters was best suited to be Mr. Collins’s wife.
She judged Jane to be too quiet and retiring for the position of wife to a parson, and me to be too determined to succeed her in the management of our family estate.
Mary, she believed, was fitted for both duties. ”
“Your mother showed good sense in considering the strengths and weaknesses of her daughters. I am certain my rector is well satisfied it was so. Mr. Collins required an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, who could make a small income go a good way. I commend your mother’s judgment in the management of this matter. ”
Miss de Bourgh spoke. “Miss Elizabeth, do you play?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I do. I play and sing, though Mary is more proficient at the pianoforte than I am.”
“Mrs. Collins has played for us on each of her visits. I should like to hear from you, if you would be so kind.”
Elizabeth rose. “It would be my pleasure.”
Lady Catherine said, “We live very quietly here, and my daughter’s health is delicate, so we retire early. We therefore take our enjoyment in the afternoon, when we are most at ease.”
By the close of this address, Elizabeth had reached the pianoforte and seated herself. She started to play, and then her voice rose in song.
When she had finished, Lady Catherine said, “You have a pleasing voice, Miss Bennet. What is the title of that song? I should wish to hear it again when next you take tea with us.”
“It is called The Fause Knight upon the Road, my lady.”
“Ah, it is melancholy, but very pretty.”
Anne said, “Will you sing another, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth sang Earl Brand. When she finished, she observed Miss de Bourgh drying her eyes and recalled that her companion of many years was near her end.
“There is a light Irish air I should like to play, if I may.”
Both ladies assented, and Elizabeth played Garryowen, a lively quickstep. She saw Miss de Bourgh’s countenance had brightened. Lady Catherine, who had also observed the change in her daughter, said, “Miss Bennet, I was much pleased by that Irish tune. Do you know another of a similar character?”
“Yes, my lady.”
By request, Elizabeth played and sang two more spirited airs, and when she had finished, she returned to her place beside Mary. Tea was then served.
Lady Catherine said, “Mrs. Collins, I expect my two nephews in a fortnight. I shall have you all to tea upon their arrival, that you may be introduced to them. Miss Bennet would suit Richard very well, but, alas, he must marry a woman of fortune, for he is a second son, and his income as a military man would not allow him to support a wife and children.”
Then, smiling upon her daughter, she said, “My other nephew is betrothed to Anne.”
Elizabeth smiled at Anne. “You are to be congratulated, Miss de Bourgh. When is the wedding?”
Lady Catherine did not allow her daughter to reply, but said, “The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favorite wish of his mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union.”
Anne de Bourgh cast a glance at her guest. “Miss Bennet, there is no wedding date.” She then leaned nearer, so only Elizabeth might hear, and added, “The intended bridegroom would be surprised to learn he is betrothed.”
Elizabeth raised her brow. “Is that so, Miss de Bourgh? Is your mother aware?”
“Yes, indeed. The entire family is aware, but my mother is very fixed in her opinions and refuses to be persuaded otherwise. I do not fear, however, for where I am weak, Fitzwilliam is strong, and he will never bend to her will.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I see you and your cousin are well suited in understanding, and you hold him in great affection.”
“I do. I love both my cousins and wish I might see them more often, but Richard has served in the Peninsula, and Fitzwilliam is much occupied with the management of his estates and the care of his young sister. I see them but once a year.”
Lady Catherine then interposed with a question. “What is it you are saying, Anne? What are you telling Miss Bennet? I would hear what it is.”
“We were talking of music, Mamma.”
“Of music! Then pray, speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health had allowed her to apply.”
At this, Anne cast Elizabeth a look of amusement and winked. Elizabeth found herself much inclined to like Miss Anne de Bourgh, who was not as she appeared, but concealed her true self beneath a reserved exterior for reasons known only to her.
Anne de Burgh appealed to her mother. “Mamma, may Miss Bennet visit me again tomorrow? She has soothed my spirits with her song and her conversation. I know it is too much to ask Mrs. Collins to visit me two days in succession, but, ma’am, if you could spare your sister for an hour, I should be much obliged. ”
Lady Catherine was quick to add her approval. “Oh, your sister may certainly be spared. Unmarried sisters are never of so much consequence, unless there are children to be reared, and as there are none to occupy her, Mrs. Collins, you can have no objection.”
Thus, before the two sisters from Hunsford Parsonage had taken their leave, it was settled Elizabeth would return on the morrow at two o’clock, to sing, to play, and to raise the spirits of Miss Anne de Bourgh.