Chapter 6
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Mr Collins; Lydia wore a remarkably similar expression. Mr Bennet raised his brows at his daughters.
“Mr Collins,” Elizabeth growled, “would you have any notion of why almost no one has come to our Christmas fair?”
He gave them all an ingratiating smile. “This is what I like to call, from the pulpit, a teaching moment.”
“Oh? And just what wisdom do you attempt to impart, sir?” Elizabeth asked in a dangerously calm voice.
“Ah, so many lessons in one memorable morning. Thou shalt not flagrantly put thyself forward. Thou shalt not embarrass thy family before those who art thy betters. Thou shalt not disregard the wiser heads surrounding thee in favour of thine own radical opinions.”
Flagrance? Betters? Radical? Elizabeth spoke through her teeth. “And how am I supposed to learn these lessons?”
“By seeing thyself in a proper light, my dear cousin. Here, surrounded by a far too indulgent family, you might view yourself as essential, an astute and clever female. However, when exposed to a wider populace, you are likewise exposed to truth. Your ideas are nonsense, your judgment flawed—not shrewd, but shrewish.”
“What have you done, Collins?” Mr Bennet bit out.
“I? I have done nothing at all. I can admit that I take satisfaction in seeing how the mighty have fallen. It is only right. As the Good Book says, ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall’.”
Mr and Mrs Gardiner, plainly sensing that all was not well, had come up behind Elizabeth, her aunt setting one hand upon her shoulder.
Kitty, Jane, and Mary followed, with the Palmers, a costumed Mrs Bennet, and the Philipses forming a semi-circle around the puffed-up Collins.
A few of the tenants began wandering over as well, everyone speculative.
“Perhaps you should explain to us this ‘fall’,” her uncle Gardiner said.
Mr Collins peered about, and abruptly, it seemed, realising how alone he was in the circle of Elizabeth’s family and friends, took a step back.
“It was nothing to do with me,” he whined. “Accompanying your ill-conceived pursuit of female education, there were many who likewise noticed your pursuit of Mr Darcy. It did not take long to connect the shame of the first to the scandal of the last.”
“My pursuit of Mr Darcy? What are you talking about? That is the most ridiculous accusation I have ever heard! Why would I pursue someone who despises me?”
“Sheer brazenness,” Mr Collins suggested.
Mr Gardiner and Mr Bennet both stalked closer to the man at the same time. He backed another couple of steps, holding up both hands.
“Do not blame me!” he cried. “It was not my idea to hold another, better, fair at Netherfield Park, with free drink for all.”
“What?” Elizabeth, Lydia, Jane, Mary, and Kitty all exclaimed at once.
“How will they raise any money for their charity?” Mrs Bennet asked the question.
Mr Collins cleared his throat and looked about self-importantly.
“I believe the costs of everything else will be set much higher and will far outweigh the pittance you expected to bring in, once everyone is, how shall I put it, properly lubricated. Miss Bingley hired someone from London at the last minute to bring all the entertainment to Netherfield Park. It cost her a pretty penny, I tell you, but it will be a grand surprise for all those expecting merely a party! Likewise, the visitors from out of town will undoubtedly increase the monies raised while beginning a new tradition in this valley. Of course, there is no question of a single tuppence of it being used to educate females.” He pointedly looked at the men in his little audience, as if expecting them to agree.
“Why would you not inform us of this?” Elizabeth rasped, her throat clogged with tears. “Why would you stand by and allow us to spend all our money, time, and energy on an event that was doomed to fail?”
“I believe that was the point,” Mr Gardiner said gruffly.
“I daresay we are his entertainment for the season. He enjoyed watching Lizzy and the girls working their fingers to the bone. He shamelessly ate at the Bennets’ table and took deep advantage of their hospitality, all while mocking them privately and publicly undermining their efforts. ”
A low growl emerged from the small crowd.
Belatedly, it seemed to occur to the vicar that the number of fellows agreeing with his opinions was sadly few.
A couple of the sturdier tenants moved closer in, grimaces upon their faces.
“It was not my notion!” he said, backing up a few more steps.
Unluckily for the flustered vicar, this moved him directly to the edge of an almost pond-sized puddle that had formed nearby.
“How did they do it?” Mr Bennet demanded angrily. “We put signs out on the road so that those from out of town could find us. What happened to our signs?”
Mr Collins sniffed. “I heard that last night all your signs were to be changed for different ones, redirecting visitors to Netherfield.” He looked about him, seeing no one who appreciated his candour. “I do not know who actually replaced them!”
Mr Bennet looked at his brother-in-law. Mr Gardiner met his gaze. As one, they both took a sudden step forwards. As they had obviously expected, Mr Collins took an equivalent step back. It was enough.
Down he went into the slop, losing his balance and thrashing about frantically. The more he attempted to rise, the more he slipped and floundered, shrieking, “Help! Help! I am sinking! Someone…fetch a rope!”
No one moved to do so. In fact, almost in unison, the small crowd moved away so they would not be splattered by the struggling clergyman.