Chapter 9
Drawing Room
Longbourn
The Next Morning
“I am very glad that it is not raining today,” Lydia said, looking out the window at a pleasantly sunny day. “I would have died of boredom if we had been required to stay home. I have not seen a single officer for two full days, and then only at church!”
“Is there a regiment settled in Meryton, Cousin Lydia?” Mr. Collins asked.
“Oh, yes!” his youngest cousin returned, her pretty face flushed with pleasure. “It is quite wonderful, as there are now plenty of gentlemen available to dance at parties, and such handsome men too! I declare no man is to his best advantage if he is not dressed in a red coat!”
Mr. Collins would have considered this a direct attack on his own less than prepossessing features, except that he had already taken Miss Lydia’s measure.
She was a tall, buxom young lady with a reasonable amount of charm, but as far as Mr. Collins could tell, she had very little sense.
That was, he thought, far more the fault of the Bennet parents than Miss Lydia herself, who was merely fifteen years of age.
Mr. Bennet paid very little attention to his offspring, and Mrs. Bennet encouraged her younger girls in their heedless pursuit of husbands.
Given the entail on Longbourn, perhaps that was not so very surprising, but considering Lydia’s demeanor and reckless speeches and her lack of dowry, the heir of Longbourn thought it quite unlikely that she would find a good mate.
Unless, of course, she matured, and she might well do so.
“… visit Meryton, Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Bennet finished, and Collins blinked. He had lost track of the conversation.
“It is a pleasant little town,” Miss Mary added. “You might well enjoy visiting the bookstore.”
He realized he was being invited to walk to Meryton.
“Erm, thank you,” he said. “Will you be joining us, Mrs. Bennet?”
“Oh no, I need to speak to my housekeeper about meals this week, and in any case, I do not take much pleasure in walking.”
“I think Jane ought to stay inside,” Miss Elizabeth said, turning an anxious look on her eldest sister. “She still has a mild cough.”
“I was wondering,” Mr. Collins said carefully, “whether it would be all right for me to walk around the estate. I confess to knowing very little about Home Farms, and would like to see Longbourn’s.”
“Oh, I am certain that Lizzy would be very eager to guide you!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, and her second daughter agreed, “I would be pleased to accompany you there, Mr. Collins.”
“And how about you, Miss Mary?” Mr. Collins inquired, turning toward the quietest of his cousins. “Would you also be willing to come along?”
Mary looked startled, turned to glance at the door, frowned a little, and then said, “Yes, I would enjoy that. Thank you.”
***
Home Farm
Longbourn
A Short Time Later
Longbourn village was small, as estate villages usually were, consisting entirely of a single street and a handful of cottages.
The street saw more small urchins playing in its dust than it saw of traffic, but it was large enough for the families who worked on the Longbourn estate.
Today, the wives bent over their stoves and their washing and their mending, and they kept glancing out of the windows, curious about the presence of Mr. Collins.
He would, after all, one day be master at Longbourn and landlord of these very tenants.
Elizabeth could understand their curiosity; she, too, wished to know what manner of man was her father's successor.
So far, she had been pleasantly surprised.
Mr. Collins did not pretend to a greater degree of knowledge than he truly possessed, but his many questions indicated a reasonable intelligence.
At the moment, Mr. Collins was speaking with the stable master of Longbourn.
Elizabeth could see that Coachman Jack was pleased by a barrage of inquiries about soil, and stables, and the tilling of potatoes, and the price of wool, and work horses, and the feasibility of running sheep on Longbourn land.
Mary, who knew as much as her elder sisters about the management of the estate, occasionally interjected a comment or had an answer to one of Mr. Collins's many questions.
Elizabeth stood by largely in silence, observing the conversation with a small smile.
From her father's pungent descriptions of the senior Mr. Collins, she had feared to find in the son a pontificating buffoon enamored of his own importance and fawningly obsequious towards his social betters.
Instead, he had skillfully navigated the awkwardness of meeting for the first time the man whose heir he was and the ladies of the family whom he would be displacing through no fault of his own.
Elizabeth was certain that her mother had already hit on the scheme of marrying one of the sisters to their cousin and thus ensuring a home for the rest of the women in the event of Mr. Bennet's death.
Elizabeth did not find the idea insupportable.
Mr. Collins had not been blessed with the great good looks of, say, Mr. Darcy, who was darkly handsome, or Mr. Bingley, who was both fair and fair to look upon.
Mr. Collins's face could best be described as pleasant but plain, and he was rather portly.
Not that the outer appearance was a potential husband's most important aspect; the content of a man's character and mind were of far more weight.
She would not worry herself over Mr. Collins being an eligible husband for herself or one of her sisters. They had more than a week to consider the feasibility of such a match. For now, it would be enough to enjoy the company of their cousin.
"I appreciate your time," Mr. Collins was saying to Coachman Jack, who touched his forelock in response.
Mr. Collins offered his arm to Mary and turned with her towards the barn.
Elizabeth fell into step behind them, thoughtfully considering the couple walking arm in arm ahead of her.
They were continuing the discussion of potatoes, and Elizabeth realized that Mary was offering to show Mr. Collins the storage system in the root cellar of the barn.
They might perhaps be remarkably well-suited, she thought suddenly.
Mary, too, was sensible and intelligent and rather plain.
She would make an excellent parson's wife, being of a devout and pious nature and kindly as well.
Elizabeth wondered if their cousin would notice these attributes.
Given her mother’s quickness in volunteering Elizabeth’s time to escort the heir to the village, Mrs. Bennet had apparently decided to throw her second daughter at Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth was prettier than her next younger sister, and gentlemen, she knew, had a tendency to look on the outward appearance of a woman when selecting a wife.
It was unfair to poor Mary, who deserved better than to be constantly overlooked in favor of her handsome sisters, but alas, such was the way of the world.
***
Drawing Room
Longbourn
An Hour Later
The Bennets’ butler opened the door into the drawing room and announced, “Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy stepped in on Bingley’s heels, looked around quickly, and was disappointed. Only two ladies were present, Miss Bennet and her mother. Where was Miss Elizabeth?
“Oh, Mr. Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet cried out and then added in an obviously less enthusiastic tone, “and Mr. Darcy too. Good morning.”
He turned a slightly confused look on the matron. Why did she sound less than excited at his presence? He was, after all, even more eligible than his friend Bingley.
“Good morning,” Bingley said cheerfully. “I hope you are both well?”
“Indeed, we are,” Mrs. Bennet said, “though Jane is still resting because she was ill, but she has mostly recovered. Thank you so much for taking such good care of her while she was staying at Netherfield, sir!”
Bingley turned a concerned look on Miss Bennet and said, “I hope you did not leave Netherfield too soon.”
Jane Bennet smiled and said, “I assure you that I am well enough, with only a lingering cough on occasion. But please do sit down, both of you.”
“Oh yes, sit down, sit down!” Mrs. Bennet cried out. “And I will call for tea.”
The matron left the room, presumably in search of a maid, and Bingley immediately began speaking with Miss Bennet, leaving Darcy to look around the room.
It was a pleasantly furnished room, and the wallpaper was of the latest style.
He suspected that Mrs. Bennet spent more than was wise on furniture, decorations, and clothing, but that was not particularly unusual.
The door opened again. Darcy looked up and found himself both on his feet and smiling at the sight of the second and third Misses Bennet, along with an unfamiliar, dark-haired, heavy-set young man of some five and twenty years.
“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary,” he said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth said. “Good morning, Mr. Bingley.”
“Good morning,” Bingley said.
“May I please introduce our cousin to you?” Miss Elizabeth continued. “Mr. Collins is my father’s heir. Mr. Collins, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley.”
The gentlemen exchanged bows, and then everyone sat down, just as the door opened again to reveal Mrs. Bennet.
“Oh, Lizzy, Mary, Mr. Collins!” she exclaimed. “I hope you had a pleasant walk through the Home Farm?”
“Yes,” Collins said simply.
“Excellent,” Mrs. Bennet responded absently and turned toward Mr. Bingley. “I hope you are happy at Netherfield Park, sir. I do not know of a place in the country that is equal to your estate. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease.”
“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” he replied, “and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself quite fixed there.”
“I am glad,” Mrs. Bennet said with a significant look at her eldest daughter. “Now…”
She was interrupted by the opening door again, which revealed two maids with tea.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said, “how do you like your tea?”
“With milk, please, and no sugar,” he replied.
Within thirty seconds, she handed over the cup, and he took a welcome sip as his eyes fixed on Miss Elizabeth. The girl had taken a seat near her eldest sister, while Mr. Collins sat next to Miss Mary on a small couch nearby.
“Mr. Darcy?”
He turned to look at Mr. Collins, who was studying him with a grave expression.
“Yes?”
“May I ask whether you are the Mr. Darcy who is master of the estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire?”
Darcy suppressed a frown and said, “I am.”
Mr. Collins nodded. “I believe it is appropriate for me to mention that I am the rector of Hunsford, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, your aunt, is my patroness.”
Darcy turned a doubtful look on the parson. Lady Catherine was an arrogant woman who hired only sycophants. Therefore, it was almost certain that Mr. Collins was a tiresome fool.
“I hope my aunt and cousin were well when you last saw them?” he asked.
“Very well, yes,” Mr. Collins replied simply.
To Darcy’s mingled surprise and relief, Mr. Collins seemed to think that nothing further need be said, and turned to speak with Miss Mary on the topic of plowing, which was an agreeably practical topic for a man who would one day be master of Longbourn.
Darcy was practiced at tuning out conversations that did not interest him, and was thus able to listen to the discussion between Bingley and the eldest two Misses Bennet.
They were speaking of various parlor games, and Darcy was confident that Miss Elizabeth was an adept at both Consequences and I Love My Love with an A.
He had never cared much for such games, but if Miss Elizabeth were participating, he thought they would be entirely enjoyable…
He took a deep breath and let it out. He was growing far too attached to Miss Elizabeth.