Chapter 8
The rain stopped sometime during the night and by morning the world was steaming, with the wet grass drying under the timid sun of late autumn.
Elizabeth took herself to the garden before breaking her fast to assess the viability of walking home.
It would not be a hardship for her, but she did not wish to force Jane into something that might bring her undue discomfort; although in comparison to Miss Bingley and her undisguised hate, a little mud would be a trifling inconvenience.
Traipsing through fields and over stiles were always an adventure for her but not so for her more mannerly sister.
Elizabeth turned to the path leading away from the stables and came face to face with an enormous black and white Great Dane, a hound which looked at her curiously.
“Oh hello there, what is your name, sir?” She approached him carefully. The dog immediately waved his tail in greeting.
“Oh what a beautiful gentleman you are. Do you belong to Mr Bingley or Mr Darcy?” She rubbed his ear and made the dog emit a low-toned grunt in obvious contentment.
“Would you like to play? I certainly am ready to oblige since it has been two full days since I last frolicked outside. You know, staying locked up under Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy’s severe stares of disapproval is bad for my constitution.” She laughed and he barked in agreement.
She found a stick and threw it away as far as she could for him to fetch. The dog sauntered in a leisurely way rather than sprinted to retrieve the toy. He brought it back and laid it down by her feet as if offering a gift to his goddess.
She laughed and patted him again as the dog took a turn around her legs making a deep guttural and self-satisfied sound.
“I can see you prefer my company to fetching sticks which only shows your good taste. Very well then, let us run together…” and she took off with the Great Dane easily keeping pace with her.
Coincidentally, Darcy had just stepped out of his morning bath and he watched her in fascination from his upstairs window, as she ran around and played tug-of-war with Hamlet, his favourite dog.
He felt almost jealous. How did Hamlet come to win her affections so quickly, while he, Mr Darcy of Pemberley and Darcy House, a gentleman of refined education and tastes, only managed to push her away?
His thoughts moved to musings of a less honourable nature regarding the lady, a lot more than he liked or allowed himself to.
He huffed and shook his head in disappointment; take a hold of yourself Darcy, you are not Wickham.
His mother would box his ears if she knew what kind of thoughts he was entertaining towards her new friend.
He sighed, maybe he could ask his dog later how to make amends for un-gentlemanlike thoughts, spoken and unspoken.
Soon after breakfast the two sisters said their goodbyes and started their walk home.
The bridge was still down and Lady Anne promised the young ladies that as soon as it was repaired, she would call on them with Georgiana.
As Elizabeth descended the steps to the gravel drive, she could see the men gathering under the supervision of Mr Darcy and Mr Hansen, the Netherfield steward, to give instructions to commence the repair work.
Judging by the look of excitement on the faces of the men, who were undoubtedly relieved not to be trapped indoors, it would not take long to get it done.
Seeing Elizabeth looking his way, Darcy tipped his hat at her and she nodded back solemnly.
Elizabeth released a relieved breath; apart from Lady Anne and Georgiana’s company, she would miss nobody else from the grand old house.
***
At breakfast the next day…
“I hope,” Mr Bennet said to his lady, “that you have ordered a good dinner tonight, my dear, as we will be receiving a visitor.”
“A visitor...” Mrs Bennet said excitedly, “oh, my goodness is it Mr Bingley? Oh Lord, there is no fish to be had.”
“It is not Mr Bingley,” teased the gentleman, “but it is a single man and I have it on good authority that he is the heir to an estate.”
All six ladies stared at him, “Papa, please do not tease us,” Elizabeth begged, “who is this mysterious gentleman?”
But poor Mr Bennet could not answer as his wife was already scheming, “A single man, you say,” His wife repeated, “I wonder if he could be persuaded to choose a wife in Hertfordshire, Mr Bennet.”
“Yes, my dear, a single man... and we all know that a single man in possession of an estate, even a future one, must be in want of a wife. As for choosing a wife in Hertfordshire, I think it might be exactly what he wants.”
Mrs Bennet beamed happily. Her expression was already focused on a future marriage between the rich, single man and one of her daughters.
“Is he handsome, Papa?” Lydia asked.
Mrs Bennet’s reverie ended abruptly. She turned towards her youngest daughter and said firmly, “whether he is handsome or not makes no difference to you, young lady, as you will be returning to the nursery.”
“But Mama,” Lydia screeched, but her mother interrupted,
“After the way you behaved towards Lady Anne, you will be fortunate if I do not lock you up for the next ten years.”
The whole family looked as if they could be knocked over with a feather. This was what they had been praying for: a little discernment from the mistress of the house and a little discipline that would certainly go a long way in Lydia’s case.
Lydia looked at her father for support but he said with a smirk,
“Do not look at me, if it were up to me I would pack you and Kitty to the nearest boarding school and leave you there until you were five and twenty.”
Kitty paled, “but Papa, I have not offended Lady Anne. I should behave better than Lydia.”
Mrs Bennet ignored Kitty, as usual, and looked sharply at Lydia,
“You are fortunate” she glared, “your father and I are agreed that you will remain home, at least for the time being. Of course things can change, should you choose to remain stubborn.”
Lydia pouted her lips but wisely said no more.
“Anyway, returning to our visitor tonight,” Mr Bennet allowed the family to fix their focus on him again before continuing, “I have never met this gentleman but he is closely connected with us, for one reason or another.”
They all held their breath as he picked up a letter and started to read what sounded like a grave discourse on the follies of flattery, though its author seemed wholly unaware he embodied the very picture of a perfect sycophant. Once Mr Bennet finished it, he put it down and waited.
“Is this from your cousin Mr Collins, the heir apparent to Longbourn?” Mrs Bennet asked barely able to contain her excitement. “Does he intend to marry one of our girls? Is that what he means by offering an olive-branch?”
Her husband smiled, “who can guess what he means, Mrs Bennet, but it seems whatever his patroness, the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh suggests, he will endeavour to obey most religiously.”
Mrs Bennet said no more and immediately left the breakfast table to talk about the menu with her cook.
As promised in his letter, Mr Collins was punctual.
The gentleman was a heavy-set man of about five and twenty. His thinning hair was plastered to his head with some sort of greasy pomade that smelled rancid. His teeth were crooked and rather yellow and his rotund stomach revealed him to be a man who enjoyed his food.
His focus went immediately to Jane and did not waver until Mr Bennet cleared his throat, “Mr Collins, welcome to our house, sir.”
That greeting unleashed a string of words from the young man that seemed would never end, as they entered the house.
All his young cousins immediately found something or other to do that would necessarily take them out of the room urgently; all, with the exception of Mary, whom Mr Collins proceeded to ignore.
Mrs Bennet did not like the greedy look that Mr Collins used to survey the furnishings and all around him, although Mr Bennet was more worried about having such a man sleeping so close to his daughter’s bedchambers.
Mr Bennet suggested he go up to rest before dinner while Mrs Bennet said she would be sending hot water for a bath. Mr Collins protested that he needed no bath since he had bathed the day before.
“Nevertheless, hot water will be sent and I suggest you make good use of it, sir.” Mr Bennet said in support of his wife’s suggestion, since no member of the family would be able to take a breath in close proximity to the man unless he washed.
When he went down to dinner a little later, he was less repulsive, and the family breathed a little easier with the exception of Jane, who was the main recipient of his attentions which bordered on lascivious.
Soon after dinner he informed Mrs Bennet that his noble patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh had sent him to Longbourn to find a wife among his cousins. So he, not wanting to waste any time to secure a wife, enquired about her oldest daughter.
After some words of thanks and acknowledgement, Mrs Bennet informed him that she believed Jane might very soon be engaged, but the others were all unattached.
He received this information reluctantly and looked longingly at Jane one more time. Then he sighed in resignation and turned his beady eye on Elizabeth. He licked his lips and immediately transferred his attentions to her, with the same look of lust in his eyes.
Mr Bennet remained close to his daughters for the remainder of the evening, giving his visitor a glare of disapproval and annoyance for forcing him to forego his book room.
As the family started to disperse for the night, Mr Bennet whispered something into Elizabeth’s ear and she nodded with understanding. They all said goodnight and removed to their bedchambers.
When the house finally quieted and all seemed ready for a good night’s rest, Elizabeth’s door opened quietly and a figure entered the room and moved close to her bed,
“Have you done as I asked, Elizabeth?”
She turned under the blankets and nodded, “yes, Papa,” she sat up in bed, “all my sisters have locked their doors. Do you really believe we might be in danger?”