Chapter 2 #2
As if it somehow reflected well on himself, Mr Collins pointed out the fine paintings and the ornaments in the entrance hall, mentioning the cost whenever he was able.
They followed the butler to a drawing room where Lady Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs Jenkinson—Miss de Bourgh’s companion—were sitting.
Her ladyship, with great condescension, inclined her head towards them.
Charlotte Collins took a seat while Collins effected the introductions.
Despite having been at St James for his investiture, Sir William was so completely awed by the grandeur surrounding him that he could do nothing except make a very low bow and take his seat without saying a word.
Maria, frightened almost out of her wits, sat on the edge of her chair not knowing which way to look.
Elizabeth was unimpressed and almost found the scene before her amusing, but she did not show that outwardly.
She sat and observed the three ladies before her composedly.
Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman with strongly marked features, which she could see had never been handsome.
Everything about her airs and the design of the room, which included her gilded and raised chair, was designed to make sure visitors never forgot their inferior rank.
Lady Catherine was not one, Elizabeth decided, who was content with silence.
Whatever she said was spoken with an authoritative tone marking her self-importance, although most everything she said was nonsensical.
She thought of Mr Wickham’s description of the supposedly great lady, and in Elizabeth’s mind she noted that Lady Catherine was exactly as he described.
That, in her mind, lent credence to what he had told her about Mr Darcy.
When her sketch of the mother was complete, Elizabeth turned her eyes on the daughter.
Miss de Bourgh was very thin and very small.
There was no resemblance between mother and daughter.
Miss de Bourgh was pale, frail, and sickly; her face was sallow; and she looked like she wanted to be anywhere except in the drawing room.
She hardly spoke, and when she did it was in a low voice to Mrs Jenkinson.
That lady kept making sure her charge was well wrapped against the cold.
Miss de Bourgh said something to her companion, who then turned to her employer and spoke so only Lady Catherine could hear her.
“You may take Anne to her chambers,” Lady Catherine allowed.
While Mrs Jenkinson assisted Miss de Bourgh from the room, the guests were sent to one of the windows to admire the view. Mr Collins took the opportunity to point out its beauties.
Elizabeth was sure that Lady Catherine did not want them to see how Miss De Bourgh could not support her own weight, and as soon as the companion managed to get her to the door, a footman picked up the lady.
She could not fathom how Mr Darcy would marry one who looked like she was at death’s door.
Unlike the others in her party, Elizabeth had watched out of the corner of her eye.
Dinner was called. There were too many dishes and courses for Elizabeth’s taste, and the sauces were far too rich.
Mr Collins was as proud as a peacock as to where he was seated—at the foot of the table—by her ladyship’s desire and looked as if his life could not be any better.
He carved, and ate, and praised ad nauseum with delight.
Every dish was commended, first by him and then by Sir William, who was now recovered enough to echo whatever his son-in-law said.
Elizabeth thought the praise was as overdone as the meal.
However, Lady Catherine took the excessive admiration as her due.
Occasionally, she gave almost gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved a novelty to her guests.
What made Elizabeth wonder was how it was that Lady Catherine could be so calm when her daughter was in obvious distress?
The only voice at the table was that of Lady Catherine. She neither needed nor appreciated anyone else to say anything.
When they returned to the drawing room after the meal, Lady Catherine addressed Elizabeth.
“Your father’s estate is entailed upon Mr Collins.
For your sake,” turning to Charlotte, Lady Catherine stated, “I am glad of it, but otherwise, I see no occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s family.
” She refused to speak of the entail on Rosings Park.
She turned back to Elizabeth. “But tell me, Miss Bennet, why did you reject such an eligible offer as the one Mr Collins made you? I told him to marry a cousin, but as he was refused, I excused him for not following my suggestion.”
“That, Lady Catherine, is between me, my father, and Mr Collins,” Elizabeth replied with as much equanimity as she could. She saw Charlotte was mortified while Mr Collins was preening.
“It is my concern! Mr Collins is my parson, and I pay particular attention to everything in my domain. Come, Miss Bennet, surely the shame of not accepting Mr Collins is not so great?” Lady Catherine pushed.
“Lady Catherine, we did not suit. I would never be happy with Mr Collins, and I am certain the reverse is true. I do not, not for one second, regret my refusal, and if the same offer were made again today, my reply would be the same.” Elizabeth could see that her cousin was no longer preening.
“Do not press me on this subject, your Ladyship; I will not speak on it again.”
The mistress of Rosings Park was not used to being spoken to in such a forthright manner. She decided to change the subject. “Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?”
“A little, but rather ill.” Elizabeth kept her voice even.
“Sometime or other we shall be happy to hear you. My pianoforte is a capital one, probably superior to anything on which you have exhibited. You shall try it someday. Do your sisters play and sing?” Lady Catherine probed.
“Two of them do. My eldest sister plays the harp and my next younger sister the pianoforte.”
“There are five daughters, are there not?” Lady Catherine saw Miss Bennet nod. “Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learnt. Do you draw?”
“No, not at all.”
“What, none of you?”
“My sister Catherine has a talent for it, but it has not been developed,” Elizabeth replied.
“Your sister has a noble name. However, that is very strange that you and your sisters do not all have accomplishments. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters.”
“My mother would not have objected, but my father hates London. Any masters that we needed came to Longbourn.”
“Is your governess yet with the younger girls? Or has she left your home?” Lady Catherine enquired.
“We never had a governess.”
“No governess! That is unacceptable! Five daughters brought up at home without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education.”
Elizabeth could hardly help smiling. “My mother did not superintend our education.”
“Why ever not? It was her duty to do so,” Lady Catherine insisted.
“I am afraid that is a question you would need to ask of my mother, Lady Catherine. I cannot speak for her.” Elizabeth was sure that, thanks to her loquacious cousin, the virago well knew that Mamma was not gently born and wanted to highlight that as part of her desire to feel superior.
“Who taught you? Without a governess, I am certain you were neglected,” Lady Catherine claimed.
“We were not. Any of us who wished to learn never wanted for the means. We were always encouraged to read and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be idle did not have as much education.”
“Idleness is the very thing a governess would have prevented,” Lady Catherine pontificated.
“If I had known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that way. I am always happy to be of use to others.” She paused to take a breath.
“Are any of your younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?”
“They are all out.”
“What, all five out at once? That is not done! And you, only the second oldest, and as yet unmarried after you turned down Mr Collins’s offer.
I think Mr Collins said your older sister is at least being courted, even if the man is the son of a tradesman.
I suppose for your level of society a tradesman’s son is not so very bad.
That the younger ones are out before the elder ones are married is unacceptable!
Your younger sisters must be far too young to be in society? ”
“My youngest sister is not yet sixteen. Perhaps she is full young to be out in society.” The truth was Elizabeth thought that Kitty and Lydia should not be out, but she would not give Lady Catherine the satisfaction of agreeing with her.
“Really, Lady Catherine, I think it would be very hard on my younger sisters if they were not to have their share of society and amusement. It is not their fault that their elder sisters have not married yet. I do not think it would promote sisterly affection if they had to languish at home because Jane or I have failed to marry.”
“Upon my word!” Lady Catherine exclaimed. “You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?”
“As a lady with three younger sisters, Your Ladyship cannot expect me to freely own my age.” Elizabeth cared not who knew her age, but she was having fun confounding the inquisitive blowhard of a woman.
Lady Catherine was taken back at not receiving a direct answer. Elizabeth was certain that she was the first to come before the great lady who had ever dared to trifle with her in such an impertinent way.
“You cannot be more than twenty,” Lady Catherine said with a huff. “I am sure you have no good reason to conceal your age.”
“I was one and twenty just after the start of this month,” Elizabeth admitted.
Elizabeth could see that her cousin was not well pleased that she was confounding his dear patroness. After the inquisition, tea was ordered, and as soon as it was over, card tables were placed.
When Lady Catherine had played as long as she chose, the tables were removed without anyone else’s opinion being canvassed.
Lady Catherine offered the use of one of her carriages.
Before her husband could utter paeans of praise, Charlotte Collins gratefully accepted.
The butler was summoned, and the conveyance ordered.
Prior to her guests’ departure, Lady Catherine determined what the weather would be on the morrow.
Instructions of how to dress for the weather she had decided would be, were issued.
As soon as the coach arrived, the butler informed the mistress.
With excessive gratitude for her condescension from Mr Collins and many bows from him and Sir William, the parsonage party took its leave.
No sooner had the carriage begun to move than Mr Collins extolled the honour for Elizabeth to be able to see the magnificence of Rosings Park and bask in Lady Catherine’s company.
He then added a lecture about what he perceived as his cousin’s disrespect of Lady Catherine.
For Charlotte’s peace of mind, Elizabeth said nothing to contradict her buffoon of a cousin.
As much as she did not look forward to being in Lady Catherine’s company again, Elizabeth knew that for Charlotte’s sake she would endure the foolishness.