Chapter 6 #2
“You must agree that a clergyman cannot fritter his income away. You say you do not object to my portion, but think on this. Let us assume any children will come within a year or two, and might marry before 20. That would give but 16-18 years to accumulate a dowry or apprenticeship.”
Elizabeth turned the paper towards him. “Do you agree the sums are correct and reasonable?”
Mr Collins was not sure of anything at all, but eventually looked the figures over—he hated figures—and nodded.
Elizabeth turned the page back and took up the quill. “Let us assume we put that ￡500 into the four percents. I have the formula somewhere here.”
The lady went back to the desk, rummaged around, and said, “Aha!”
She covered a small piece of scrap paper with incomprehensible scribbling, and amended her document.
“Let us assume we need an additional ￡100 for miscellaneous expenses beyond the budget. That might cover more extensive travel, unexpected expenses, and so forth; that leaves us a net of ￡400 that might be saved.”
Once again, she presented the figures for his inspection. “Does this seem reasonable?”
Thoroughly confused, the gentleman nodded.
“Suppose that goes into the four percents,” she said, and continued writing.
￡400 per annum x 20 years at 4% = ￡12,000
She sighed in satisfaction. “That assumes consols—not a bad return, and exceedingly safe. It will suffice, though clearly one could do better with clever investing. Now, as it seems clear you are not a man of finance, I suggest the best option would be to set your wife’s pin money at ￡500 per annum.
That is the only way, with the vexing English laws, to give her control over your family finances, and that is essential if your income is to be managed properly. ”
He sputtered more, but she pinned him with a stare. “What say you, sir? Will you offer pin money of ￡500 per annum as part of this proposal?”
Sweat broke out on his brow. He pulled out his handkerchief, wiped it several times, then started, stopped, and looked for an escape from the madhouse he had set himself up for.
He searched diligently, near and far, high and low, for an escape, and at last the obvious answer struck him, as if handed directly from the heavens.
“No, I will not set pin money at ￡500. It will not do!”
Feeling he had won an epic battle worthy of a Viking, he wondered if he need wait for Miss Elizabeth to officially decline his proposal before he escaped that madhouse.
The lady seemed less affected than expected; perhaps she hid her trepidation better, since her offer had of course been summarily rejected.
“Oh, dear,” said she, “well then… Let me think. My figures are all correct, so it seems you need… hm… let me see… I know!”
He stared in consternation. “You know… what exactly?”
Elizabeth laughed gaily. “It is all so obvious. You need a wife willing to be more sensible and frugal. She will want to limit your children to a small number, which is sensible, but not what I would choose. She will need to be willing to do with somewhat less. Now, of course, she also must be gently raised and trained in the management of an estate, since she will likely become mistress of Longbourn.”
Mr Collins stared at her in shock. The lady sat in an unladylike pose, elbows on the table, pen still in one hand, while she tapped her teeth with her index finger.
After a few moments, she slapped her hand on the table and yelled, “Aha! I have it!”
Much to his consternation, she ran to the parlour door and flung it open.
Mrs Bennet and the two youngest daughters fell through the door and nearly collapsed, but Miss Elizabeth barely noticed.
She stepped deftly over them to find her sister Mary, dragged her back into the parlour, and shooed the rest back out.
She pulled her astonished sister to the table and pushed her into the chair.
“Mary, are you willing to be Mrs Collins for ￡400 per annum? Look at these figures. You would need to limit your children to a manageable brood, but I never thought you wanted many anyway. Mr Collins is not very mathematical, but he is honourable and respectable, has a good living, and will likely inherit in 20-25 years. What do you think?”
Mary looked at the figures for but a few moments. “These figures are fine, Elizabeth. I like our cousin a great deal, and I would be very happy to be his bride under these conditions.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily. “There! Problem solved!”
She took the paper, added the savings calculations and a few lines for signatures, and slid it in front of Mary.
“Sign here! Of course, your signature counts for nothing legally, but let us at least acknowledge the agreement to avoid misunderstandings.”
Mary initialled the proper place with a smile so bright that Mr Collins was struck dumb; Elizabeth smiled brightly back.
“Mr Collins,” Elizabeth said gently, “you offered your hand in marriage to Miss Bennet, so such you shall have. It is fortunate you were not more specific, as there is no need for any unpleasantness, such as repeating your proposal. You may consider your suit entirely successful, and if I am honest, this is your lucky day, as Mary is the best spouse you could possibly acquire. Sign here, if you will, then I believe you should be off to see my father post-haste.”
Mr Collins shook his head in befuddlement and looked at Mary as though she had grown lovelier in the space of a minute.
“Miss Mary, I cannot say whether I have been hoodwinked or enlightened. I have only one question. Are you happy with your sister’s machinations?”
“More than happy, Mr Collins. I am much more suited to the life of a parson’s wife than Lizzy.
We honour you for doing things correctly.
It was right and proper for you to first seek the eldest available daughter, and nobody in the world could fault you.
However, I believe myself better suited to the task.
I always wanted to be a parson’s wife, and such I shall be. ”
Mr Collins looked far more appealing when he gave a genuine smile rather than the false one he generally employed. She hoped instruction from Mary might make something sensible of him yet.
“Well then, to follow the forms, perhaps you might like to ask the question unambiguously and succinctly, then receive the answer and any displays of violent affection that seem appropriate to the moment,” Elizabeth said gaily.
With a smile and a laugh, she bowed to Mr Collins, kissed Mary on the cheek, snatched the paper off the table for safekeeping, and went out to share the happy news with the rest of her family.
Mary Bennet and her intended emerged from the breakfast room into excessive exuberance, but nobody could fault the family their celebrations.
Mrs Bennet went on for some time about having a daughter well married, though Elizabeth was not entirely certain her mother understood that Mary was to be the eventual mistress of Longbourn.
The commotion settled, and Mary, Elizabeth, and Mr Collins all wore the self-satisfied smiles of those who had seen a simple plan come off as it should, even if the result had strayed far from the original scheme.
Mr Collins accepted Elizabeth’s suggestion that he speak to Mr Bennet for consent, blessings, sarcastic teasing, and whatever else her father chose to bestow.