Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
COLLINS
Collins was absolutely delighted with his success at encouraging so much gastronomic pleasure among the wedding breakfast guests.
He had only been to a few wedding breakfasts in his life, so far—well, to be specific, only two before the current event—and they had been short, fleeting affairs with something more like a scant breakfast served at one and a barely adequate luncheon served at the other.
This one, in contrast, was best described as an extravagant late breakfast, a fulsome luncheon, a lavish tea time, and—he considered, looking at a clock—a wonderful early supper.
Patting his stomach, Collins explained to Hurst that he might not have ever eaten quite so much in—he consulted a clock and was surprised to see that it had been almost seven hours since the wedding breakfast had begun—at any rate, he stated, he might not ever have eaten as much as he had these past seven hours.
And certainly he had never eaten such fine and varied food before.
“Ah, but remember,” Hurst said, “the Greek poet Callimachus once wrote, ‘All that I have given to my stomach has disappeared, and I have retained all the fodder that I gave to my spirit.’” Hurst nodded, as if his quote explained a great and wise thought, and he said, “Basically, food and drink is one thing, and of course a crucial thing, but it is also transitory. Other actions and words, which feed our minds, feed our souls, are just as important because they are longer lasting.”
Collins was relieved that Hurst had explained the quote, and he eagerly agreed: “Ahh, you are quite correct, and may I say that you are also quite deep, sir.”
People were beginning to leave, finally, but the buffet tables were depleted enough to indicate to all that the event had been incredibly successful.
Even the Countess said so. Collins was lurking near Mrs Bennet, soaking up the commendations heaped at her feet, when Lady Matlock approached.
“My dear Mrs Bennet,” the elegant lady said, “you have had quite a triumph here. I have never seen or tasted the like, and should tongues be wagging, they will definitely do so in praise!”
“Ooohhh, thank you, my lady,” Mrs Bennet said, curtseying. Collins was certain she would be smiling forever with such a compliment from so eminent a lady. Mrs Bennet continued, “You have given me quite an honour by attending my little soirée.”
Mrs Gardiner joined in with more pleasing words, and then the next guests approached….
Mrs Long said, “I am so devastated that my Hannah could not attend. Might I take a piece of cake to cheer her up?”
“Oh!”
Collins could see that Mrs Bennet wished to be generous and say “yes,” but she was flustered. He wondered if she was contemplating losing a plate in the effort to answer in the affirmative, and he hasted to her side.
“Mrs Bennet,” he whispered, “I was in the pantry this morning—” her wide eyes might have indicated that he ought not have been, and he had no wish to tell her that he was looking for more lemon tea cakes, so he hastened on, “and I could not help but notice that there were some little boxes meant, I believe, to send pieces of cake to absent guests. If you wish me to, I could fetch those for your use.”
He was pleased by Mrs Bennet’s lovely smile being directed at him. She was a very handsome woman!—no wonder her daughters were so comely! She replied that she would be indebted if he did so.
Trotting back with thirty or so of the flattened boxes, Collins set them down on one end of the buffet display, and he swiftly made up a box. He presented it to his hostess and suggested that she or Mrs Long might cut a piece of cake that would fit.
Mrs Bennet turned back to her neighbour and asked, “Would you like a second box made up for a few bites of other foods for your poor niece?”
“Oh! That would be lovely! Thank you.”
Collins knew what to do—he hastened back to the buffet and began to make up a second box. Certain that others would wish to take home cake or other remains of the meal, he decided to make up another box.
“Let me help you with your self-appointed task,” a lady said.
Collins recognised her. “Miss Lucas! I thank you.”
Seeing how many boxes there were, Mrs Bennet must have started offering cake or remains to other guests who were leaving, and Collins and Miss Lucas became utterly occupied for a time.
“I am very impressed with your generosity of spirit,” Miss Lucas said.
“You are very generous, as well, Miss Lucas.”
“I have been given to understand that you only met your cousin’s family yesterday,” Miss Lucas said. “That makes your efforts on their behalf even more noteworthy.”
“And you said that you do not know the bride very well, despite being a neighbour,” Collins insisted, “so I would say that your efforts are just as commendable.”
Miss Lucas seemed pleased with his praises, and Collins decided he would have to dream up some more little elegant compliments that could be adapted to ordinary occasions, in case he was ever in her company again.
Mrs Bennet thanked them several more times, and when all the boxes had been made and filled, Collins approached Hurst again. He was excited to receive the man’s enthusiastic clap on his back. “You continue to astound me, Collins,” the affable man said. “You are quite a treasure!”
Glorying in the praises of three people in as many minutes, Collins wondered if he was more secure with people’s good opinions, here at Longbourn, than he had ever been anywhere else. If that was true, it spoke to his later happiness, when he inherited.
Sending a swift glance towards Mr Bennet, Collins addressed the man in his mind: Apologies, sir.
I do not wish to hurry you off the mortal coil, good sir.
He had heard that mortal coil phrase before, somewhere, and since it seemed a most pleasing way to express a stark truth, he attempted to speak of mortal coils whenever he had to say something about death.
It was one way he could share his much more extensive education with his parishioners, most of whom had not had the opportunity to become so learned.
No, indeed; he need not inherit soon. After all, to everything there is a season, Collins thought, pleased again with his extensive knowledge of quotations appropriate to every situation.