Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
COLLINS
It was not long before Collins realised that Miss Lucas would be a perfect wife for him. The main reason he was so certain was, of course, that she herself had assured him that she would be!
She confidently told him that she would be perfectly positioned to take on Lady Catherine’s constant advice.
“After all, my dear,” she said, “I am old enough to know when to accede to her wishes and organise our possessions as she dictates, and I am calm enough that, when I know better than she, I will not cry and complain about her overstepping, and I am clever enough that, in such a situation, I will be able to convince her to change her mind while allowing her to think that my preference was her own idea all along.”
“That sounds perfect!” Collins agreed.
She also pointed out that she would be perfect as a rector’s wife because she was the daughter of a knighted and landed gentleman, and yet she was not brought up so high that she had no skills in the kitchen.
That particular announcement had been made during a dinner in which she fed him a delicious and savoury standing pie she had made and, afterwards, an even tastier mince pie.
“Perfect!” he pronounced each baked dish.
Another point she made—at the next shared meal, between her perfectly roasted leg of mutton and her excellent boiled potatoes and vegetable pudding—was that she had been brought up in quite a humble situation, so she was expert at making repairs of household items and mending clothing, but she also had experience in managing servants.
“And I believe that the wedding breakfast where we first met showed how perfect we are together,” Miss Lucas continued, “and how well we would be as parson and parson’s wife.
We proved that we are generous with our time and efforts, in helping people, and we are both inclined to lead people into kind acts by our own kindly examples. ”
“We did indeed,” Collins said, as he polished off an apple tart that she had made with her own two hands. “We proved all that you just said, I mean.” He preened as she continued to praise him, and he wondered how soon he could make an offer of marriage to this perfect example of womanhood.
He would ask Hurst.
At that moment, Collins noted that Miss Lucas’s mother was struggling to restrain her youngest children, twin boys, who seemed determined to damage each other’s faces.
Collins rose majestically, ready to demonstrate once again his kindness, and he used his most vicar-like voice to say, “Master Stephen and Master Robert, you must stop attempting to blacken one another’s eyes and, instead, eat one of your sister’s tarts. They are a culinary triumph!”
The two boys, surprised to be addressed by name and title by a guest, did indeed pause their exchange of fisticuffs and stared at Collins.
He showed them the plate of tarts, urging them forward, and although it seemed as if they wavered between feeding their need to thoroughly thrash their twin and feeding their boundless hunger, the promise of sweets won out, and the boys made identical bows to Collins, sat down at the table, and proceeded to act as if they had not just been engaged in actions of the most ungentlemanly disorder.
Mrs Lucas flashed Collins a thankful smile, and the delightful and lovely Miss Lucas murmured, “That was perfectly done, sir.”
It occurred to Collins that one reason that Charlotte Lucas was perfect for him was that he, in turn, was perfect for her. He smiled all around and felt quite satisfied with his now-firm decision to offer for the lady at his side.