Chapter 13
Another Day Dawns at Longbourn
Bennet woke after dreaming that his sister’s husband, Henry Collins, was on Longbourn's doorstep. Having fallen asleep before the fire in his bookroom, Bennet rushed to his desk to rifle through the correspondence. A letter addressed to him a month previous stated that their son, his heir, intended to arrive that very afternoon. His family was in the midst of turmoil. He neither wanted nor wanted to host a stranger he was likely to despise as much as he had the man’s father.
“Damn. I had meant to tell him to delay until after the holidays,” Bennet muttered, wincing in the face of this further evidence of his making too little effort.
The letter revealed a man anticipating inheriting Longbourn, which could only mean he looked forward to the death of the current master.
Mr. Collins had the temerity to suggest that he might marry one of his daughters, thereby easing the transition of the estate to his heirs.
How thoughtful of you, Mr. Collins. This very man would soon cast a shadow on Longbourn’s door.
“No doubt, Lizzy will add this to my list of offenses.” Because it seemed an inconvenient time to pen a reply, we are all to suffer this man’s company.
I cannot even recall which book I did not want to set aside long enough to scribble a request to the man that he delay his visit.
I have done nothing to prevent my daughters from being dependent upon him for their every need.
Bennet slammed his hand down on a ledger in his frustration.
An hour later, Elizabeth opened the door without knocking. He did not want to imagine what she thought of seeing him pull books off shelves and drop them into crates with such indiscriminate care.
“I think you go too far, sir,” Elizabeth said after a moment’s observance.
“Do you?”
“You do. What fresh catastrophe has brought this on today?”
“Better you read it for yourself.” Bennet handed the letter to his daughter.
Elizabeth reviewed the contents of the letter. He knew by her pinched expression when she had read the part about Collins extending an olive branch, hinting at marrying one of his daughters. She said nothing, however, looking up in alarm when she understood the man was to arrive this very day.
“Did you not say Mr. Collins, this man’s father, was cruel toward your sister?”
“I am certain I glossed over his brutality,” Bennet said, tossing a selection of his favorite books into the crate.
“Stop acting the petulant child. If this is what you intend, then there is a proper way to choose titles. You will not sell those books that you enjoy time and time again. That can but lead to regret and worse. Take them all out and go through them in a patient, methodical exercise. Determine those that do not appeal to your taste or volumes you know you will not enjoy a second time. If you wish to re-read any you’ve chosen to sell, you might request it from the circulating library.
And your cousin, how long have you known of his coming visit? Above a month? Two?”
“I intended to tell him to delay until next year,” Bennet said, his tone clipped.
“It stands to reason there are consequences if one procrastinates so long that they cannot act.”
“When you see her, tell your mother I would like a moment of her time. I must inform her of our…guest.”
“I will. Perhaps you might take the time to refresh yourself, for it is obvious you slept in that shirt. I always thought it amusing to catch you on the mornings you fell asleep in here. Now I know it is not amusing at all.”
Wincing when the door to his study closed behind Elizabeth, Bennet calculated nine hours before the impending arrival of his cousin.
Newly determined, he pulled the books out of the crates.
Elizabeth was correct in describing how he should go about it.
Requesting a tray, Bennet went to his room to refresh himself.
Once he returned, he intended to approach the task with more care.
Elizabeth's comment about his acting like a child had been both apropos and barbarous.
She, like the rest of his daughters, had a character that delved deeper than he once perceived.
And even greater was his pleasure in finding his wife to have much more to her character than he had ascribed.
However, it was also the gravest of his slights.
This was not just a task he had ignored; it brought to light how he had too long and too often ignored the woman he had pledged to spend his life alongside.
He regretted Elizabeth’s departing, knowing no one else might come to the study throughout the whole course of the morning.
His oft-professed hopes for quiet while dismissing his wife and daughters echoed in the silence of the room.
It was a revelation to him that he would prefer to spend the day in conversation with any of the women in his household.
What irony, for just now, not one woman in his household wished to speak to him.
Mr. Collins’s arrival at exactly four in the afternoon was momentous in two ways.
The first was that he was smaller in stature than Lydia and grimaced when he picked up his satchel.
Second, he seemed the opposite of his brutal father, possessing a subservient nature.
His compliments were so excessive that they tended toward the absurd, especially when speaking of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Bennet had to commend his daughters and wife. They pretended to be interested throughout the forty minutes his cousin droned on. Although, he was uncertain if any could state a single subject of the man’s ramblings beyond the name of his benefactress.
Himself being desperate for any conversation, he could account with accuracy that the man spoke at length of his appointment as the great lady’s parson, and of his living at Hunsford Parsonage.
The expansive decorating scheme of Rosings Park.
How Mr. Collins was happily situated in his “humble” abode, which abutted Lady Catherine’s estate, separated from it by only a lane.
At dinner, Mr. Collins explained, in painstaking detail, preparations he had made in advance of encountering the opposite sex.
Ones that included practicing his compliments and assuring them all that ladies would be pleased by his efforts.
This was the singular variance in his conversation from what he had spoken of since his arrival.
When Bennet saw Mr. Collins sidle up to his wife once they gathered for tea in the drawing room, he moved closer, intending to intervene if his cousin should express an interest in marrying one of their daughters.
“I want to assure you, Mrs. Bennet, that Lady Catherine has perfect understanding of how you feel of my inheriting. She informed me that I am to marry one of your daughters. Can you imagine a better solution? Of course, Cousin Jane is the eldest and owns the greater portion of beauty amongst your daughters. I intend that we marry the week after the banns are read.”
“I know not how a woman so unconnected to me has any understanding of my opinions concerning the entail. Do not protest, Mr. Collins, I am well allowed my considerations here in my home where I am mistress.”
“But she is certain—”
“I care not. Here at Longbourn, I am mistress. And though saying so may mean you might throw me out of my home when my husband is dead, I find the hedgerows preferable company. I will not force one of my daughters to marry you. Or anyone, for that matter. And they, none of them, will grovel before your benefactress. Should you decide to cast your hat at one of my girls, you may work to gain their good opinion as a proper suitor should. If she rejects your suit, you must seek a wife elsewhere.”
“But I have a living and the notice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Your daughters would benefit from my wife’s acquaintance with so esteemed a lady. And they would keep this house.”
“So you say, Mr. Collins. But my daughters are all intelligent creatures. They know better than to allow shelves to take up the whole of a closet, as you say your mistress prescribes. Lady Catherine de Bourgh tells you what you will eat, plant, and even when you should write your cousin. Your patroness is proven ridiculous by your recounting.”
Staring at his hostess, Mr. Collins sputtered incoherently.
Once he could speak above his indignation, he turned to their daughters.
“I am certain all of you recognize the benefits of my situation. I may have chosen Miss Bennet, but I am pleased to offer each of my cousins instruction on all that is moral.”
“Your interpretations of the Scriptures,” Elizabeth said, moving between Jane and Mr. Collins, blocking her sister from his sight, “shared before speaking to our mother, shows the acumen of a child with no deeper understanding or the significance of the words. My sister Mary could explain Scripture in far greater depth by twelve. I think our discussions of passages that inspire meaningful consideration would benefit your comprehension of the Bible, sir.”
“If you are willing to discuss a topic unrelated to your patroness, a woman wholly unknown to us, and if you can provide intelligent, or, at least, witty conversation, you are welcome to contribute to our evening’s conversation.
But understand this, Mr. Collins, my husband and I agreed when we wed that our daughters will be allowed to accept or deny any man’s suit,” Mrs. Bennet said in no uncertain terms.
“I have never been so insulted in the whole of my life.”
“I rather think you are too foolish to understand those levied. My daughters are intelligent. I worry you cannot follow the conversation. Our Mary advises us not to read anything written by Reverend Fordyce unless we recognize it as a farcical work. You laud his sermons, which suggest that your patroness lacks the intelligence to decide where she would like a closet placed. And this is after claiming she instructed you on what to do with yours,” Mrs. Bennet challenged.
“Reverend Fordyce should never have met so glorious and intelligent a personage as Lady Catherine,” Mr. Collins asserted.
“Then you allow other ladies might have the same understanding as your patroness?” Lydia asked.
Bennet leaned forward in anticipation. The ladies of Longbourn had circled their quarry like a pride of lionesses and were now tearing his every argument apart, their prey giving little struggle. He had never been prouder of his daughters or his wife.
“I expect my wife never to contradict my patroness. I can think of no other who would have the intelligence you describe,” Mr. Collins said.
“Shall I write to inform the Queen you think her to be below Lady Catherine in intelligence?
And Mr. Darcy would, no doubt, need to inform his aunt, Lady Matlock, who is the wife of an earl.
What rank did you say Lady Catherine's husband was?” Elizabeth further pressed the man to consider whom he lauded.
“I am certain I did not suggest they were not of equal understanding to Lady Catherine,” Mr. Collins decried, turning to Bennet. His cheeks flushed when he discovered that Bennet laughed at him.
“Do not look to me, Mr. Collins. I understand too well that speaking against the ladies of Longbourn is a foolhardy exercise. Admit it, taking advice on what selection of beef is proper to have on your table? I also know it has to do with personal taste, one’s income, and the other dishes being served.
With Lady Catherine ordering your life so, would not your Reverend Fordyce say she makes for an excellent husband? ” Bennet smirked.
Mouth agape, Mr. Collins attempted thrice to speak, but no words could pass through his incredulity. The ladies looked at him in pity and disdain. Bennet watched his cousin’s affrontery increase when laughter filled his wife’s drawing room.
“Excuse us, my dears. I must ask Mr. Collins about his understanding of estate management.” Mr. Bennet turned to his cousin.
“If you cannot learn what must be done, I shall warn my tenants that they will want to leave when you take over. We should regret your ruining everything they have worked to gain.”
“You would not.”
Bennet watched Mr. Collins’s panic increase when there was no denial of the intent.
“I might have done more, but I did not allow the estate to fall into ruin. I regret being the last Bennet on our familial estate. But it is yet mine, and I refuse to let you destroy the lives of our tenants if you are an inconsiderate landlord.” Mr. Bennet led his cousin from the room.
“You claim to be prepared to take my place, but I will make my assessment.”
Silence fell between those ladies of Longbourn after the men departed the room. Stupefied, Mrs. Bennet said, “Well, that was interesting.”