Chapter Thirty-Five
Longbourn
The big day was here; Mr. Collins was due to arrive at four in the afternoon.
The Bennet household had been turned upside down in anticipation of Mr. Collins’ visit.
The news that he was single and interested in marrying a Bennet girl had almost entirely erased Mrs. Bennet’s long-held grudge against the man.
The house was subject to a deep clean, despite Mrs. Hill’s protestation that the house was already quite clean; the girls selected what gowns they would wear for the first meeting; and Mrs. Bennet had a good amount of advice to impart to their daughters as to how to make the very best first impression.
Mr. Bennet watched and listened to all of this with a quirked brow and a small, secret smile playing about his lips. Elizabeth observed his expression and came to the conclusion that there was something her father knew that he had not yet shared.
“What is it, Papa?”
“What is what, Lizzy?”
“You know very well. There is something you are not telling us.”
Her father hesitated, and then motioned her to follow him. He led her into his study, bade her sit, and rifled through a box of correspondence. Finding what he sought, he handed his daughter a letter.
She read it through, her eyes widening and her brows arching. Upon finishing it, she looked up at her father and said, bleakly, “He is a fool.”
“Quite evidently.”
“Why did you not say so?” she demanded.
“I did say that I feared he was not sensible.”
“Not sensible! Ha! No, you should have warned us!”
“What, and miss all the fun of watching everyone scurry about to impress him?”
“No, Papa, this is not fair!” she insisted. “You have all of us thinking of him as a potential suitor, when in fact he is not!”
“Mary would take him,” her father said, defensively.
Elizabeth insisted that this was not nearly a good enough excuse for his deception, and Mr. Bennet defended himself. “I suppose you will rush out now and tell your sisters that they will be disappointed upon meeting him,” he complained.
“Yes, and at once,” she replied. She rose, gave him one last narrow-eyed look intended to convey her disappointment in him, and left.
***
Elizabeth went at once into her mother’s room and explained that she had read Mr. Collins’ letter and the man was not good husband material for any of the Bennet daughters.
Mrs. Bennet was clearly unconvinced; Elizabeth’s explanation that the man was a self-important bore was greeted with an eye roll. “He is the heir to Longbourn, Lizzy,” she said, severely. “What do we care if he goes on a bit in a letter?”
Frustrated by her mother’s reaction or, rather, lack of reaction, Elizabeth rounded up her sisters and gave them the same news.
“But he is a rector; that is something, is it not?” Mary asked. “I would not object to marrying a rector.”
“And perhaps he is handsome!” Lydia said. “That would be enough for me.”
Kitty agreed at once, saying that she would just as soon not marry a man who was too clever.
Only Jane shared Elizabeth’s concern, agreeing that he did not sound like a good possibility, but this only prompted Kitty and Lydia to say that it was easy enough for Jane to say, for did she not have Mr. Bingley on the hook? Jane shook her head, embarrassed.
Elizabeth gave up; she was certain that once her sisters met the man, they would share her distaste.
***
Mr. Collins arrived precisely at four in the afternoon, as he had promised. Elizabeth wondered how he had been able to be so exact as to his time; had he been waiting out in the street for several minutes? The family filed out the front door to meet him.
Elizabeth had to stifle her laughter as Kitty and Lydia got their first look at him. Their hands flew to their mouths, and they exchanged horrified glances.
He was tall enough, but quite heavy. He removed his black hat, revealing a mostly bald pate with some greasy locks combed over. He could not possibly be considered handsome, or even tolerable.
Upon introducing himself to Mr. Bennet, he bowed low, too low, and began a paean of thanks to his host and hostess.
He then cast a hungry gaze over his female cousins.
Mrs. Bennet hastened to introduce them, beginning with Jane and ending with Lydia.
He bowed properly to each of them and expressed his joy at meeting them at long last, but his eyes returned again and again to Jane.
Jane was well aware of his interest and shifted uncomfortably, keeping her eyes on the floor but, of course, could say nothing.
Mrs. Bennet led everyone into the parlour and rang at once for refreshments.
Mr. Collins sat down, but his head did not stop swiveling, taking in the house, the room, the furniture.
Elizabeth suspected that he was marking and admiring all that would one day be his own, and then chastised herself for being unkind.
Mr. Collins began the conversation with more gratitude. “I thank you, Mr. Bennet, for your kindness in receiving me. And, of course, Mrs. Bennet, I would be remiss in not adding my appreciation to you as well. I know what is due a hostess.”
Mrs. Bennet murmured that they were happy to meet Mr. Bennet’s cousin at long last.
Mr. Collins continued, “What a fine parlour you have here! I do not doubt that the entire family gathers here after dinner to read from the Bible and listen to hymns played on that very fine pianoforte.”
“Mary is the most accomplished musician among us, Mr. Collins, though Elizabeth plays a little,” Mrs. Bennet said. She thought it best not to comment on the Bible and the hymns, but Lydia was not so minded.
“Hymns! Hardly,” she scoffed. “And we had far rather read novels than the Bible. We get enough of all that on Sunday.”
Mr. Collins stared at Lydia very hard but then smiled, sitting back in his chair.
“You are quite young, Miss Lydia, and much is forgiven you as a result. Surely when you are older and more sensible, more like your eldest sister, if I may say so, you will understand the benefit of the Holy Scriptures and will read your Bible to the exclusion of all else.”
Mrs. Bennet sensed an eruption from Lydia, who opened her mouth to respond to that unfortunate comment; she headed it off by rising and saying, “Mr. Collins, your room is ready; you might wish to rest before dinner.”
He thanked her profusely and followed her up the stairs; they had barely vanished from sight before his female cousins broke into expressions of amusement (Lydia and Kitty), disappointment (Mary), disgust (Elizabeth), and dismay (Jane).
“He has his eye on you, Jane!” Lydia said, laughing.
Jane could only shake her head, panic in her eyes.
Elizabeth quickly took Jane’s hand and said, “Jane, no one can force you to marry him. Do not think on it.”
“But he is the heir,” Jane whispered.
Lydia announced, “I would not marry him if he were the heir to the entire kingdom, let alone just Longbourn!”
Kitty agreed at once, and even Mary said, “Marrying him would be a most unpleasant prospect.” And then she added, “Jane, you need not worry; Mama would far rather you marry Mr. Bingley. I think of all of us, you are the safest from being pressured by her to become Mrs. Collins.”
And with that, all eyes turned to Elizabeth.
***
Mr. Bennet had said very little to his cousin while sitting in the parlour, but he took the opportunity to draw the man out at dinner that night. “Your letter mentioned your patroness,” he said. “Will you not tell us about her?”
“She is the most noble lady in the land,” Mr. Collins replied at once, unconcerned by the amount of food in his mouth.
“Her kindness and condescension know no bounds. No detail of my life – or indeed, that of any of the members of my parish! – is too insignificant to escape her notice and full attention.”
“You and your parishioners are fortunate indeed,” Mr. Bennet replied, glancing around the table to make certain that his cousin’s idiocy was marked by everyone. Mr. Collins was unaware of the deep sarcasm in Mr. Bennet’s voice, and so agreed heartily that they were all very fortunate.
“Has she children?” Mrs. Bennet asked, frowning at her husband across the table. How were they to encourage the man to marry a Bennet daughter if he was insulted at dinner?
“She has one daughter, a very charming young lady indeed, and the heiress to all of Rosings Park.”
“Has she been presented?” Mrs. Bennet enquired, politely.
“Alas, no; her health precludes travel to London,” Mr. Collins replied.
“How old is she?” Mrs. Bennet went on, determined to sound interested.
“She is eight and twenty this year.”
“And not married?” Kitty joined the conversation, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “But surely an heiress –“
Mr. Collins interrupted. “She was betrothed to a cousin, but it was recently broken off. By her, of course, not him.” This was an important detail.
“Oh! I am sorry for him, then,” Kitty said. “To lose an heiress like that must be a hard blow.”
“The gentleman in question is himself the owner of extensive property; he had no need for an heiress. But his behaviour turned out to be most improper, and of course someone of Miss de Bourgh’s impeccable breeding and character could not be united with such a man,” Mr. Collins said.
His voice was loud, his manner agitated.
The girls traded surprised glances; why was the man so upset?
“Of course,” Mrs. Bennet murmured, hoping to calm the man down.
But he was not done. “For any man to be worthy of Miss de Bourgh, his conduct must be above suspicion, and free from gossip!”
Elizabeth would have very much liked to know what the proposed groom had done that was so very appalling, but dared not ask. Instead, she said, “Mr. Collins, what can you tell us of Rosings Park?”
That, as it turned out, was the right question to ask.
“Why, it is a veritable palace!” he said.
“There are four – yes, four! – drawing rooms, as well as three dining rooms, the largest able to seat sixty people! There are at thirty-five windows at the front of the house, including the servants’ rooms, and Lady Catherine informed me that Sir Louis de Bourgh paid a full six hundred pounds for the glazing!
” He went on in this vein for some time, finishing triumphantly with, “And my modest cottage is separated from Rosings by only a lane!”
Mr. Bennet, unable to resist teasing his absurd relative, gasped in mock surprise and clapped his hands to his chest. “Only a lane? Truly, is this possible?”
Mrs. Bennet scowled at her husband, but the byplay was missed entirely by Mr. Collins, who assured his host, in the most animated language, that it was true. Only a lane, and a narrow one at that, separated the parsonage from the grounds of Rosings Park.
There was little amusement to be had in baiting a man so thoroughly unable to distinguish sarcasm from approbation; when Mrs. Bennet rose to lead the ladies from the table, Mr. Bennet declined to stay in the dining room with his cousin and instead suggested that they join the ladies in the parlour.
If Mr. Collins truly expected bible readings and the playing of hymns after dinner, he was sorely disappointed, for the girls were taking turns reading The Romance of the Forest aloud.
His clucks of disapproval were ignored. When Mary took her seat at the pianoforte, she launched into Haydn’s Piercing Eyes, accompanied by Elizabeth’s sweet soprano voice.
When the music ended, Mr. Collins turned to Mrs. Bennet and asked, in a loud and disapproving voice, “Is this the usual manner in which the family ends the day?”
Mrs. Bennet now felt it necessary to assure Mr. Collins that the family were faithful church-goers, and that Mary was often called upon to play the organ on Sundays.
Mr. Collins nodded approvingly at that, but then said, darkly, “The future Mrs. Collins will not play or sing such melodies at the rectory; only hymns will be permitted.”