Chapter 13
“What a well-appointed house you have here, Mr Collins,” Elizabeth commented politely as her cousin gave his visitors a tour of Hunsford Parsonage, missing no detail from the doormats to the leading on the windows.
“Don’t you think so, Sir William and Maria?
I particularly commend both the main staircase and the cupboards. ”
This final statement was spoken with twinkling eyes and a glance to Mrs Collins at her husband’s shoulder, knowing from Charlotte’s letters how proud Mr Collins was of these particular features.
“What excellent taste and discrimination you display, Cousin Elizabeth,” Mr Collins replied enthusiastically. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself particularly commented on both the cupboards and stairs. She said they were perfectly proportioned and placed for a clergyman.”
“So they are, Mr Collins,” agreed Sir William Lucas, his younger daughter Maria nodding beside him. “It is a residence very well suited to a clergyman in every way, and you have arranged it to the greatest excellence.”
Mr Collins preened himself a little at such compliments from his cousin and father-in-law.
So much, at least, was exactly what Elizabeth might have expected.
But to her surprise and delight, Mr Collins looked to Charlotte with an expression of still greater regard.
If Mr Collins could understand Charlotte’s true worth, she could forgive him almost anything.
His next words were most promising. “We both thank you, Sir William,” Mr Collins said earnestly. “While I did what I could in my bachelor days, and under the instruction of Lady Catherine de Bourgh when she condescended to advise me, it is my dear wife’s touch that has made all the difference.”
“How true, sir. A house needs a mistress to make it a home,” Sir William replied happily, glad to see his daughter both settled and appreciated. “That’s what Lady Lucas and I always say.”
“You both have achieved a great deal here in the short months since your wedding,” Elizabeth added with a smile.
“Months? I suppose it has been two months now, but it seems only weeks or days since the wedding. Ah, time flies by when you have such domestic felicity as I have found with my dearest Charlotte,” Mr Collins pronounced fulsomely. “Is it not so, Charlotte?”
Mrs Collins herself only smiled and patted her husband’s back.
“Why don’t you show my father and Maria their rooms, and I will take care of Elizabeth? There will be much to hear of the ladies of Longbourn, and you cannot be interested in our idle talk.”
Taking Elizabeth’s arm, she steered her away from the rest of the party, and they were soon enclosed in a small but comfortable parlour, with a tea tray steaming on the table beside them.
“Now, Lizzy, you must tell me all the news from Hertfordshire.”
∞∞∞
“Dear me, poor Jane!” Charlotte tutted, refilling Elizabeth’s cup after hearing of Jane’s still-disappointed hopes and long stay with the Gardiners.
“It is as I told you once before. She lost her chance when she ought to have taken it. Once Mr Bingley returned to London, there were other young ladies to distract him, and his affection faded.”
“I thought better of him than that,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head in disapproval.
“He seemed so very fond of Jane. It reflects badly on a man’s character to be so easily distracted and turned aside from his object.
He has not called on Jane even once since she came to London, and Miss Bingley has made only a single call, during which she stayed not even a quarter of an hour. ”
Charlotte remained philosophical.
“It does no good to dwell on Mr Bingley, nor to judge him harshly. As you say, he has not called on Jane in London, and that must speak for itself, given that his sister has done so, however minimally. Jane must forget him and look to other opportunities. Now, what of Mr Wickham?”
“Oh, poor Mr Wickham has certainly blotted his copybook in the opinion of my younger sisters,” laughed Elizabeth. “He is courting Miss King, or at least courting the ￡10,000 she is to expect since her grandfather’s passing in January.”
Charlotte smiled too.
“You judge Mr Wickham less harshly for his worldly behaviour than Mr Bingley, I think.”
“I suppose I do,” Elizabeth conceded with good humour. “Mr Bingley has the kind of fortune that ought to bestow greater freedom of action. Mr Wickham has always openly admitted his actions to be constrained by his lack of fortune.”
“Well then, let us expect great things from Mr Wickham once Mary King’s fortune removes these constraints,” suggested Charlotte, amused. “And are your sisters still chasing the militia officers?”
“Lydia and Kitty never cease,” Elizabeth groaned.
“Mother is almost as bad and only encourages them in their foolish behaviour. There will be no hope of an end to it until the regiment removes to Brighton in the summer. But enough of my news; tell me more of Lady Catherine. From your letters, it seems you are regularly at Rosings Park.”
“Whenever Lady Catherine requires amusement or more players to make up a card table,” returned Charlotte. “It always pleases William immensely to be invited, and Lady Catherine is indeed a most generous patroness.”
“But how have you really found her?” Elizabeth probed. “Your letters told me only what I had already heard from Mr Collins. What is your own opinion?”
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh is a great lady and very much the strongest voice in the neighbourhood,” Charlotte told her.
“I should not like to cross her, I can tell you. I imagine she could be as vicious in resentment or revenge on the undeserving as she is generous and interested in bestowing grace and charity on those in her favour.”
“Perhaps that is a family trait,” Elizabeth commented.
“Mr Darcy too seems capable of vicious revenge, if Mr Wickham’s case is anything to judge by.
But do not worry, I shall be perfectly amiable if I am invited to Rosings Park.
I shall be careful to do nothing that could discredit you in Lady Catherine’s eyes. ”
“That is good to hear, for I am sure you will all be invited to Rosings,” Charlotte said.
“Lady Catherine has shown the greatest interest in this visit, including in you, Lizzy. I am sure she will have many questions. I shall warn you now that Lady Catherine is not always delicate in her inquiries. You may be put to some trouble to keep the promise you have just made.”
∞∞∞
True to Charlotte’s prediction, the entire party at Hunsford Parsonage was honoured with an invitation to tea at Rosings Park the very next afternoon, with a carriage sent to collect them at three o’clock.
Maria Lucas was in a state of nervous agitation at the thought of meeting Lady Catherine de Bourgh, her naturally anxious disposition sharpened further by all Mr Collins’s instructions on expectations and manners.
While less nervous than his youngest daughter, Sir William was keen to show himself at best advantage before his son-in-law’s patroness and spent some minutes at the hallway mirror adjusting his stock and buttons while Mr Collins consulted his pocket watch repeatedly and hopped from one foot to another, terrified of even a minute’s lateness in their arrival.
Charlotte and Elizabeth, meanwhile, shared a smile of good-humoured anticipation in the mirror as Elizabeth stepped forward beside Sir William to adjust her bonnet ribbon.
“Come, come, everyone. We must make haste to the carriage,” Mr Collins urged, no longer able to restrain himself. “Lady Catherine has no great concern with the dress of her social inferiors as long as they are respectful, Sir William, Cousin Elizabeth. Tardiness, however, she cannot abide.”
Elizabeth let Charlotte take her arm and walked with her to the Rosings Park coach. She was looking forward to finally meeting Lady Catherine in the flesh and being able to later report her experiences back to her father and Jane.
Sir William and Maria took their places first on the far side of the coach, followed inside by Elizabeth, Charlotte and Mr Collins.
While his in-laws were occupied in looking out of the window at the Kent landscape, Mr Collins looked to both his wife and cousin with rather a conspiratorial expression.
“Cousin Elizabeth,” he began in a low voice that both piqued her curiosity and made her want to laugh, an instinct she resisted out of respect for Charlotte.
“Yes, Mr Collins?” Elizabeth answered in an equally low tone.
“I am sure that your discretion would prohibit the mention of inappropriate matters at Rosings Park,” Mr Collins said seriously, and Elizabeth nodded with equal gravity.
“I am sure we will all be most careful in our manners and conversation,” she assured him.
“In particular,” he emphasised, his eyes great with the import of the subject, “I must warn you that Lady Catherine knows nothing of the evil rumours about her nephew. I have been exceedingly careful not to let anything slip in recent months. It would be most distressing for Lady Catherine, and it is also often the messenger who suffers from the transmission of ill-tidings.”
“You have done very well to refrain from any such discussion, my dear,” Charlotte stepped in. “The metaphor about shooting the messenger is an apt one. At the same time, I cannot help suspecting that Lady Catherine is well aware of the gossip, but chooses not to dignify it by addressing it.”
Unless Lady Catherine was a complete recluse, Elizabeth imagined that Charlotte was correct.
Unwillingly updated by Lydia and their mother, Elizabeth knew that the rumours about Mr Darcy had gathered pace and substance since Christmas.
They had now been referenced in several London scandal sheets, and while Mr Darcy’s full name and address had not been published, enough detail had been included to make him recognisable to any common acquaintance.