Chapter 26 #2
“I dare say,” said Charlotte consolingly, “that once on the floor, you will find him very agreeable.”
“Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find agreeable a man whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil!”
“I imagine you will bear it. I do beg you, Elizabeth, do not be a simpleton and make yourself unpleasant in the eyes of a man of such consequence. There is nothing at all to be gained by it.”
Elizabeth argued the contrary for a while, reminding Charlotte of the many objections to Mr. Darcy’s character, temper, and demeanour; but when the music began, not having contrived a valid excuse to snub him, as she thought he deserved, she went reluctantly to join him in the dance.
Mary and Charlotte watched with curiosity to see how she would manage it.
At first, she was silent and aloof, but soon she and Mr. Darcy were talking to each other with every appearance of lively animation.
“Your sister has a great deal to say to a man she insists she does not like,” remarked Charlotte.
“Yes,” agreed Mary. “It’s very surprising.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t know her own feelings as well as she thinks. She may not be as accustomed as we are to subjecting them to minute examination. When everything comes to you so easily, there must be little reason to ask yourself why that’s so.”
Together Charlotte and Mary walked towards the supper table and watched the dancing draw to a close.
“I hear you are to play for us later tonight,” observed Charlotte politely.
“I think so, if the company is happy to hear me. I’ve chosen a few pieces I hope will please.”
For a moment, she was tempted to tell Charlotte everything—how, inspired by her words she had begun to think of Mr. Collins as a potential husband, how impossible it had proved to attract his attention, and how, this very evening, she hoped to conquer his indifference with a remarkable performance at the keyboard.
It would have been a relief to speak plainly to someone who would understand, who might have sensible advice to offer—but before she could do so, Elizabeth hurried over to them, eager to share her impressions of her dancing partner.
She had only just begun to catalogue his shortcomings when they were interrupted again, this time by Mr. Collins, who bustled into their presence with news he thought they would be as keen to hear as he was to impart.
“Excuse my interrupting you, ladies, but I thought it right you should know I have made a most significant discovery.”
He bent towards them with an air of the greatest solemnity.
“I have found out, by a singular accident, that there is, in this room, a distinguished relation of my patroness.”
“Really, sir?” asked Charlotte. “May we know who it is?”
“You will be surprised to hear,” he announced, “that it is the gentleman fortunate enough to have danced the last set with you, Miss Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy, it appears, is a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. What have you to say to that?”
“I suppose,” began Mary, when no-one else volunteered a reply, “it may be said to show how very small are the circles in which we all move—how close are the ties that bind us.”
“Yes,” agreed Charlotte, “it is remarkable how—”
She did not finish her sentence. Elizabeth broke in, her voice full of the urgency of one to whom a dreadful idea has just occurred.
“Sir, please tell me you do not plan to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?”
Mr. Collins looked a little affronted.
“Of course I shall. Indeed, I feel I must apologise for not having done so earlier. I shall explain I was unaware of the connection between us.”
In vain did Elizabeth attempt to dissuade him.
Mr. Darcy was of a proud disposition, she explained, and would not welcome uninvited familiarity.
If the connection was to be acknowledged, then it fell to Mr. Darcy, as the superior in consequence, to make the first approach.
But Mr. Collins was not to be swayed. Adopting an expression which seemed to Lizzy to combine supplication and presumption in equally shameful measure, he made his way to the group amongst whom Mr. Darcy stood and began to speak.
It was perhaps fortunate that they were too far away to hear exactly what was said; but Mr. Collins’s voice was strong and carrying, and the words apology and Lady Catherine de Bourgh were frequently repeated and impossible to ignore.
Elizabeth closed her eyes in horror.
“How could he expose himself in this way?”
Charlotte watched with amusement.
“I think a snub has very definitely been administered. It appears that poor Mr. Collins has been soundly dismissed.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” agreed Mary. “Mr. Darcy has not deigned to notice him. Poor man, I’m sorry for him.”
“How can you say that,” cried Elizabeth, smarting with humiliation, “when his behaviour reflects so badly upon us all? Look at Miss Bingley, smirking at her sister! Nothing could have pleased them more than to see one of our family show themselves to be so ill-bred!”
Charlotte took Elizabeth’s arm. “Come, Lizzy, there is no need to be so cross. I’m not sure why you set such store by the opinions of those you do not respect.”
Elizabeth was silent with anger; but she allowed herself to be gently led away from the scene of Mr. Collins’s embarrassment.
“Let us find somewhere a little quieter to sit,” murmured Charlotte soothingly. “We shall have a glass of wine and put it out of our minds.”
By now, most of the chairs were full, and the only vacant seats were closer to Mrs. Bennet than either Charlotte, Elizabeth, or Mary would have preferred.
From their places, they could not help but overhear everything she said; and Elizabeth’s temper did not improve as her mother loudly informed Lady Lucas of her confident expectation that Jane and Mr. Bingley would very soon be married.
When Mr. Darcy and the Bingley sisters, also in search of refreshment, happened to station themselves close by, Elizabeth’s misery was almost complete.
Mary watched her grow more and more agitated as Mrs. Bennet’s conversation went on and on, audible to anyone around them.
The music could not silence her. Instead, she simply raised her voice, all the better to assure her friend that, in her view, not the least advantage of Jane’s marrying so well was the likelihood of it throwing her younger daughters in the way of other rich men.
At this, Elizabeth could bear no more and stood up.
Mary saw her dart a glance towards Mr. Darcy, who stared back, grave and disapproving.
“Please, ma’am, I do beseech you to speak less audibly. Mr. Darcy is quite close by and cannot help but hear you.”
“And what is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing that he might not like to hear.”
Elizabeth stood up abruptly, and walked away.
“I’m not sure why Elizabeth is so angry,” whispered Mary to Charlotte, as she watched her sister force her way through the crowd. “Our mother’s behaviour does not usually affect her so powerfully.”
“I think she is ashamed,” replied Charlotte.
“That is a new sensation for her, because I do not believe she has ever felt such a strong desire to make a good impression on those around her. Her own talents and vivacity have always been sufficient recommendation. But now I think she feels she is being judged by the actions of her relations. A most uncomfortable idea.”
They watched as Elizabeth reappeared from the throng on the far side of the room, where she caught sight of her father, for whom she had clearly been searching.
She approached him very decisively, and addressed him with great feeling.
He looked towards Mrs. Bennet, still gossiping with Lady Lucas; and then at Mr. Collins, who was now seen attempting to converse with a freezingly aloof Miss Bingley.
To his daughter’s imploring expression, he returned only his usual detached smile.
Even from a distance, it was plain to Mary that he had declined to act upon Elizabeth’s appeal to rein in the behaviour of his family.
He laughed and touched her shoulder; but Elizabeth was not to be placated.
She left him without a word. Her face was stony as she returned to her seat.
She sat a little apart from Charlotte and Mary, making it clear she did not wish to talk.
“There is nothing to be done but humour her as best we can,” whispered Charlotte. “Whilst this mood is upon her, I think it essential not to provoke her further.”