Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Mr. Collins remained perfectly civil throughout the introductions, though Elizabeth noticed that his attention rested upon Jane rather longer than ordinary politeness required before passing to herself and, eventually, to her younger sisters.
He complimented each of them with sufficient solemnity to make the compliment seem almost an official duty, and Mrs. Bennet received every word with increasing satisfaction.
Once admitted into the house, Mr. Collins proved himself no less inclined to admiration than he had been to civility.
Before he had been three hours at Longbourn, Elizabeth had formed a tolerably settled opinion of her cousin and found herself suppressing more than one laugh as she imagined what Julia would make of him.
Garrulous was certainly one word for Mr. Collins, for there seemed scarcely an object within his sight which did not invite some observation.
He admired the entrance hall, the arrangement of the drawing room, the size of the windows, the prospect from them, several pieces of furniture, and the tea cups which Mrs. Bennet was obliged to inform him had been purchased by herself and would therefore not form part of his future inheritance.
Before the evening was much advanced, Elizabeth had privately added nincompoop to her assessment.
Mr. Collins appeared incapable of maintaining an opinion for any length of time without introducing the superior judgement of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose condescension in presenting him with the living of Hunsford in Kent seemed to constitute the greatest event of his existence.
Her ladyship's opinions were produced upon subjects ranging from the proper dimensions of a drawing room to the education of young ladies, and Elizabeth soon began to wonder whether her cousin's parishioners heard quite as much of God on Sundays as they did of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
There was, however, one aspect of his attention which Elizabeth found considerably less amusing.
Mr. Collins's interest had first settled upon Jane and then, with no very great attempt at concealment, transferred itself to Elizabeth.
By tea he had contrived to enquire after their habits of reading, their accomplishments, and their opinions upon several matters which seemed to Elizabeth remarkably connected with his own notions of the virtues desirable in a clergyman's wife.
Whatever uncertainty might have remained concerning the matrimonial hints contained in his letter was quickly disappearing.
Elizabeth therefore resolved that, should Mr. Collins eventually honour her with the proposal towards which his conversation appeared to be advancing, her refusal would leave him in no doubt of her sentiments.
Happily, by evening the necessity seemed rather less immediate.
She did not know what intervention had taken place, but her cousin's attentions underwent a sudden and unmistakable alteration, and Mary, whom he had previously regarded with no greater interest than Kitty or Lydia, became the object of a marked consideration.
Mr. Collins even observed, with great approval, that she appeared to possess the most serious disposition of all her sisters, a distinction Mary received with rather less gratitude than he seemed to expect.
Later that evening, when the girls were alone together, Kitty supplied the explanation.
She had overheard their mother speaking privately to Mr. Collins and informing him, with very little delicacy, that both Jane and Elizabeth were already receiving the particular attentions of gentlemen whose situations made their prospects exceedingly promising.
Mr. Collins, she had assured him, would therefore do much better to direct his consideration towards Mary, who was not only entirely unattached but, in Mrs. Bennet's estimation, peculiarly well suited to the duties of a clergyman's wife.
Mary, for her part, announced before retiring that she had no intention whatever of marrying Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth was more surprised by the firmness of this declaration than she cared to admit.
Mary had received so little particular notice from gentlemen that Elizabeth had supposed she might be disposed to look favourably upon the first respectable man who offered her serious attention.
It appeared, however, that want of admirers had done nothing to diminish Mary's willingness to be particular when one finally presented himself, and Elizabeth could not help respecting her a little more for it.
Elizabeth retired at about ten o'clock that Friday evening, her mind pleasantly crowded with particulars which would certainly find their way into her next letter to Julia.
Mr. Collins alone might occupy an entire page, and she smiled as she imagined Julia's amusement at the account she meant to give of Lady Catherine's devoted disciple and his rapidly changing matrimonial ambitions.
Yet, as Elizabeth settled beneath the covers, another thought intruded with such ease that she did not immediately perceive anything remarkable in it.
She would tell Mr. Darcy of Mr. Collins too.
She could already imagine his expression when she described her cousin's reverence for Lady Catherine, and wondered whether, with his knowledge of upper class society, he might even know something of the formidable lady himself.
The thought lingered after her amusement had faded.
For years Julia had been the person to whom Elizabeth carried every absurdity, every vexation, every observation too amusing or too particular to keep entirely to herself.
Julia remained the person to whom she instinctively wrote, though every letter disappeared into a silence Elizabeth could neither understand nor overcome.
Mr. Darcy was different. He was here. He listened when she spoke, answered when she questioned him, challenged her when he disagreed, and possessed the increasingly troublesome habit of making her wish to know what he would think of things before she had even decided what she thought of them herself.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, still faintly smiling. Somewhere between the assembly at Meryton and the close of this ridiculous Friday, Mr. Darcy had become someone to whom she wished to tell things.
She had not yet considered what it might mean that she had begun saving them for him.