Chapter 18
The Bennet family had scarcely seen Longbourn returned to the sole occupancy of the family, when Mr Bennet called all the ladies to the drawing room.
“We are to have a guest, Mrs Bennet,” he said, and when his lady wife looked at him with interest but remained silent, he continued. “I have received a letter from my cousin,” he said.
“Collins,” his wife said, going quite pale.
“Not Reginald Collins, his son, William Collins, and I am determined not to judge the son by the actions of the father,” he said, and Mary muttered, “rightly so.”
“He is the only family from the Bennet line remaining,” he said, “and for that reason, I have invited him to visit with us. As you all know, Longbourn was entailed to his father, had he not predeceased me. The entail has now transferred to the son, but that is unchangeable and immaterial to what relationship we choose to have with William Collins. He has made an overture of friendship, and I have decided to accept this and get to know this young man on his own merit,” he said, but could not help adding, “or lack thereof.”
“But to have this man, who is a complete stranger, staying in Longbourn with our daughters?” Mrs Bennet questioned.
Mr Bennet held up a hand to forestall further comment and explained, “I will have John and Smithy each take alternative nights on guard, as I did when the Netherfield gentleman stayed. But more than that, I will have them be generally about the house and visible,” he said.
“That is,” Mrs Bennet said and then paused before continuing, “that is acceptable, I suppose.”
“You girls,” their father resumed, “must also take responsibility for your own safety and reputations,” he instructed.
“Loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable, and one false step involves her in endless ruin,” Mary intoned.
“Indeed, Mary,” her father said, his face grave.
“You are all to ensure that none of you are ever in a room alone with this man. Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were somewhat of a known element, but as your mother has pointed out, this man is a stranger to us.”
“I hope he is handsome,” Lydia said, “for he is very likely to fall in love with me and then I shall be mistress of Longbourn when Papa dies!” she said.
“Lydia,” Jane said her name in a disapproving and reprimanding tone.
“And on that happy note,” their father said, “I will leave you all to discuss my demise in my absence, and your mother to instruct Hill to prepare the guest room – the one furthest from the family rooms – for our guest.” And with that final instruction, he left the room.
Their mother got immediately to her feet to do as he had requested.
Not unexpectedly, Elizabeth and her sisters discussed not their father’s demise but speculated on their cousin.
Elizabeth had a great deal of curiosity as to the contents of the letter her father had received.
It must have been in some way conciliatory to have induced her father to extend the invitation, but she wondered what sort of man he could be.
Her father, and indeed her mother, had spoken occasionally of his father, Reginald Collins.
He had not sounded like the sort of man she would wish to meet.
Her father had described him as wantonly ignorant, lacking in willingness to learn.
Her mother had, in whispers made only in their father’s absence, described him as the worst of men, but had failed to provide any detail as to what this meant.
Elizabeth hoped that his son would be entirely different.