Chapter 20
“Will you have some wine?” Mr Bennet asked his cousin.
It was the second evening after Mr Collins’ arrival, and Elizabeth was surprised by the question; wine was not usually served at dinner in Longbourn, and Elizabeth could not recall when it had last been served.
“I do not take liquor,” Mr Collins replied.
Mr Bennet raised an eyebrow, “but surely during the Eucharist sacrament?” he asked.
“The wine is transformed into the blood of Our Saviour, it is therefore no longer wine,” Mr Collins explained, and Mr Bennet had to own this was so.
Mr Bennet took only a sip or two of the wine, and their mother took but one glass; neither of her parents had a taste for it. This is what made the fact that her father had chosen to serve it all the more curious.
“I must commend you, Thomas,” Mr Collins said, using their father’s given name for the first time, “on the care you take with the safety and reputation of my fair cousins.” Elizabeth looked at him when he said this, as it was not only significant that he had chosen to use her father’s Christian name, after being asked to do so many times.
There was also a notable warmth in his voice for the first time.
“How so?” her father asked.
“When I retired last evening, I saw one of your men seated at the passage to the family bed chambers, and when I arose this morning, a different man was in his place,” Mr Collins explained.
“I hope you are not offended?” her father questioned.
“Indeed no,” Mr Collins assured, “although I am cousin to you, I am not known to you, therefore taking care of my young cousins is only right and good,” he said. “I am in earnest in my approval of your actions,” he assured. Mr Bennet gave his head a small bow in acknowledgement of the compliment.
Sometime later that evening, he questioned, “So you never take alcohol?”
Mr Collins looked at him, his face graver than Elizabeth had seen it before, and with a small sigh, he responded.
“I believe you are trying to match me to my father,” he said, and when Mr Bennet remained silent, he nodded.
“I am sure my young cousins are unaware, but my father was not a good man,” he said, and then he took a deep breath, “I would even go as far as to say that he was a bad man. The Bible calls on us to honour our parents, but it is the one commandment I find myself unable to keep. My father was cruel and ignorant, and I have no good memories of him. What I do have from him is a desire to be everything he was not.”
Tears came to Elizabeth’s eyes on hearing these words, and she could see she was not the only one affected thusly.
Not one of her sisters was completely dry-eyed, and her mother’s hand was up covering her mouth.
When Elizabeth looked to her father, she saw him wipe the back of his hand across his eyes.
“William,” Mr Bennet said, with a smile, trying to push the tears away, “I think we can say that you have succeeded admirably, and I am very glad to have finally met you.”
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“He is not what I expected,” Jane said.
“No indeed,” Elizabeth agreed as she plaited her hair for bed.
“You heard what he said about his father not being a good man, and Papa was certainly not expecting his son to be so gentle,” Elizabeth said, even though she thought this was not quite the correct description of his character.
“And,” she said, “I have never heard such progressive opinions on the education of women from a clergyman.”
“Yes, it is most remarkable, but his devotion to his calling is still unmistakable,” Jane said.
“I look forward to getting to know him better.”
“As do I,” Elizabeth agreed, and with that, she blew out her candle and pulled her blankets up around her.
She did not immediately fall asleep; there was a thought nagging at her, half-formed, which would not allow her to rest. She stopped trying to sleep and instead examined it, yes, that was it, how different was Mr Collins’ reaction to seeing the man on guard to that of Mr Darcy, and with that final thought, she drifted off to sleep.