Chapter 24
As Mary walked into the hall, she had already begun to turn over in her mind how she might proceed.
She knew she had no talent for the playfulness which Elizabeth deployed so easily; she would never learn how to flirt or tease.
She could see only one way of attracting Mr. Collins’s attention: she must do everything possible to alert him to the interests they shared, demonstrate to him by every means in her power that in terms of tastes and disposition, she was the only Bennet sister who might offer him a reasonable chance of happiness.
So absorbed was she in these thoughts that she hardly noticed her two younger sisters heading towards her along the passage with their usual air of barely suppressed excitement.
Lydia seized her arm, and spoke in a whisper loud enough to be heard in every adjacent room.
“Unless you wish to be teased and annoyed by the dullest man in the neighbourhood, go as fast as you can past the library. He is in there, wandering about and pretending to look at books.”
Kitty looked over her shoulder, as if she feared they might have been followed.
“I think he saw us, for he called out as we went past, but we pretended not to hear.”
She caught Lydia’s eye, and they both laughed.
“That was unkind and disrespectful,” declared Mary. “Mr. Collins is a guest in our house and deserves proper consideration from us all.”
Lydia rolled her eyes and pulled a face. “You are very welcome to offer him all the consideration you want, proper or otherwise, but we intend walking into Meryton to escape him. Come with us if you wish—unless you’d rather stay and listen to another of his lectures.”
“I would rather spend the morning hearing Mr. Collins read an interesting book than wander about Meryton mooning after officers.”
“Just as you like,” replied Lydia nonchalantly. “We obviously have very different ideas about what is interesting. Kitty and I will go and put on our boots and leave you to be improved.”
They bustled away, and Mary, conscious she had yet again been made to look a prig, continued on her way to the library.
There she found Mr. Collins, a large folio open on the table before him.
He looked up as she entered, his expression registering neither pleasure nor surprise at her arrival.
He wished her good morning and returned to his book.
Mary took up her usual position at her little table and opened a volume of her own; but it was soon evident, from his sighs and fidgets, that he was not engaged by his reading.
Mary plucked up her courage. This was exactly the kind of opportunity she must learn to seize.
“Excuse me, sir, but it doesn’t appear you’re quite satisfied with the book you have chosen. I know my father’s library very well and would be happy to help you find something more to your liking.”
“That is very polite, but I assure you, I am happy with what I have.”
“My father’s system of cataloguing is of his own devising, and the logic is not always apparent to those who do not know it. I could point out where he keeps works of moral and philosophical interest.”
“Thank you, but I will content myself with this for the time being.”
He turned the pages one after the other, his attention clearly elsewhere. Mary made herself try again.
“I was very sorry you weren’t able to finish your reading from Dr. Fordyce yesterday. I found it most instructive.”
Mr. Collins inclined his head very slightly in acknowledgement.
“I should be very glad to hear more, if you ever felt moved…”
Before she could finish her sentence, Mr. Bennet came into the room. Mr. Collins stood up, all attention, and made a formal bow.
“I hope, sir, you will excuse my intruding into your place of study. I took the liberty of acceding to the invitation extended by you with such generosity last night, to think of your library as my own.”
Mr. Bennet murmured the briefest acknowledgement, and seated himself at his desk.
“Anyone is welcome here, provided they abide by the rules of the house. As Mary may have told you, I encourage the preservation of a companionable silence, as being most conducive to civilised reflection.”
Mr. Collins expressed his eager willingness to comply; and for a few minutes, nothing was heard but his page-turning. But Mary saw he was still unsettled, and it was not long before he addressed Mr. Bennet directly.
“Your library, sir, is blessed with very elegant proportions and a quantity of natural light.”
Mr. Bennet looked up, a hint of irritation discernible in his expression.
“It has neither the size nor the scale of Lady Catherine’s library at Rosings Park,” continued Mr. Collins blithely, “but it is of very respectable proportions for a gentleman’s residence such as your own.”
“I am glad it meets with your approval.”
“Indeed it does, sir. And your gardens are admirable too. Although their size must limit their ambitions, they are extremely well kept and make a very pleasurable sight.”
“Again, I am indebted to you. I imagine, however, that the grounds at Rosings are of a different degree of excellence?”
“Yes, Lady Catherine always says the long walk and the parterre exceed in perfection anything to be found in the county. I have often agreed with her that this is so. Nothing is as noble as the view from the north terrace towards the ha-ha.”
Mr. Bennet closed his book.
“Your thoughts seem more directed towards the pleasures of the outdoors than to study this morning. It seems most unfair that you should confine yourself inside. Lydia and Kitty are, I believe, readying themselves to walk into Meryton.”
Mr. Collins looked uncertain.
“Elizabeth and Jane intend to accompany them. I suggest you join them. It will be a very cheerful party for you all.”
At the mention of Lizzy’s name, Mr. Collins hastily stood up.
“I should be delighted to attend them. I shall go and find them directly.”
He did not look at Mary as he hurried from the room.
Should she follow him? She was not certain whether it would be fitting to rush after him.
She laid down her book and tried to make up her mind.
But before she could do so, Mr. Collins was heard in the hallway begging his fair cousins to wait for him.
There was a clatter of boots, a flurry of voices, the front door was heard to shut, and then all was again silent.
“You did not wish to go with them, Mary?” enquired Mr. Bennet.
“I don’t think my presence was required.”
“At least you have the consolation of being spared your cousin’s company for an hour.”
“I think he means well, Papa. His manner I agree is unfortunate, but I believe his intentions are sincere.”
“Do you think so? If that is indeed the case, then I think I would prefer the company of an insincere man of sense to … well, I shall not say fool, because he is such a close relation.”
He returned to his book in a manner intended to suggest that further conversation was at an end. Mary picked up her own volume, but now it was she who was distracted.
For the rest of the morning, she brooded on what she should do next.
Her thoughts went this way and that, but finally she stirred herself to action.
She went to her bedroom, fetched her copy of Fordyce, and carried it to the drawing room, where she stood looking about for a few minutes before putting it on a small table, where she thought it most likely to catch Mr. Collins’s eye.
Beneath it, she placed Mrs. Macaulay, in case his tastes ran towards history.
Satisfied, she walked to the piano and searched through her music, choosing pieces she thought he might enjoy, nothing too frivolous, and arranged them next to the keyboard.
If an opportunity to play for him offered itself, she would be ready to grasp it.
Then she sat down and waited for the walking party to return.
After a while, she heard her mother’s voice directing the laying of the table for luncheon; and a moment later, Mrs. Bennet slipped silently into the drawing room, closing the door firmly behind her.
“When the others are back, and we sit down at table, I do not want there to be any confusion about where each of us will be placed.”
“I am sorry, Mama, but I’m not sure I understand you.”
“Really, Mary, I think you do. Lord knows your conversation this morning was forward enough. It does you no favours to be so missish now.”
Ashamed, Mary hung her head.
“Well, let me make myself understood. Mr. Collins will be seated next to Lizzy. There will be no attempt to swap seats.”
“Of course. I would never put myself forward in that way…”
“I am very pleased to hear it. I will have no interference with my plans.”
When the family assembled, Mary found herself at the furthest possible distance from Mr. Collins.
It was impossible for them to have any conversation together.
From her end of the table, she watched Elizabeth do all she could to deflect his attentions whilst remaining within the bounds of politeness.
Mary looked on with frustrated incomprehension.
How could Mrs. Bennet refuse to understand that Elizabeth would never have him?
Why, indeed, did Mr. Collins not see that himself?
Instead, he battled on, quite blind to Lizzy’s ill-concealed distaste.
It was many minutes before he drew himself reluctantly away from Elizabeth and addressed her mother instead.
“I was delighted to be introduced to some gentlemen of my fair cousins’ acquaintance this morning.”
“Indeed, sir?” replied Mrs. Bennet, signalling to the servant to offer Mr. Collins another leg of chicken. “Whom did you meet?”
“We came upon two of the officers,” interrupted Lydia, delighted at the opportunity to talk upon her favourite topic. “Mr. Denny and another quite new one, just this minute arrived. He was not even in his red coat yet, although he said he has his commission.”