Pride and Prejudice and Kitties

by Jane Austen, Pamela Jane, Deborah Guyol

  To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence—Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked— and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teazing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it.

  THE NEXT MORNING Mr. Bennet informed his wife that he was expecting a gentleman and a stranger at dinner.

  “Good lord!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “How unlucky! There is not a bit of carp to be got today. Lydia, my love, perhaps you and Kitty can catch some in the goldfish pond.”

  Mr. Bennet went on to explain that the mysterious visitor was his cousin, Mr. Collins, who, as soon as Mr. Bennet was dead, could turn the Bennet family out into the hedgerows to scramble for mice on their own.

  “Pray do not talk of that odious cat,” hissed Mrs. Bennet. “I do think it is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be end-tailed away from your own kittens.”

  It is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be end-tailed away from your own kittens.

  Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to their mother the immutable nature of an end-tail. They had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on which Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason.

  “It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said Mr. Bennet, “and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Long-bourn. But if you will listen to his letter and his offer of an olive branch, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of purring.”

  “I think it is very impertinent of him to communicate with you at all,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Why could he not keep on having cat fights with you, as his father did before him?”

  Mr. Bennet then proceeded to read Mr. Collins’s letter:

  “Dear Sir,

  “The constant territorial disputes subsisting between yourself and my late honored father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach. Therefore, if you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family.”

  Mr. Collins went on to say that he should arrive at Longbourn that very day.

  “In point of composition,” observed Mary, “the letter does not seem defective. Though I must say, I prefer a ball of yarn to an olive branch.”

  Mr. Collins arrived punctually, duly bearing the olive branch, which Lydia and Kitty immediately leapt at.

  Cousin Collins lost no time in complimenting Mrs. Bennet on the beauty of her five kittens.

  “Yes, but the poor things will have to fend for themselves when their father dies,” observed Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Bennet’s estate is settled so oddly.”

  “You allude, perhaps, to the end-tail of this estate,” said Mr. Collins, swishing his tail.

  “Ah! Sir, I do indeed. There is no knowing how estates will go when once they come to be end-tailed.”

  Mr. Collins assured Mrs. Bennet that he came prepared to admire her five daughters and perhaps transport one back to his humble abode in Hunsford, replete with mouse holes fitted up very nicely by his noble patroness, Lady Cat.

  Mrs. Bennet’s dinner, too, in its turn, was excessively admired; and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its cooking was owing. But he was set right there by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen, although, she confessed, Lydia had snagged the goldfish in the pond that morning.

  “Dear Sir,

  “The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father, always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with any one with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance... My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures of good will are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate, will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se’night following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,

  “WILLIAM COLLINS”

  “YOU APPEAR TO be very fortunate in your patroness, Lady Cat,” remarked Mr. Bennet to his cousin after dinner.

  Mr. Collins protested that “he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a cat of rank—such affability and cat-descension.” Lady Cat’s attention to everything from his choice of cushions to his brand of kitty litter all appeared very remarkable. Indeed, her consideration was beyond anything he could have anticipated. She had asked him twice to hunt shrews at Rosings, and had sent for him only the Saturday before to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. She had even condescended to advise him to mate as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest a superior style of scratching post for his drawing room.

  “It is a pity that great cats in general are not more like her,” observed Mrs. Bennet. “Does she live near you, sir?”

  “The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park!” trilled Mr. Collins.

  “I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?”

  “She has only one kitten, the hairess of Rosings”

  “Ah!” said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is better off than many cats. And what sort of puss is she?”

  The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park!

  “She is a most charming cat indeed. Lady Cat herself says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her pedigree, because there is that in her furry face which marks the cat of a distinguished breed. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has necessitated frequent trips to the vet. However, the cost is of no account to Lady Cat. And though more than one person has suggested putting Miss de Bourgh down, her ladyship will not hear of it.”

  “Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court.”

  “Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town; and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased with the idea, and you ma
y imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her—These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay.”

  “You judge very properly,” said Mr. Bennet, “and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?”

  “They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”

  MR. COLLINS WAS not a sensible cat, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by training, the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an irascible, ill-bred father. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had originally given him great humility of manner; but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a tiny brain overpowered by feelings of self-importance.

  He planned on choosing a mistress for Hunsford, whom Lady Cat would approve of—a modest, useful cat who could amble daily across the lane to Rosings with him. He was hoping to select one of the Bennet sisters as a plan of atonement for inheriting their father’s estate. At first he fixed on the fluffy Jane, but Mrs. Bennet gave him a hint that she might soon be spoken for. Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth—and it was soon done while Mrs. Bennet was grooming herself in front of the fire.

  The next day Mr. Collins accompanied the Bennet sisters on a walk to Meryton—much to Mr. Bennet’s relief, since Mr. Collins had followed him to his library after breakfast and stretched out on one of his largest folios with a yawn, looking as if he intended to stay the entire morning.

  In Meryton, the attention of the female cats was caught by a young tom of most elegant appearance whom the Bennet sisters had never seen before, walking with a red-coated cat of their acquaintance. All were struck with the stranger’s hair, which was sleek and shiny, and wondered who he could be; and Mr. Denny introduced the handsome-whiskered tom as Mr. Wickham. The whole party were mewing together very agreeably, when Darcy and Bingley were seen trotting down the street. Mr. Darcy was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on the frisky Elizabeth, when he was suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth, happening to see both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. The hair on each stood up, and Mr. Darcy growled. What could be the meaning of it?

  Mr. Collins stretched out on one of Mr. Bennet’s folios with a yawn.

  Mrs. Philips [Mrs. Bennet’s sister] was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home . . . when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane’s introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself however might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other; of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant’s commission in the ________ shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the officers, who in comparison with the stranger, were become “stupid, disagreeable fellows.” Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards.

  UPON ENTERING MRS. Philips’s rooms with his cousins, Mr. Collins was immediately struck with the size and elegance of the furniture. Why, he could walk under the sideboard without flattening himself in the least! The elegance of the apartments brought to mind Lady Cat’s pawing room where the chimney piece alone cost 800 mice!

  The Bennet sisters were relieved when Mr. Wickham strolled into the room, for he was far beyond the other toms in catness, countenance, hair, and stride. Even his “mews” were rendered interesting by his skill in delivering them.

  Wickham and Elizabeth were soon engaged in an intriguing conversation concerning Mr. Darcy. Wickham confirmed that Darcy was a most proud and disagreeable tom in spite of his fine figure and lush coat. In fact, said Wickham, he had been most ill-used by Mr. Darcy.

  “I have been a disappointed cat, and my spirits will not bear solitude,” he confessed.

  When the elder Mr. Darcy died, Wickham confided, he had bequeathed Wickham a field of catnip, 1,000 cans of Fancy Feast, and two extra lives, since old Mr. Darcy had only used seven of his own. However, the son (the present Mr. Darcy) had contrived to cheat Wickham out of this rich inheritance despite the fact that Wickham and Darcy were born in the same dresser drawer and spent the greatest part of their kittenhood wrestling and kicking each other!

  I have been a disappointed cat, and my spirits will not bear solitude.

  “This is quite shocking! Mr. Darcy deserves to be publicly disgraced” cried Elizabeth.

  On the carriage ride home, Elizabeth could think of nothing but what Wickham had related, while Lydia, her head full of the evening’s entertainment, talked incessantly of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won.

  Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

  “About a month,” said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, “He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand.”

  “Yes,” replied Mr. Wickham—“his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself—for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy.”

  Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

  “You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday—Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”

  “As much as I ever wish to be,” cried Elizabeth very warmly,—“I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable.”

  . . .

  “I cannot pretend to be sorry,” said Wickham, after a short interruption, “that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond their deserts; but with him I believe it does not often happen. The world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.”

  “I should take him, even on my slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man.” Wickham only shook his head.

  “I wonder,” said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, “whether he is
likely to be in this country much longer.”

  “I do not at all know; but I heard nothing of his going away when

  I was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ______ shire will not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood.”

  “Oh! no—it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for avoiding him but what I might proclaim to all the world, a sense of very great ill usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and every thing, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father.”

  TENDER-HEARTED JANE WAS shocked to hear the unfortunate tale of Darcy and Wickham from Elizabeth the next morning, and couldn’t help but to feel that it was all due to a terrible misunderstanding, as sometimes subsists between two toms.

  In the meantime, all the Bennet sisters were cheered by the thought of the splendid ball Mr. Bingley was planning to procure. It was said to be rather large and to contain a hint of catnip and two silver bells. Even Mary made no objection to the innocent, if vacuous, amusement such a ball must bestow.

  “While I can nap all morning,” said she, “it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in an evening frolic.”

  Elizabeth’s spirits were so high that she actually asked Mr. Collins if he intended to accept Mr. Bingley’s invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to play with the ball; she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop or Lady Cat.