by Tilly Davis
‘May I present Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Catherine and Lydia,’ Mr. Bennet said as each of the girls took Mr. Collins’ proffered hand.
‘A most estimable brood, sir,’ the clergyman said, causing at least three of the sisters to find themselves suddenly intent upon objects in the distance, lest they catch the eye of the others and burst into laughter, ‘Jane, you are the eldest?’ he asked.
‘I am, yes.’
‘And not yet married, well, the years pass, as they say.’
And with that he allowed himself to be led inside by Mrs. Bennet as the rain began to fall once again, the evening shadows drawing in around Longbourn.
Inside Mrs. Bennet had ensured that the house was well lit, though the smell of mutton from the candles indicated to Mr. Collins that Mr. Bennet was not a man of excessive wealth. In each of the rooms a fire had been kindled and it was a merry party which sat down to dinner that evening, the family eager to learn more about their cousin who had soon settled himself into Mr. Bennet’s hospitality.
‘Tell us then, sir, a little of your situation,’ Mr. Bennet said, as the soup was served, the family having squeezed around the dining table, Mr. Collins’ ample frame taking up space usually reserved for two.
‘My situation, sir, is most satisfying, I was ordained this past Easter, in the cathedral at Rochester no less, and found it soon to be my lot to be assigned the pastoral charge of the living at Hunsford, it lying in the district of Kent, under the patronage of Rosings Park. My good fortune in securing such a position came about in part due to my having resided at Trinity College, Cambridge, alongside the cousin of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the patroness of my living, who had recommended me to her. Such fortune does not usually befall one so early in Holy Orders as I,’ Mr. Collins said, his soup remaining untouched whilst every other bowl was cleared.
‘An admirable position indeed, Mr. Collins,’ Mr. Bennet said, observing the reserved smile playing across the faces of Jane and Elizabeth.
‘I am both rector of the living, and private chaplain to Rosings Park,’ Mr. Collins continued.
‘And does your work there take up much time away from your parochial duties?’ Mrs. Bennet enquired.
‘Lady Catherine de Bourgh regularly calls upon my ministrations,’ the clergyman replied, ‘only last month was I called there to find her in great distress at the news of an ailing uncle who has now departed this life for the next.’
‘How terrible for her, no doubt you were of considerable comfort,’ Mrs. Bennet said, as Mr. Collins finally tackled his soup.
Despite the presence of all five Bennet daughters at dinner that evening the conversation revolved largely around Mr. Collins himself, who continued to extol the virtues of his patroness as the party listened politely. Mary in particular found it difficult to disguise her boredom, emanating a loud yawn at several intervals, causing her mother to inflict a sharp jab to her ribs whilst Mr. Collins kept up his unceasing chatter.
After the meat was carved Mr. Bennet took the opportunity to introduce the subject of the neighbourhood to Mr. Collins, who though rather more interested in his own small acre at Hunsford, nevertheless listened with half an ear to information about the district in which his inheritance lay.
‘Netherfield Park is the nearest large house and it is currently let to a Mr. Bingley and his sister Caroline, a most amiable gentleman,’ Mr. Bennet said, as the plates were passed down the table, and the party began to help themselves to vegetables, ‘they have been most kind in their neighbourliness towards us, even having entertained Jane and Elizabeth there for some days owing to Jane taking ill during a walk.’
‘He sounds a decent fellow,’ Mr. Collins said, in between gnawing on his meat and taking drink from the excellent elder wine which Mr. Bennet had provided for the occasion.
‘He is joined there by a Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire.’
‘I know him, or at least of him,’ Mr. Collins said, ‘a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, perhaps during my stay I might make his acquaintance, that estimable lady being our connection.’
‘I am sure it can be arranged, both Jane and Elizabeth have struck up a considerable friendship with the men in question.’
‘It is always good for young ladies to have friendships,’ observed Mr. Collins, ‘though as they grow it becomes more important to find a sustaining relationship.’
‘You mean marriage?’ Mrs. Bennet asked.
‘Marriage, dear lady, yes, that form of life sanctified by Our Lord himself, and which is the preferred state of all men and women.’
Mr. Collins himself was of course not married, but his intentions in coming to Longbourn had not been merely to observe Mr. Bennet’s estate in bricks and mortar, but also to observe his estate as perceived in his five daughters.
Whilst the two youngest daughters were already discounted as possible matches, Mary Bennet had appeared too plain in his estimations to provide the sort of spouse a rectory such as Hunsford required, and her intellectual ability, which he had already noted by her choice of reading matter, gave cause for concern, for if truth be told Mr. Collins was not particularly bright. But the elder Bennet sisters, Jane and Elizabeth, both matched Mr. Collins’ estimations of what the wife of a clergyman should be: presentable; confident, though obedient; of intelligence, but not so much so as to rival her husband, and of sound order and discipline in matters familial.
Given that the wisest choice when considering a number of suitable matches is to seek the favours of the eldest and therefore most sensible, Mr. Collins had already, in the space of just a few hours, decided that Miss Jane Bennet met all of the requirements for life at Hunsford rectory, and thus he would take it upon himself to ask for her hand in marriage before the week was out.
Unbeknownst to the machinations of their guest, the family continued at dinner, Mr. Collins imparting all the information about himself which was necessary, and much which was unnecessary, for the Bennets to gain a fair idea of who it was that now dined with them at Longbourn. As the evening drew to close and the party dispersed for their beds, it was a peaceful house which slept that night, unaware of just how momentous the arrival of their guest had been.
4
A Proposition is Made
The next morning Mr. Collins found himself to be no longer the centre of attention, as having arisen late the household had long since gone about their daily tasks, or rather had occupied themselves in such a way as to no longer be available should his call come.
Kitty and Lydia had already began their walk into Meryton, the objects of their affections as ever being the regimental officers, though they had informed Mrs. Bennet that they would call upon their aunt, who that lady suggested was blessed to have two such attentive nieces so regularly calling upon her.
Mary Bennet was assisting her mother at needlework in the kitchen, whilst Jane and Elizabeth had taken it upon themselves to go for a walk onto the meadows and see the view of Netherfield Park, for the day was a fine one.
With the household at its work Mr. Collins decided to pay a visit to his uncle, though he rather disliked the idea of what hierarchy such a title presented, and thus with only the briefest of knocks he entered Mr. Bennet’s study to find the gentleman in question busying himself amongst his books.
‘Do you read every morning, sir?’ Mr. Collins said, startling Mr. Bennet a little by his interruption.
‘I do indeed, sir, for I am blessed to have inherited my late father’s library, as well as his house,’ Mr. Bennet replied not a little mischievously, composing himself and looking up from an edition of Homer’s Iliad which he had spent the morning thus far examining.
‘A fine inheritance all round, sir, a fine inheritance,’ Mr. Collins said, taking an uninvited seat next to the fire.
‘Your daughters are all most charming individuals, and as I stated yesterday in my assessment I was correct: all very different in character.’
‘The youngest still have much to learn,’ Mr. Bennet observed, ‘Ma
ry will emerge from herself at length, of that I have no doubt, but Elizabeth and Jane are quite apt to be the models of fine young women, but then I would say that as their father, wouldn’t I?’
‘You would indeed, sir, but if I may say I think your judgement would be in accord with my own, and I am a strong judge of character, of that make no mistake.’
‘I do not doubt it,’ Mr. Bennet said, attempting to return to his Homer.
‘My visit here,’ Mr. Collins continued, ‘is not only predicated upon affirming our familial relationship, but also in strengthening it.’
At this Mr. Bennet put down his volume, realising that further study was futile, and looked at Mr. Collins inquisitively.
‘I find myself at the stage of life where I am financially independent, my service to the church notwithstanding, and as rector to a parish with such an eligible connection as that to my patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I find myself lacking in only one thing.’
‘I can’t imagine what, sir.’ Mr. Bennet said, attempting to hide his amusement.
‘A lady to call my wife,’ Mr. Collins replied.
‘And would this lady be found soon, do you think?’
‘I have already found her,’ Mr. Collins said, drawing himself up a little as he spoke, ‘she is here below your roof.’
‘Is she?’ Mr. Bennet replied, continuing to humour him.
It was at that moment that the door opened, and Mrs. Bennet appeared, brandishing her sewing.
Whilst the study had tacitly remained Mr. Bennet’s private domain over the years, he had come to accept that his good wife may well appear there unannounced at any time, thus her arrival caused him no great consternation, though clearly it halted Mr. Collins in full throw.
‘My dear,’ Mr. Bennet said, ‘Mr. Collins was just informing me that he has discovered his future wife underneath this very roof.’
‘Why, sir,’ Mrs. Bennet said, entering the room, and closing the door, ‘and only present amongst us for less than a day, what an impression we have made, pray do enlighten us as to your revelation.’
Mr. Collins appeared a little taken aback at this unexpected entry, but he soon reasserted himself and addressed Mr. and Mrs. Bennet together.
‘At dinner last night, I found myself considering which of your daughters might make for a suitable mistress to Hunsford, the wife of a cleric must have certain dispositions to her.’
‘Naturally,’ Mr. Bennet said, a wry smile playing across his face which he disguised by coughing.
‘Any one of the five will no doubt make an adequate wife for any number of gentlemen, but for a clergyman only one appeared best disposed to fulfil the role.’
‘Which one, sir?’ Mrs. Bennet said, leaning forward.
‘Why, Jane, of course,’ he said, pausing for dramatic effect.
‘Jane?’ Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, ‘why, my dear Mr. Collins, Jane is already in the throes of courtship to Mr. Bingley, was such a fact not expressed with enough force of clarity last night? Why, I’m convinced that a marriage proposal is only a short amount of time from being given, I rather thought it may have occurred by now, but we wait in hope.’
Mr. Collins’ face fell for a moment as he digested this news. His face had a mannerism of appearing contorted when faced with an unexpected revelation and he chewed over Mrs. Bennet’s words rather as he had done last evening’s piece of brisket.
‘Mr. Bingley is Mr. Darcy’s friend?’ he said at last, for he had only half listened to the conversation at dinner which did not directly concern himself.
‘He is indeed,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘they say he has as much as £15,000 per year.’
‘Well, clearly as a clergyman I have chosen a path which brings spiritual rather than material gain, but I myself am not without patronage. Why Lady Catherine de Bourgh has assured me of her continued support in all matters whilst I remain at her service, which I envisage will engage much of my life’s work,’ Mr. Collins said, reasserting himself, ‘nevertheless if you believe it a futile gesture to ask for Jane’s hand then so be it.
‘Why not,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘observe the other girls a little longer, you would find in Mary a most admirable companion.’
‘I can see, dear lady, that I must consider my position a little more, but for now I believe I shall take a walk.’
And with that Mr. Collins left the room, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet to ponder on whether they had offended him by informing him of the truth, or created a situation perhaps more favourable for if truth be told they wished to see none of their daughters married in such a way.
Mr. Collins had been somewhat taken aback by the revelation from Mrs. Bennet that Jane was soon to receive a proposal from Mr. Bingley who, in the clergyman’s estimations, was merely a rich man with no substance to him, a judgement made with no proof to back it up.
As he walked across the meadows, Mr. Collins resolved to put his secondary plan into action, no longer would he seek to attract the attentions of Jane, who had only lain eyes on him for a matter of hours, but would instead seek to court the affections of Elizabeth, the second sister upon whom he had resolved to lay his affections should the first be found wanting, as she had been.
By matter of good fortune, Mr. Collins came upon Elizabeth as she herself was walking down from the meadows, Jane having gone ahead to assist her mother at home, it being her turn to do so. Elizabeth did not immediately see her cousin, so intent was she on not slipping in the wet grass.
‘Cousin Elizabeth,’ Mr. Collins called, ‘Cousin Elizabeth, I say, won’t you let me walk with you a while?’
‘I was just returning home, sir,’ Elizabeth replied, the pair now stood next to each other amidst the tall grass of the meadow, ‘but we could walk a more circuitous route if you so wish.’
‘I do indeed so wish it,’ he said, attempting to take her by the arm, an action which resulted in an awkward exchange of hands, for Mr. Collins was not well versed in the art of courtship, ‘I shall let you lead the way, cousin,’ he continued, as they made their way back across the meadow towards the lane.
‘Tell me, cousin, what is your assessment of your father’s health?’ Mr. Collins said.
‘He appears in rude health, the occasional cough, and he was confined to bed for a week in Lent given over to an upset of the stomach.’
‘Tell-tale signs then,’ Mr. Collins said, ‘he is an elderly man, and time has taken its toll upon him, between us, and not wishing to cause upset, I should say he is not long for this world.’
‘Are you a doctor, sir?’ Elizabeth asked, her passions rising a little at this judgement of her dear father’s health.
‘Only a physician of the soul, as Lady Catherine de Bourgh is wont to refer to me as, but I have seen enough dying men to know when the Lord begins his call. I say this not to upset but only to remind you of the need for us to secure Longbourn’s future. Unlike my father I am of a benevolent disposition and would never dream of seeing a family such as mine cast out from their home, but if a fair price were offered for Longbourn, I having no need of it then it may well be that in future years I am wont to seek to unburden myself of its responsibilities.’
Elizabeth was wise enough to appreciate the veiled threat in Mr. Collins’ words, though why he found it necessary to express such sentiments to her at this moment was beyond her reasoning, though this fact should cast no doubt upon our judgement of her.
‘I have no doubt that our father will remain above ground for many more winters to come,’ Elizabeth said, ‘he is in rude health and all of us work hard to keep him.’
‘I understand that Jane is soon to be married,’ Mr. Collins said, changing the subject, though remaining outspoken in his conversation.
‘From where did you glean such information, sir?’ Elizabeth asked, sounding a little surprised.
‘Why, your dear mother told me about it just earlier on before I came out to walk, she said that Mr. Bingley is most taken by her.’
‘And she by him, I believe,
though the prospect of marriage is perhaps a little later to come, she has hardly spent enough time with the gentleman to ascertain his qualities, or lack thereof,’ she broke off.
Mr. Collins did not appreciate the remark and continued in his lecture to Elizabeth as they approached Longbourn along the track from the village.
‘My dear cousin, it takes only the shortest amount of time for two people to know they are right for one another, often it is through circumstance that such occurrences come about, many marriages are those of convenience or occur simply because they are the correct thing to do.’
‘And what of love, sir?’ Elizabeth asked, pausing at the door to the house.
‘Love is a factor for some, but not for all,’ Mr. Collins said, smiling at Elizabeth, ‘duty often comes before love, in so many matters.’
Elizabeth pondered Mr. Collins’ words that afternoon. Despite having been present at Longbourn for less than a day, the clergyman had already made considerable inroads into the house, discerning the make-up of its inhabitants and realising the most intimate desires of her sister’s heart. With still almost a week in his company, she wondered what else might be given over as Mr. Collins continued to leave his mark upon the house she loved so much.
5
An Invitation at Longbourn
‘Well, here is an interesting piece of correspondence, my dears,’ Mr. Bennet said the next morning at breakfast, as Mr. Collins helped himself to eggs and sliced ham from the tureens on the sideboard before settling himself down to breakfast next to Elizabeth.
‘It comes from Netherfield.’
At the mention of Netherfield the interest of all in the room was kindled, though each for rather different reasons.
‘Do pray open it and read to us then, Mr. Bennet,’ Mrs. Bennet said, her spoon poised above a steaming bowl of porridge.
‘Mr. Bingley writes as follows,’ Mr. Bennet said, and he began to read.