by Jann Rowland
“Unwelcoming?” cried Mr. Collins. “She has never seemed to resent my presence!”
“That is only because you are witless!”
“You will not speak to me in such a way,” retorted Mr. Collins. “I am to be your husband, and I will have your respect!”
“I will not marry you!” exclaimed Caroline.
“Oh, Caroline, you might as well accept him,” said a chortling Hurst. “Life with Mr. Collins will not be dull!”
Caroline wished to give her sister’s husband a piece of her mind. But she could not remove her sneer from the pathetic parson; Hurst was a secondary annoyance.
“Collins, it is time for you to depart,” said Charles. “Do not suggest my sister is to marry you, for it is obvious she has refused to even consider your proposal.”
“But Mr. Bingley!” wailed Mr. Collins.
“That is enough, sir,” said Mr. Darcy, stepping into the conversation. Caroline could have wilted with relief—Caroline doubted this imbecile would hear anyone other than his patroness’s nephew. “My friend has abjured you to leave the estate; you had better do so at once. A gentleman, Mr. Collins, does not continue to press the woman who has rejected him. To do so is gauche.”
It was clear to everyone in the room that Mr. Collins wished to continue to protest the matter. As he appealed to her with his eyes, Caroline endeavored to inform him of every hint of her contempt. After a moment, he seemed to understand, though his silliness did not abate.
“Very well,” declared Mr. Collins in a haughty tone. “It is your loss then, Miss Bingley, for I shall not extend the generous offer of my hand again.”
Then the parson spun on his heel, staggering to the side as he almost lost his balance, and stalked from the room, the shreds of his dignity floating behind. It was Caroline’s fervent wish she was never to experience the misfortune of his company again!
Elizabeth had little notion of Mr. Collins’s sensibility before that day. Learning something of what had taken him to Netherfield that morning removed whatever doubts she might have still harbored as to his utter lack of intelligence.
Though one might have thought Mr. Collins would avoid any mention of any events detrimental to himself, it appeared he could not refrain. Whether that stemmed from an inability to understand why anyone would refuse to give him anything he wished, she could not say. What she knew was the mystery of his whereabouts that morning was soon vouchsafed to the family.
“It surprised me to learn you were absent this morning,” observed Mr. Bennet upon spying the parson.
“Must I account for my comings and goings to you, Cousin?”
The terse question was almost an open accusation. Mr. Bennet regarded the parson for a moment, diverted rather than offended, and shrugged his shoulders.
“No, Mr. Collins, your activities are your own. I was speaking of nothing more than my surprise at your absence given our late night at the ball.”
Mr. Collins’s lip curled with anger and he spat: “Is everyone in Hertfordshire so improper as this? Is your whole county affected by this cursed disease? I wonder why I came at all if this is the reception I was to receive.”
“If you refer to your welcome at Longbourn,” said Mr. Bennet, his level gaze fixed on his cousin, “then I will remind you we have received you with open arms. Beyond that, I have no notion of your meaning. Perhaps it would be best to leave this conversation and speak of other matters.”
“I am not certain I wish to speak of anything with you.” Mr. Collins’s tone was resentful, though no one of the family had any notion of why he would show bitterness to them.
“As you choose,” replied Mr. Bennet, turning back to his paper. “Then we may continue in silence instead.”
Mr. Collins stood glaring at Mr. Bennet for a moment, and Elizabeth was certain he was working himself up to some further exclamation. In this, she was correct, for the parson opened his mouth to speak several times and closed it again before he raised his voice.
“I have just been to Netherfield, where I have been summarily dismissed.”
“That does not sound like Mr. Bingley,” said Mr. Bennet, putting his newspaper aside again. “He is as genial a man as I have ever met. Are you certain there was not some mistake?”
“It was not Mr. Bingley!” Mr. Collins paused and added: “Well, it was not Mr. Bingley alone. It was his sister, who had the temerity to refuse my proposal of marriage! One might expect a loving brother to insist upon that which is for his sister’s benefit, but it seems Mr. Bingley is not a man of moral character.”
“Have you considered the possibility that Mr. Bingley does not agree with your assessment?”
“What could he believe is wanting?” demanded Mr. Collins. “I have a valuable living with the patronage of a lady of genuine quality attending to my every need, and I am to be the master of all this estate.”
Mr. Bennet looked at the parson with amusement. “There are few men in England who are in a position to know, as I do, of the vagaries of determined young ladies. As men, we cannot know what a lady like Miss Bingley is thinking. It is our lot to accept it as best we can.
“If you wish for my opinion,” said Mr. Bennet, a mocking note in his voice, “I could see no interest from the young lady in your suit. It has always seemed to me that Miss Bingley, in casting her net for a husband, was intent upon capturing a much bigger fish. I suggest, Cousin, that you endure Miss Bingley’s refusal with whatever grace you possess and continue your search for a wife in other quarters.”
Raising his newspaper once again, Mr. Bennet began reading, believing the conversation was at an end. The parson, however, was incensed, for Elizabeth could see his fists clenching, the muscles of his jaw working in anger. After a moment in which he stared at the paper, he opened his mouth to speak.
“I see how it is, Cousin.” The parson’s voice was raspy with emotion, prompting Mr. Bennet to appear from behind his paper yet again. “I see why I was brought here.”
“If you recall,” replied Mr. Bennet, his voice cool, “you requested an invitation to heal the breach between us. I did not ‘bring’ you here, as you suggest.”
Mr. Collins was beyond reason. “Yet you accepted my request, brought me here and attempted to push your insipid daughters upon me.”
“That is patently absurd, Mr. Collins,” snapped Mrs. Bennet. “I have no desire to see you marry one of my girls.”
“Then what was our discussion, where you brought up Mary?” Mr. Collins snorted. “As if anyone would want such a plain, colorless woman for a wife!”
Mary gasped and Mr. Bennet laid his paper on the table, rising to confront the parson. But the first to respond was Mrs. Bennet, who jumped to her feet and jabbed a finger at him.
“I spoke of Mary only because of your suggestion you wanted a wife. Mary is a good girl, and far too good for the likes of you, but she is suited to be a parson’s wife if that is what she wishes for her future. I would never have worked upon her to accept you.”
“And I would never have accepted you,” added Mary, the utter contempt in her voice bludgeoning Mr. Collins. “You are no parson, Mr. Collins. You are nothing more than a poseur.”
Mr. Collins’s nostrils flared and he turned his glare on Mr. Bennet. “Is this how you allow your women to speak to me?”
“I do when you deserve it, Cousin,” said Mr. Bennet. “If you dislike our hospitality, if you feel we have misused you or misrepresented ourselves, then you are free to leave. In fact, I believe it may be for the best if you did so at once.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Collins. “I hope you have provided for your improper family, Mr. Bennet, for they will receive no mercy from me when you die. That day cannot come soon enough.”
And with those final awful words, Mr. Collins turned and stalked from the room. Within half an hour, he stomped out the door, disappearing from Hertfordshire. The next time Mr. Collins would return was the distant day of his inheritance.
Chapter XVIII
Several things were clear when the Netherfield party arrived for a visit the following day, or they were to an observant observer. Elizabeth considered herself to be a studier of human behavior, as was her father, who watched the party come in with amusement written all over his brow.
The most obvious was Miss Bingley, who appeared to be nursing a foul mood, unsurprising considering what the Bennet family knew of the previous day’s events. The way she glared at Elizabeth herself, she knew that on some level, Miss Bingley blamed her, perhaps for not drawing Mr. Collins’s attention to herself. Given the woman’s aborted attempt to intimidate her at the ball, Elizabeth knew it was almost certain she would have words for Elizabeth again if she had the chance.
The other matter which Elizabeth soon understood was that Mr. Darcy wished to speak with her. Their present position, in the sitting-room with the company, was not conducive to private conversation, yet the way he glanced at her suggested he wished to discuss something of some importance. Elizabeth was certain she knew what it was.
The last matter of which Elizabeth was convinced was Mr. Bingley’s eagerness to speak with Jane in private. Elizabeth could not accuse the gentleman of wishing to propose, or anything else of that consequence. However, his eagerness for seclusion with Jane was clear in the words which were almost the first out of his mouth.
“The day is fine. Shall we not take ourselves out of doors to enjoy the day in the gardens?”
While Elizabeth thought certain members of the party were not eager for sunshine and clean air, they all agreed with alacrity. Even Mrs. Bennet agreed with the suggestion, chivvying her daughters out to the vestibule to gather their bonnets and gloves for their outing. Soon, they had attained the gardens and there, they broke into smaller groups. Elizabeth noted Kitty, Lydia, and Georgiana congregating around the swing affixed to a branch on one of Longbourn’s largest trees.
Miss Bingley stuck to Mr. Darcy’s side and refused to move away from him, foiling any plans the gentleman had of conversing alone with Elizabeth. While he accepted her presence with his usual patience as a gentleman, Elizabeth noted his exasperated looks at her. Elizabeth was not ignorant of Miss Bingley’s knowledge of his annoyance, though the woman gave no sign of it.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley when he mentioned the desire to walk in a specific direction. “There seems to be a quaint little corner away from the house there. Perhaps, Miss Eliza, you should keep your sisters company while Mr. Darcy and I explore what you must have seen many times over.”
“But then you would not have a knowledgeable guide,” said Elizabeth with humor, noting the way Miss Bingley said the word “quaint” made it seem like everything she saw was drab and lifeless and beneath her notice.
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth did not miss the dry note in his voice, nor, it seemed, did Miss Bingley, who shot a harsh glare at him. “We would appreciate your presence.”
It was perhaps wise, given Miss Bingley’s mood, that Mr. Darcy did not offer his arm to either, contenting himself instead with walking between them with his hands clasped behind his back. They said little as they crossed the lawn, though Elizabeth noted Mr. Darcy’s surreptitious glances at her and noted the heavenward looks he cast from time to time. Underneath that, however, was a sense of seriousness that proved to Elizabeth he had something of which he wanted to speak. Thus, Elizabeth resolved to ensure the opportunity to speak in confidence would be available to them.
“Well, Eliza,” said Miss Bingley after some time, “it seems there is little to see, after all. Or was there some notable location you wished to show us?”
“There are many excellent views I know well,” replied Elizabeth, determined not to become pulled into a debate with this supercilious woman. “The crown of Oakham Mount, for instance, allows a fine view of both Netherfield and Longbourn, if one undertakes the exertion necessary to discover it.”
“You have mentioned Oakham Mount before,” said Mr. Darcy with interest, much to Miss Bingley’s annoyance. “Is it far?”
“About two miles from Longbourn, though somewhat further from Netherfield. It is one of my favorite places, though there are several more I love.”
“I did not know you rode,” replied Miss Bingley with a sniff. “Or that your father kept enough horses to allow you the activity.”
“We have several horses in our stables, Miss Bingley,” replied Elizabeth. “Jane is the rider between us—I can ride, though I prefer to walk. To the determined walker, Oakham Mount is not far at all.”
The sneering superiority with which Miss Bingley regarded her set Elizabeth’s teeth to grinding. “You walk all that distance. How quaint. Given the dust of the road, I must assume you return home in a state which renders you unfit for company.”
“There you would be incorrect, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth, beginning to become annoyed. “Do you consider the outdoors to be unclean?”
“A woman who spends all her time out of doors becomes coarse and brown,” replied Miss Bingley. “Those of us who know how to behave prefer to keep ourselves beyond reproach, for it is uncultured of a woman to appear anything other than to her best advantage.”
“That is an interesting position, Miss Bingley.” Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy and said: “I am curious about this portrayal of ladies of quality. Do ladies of a certain station prefer to stay inside all hours of the day? Such behavior can only be detrimental to their health, for such a life of sedentary pursuits suggest they would get little exercise.”
“Though I cannot speak of all ladies of higher stations,” said Mr. Darcy, his eyes gleaming with mirth, “I have never known the ladies of my family to be so delicate. Georgiana loves to walk and ride, and my aunt and cousins are much like her. Then there is the fashionable set’s propensity to walk in Hyde Park, to see and be seen. Though perhaps their motives have nothing to do with exertion, they get it nonetheless.”
“That is well,” said Elizabeth, smiling sweetly at Miss Bingley. “As I do not concern myself with being fashionable, I believe I will continue as I have.”
“Then you will never amount to anything in fashionable society,” sneered Miss Bingley.
“Your thinking is laced with fallacy,” said Elizabeth. “I have already said I do not care to be fashionable. What others think of me is a matter of extreme indifference.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Elizabeth stopped and faced Miss Bingley. “I should much prefer, Miss Bingley, to remain true to myself and my character than attempt to pretend I am something that I am not. Such pretenses are dishonest, and I will have no part of them.”
It seemed Miss Bingley did not misunderstand Elizabeth’s meaning. When she did not respond at once, it was because she was too incensed to discover a suitable retort. It was fortunate that at that moment, Mrs. Hurst came to pull her sister into a discussion with Mrs. Bennet, for Elizabeth was certain Miss Bingley would have said something impolitic if she had been allowed to speak. Though Miss Bingley did not wish to leave them, she followed her sister away, first glaring at Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy in turn as she did so. When they were alone together, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“It appears,” said Elizabeth, “given her behavior this morning, that Miss Bingley intends to stay nearby and prevent us from speaking together, Mr. Darcy. Can we expect this behavior always, or shall we have some reprieve from time to time?”
Shaking his head, Mr. Darcy replied: “I can only hope this does not become a common occurrence, Miss Elizabeth, though I suspect it might. Miss Bingley is a determined woman and not one to give up.” The gentleman paused and looked at her askance. “I do not see Mr. Collins this morning. Has he sequestered himself in his room?”
The mention of Mr. Collins brought a laugh to Elizabeth’s lips. “My father’s cousin no longer remains at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy. Yesterday he made some unkind comments toward my sisters and me, and my father ordered him to return to his parish.”
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Mr. Darcy’s amusement was clear. “Then might I apprehend that you know something of his errand yesterday morning?”
“If you refer to his intention to make Miss Bingley an offer, then yes, we know of it.”
“It was the most ridiculous scene I have ever witnessed, Miss Elizabeth. Though I hesitate to disparage any relation of yours, I have never seen such a specimen as Mr. Collins. That is saying something, as my aunt has employed underlings who all share some measure of silliness, given her desire for those who will not speak a word against her.
“Mr. Collins, however, outdid himself. Not only did he refuse to believe Miss Bingley’s rebuff of his proposal, but he insisted that it was Bingley’s duty to ensure she accepted. Though I was not present for it all, to hear Miss Bingley speak of it, it was the most inept proposal in the history of man.”
“I can well believe it,” replied Elizabeth, laughing at his account. “Since the first moment of the gentleman’s arrival, I have known he was not sensible I can only be grateful he decided, in his inflated opinion of his own superiority, the charms of my sisters and I were insufficient to tempt him to turn his attention on us.”
“That is fortunate,” murmured Mr. Darcy. The gentleman’s countenance turned grave. “There is another matter of which I wished to speak with you. I am certain you apprehend that Mr. Collins’s character is such that he will relate everything to my aunt the moment he returns to Hunsford—given his departure yesterday, it is possible he is doing it even now.”
“Of course,” replied Elizabeth. “As I mentioned to you at the ball, I realize this has always been a possibility.”
“The matter of his dealings with Miss Bingley will serve no other purpose than to make him look ridiculous in my aunt’s eyes, a truth she must already understand. If that were the only matter of concern, I should not bother myself, for Lady Catherine would not consider it worth her time to apply to Miss Bingley if she disagreed with her refusal. The same is not true of the matter between you and me.”