by Jann Rowland
“Well, Lizzy?” said Mr. Bennet, his tone brimming with mirth. “What do you think of our esteemed guest?”
“I think he shall be difficult to tolerate,” interrupted Mrs. Bennet. “At the very least, he seems to have little understanding of proper behavior.”
“I wonder as to his purpose,” said Elizabeth. “Surely he does not think he can change your mind or regain his former position. He must be a rank dullard if he believes his disapproval will do anything other than result in his being banished from the estate forever.”
“There is little indication he is anything other than a dullard, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet. “I have great hope he will provide excessive amusement during his stay.”
While Mr. Bennet’s sense of humor was highly developed and tended toward the absurd, Elizabeth was not sure enduring Mr. Collins’s silliness would amuse any of them for long. In fact, she suspected he would grow intolerable before long.
Elizabeth had failed to take Mr. Collins’s measure, for he was far more objectionable than she might have imagined. Beginning with his descent after refreshing himself, the man proved himself to be small-minded, resentful, overbearing, and oddly enough, possessing a reverence for his patroness which bordered on worship. Elizabeth had never met someone who disgusted her as much as Mr. Collins, though when she thought on it, if she ever learned the truth about Mr. Wickham, it was possible he might even surpass the parson.
Mr. Collins was in no way appealing to any of the Bennet sisters. He was passably tall, his long, spindly legs protruding from the end of his trousers like a stork’s, his dress all in black as befitted a parson. There was a distinct paunch about his midsection and his hair was an oleaginous black, leading Elizabeth to believe he could not be bothered to wash, or even brush it, as it often appeared windblown and unkempt. The sonorous quality of his voice had a soporific effect on his listeners, and he often discounted the opinions of others, especially those of Mrs. Bennet and her daughters. There was altogether an objectionable quality in him which Elizabeth found difficult to endure.
“I hope you experienced a comfortable journey here, Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Bennet when the parson descended. It was an effort to be polite that Elizabeth thought was laudable in her mother.
“It was tolerable,” was Mr. Collins’s dismissive reply. “Though I am a clergyman and in possession of a valuable living, it is not right for a man to live beyond his means or practice extravagance. Thus, I traveled modestly, as my patroness demands. ‘Do not allow yourself to fall into the trap of profligacy, Mr. Collins,’ said she on more than one occasion. ‘A man in your position cannot be too careful. Your future depends on your frugal nature, and it is a good example to set for the parish.’”
“Wise words,” murmured Mr. Bennet. “I find myself curious, sir. There have been many times you have referenced your patroness in your letters in recent months. From what you have said, I must assume she is a woman of prominence in society?”
Finally, there was some warmth in Mr. Collins’s manners, though he did not direct it at anyone present. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Yes, Mr. Bennet, you are correct, for she is the daughter of an earl and the widow of a knight of the realm. The property she inhabits, called Rosings Park, is a veritable jewel among estates, and Lady Catherine takes prodigious care of it. There is nothing beyond her capacity, and her wisdom is beyond compare. I feel my extreme fortune in having such a guide and mentor. And you all share my fortune in some small way.”
“Oh?” asked Mr. Bennet. “I am eager to hear what she has condescended to opine which will lead to our good fortune. What can you mean?”
“Why, it was by her advice I have come to you!” cried Mr. Collins. “It was she who advised me in my conduct. ‘Mr. Collins,’ said she, ‘it is not proper to be estranged from your only living family. Though they have done you grievous harm, it is Christian to forgive. I urge you to do so at the earliest opportunity!’
“Thus, it was by her wise counsel I decided to attempt a rapprochement, though I wondered if you were deserving of my forgiveness. Though I have been treated in an infamous manner, I hope we may come together, to share the bonds of family and forge new relationships between us.”
“That is quite . . . magnanimous of you,” said Mr. Bennet.
“It is—yes, it is, indeed,” said Mr. Collins, missing the sarcasm in Mr. Bennet’s reply. “It is my hope this visit will be a fruitful one.”
Mr. Collins’s continually flowery speeches, his praise of his absent patroness, and his self-congratulation for his ability to forgive them all characterized the rest of the time before dinner. Then he turned and requested invitations to the Bennet sisters. Kitty and Lydia, he dismissed as young and foolish, by action if not by word, though Mary seemed to garner greater approval due to her own interest in religious topics. Elizabeth found herself the recipient of his disapproving sneer after she had made a comment he deemed improper. It was to Jane he turned most of his attention.
“I feel myself very fortunate to have made your acquaintance in particular,” said Mr. Collins, fixing Jane with an unctuous smile during their dinner. “Can I thank you and your sister Elizabeth for the delightfully prepared meal we are fortunate enough to partake?”
“We can well afford a cook, Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Bennet with more than a little asperity. “My girls are gentlewomen—they do not toil in the kitchen.”
“Ah, then I apologize for my unthinking words, Mrs. Bennet!” said the parson, though Mrs. Bennet did not appear at all appeased. “That is excellent news for it shows prosperity to be envied. Perhaps, however, in the interest of economy, you might consider bearing more of the burden of the house yourselves. From what I have seen, Longbourn is not a large estate—certainly nothing to Rosings Park. As my patroness has often said, thrift is a quality to be prized. Perhaps more could be put away in favor of a future crisis if your daughters shared the work in the house.”
While Mrs. Bennet was offended to the point of apoplexy, Mr. Bennet seemed about to burst out in laughter. For a moment Elizabeth thought her mother was on the cusp of saying something pointed. But she swallowed whatever she was thinking and only nodded, though in a clipped fashion.
“Thank you for your advice, Mr. Collins. But I am certain my husband and I, having many years of experience, understand what we can afford and what we cannot.”
“And perhaps a governess is an inadvisable expense,” continued Mr. Collins, oblivious to his hostess’s rising anger. “Your youngest daughters are what, seventeen and eighteen years of age?”
“Kitty is seventeen and Lydia is fifteen,” supplied Mr. Bennet.
“That is much too old to have a governess!”
“Perhaps it is,” replied Mr. Bennet, preventing an explosion of temper from his wife. “But Mrs. Garret does not serve as a governess. She provides the service of a companion and continued tutelage in their education. We are not unable to afford her services, sir.”
It was clear what Mrs. Garret thought of Mr. Collins, for she was not in the habit of allowing ridiculous behavior in her charges. Mr. Collins continued to look at her with distaste before something else caught his eye.
“And is this joint of beef not too large? Waste not, want not, as we have been told in the Holy Bible.”
“It occurs to me to wonder at this inquisition, Cousin,” said Mr. Bennet, his own humor being replaced by annoyance. “Please rest assured everything we do is carefully considered, from the size of our meals to the work I do to care for the estate, to Mrs. Bennet’s decisions regarding the house. If it does not meet with your approval, I am sorry for you. Nothing will be changed, however, so there is little point in continuing to criticize.”
“If I have offended, I am mortified, Cousin.” In fact, Mr. Collins appeared anything but mortified. “It is a subject I should not have raised. I shall refrain from speaking until the occasion demands it.”
It was clear to Elizabeth that Mr. Bennet did not know to wha
t Mr. Collins referred, but as the parson turned and spoke to Jane, he decided to leave well enough alone. A moment later Mr. Bennet caught Elizabeth’s eye and grinned. But it seemed to her he had realized the possible drawbacks of Mr. Collins’s presence outweighed the amusement he provided. Had he asked Elizabeth for her opinion on the matter, she would have informed him of it from the outset.
The truth of Elizabeth’s suppositions was proven, as within a day there was no member of the family who could tolerate Mr. Collins’s company. Nothing was above his notice, and he criticized everything with equal attention and fervor. The family was given to understand that his management would have been so much better, that the estate would have been the picture of paradise had he been the master.
The way he spoke of himself, to the girls, in particular, suggested he thought himself the essence of male attraction. In fact, Kitty and Lydia could not abide his company and stayed with Mrs. Garret as much as they could manage—something they had never done willingly before. Mary seemed able to tolerate him better than the others, though Elizabeth often witnessed a grim set to her mouth or a tightening around her eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet avoided the man as much as possible. As for Elizabeth, she could not avoid him as much as she wished, for she could see what his purpose was in visiting Longbourn.
“Dearest Cousin,” said Mr. Collins to Jane the morning after his arrival, “shall we not take a turn around the park? Though it does not compare to Rosings, it seems to be a prettyish sort of wilderness. I should like to become better acquainted with you, and I am certain you wish to know me better.”
It appeared Jane did not know what to say. Elizabeth doubted she understood the thrust of Mr. Collins’s words, though to Elizabeth herself they were as clear as if he had stood on a chair and announced his attention to wed Jane to the room. It seemed that Mr. Collins had decided if he could not obtain the estate through the entail, he was determined to get it through marriage.
At length, Jane consented and joined him. Mr. Bennet frowned at the gentleman, understanding what Elizabeth had, but he made no objection. When Elizabeth announced her intention to accompany them, Mr. Bennet nodded in approval, though she could see that Mr. Collins did not appreciate her attendance.
Thus commenced Mr. Collins’s campaign, one which was punctuated by his singular brand of silliness. The walk outside was followed by his constant attendance on Jane whenever she was available. More than once Elizabeth had to stifle her laughter at the man’s inept manner of conducting his wooing.
“I am certain you will apprehend the honor of my homage, Cousin,” Mr. Collins would say. “You cannot have been more complimented by any other man, I am sure.
“Shall we not sit and discuss Fordyce? He has informed me as being a man of Godliness, one who instructs us all as if with the voice of the Most High.
“The parsonage, which you will see anon, is perfectly situated in a strand of trees, with a magnificent view of the house at Rosings Park in the distance. It shall be most adequate for you until that unhappy day when you must take up the duty of mistress of this fine estate.
“Ah, I cannot imagine any such bliss as this! My being taken with such a woman as you must be as agreeable as your meeting a man who would suit you in every particular!”
In this, a dull specimen such as Mr. Collins had no inkling of the truth of the matter. Elizabeth was convinced that Jane understood the meaning of Mr. Collins’s. Unable to offend anyone, however, Jane had no power to refute the parson’s words or induce him to leave her be. Thus, she endured his attentions without protest. Jane was a saint, but Elizabeth could not think her reticence did her any good in this instance.
By the time two days had passed, every member of the Bennet family was longing for Mr. Collins’s absence. Jane and Elizabeth especially wished some distance from the man—even Mr. Wickham’s civility did not seem so evil when compared with Mr. Collins. Thus, they determined to walk into Meryton to escape him. But even that was thwarted when Mr. Collins discovered their design.
“A walk would be just the thing! And I shall claim my cousin Jane’s hand for the duration, for I am eager to see the scenes of which I have heard so much.”
That was a bald-faced lie, and Elizabeth wondered how Mr. Collins could say it with a straight face. No one could speak more than a word or two in the face of the man’s ubiquitous conversation.
Thus thwarted, there was no choice but to go regardless. They set off, the three eldest sisters along with their unwelcome guest, walking much quicker than was their wont. As they walked, Elizabeth, striding beside Mary, took the opportunity to whisper to her.
“Take care and watch Mr. Collins, Mary. If there is an opportunity to give Jane a respite, we should seize it.”
Mary, who had been watching the parson with increased distaste, nodded. Soon they reached Meryton.
As luck would have it, their sortie into town did not escape the other man Jane had avoided of late. Though Elizabeth could not be certain, it seemed to her like Mr. Wickham had been skulking about, waiting for their appearance. As was their custom, they strolled along the main street, looking into the shops as they walked, and they had not gone a quarter of the distance before the officer made his appearance.
“Miss Bennet!” exclaimed he as he strode up to them, a broad smile on his face. “And Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary! How fortunate it is to meet you fine ladies today. How do you do?”
“We are well, Mr. Wickham,” replied Elizabeth, speaking for her sisters. An idle thought made itself known, and she wondered how the two men would react to each other. She would not need to wait long to discover it.
“Who is this . . . gentleman?” asked Mr. Collins, his lip curled with distaste.
Elizabeth did not know which man had precedence, not knowing much of Mr. Wickham’s past or the level of society his family inhabited. Regardless, she decided his question was enough to make the introduction.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” said Mr. Wickham, bowing to Mr. Collins.
If he expected the parson to respond in like fashion, Mr. Wickham would be disappointed. Rather than stating his pleasure in return, Mr. Collins regarded the officer with a searching look. When he spoke, it was with little warmth.
“Quite.” Then he turned to Jane. “Shall we not continue up the street? I am certain there is much more of interest to see in this charming town.”
“It would be my pleasure to accompany you,” said Mr. Wickham. “Please, Miss Bennet—allow me to escort you.”
“That will not be necessary,” said Mr. Collins, clutching Jane’s arm as if it was his property. “Miss Bennet is walking with me.”
Directing Jane forward, Mr. Collins kept a firm grasp of her hand on his arm, speaking to her as they moved away. While Elizabeth might have expected Mr. Wickham to respond with similar acrimony, she could see he felt nothing but amusement. He offered his arm to Elizabeth with alacrity—Mary had followed Jane, keeping a close eye on Mr. Collins—and turned to follow the rest of the party.
“It seems you have a . . . an interesting houseguest, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, hilarity alive in his voice.
“Interesting does not even begin to describe him, Mr. Wickham,” said Elizabeth, forgetting for the moment she did not trust the man. “Before he came we had never made his acquaintance. Now we all wish we never had.”
Laughter welled up from Mr. Wickham’s breast. “I dare say I understand your meaning very well!”
Soon, however, Elizabeth had occasion to remember her antipathy for Mr. Wickham, for he seemed to delight in poking at Mr. Collins. His method of doing so was, of course, to pay his own addresses to Jane. Soon the two men were vying for the greater part of her notice in the middle of Meryton’s busiest street.
“Come, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Wickham a few moments later. “I have not spoken to you in several days now. You and your family have been well, I trust?”
“Oh, look!” interrupted Mr. Collin
s before Jane could respond. “There is a beautifully bound bible in the bookseller’s shop. Perhaps I should buy it—would it not make a lovely family heirloom!”
“If such things are to your taste,” said Mr. Wickham. “To be honest, I much prefer a more inward form of worship, but I do not think our Lord puts much stock on flowery pronouncements and finely crafted Bibles.”
Having never seen Mr. Wickham express even an ounce of interest in anything religious—and he had not attended church since his arrival—Elizabeth doubted his words. But Mr. Collins considered them an affront.
“Should not every good thing be obtained with an eye toward the glory of God? I would not expect you to understand it, sir, but I am a servant of God, and am in a much better position to judge than you.”
“You may preach, but you are no better than any other man in God’s sight,” replied Mr. Wickham. Then he turned to Jane. “Let us walk together, Miss Bennet, for there is a bolt of cloth in the dressmaker’s window which I think would suit you well.”
Jane looked at Mr. Wickham with skepticism, but she allowed him to lead her way, responding to his words when he spoke. Mr. Collins followed close behind, and Elizabeth thought he might be gnashing his teeth in frustration. When they arrived at the dressmaker’s, Wickham proved himself to possess good taste, for it was a color Elizabeth might have chosen for her sister herself. But Mr. Collins inserted himself once again.
“Though I would never dispute a woman’s desire to appear to best advantage for her suitor, I do not think Miss Bennet is the sort to be vain. Come, Miss Bennet, let us continue walking.”
Jane’s hand once again claimed, she allowed herself to be led away, though Elizabeth was certain her sister’s distress was building. Acting to prevent continued improprieties, Elizabeth stepped up to Mr. Wickham and scolded him.