by Jann Rowland
“Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet,” said he in a grave and ponderous tone, “I thank you for the kind welcome you have bestowed upon me and for your gracious indulgence in accepting this proffered olive branch. Truly, you are to be praised, for it is the personal testimony of my patroness, the honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, that strife within a family is unseemly and must be rectified with alacrity to keep calamity from falling upon the heads of all. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for heeding the wisdom of these words and for accepting me to your comfortable and convenient abode. You are much to be praised!”
The Bennets regarded him with varying levels of shock; whatever they had been expecting, Elizabeth was certain that none of them could have expected a man such as this.
A moment later, Elizabeth was forced to revise this opinion, for she caught her father’s expression as he regarded his cousin. Mr. Bennet was watching the man with a dark smirk and an air of satisfaction etched upon his features. As he was the only one who had previously corresponded with Mr. Collins, he must have had some indication as to the man’s character, and it appeared that all his conjectures were turning out to be correct.
For a moment, Elizabeth wondered at exactly what sort of man her father was to actually enjoy the abject stupidity of another. Did he take great pride in the fact that Mr. Collins would not be a good steward of the land and that the estate would, in all likelihood, fall into disrepair after his death?
“I must commend you, Mrs. Bennet, on the elegance of the arrangements of this room,” Mr. Collins was saying at that moment. “I had not known what to expect, but it is clear that the estate is prosperous, and the comfort and quality of the house is only matched by the handsomeness of you and your daughters.”
It seemed that Mr. Collins was blind to the impropriety of his statements concerning the estate, and even if he could not see how his words would be construed, it appeared as if Mrs. Bennet was at that moment envisioning the very moment when Mr. Collins arrived and personally removed her from the house. Or so it seemed to Elizabeth, given the sudden pallor of her mother’s countenance.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Bennet did not descend into vapors. Instead, she took a deep breath to compose herself and returned Mr. Collins’s ridiculous civility with her own brand of politeness.
“I think you, Mr. Collins. You are certainly . . . welcome, at Longbourn. It is . . . so good of you to call.”
Mrs. Bennet fell silent after her halting welcome, and though it had been lukewarm and forced, Mr. Collins accepted it as if he had been welcomed as an old friend by the queen herself.
The parson’s arrival was only the beginning of the absurdities. Elizabeth quickly understood that Mr. Collins had only two things that he deemed worthy of conversation: Longbourn (and the compliments upon it which he seemed to think were necessary) and his patroness (of whom it seemed he could drone on endlessly). Of the first, any intelligent person would conclude that before long, such continuous flattery would begin to appear empty, but Mr. Collins remarked on anything which came into his head, no matter how small. Of the second, well, Elizabeth soon came to the conclusion that not only was his patroness a colossal bore, but she was also a meddling busybody.
“You appear to be rather . . . fortunate in your position, Mr. Collins,” observed Mr. Bennet at one point.
“Indeed, I am,” replied Mr. Collins, a rapturous expression of otherworldly ecstasy settling over his ugly face. “But I would not have you believe that the position is of itself the reason for my good fortune. No, that privilege is reserved for my gracious and condescending patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, she who has preferred me for the appointment to the position as rector of Hunsford.”
Mr. Collins leaned toward Elizabeth, who had been sitting quietly in a nearby chair, and said, “You must understand that my humble abode is so near to her ladyship’s estate of Rosings that I may walk there in as little as fifteen minutes. Indeed, the great estate is even visible from my upstairs chambers; the chimneys of Rosings rise majestically above the trees bordering her estate like the very heights of Olympus.”
“I believe you suggested that this Lady Catherine is the reason why Hunsford is such a sought-after parish, sir,” said Mr. Bennet.
“Yes, indeed, Cousin Bennet,” replied Mr. Collins. “Quite frankly, her ladyship is of such a splendid lineage and august position in society—and her understanding is so profound—that I doubt there is another position in all of England which can compare with Hunsford. And as it is situated in the very center of the garden of England, there can be no place on earth so blessed.”
Again, Mr. Collins leaned toward Elizabeth, and with an unctuous smile, he said: “You must understand that the mistress of Hunsford will reside in so desirable a position that she may only consider herself extremely fortunate.”
Elizabeth regarded the parson with a raised brow. “Then you are engaged, Mr. Collins?”
If anything, the parson’s unpleasant smile became all that much more pronounced, and he verily simpered at her. “I am indeed, Miss Elizabeth. She is a most fortunate woman, and I must say that I am extremely fortunate as well. Ours shall be a union of felicity and common purpose. I can scarcely wait for the nuptials so that I may spirit her back to Hunsford, where she may glory in the excellence of our position and give thanks and praise to Lady Catherine for the magnificence of her beneficence.”
Elizabeth could not imagine anyone giving praise for being tied to such a rank dullard. The way Mr. Collins spoke of his patroness, one might almost think the woman was deity made flesh.
Regardless, it seemed as if the man already had a fiancée, and that was something to be celebrated. Elizabeth could well imagine such an insensible man descending on his newly restored relations, intent upon gaining a wife from among his cousin’s daughters, congratulating himself on the magnanimous gesture of making amends to them for being the means for dispossessing them from their home. She was thankful that she did not have to worry about him fixing his attentions upon her.
That night at dinner saw a change in the usual seating arrangements. As they had a guest at dinner, he was seated at her father’s right hand. That this was not in the position of honor by the mistress a guest would usually occupy seemed to go unnoticed by the man in question, and though Elizabeth could not be certain, she suspected that Mrs. Bennet felt that her civility in welcoming the man did not extend to being seated next to him for dinner. To accommodate this change, Jane had been placed in Mary’s place, and though Elizabeth would have thought that she would have been left in her usual place, instead she was moved across the table and seated on the right of the ridiculous parson. It was not a place that she relished, but since he was primarily engaged in conversation with her father—though to be correct, he spoke almost continuously, whereas Mr. Bennet merely inserted a few comments which seemed to be designed to encourage his silliness—Elizabeth found herself able to bear his company.
But though most of his attention was on her father, he glanced over at her and flashed his oily smile too often for Elizabeth’s comfort. Several times, she had to force herself to suppress a shudder. She could not help but pity the woman who had agreed to become the man’s life partner. Elizabeth could not imagine anyone who could tolerate him!
Chapter XIV
The next day was uncomfortable for Elizabeth. After the previous night’s activities, she had retired, determined to suffer Mr. Collins’s company as little as she was able to manage. Thus, it was disconcerting that Mr. Collins seemed to be intent upon paying her attention above anyone else in the family. Why this was so perplexed Elizabeth, as the man had a fiancée by his own admission. She could think of no possible reason for him to single her out for his exclusive attention, but it seemed as if he had.
It started at breakfast that morning. As was her wont, Elizabeth was at the table before anyone else in her family except for her father, who made no comment when she entered the room. It was much to her surprise, then, when Mr. Collins appeared in
the breakfast room soon after Elizabeth had arrived. He was obviously tired and somewhat unkempt, and Elizabeth had the distinct impression that his appearance that morning had been made a good deal earlier than he was accustomed to.
His stupid countenance brightened upon seeing them, and he immediately went on a long monologue on the delight of family relations and the felicity in which he was eager to partake as an extended member of the Bennet family. Elizabeth sat and proceeded to allow her attention to wander, knowing that the parson rarely required a response and would not notice that she was paying him no heed whatsoever.
Her thoughts went back to a letter to the Gardiners that she had posted that morning, assuring them that everything was well at Longbourn. Elizabeth still wished that she had been at liberty to accompany them on their journey, but in an odd sort of way, she had become accustomed to the situation at Longbourn and her place within its walls. She knew that she would never be happy or truly comfortable there, but it was better than it had been when she arrived.
“I understand that you are a great walker and are very fond of nature, Miss Elizabeth.”
For a moment, Elizabeth was confused by the voice which brought her from her ruminations, but she was quickly able to discern that the parson expected a response from her.
Gathering her wits about her, Elizabeth was able to respond, “Indeed, I am quite fond of the outdoors, Mr. Collins.”
“Then perhaps when you depart for your constitutional today, you might show me some of your favorite vistas.”
Though she disliked the thought of walking about the countryside with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Mr. Bennet’s stony countenance, and she immediately understood that the man did not wish to antagonize his cousin, perhaps due to some belated sense of duty toward his family. And realizing that it would be impolite to demur, Elizabeth consented, albeit reluctantly, to the parson’s request.
“Excellent!” cried Mr. Collins. “I shall anticipate our constitutional with much pleasure.”
After eating breakfast, Elizabeth retreated to her room with a certain sense of dark glee. After her stated intention to return to her room, Mr. Collins had latched onto Mr. Bennet as his companion for the morning, following him to his bookroom, where Elizabeth believed he stayed. She felt a certain level of satisfaction at the action; as her father had seen fit to encourage the parson to be in her company, she thought it only fitting that he should be extended the same consideration.
It was some time later that morning when Elizabeth finally emerged, knowing that she could not delay her walk any longer without inviting her father’s censure. And after gathering her outer wear, she departed the house in the company of the detested Mr. Collins.
It quickly became apparent that despite Mr. Collins’s stated appreciation for nature and his suggestions that he liked nothing better than a stroll about the environs of his home, he was actually quite ill-suited for the activity. He was portly and ponderous, and it was not long before Elizabeth’s brisk pace rendered him breathless. But unfortunately, much like a fly buzzing about one’s head, he seemed determined not to free Elizabeth from his odious presence.
As they walked, though Mr. Collins often seemed incapable of even drawing breath, he kept up a monologue of conversation designed to praise his situation and his patroness.
“The parsonage is eminently suitable to a clergyman in my situation,” said he, “for it is not so large that its governance would keep me from my duties in the neighborhood, and it is not so small that it would fail to provide adequate comfort to a man of my influence.”
It was clear that the parson considered himself to be some sort of exalted personage by virtue of his entirely accidental position. And accidental, Elizabeth was certain it was—no one could employ such a man unless they were either insensible themselves or so convinced of their own importance that they required someone to praise them at all hours of the day and night.
On another occasion, he rhapsodized about his coming nuptials, declaring that his future wife would find herself in the most fortunate of circumstances. “Indeed, Lady Catherine is of such a generous and virtuous nature that my wife will no doubt benefit from her opinions and knowledge. For one cannot be allowed to stand before her august presence and emerge unscathed.”
Privately Elizabeth agreed with him; she doubted that any young woman could leave the lady’s presence without very strongly needing to purge herself of all the unwanted meddling that the old crone was almost certain to engage in.
The parson’s words were so abundant and his conversation all-encompassing that Elizabeth was quite unable to fit a word in of her own. It was not long before she began to consider how she could affect her escape. Unfortunately, the man resisted all attempts to separate from him, claiming that he was enjoying himself far too much for them to return to the house. And though Elizabeth continued to increase her pace, he gamely matched her, though the exertion soon began to affect even his ability to talk.
Finally, Elizabeth saw the spire of Longbourn church in the distance, and an idea entered her mind.
“I do not believe that you have met with Mr. Jones, the parson of Longbourn church. Would it not be polite for you to extend your greeting as a courtesy, Mr. Collins?”
Though Mr. Collins at first appeared to be somewhat affronted by her interruption of his monologue, his expression soon softened. He bowed low to her and said, “Your sense of duty does you credit, my dear cousin. I believe that this Mr. Jones would only benefit by the wisdom I bring. Please, lead me to him.”
Saying a silent prayer for her deliverance—and suppressing a snicker at the thought of Mr. Collins’s brand of wisdom—Elizabeth led the way to the church. Therein, they found Longbourn’s parson, a man who, though decrepit and likely senile, was a kindly old soul who performed his duties with a cheerfulness which could only be pleasing.
“Mr. Jones,” said Elizabeth as they stepped forward, “Mr. Collins has requested the honor of making your acquaintance. Mr. Collins is my father’s cousin and is visiting us for a few days.”
Of course, Mr. Jones was quite happy to be introduced to his patron’s cousin. But within moments, Mr. Collins had begun speaking with his distinct brand of civility, and soon thereafter, Mr. Jones was staring at him with unaffected incredulity. For an instant, Elizabeth felt guilty for leaving Mr. Collins with him, but she comforted herself in the knowledge that Mr. Jones, in addition to being a little senile, was more than a little deaf and would thus only actually hear one word in three.
While Mr. Collins was thus engaged, Elizabeth made her escape, edging from the room and then fairly running from the church. It was some time before she felt able to slacken her pace, relieved in the knowledge that she had managed to elude the parson.
For the next quarter hour, Elizabeth wandered, reveling in the freedom from the man’s rambling. And though she knew that she would eventually be required to return to Longbourn, she decided not to concern herself with such eventualities for now.
It was thus that she came upon Mr. Darcy. In truth, his sudden appearance startled Elizabeth, for she was rounding a bend on the narrow path she was traversing when suddenly he was there, sitting astride his great stallion. A moment later, he dismounted from his horse and greeted her with unfeigned pleasure, holding the reins in hand.
“How do you do, Miss Bennet?”
“I am very well, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “At least, I am very well now.”
Clearly confused, Mr. Darcy looked at her askance, and Elizabeth could not quite suppress a giggle.
“If you are at liberty, shall we walk as I tell you of the calamity which has befallen our family since you left me at Longbourn yesterday?”
This time, the corners of Mr. Darcy’s mouth rose with pleasure at her obvious jest. “I should like nothing better than to talk with you, Miss Bennet. Please lead the way.”
They began to walk, Elizabeth’s hand ensconced in the crook of Mr. Darcy’s arm, his horse trailing behind
them. Not much was said for those few moments, and the few words which did pass between them concerned inconsequential subjects. Elizabeth marveled at the ease of their interactions, which was such that even the most mundane of subjects could be made into the most interesting simply because it was Mr. Darcy with whom she spoke.
“I believe you promised me an explanation for the ‘calamity,’ as I believe you called it, which has befallen you.”
Elizabeth laughed. “It is not so much a calamity as it is a great imposition, sir. Yesterday evening, my father’s cousin, a Mr. Collins, arrived at Longbourn for a visit. He is, you must understand, my father’s heir due to the entailment upon the estate.”
Mr. Darcy frowned. “And the gentleman’s arrival is an imposition?”
“You would not question me so had you ever made the gentleman’s acquaintance, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins is a rank dullard of the first order, not to mention a fawning toady unlike any I have ever seen. The man talks incessantly and without requiring even a hint of a response, and he quotes his patroness as though her words were the very words of God himself.”
By this time, Mr. Darcy was chuckling at Elizabeth’s words. “Surely you exaggerate, Miss Bennet.”
“If you were to be introduced to the gentleman, I am sure you would take my side of the matter, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “I am certain that should I ever be introduced to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I should not know whether to laugh or be offended the first time she offered her wisdom to me.”