by Eliza Gordon
"I want to know what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham," said Elizabeth, her face no less smiling than her sister's. "But perhaps you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case you may be sure of my pardon."
"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him, but I have nothing satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally offended Mr. Darcy. Charles will vouch for the good conduct, the probity, and honour of his friend. He is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received. I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister's, Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard."
"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"
"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."
"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am satisfied. But what does he say of the what Wickham should have received from the late Mr. Darcy's estate?"
"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard them from Mr. Darcy more than once. Charles believes that it was left Wickham him conditionally only."
"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity, but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one, I dare say. He is unacquainted with several parts of the story and has learnt the rest from that friend. I shall venture to still think of both gentlemen as I did before," said Elizabeth warmly.
She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr. Bingley's regard. She said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it.
On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas.
Elizabeth inquired after the pleasantness of her last partner.
Charlotte had scarcely replied when Mr. Collins came up to them. He said with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery. "I have found out by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother, Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do. I trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology."
"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!"
"Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power to assure him that her Ladyship was quite well a week ago yesterday."
Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme. She assured him Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom rather than a compliment. It was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side. If it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance.
Mr. Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination. "My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your understanding. But permit me to say, that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy. I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom. You must thus allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide. In the case before us, I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself."
With a low bow, he left to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched. His astonishment at being so addressed was very evident.
Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow. Though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all. She saw in the motion of his lips the words "apology," "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." It vexed Elizabeth to see him expose himself to such a man.
Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder. When at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility.
Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again. Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of the second speech. At the end of it, Darcy only made a slight bow and moved another way.
Mr. Collins then returned to Elizabeth. "I have no reason, I assure you, to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility. He even paid me the compliment of saying that he was convinced Lady Catherine's could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him."
With no interest of her own to pursue, Elizabeth turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley. The train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She imagined Jane settled in that very house, in all the happiness which a marriage of true affection could bestow. She felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters.
Her mother's thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too much.
When they sat down to supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them near each other. Deeply vexed she found her mother talking to Lady Lucas of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon marry Mr. Bingley.
It was an animating subject. Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation. It was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection. Jane's marrying so greatly was such a promising thing for her younger sisters because it must throw them in the way of other rich men. Lastly, it was so pleasant for Mrs. Bennet, at her time of life, to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister. It freed the mother from the obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure because on such occasions it is the etiquette. Mrs. Bennet claimed she found the greatest comfort in staying home.
She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be as fortunate.
In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of Mrs. Bennet’s words, or persuade her to describe her great joy in a less audible whisper. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.
To make matters worse, Mrs Bennet's words were overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them.
"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."
"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!"
Nothing that she could say had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation.
She could not help glancing at Mr. Darcy, and every glance convinced her of what she dreaded. Though he was not always looking at her mother, his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of hi
s face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.
At length, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say. Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.
Elizabeth began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity. When supper was over, singing was talked of. She had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company.
By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of attempting to please. All in vain. Mary would not understand when an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her. She began her song.
Elizabeth's eyes fixed on her with most painful sensations. She watched Mary's progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close. On receiving, amongst the thanks of the table, after the pause of half a minute, Mary began another. Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected.
In agony from embarrassment by the display of one family member after another, Elizabeth looked at Jane, to see how she bore it. Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley.
His two sisters were making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued to look imperturbably grave.
Her father took the hint to interfere, lest Mary should be singing all night. When Mary had finished her second song, he said aloud, "That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."
Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted.
Elizabeth felt sorry for her and sorry for her father's speech, and afraid her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to.
"If I were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure in obliging the company with an air. I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and compatible with the profession of a clergyman," said Mr. Collins. "I do not mean to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music. There are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his sermons. The time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. He should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his position. I cannot acquit him of that duty. Nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the family."
With a bow to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room.
Many stared, many smiled, but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself. His wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly. She observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.
Had the Bennet family agreed to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success.
Fortunately, both for Bingley himself and her sister, some of the exhibition had escaped Charles Bingley's notice. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy should have such an opportunity of ridiculing the Bennet family, was bad enough. Elizabeth could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.
The rest of the evening brought Elizabeth little amusement. Mr. Collins persevered by her side though he could not prevail on her to dance with him again. In vain, she offered to introduce him to any young lady in the room.
He assured her, he was perfectly indifferent to dancing and that his chief object was to recommend himself to her. To achieve this, he would make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening.
There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them. Good-naturedly, she engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.
Elizabeth was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's further notice. Though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it the probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.
The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart. By a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, they had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone.
The delay gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue. They were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a languor over the whole party.
The waiting group were little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins. At length, he complimented Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which marked their behaviour to their guests.
Darcy said nothing at all.
Mr. Bennet, stood in equal silence.
Mr. Bingley and Jane stood together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other.
Elizabeth preserved as steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley.
Even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord, how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.
When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn. Addressing herself especially to Mr. Bingley. She assured he would make them most happy by eating a family dinner with them anytime, without the ceremony of a formal invitation.
Bingley was all grateful pleasure. He readily engaged. He would take the earliest opportunity, after his return from London, where he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
Chapter 16
The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon after breakfast, Mr. Collins addressed the mother. "May I hope for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, when I ask for the honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?"
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered, "Oh dear! Yes, certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy, I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you up stairs."
Kitty was hastening away when Elizabeth called out: "Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself."
"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are. Lizzy, I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins."
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction. A moment's consideration made her think it would be wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible. She sat down again and tried to conceal her feelings, which were divided between distress and diversion.
Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off.
As soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began. "Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, your modesty, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness. Allow me to assure you, that I have your respected mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, but your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble. My attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I run away with by my feelings on this subject, it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying. The reason for coming here with the des
ign of selecting a wife, as I did."
Having only seen solemn composure, the idea of Mr. Collins being run away with by his feelings made Elizabeth almost laugh. She could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further.
"My reasons for marrying are many. First, I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness. Thirdly, it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. The later point I ought to have mentioned earlier. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion on this subject, with out my asking too! It was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly. Choose a gentlewoman for my sake, and for your own. Let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, and bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' It was between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool. Allow me to observe, the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh is among advantages I offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe. Your wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general intention in favour of matrimony. The question remains why Longbourn instead of my neighbourhood, where I can assure you there are many amiable young women. The fact is, I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured father. I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters. I would hope the loss to them might be as little as possible when the melancholy event takes place. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection. To fortune I am indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father. I am well aware that it could not be complied with. One thousand pounds in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, I shall be uniformly silent. You may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."