Once patriotism had been exhausted, there was a brief pause.
Am I meant to speak now? Need I bother? Mr. Collins seems quite content with one-sided conversations. Indeed, it looks as though he is trying to think of something to say.
Mr. Collins was frowning, and his face was screwed up in concentration.
Perhaps he has forgotten his original subject.
But then he was off again, reiterating his certainty that Lady Catherine would approve his request. In an almost word-perfect repeat of the previous day, her generosity and benevolence were commended.
I believe we have been here before.
“…the most amiable person…” And Mr. Collins still was not done. Nor out of breath.
I wonder if he is in the habit of giving some very long sermons. Or perhaps he saves his voice for more important purpose.
“I took the liberty of telling her ladyship that you are in excellent health,” Mr. Collins said next. “While that fact was never confirmed between us, it was made obvious by your robust appearance.”
And here comes the flattery.
“…the healthiest man in England…”
As sycophantism goes, it could be worse. This effort is about as feeble as Miss Bingley’s praise of my handwriting.
Perhaps Mr. Collins also felt his own ineptitude. His compliments floundered and then dwindled to a trickle. For another brief moment, he appeared at a loss for words. Here was a chance for Mr. Darcy to speak if he wished, but he did not. Over his tormentor’s shoulder, he saw Elizabeth laughing with her father. Her face was lit up in that way which became her so well. It was far more pleasurable to admire her than to make any attempt at conversing with Mr. Collins.
But at least I have saved her from his company. For her sake, I would listen to the man speak hour after hour without complaining. At least not aloud. In my mind, I would complain a great deal, but to spare her, I would sacrifice myself. She looks so happy now, especially compared to yesterday. Her father may have his faults, but his conversation appears to be highly entertaining.
These thoughts were interrupted by the return of Mr. Collins’s voice. Apparently he had successfully rearranged his ideas and settled upon another subject.
“I have been reading over my part, and I am very pleased with it. Mr. Dogberry is a wonderfully perceptive man. He has some excellent notions.”
Evidently Mr. Bennet caught this remark, for he looked their way with evident amusement. It concerned Mr. Darcy that the man was not more ashamed of his foolish relative, but then he thought of the mortification which Elizabeth had endured yesterday. Perhaps it was better to counteract one’s troubles with humour. She certainly looked less troubled today, which might have something to do with her father’s lack of gravity.
But had Mr. Bennet made any effort to explain the part to Mr. Collins? Perhaps that had been impossible, but Mr. Darcy could not help wondering if he had deliberately allowed, or even encouraged, this idea that the fool of the play was really a man of intellect. Was that reprehensible of him, or could the foolish parson be considered fair game?
Mr. Collins turned to Miss Bingley now. “You were quite correct in thinking it just the right part for me. I particularly liked my character’s speech about putting God before criminals. That is a very suitable thing for a clergyman to say. There was just one small problem.”
He paused in evident hesitation, which was strange for somebody who had spoken so openly on the previous day, but Mr. Bennet stepped in and supplied the missing information. “Mr. Collins thought it unwise of Dogberry to be so free with the information that he had been insulted.”
“I can understand why he would wish his complaint to be noted,” Mr. Collins said, “but I fear that in consequence too much attention is brought to it. There was one word in particular which was repugnant to me.”
“He means,” Mr. Bennet clarified, “that he does not care to say the word ass.”
“I do not think it suitable for a clergyman to use such language,” Mr. Collins said apologetically. “Especially one who is in the service of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Dogberry is very sensible in all other respects, but I feel that he errs in repeating the exact nature of the insult which was directed against him.”
“Your feelings are perfectly understandable,” Miss Bingley said without even a sneer.
Mr. Darcy was surprised by her cordiality toward Mr. Collins. He would have expected her to be just as much entertained as Mr. Bennet was, and with an added malice to her amusement. She had certainly been amused yesterday, and so had her sister, but now Mrs. Hurst was also remarkably pleasant.
“It will be no trouble to have some of your lines adjusted,” she said in a very amiable voice. “Mr. Darcy is undertaking all the necessary changes to the play. He will be happy to accommodate your needs.”
Mr. Darcy was not exactly happy about supplanting a great playwright, but he agreed to find some substitution for the offending line. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Collins set about expressing his gratitude, which included a certainty that the substitution would be a work of genius.
“Hardly that,” Mr. Darcy protested. “I only hope to be adequate.”
“Adequate! My dear Mr. Darcy, that is impossible. A man of your distinction cannot fail to be a great deal more than adequate.”
Here we go again. More compliments to endure.
Fortune was on Mr. Darcy’s side, however. The door opened again, two more visitors were announced, and Mr. Collins had to give way to Sir William, who was desiring to express his own gratitude for being offered a part. At least this was largely directed toward Mr. Bingley.
The appearance of Charlotte Lucas with her father was a surprise to Mr. Darcy, as was her explanation that she had been invited to undertake the duty of prompting. He had not yet heard of this, but thought it a very good idea. He doubted that Mr. Collins’s ability at making speeches would extend to memorizing ones written by Mr. Shakespeare or Mr. Darcy.
The young lady’s arrival was also very obviously pleasing to Elizabeth, which pleased Mr. Darcy. He could comprehend what it meant for her to have friends in this environment where Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had not been welcoming, and her cousin might embarrass her at any moment.
In a few more minutes, Colonel Forster and Captain Carter also arrived.
“The others were just behind us. They will be along in a moment,” the colonel said. “Among them is a new officer – a very amiable gentleman who is making an excellent addition to our regiment. I have no doubt that you will all like him as much as we do.”
The remaining officers appeared in two more sets of two: first Mr. Pratt and Mr. Chamberlayne, and then Mr. Denny, accompanied by a gentleman who was no stranger to Mr. Darcy. A gentleman whose presence was startling, shocking, and deeply disturbing.
“This is my good friend, Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Denny said. “He has only just come to join the regiment. His timing, as usual, is impeccable, for he has some acting experience.”
Oh yes, Mr. Darcy thought. A great deal of acting experience. Mr. Wickham has an exceptional talent for playing such roles as a loyal friend, a devoted godson, and an ardent lover. He is very skilled at deceiving people.
He was playing a role now. That of an amiable gentleman. Shock and uncertainty had flashed across his face, but those feelings had quickly been concealed, and now he was smiling and declaring his pleasure at being included in what was certain to be a delightful entertainment.
Mr. Darcy wanted to get up and throw him out, but there was nothing to be done. He had neither the right nor the desire to make a spectacle of himself. Anyway, as one of the officers, Mr. Wickham was an invited guest. And as a guest, he was at that very moment being warmly welcomed by Mr. Bingley, who knew nothing of the truth.
With a very amiable reply, charming manners, and his usual talent for ingratiating himself, Mr. Wickham was sealing his acceptance. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who were usually so particular in their associations, echoed their brother’s w
arm hospitality. Even Mr. Hurst sat up and took some notice of a new face.
His friends’ cordiality left Mr. Darcy with no choice but to acknowledge his own introduction, but he did so with a frosty nod and then watched discontentedly as everybody else expressed pleasure at meeting Mr. Wickham. They smiled at him, and he smiled back, with his gaze lingering on Elizabeth, which heightened Mr. Darcy’s displeasure. And she was looking at her new acquaintance with admiration, which added to Mr. Darcy’s misery.
Mr. Wickham appeared to have swiftly gained the approval of the entire company, except perhaps for Mr. Collins, who was looking disgruntled, presumably because he did not like the attentions being paid to the object of his intentions. But he was alone in withholding admiration.
It was like a scene from Mr. Darcy’s youth, when so many people had also been blind to the truth and steadfast in their approval of Wickham. His own father had been one of them, always believing that his adored godson could do no wrong.
Mr. Darcy had tried a few times to convince his father otherwise, but his arguments had been swept aside. All had been attributed to misunderstanding, and on one occasion to jealousy. That was the last time he had said anything.
It would be the same with everybody else. It always was. Unless Mr. Darcy was willing to reveal a very personal secret, which he was not, he could not prove himself to have good reason for requiring the man’s departure. Perhaps not even if he did reveal the truth. Some people might think that he had been the one in the wrong by separating a couple attached to each other, or some such nonsense.
As far as he could see, there was nothing to be done about this dreadful situation. Nothing except to flee from it.
CHAPTER 14
For never was a story of more woe…
ROMEO AND JULIET, ACT V, SCENE III
Mr. Darcy was being rude again. In the past few days, Elizabeth’s ideas of him had been challenged, but this morning he was very much the man whom she disliked. He had acknowledged the officers in a sullen manner, and now he was ignoring the entire company.
He appeared to have taken a particular dislike to the new officer. She had noticed his icy treatment of Mr. Wickham, who must be puzzled by such an appearance of hostility. The unfortunate lieutenant had immediately gained her sympathy. When she saw him quickly compose himself and smile warmly at the rest of the company, he also gained her admiration.
She was not at all averse to having him sit beside her, which he did in consequence of Charlotte changing seats to discuss something with Colonel Forster. Mr. Wickham was a worthy substitute for the company of a good friend. His manner and his conversation were very pleasant, and unlike Mr. Darcy, he was full of approval for all he had seen in Meryton.
“It is a charming town,” he said. “Both in its appearance and in the behaviour of its inhabitants. I met some friendly people yesterday, and I have already received two invitations to dine, one of them for this very evening. Denny said that the officers have been treated very cordially, but I had not expected so much hospitality.”
Mr. Wickham showed no signs of resentment for Mr. Darcy’s coldness, which was also to his credit. Elizabeth considered the new officer to be an excellent addition to the regiment and to their society. His cheerful manner was much to her taste, and she was certain that it would make him popular in all the neighbourhood.
They only had a little conversation before Miss Bingley called for everybody’s attention.
“We are waiting for one more arrival, but in the meantime, you might like to look over this list of the roles which need filling and decide how to distribute them among yourselves.” She handed over a list, saying to Colonel Forster, “You should have the part of Don John, since he has the most speeches.”
A matter of rank again, but she has not bothered to consider that Don John is illegitimate, Elizabeth thought with amusement.
“If you do not mind being a villain,” Mrs. Hurst added.
“Not at all,” the colonel replied. “It will be an interesting role. He is a sullen man, I believe?”
“He is,” Mr. Bingley confirmed. “Nothing like you, Colonel Forster.”
“I shall enjoy the challenge.”
There was much merriment among the officers as they sorted out their roles. Mr. Denny suggested that Mr. Wickham should be the friar because he had the look of a clergyman. “There is a great deal of goodness in your countenance,” he said to his friend.
“What a dreadful thing to say about an officer,” Mr. Pratt joked. “An appearance of goodness is of no use to us. It will give the men the idea they can get away with anything.”
Mr. Wickham laughed along with the others, and then he said, “In that case, I had better make a great effort to adopt a fierce countenance. Perhaps the parson had best be played by somebody else.”
“It should be Pratt,” Mr. Chamberlayne said. “His mother wanted him to go into the church.”
“She did,” Mr. Pratt confirmed. “Unfortunately for her, I had not the inclination for it. Nor the countenance.”
As Elizabeth laughed at this, she noticed that Mr. Collins did not look amused. Presumably he did not care for any form of joking about clergymen. Mr. Darcy was also looking excessively disgruntled.
It was agreed that Mr. Pratt would play the friar, to which he replied that his mother would be delighted to read of this honour in his next letter.
Then Colonel Forster said, “If you are wanting to practice looking less benevolent, Wickham, you must join the side of villainy with me. What do you say to playing Borachio?”
The suggestion elicited fresh laughter from everybody except Mr. Darcy, which was not surprising, and Mr. Collins, who probably did not care for joking about villainy either.
Perhaps I could rid myself of him by joking about villainous clergymen.
Elizabeth was enjoying the merriment of their group and feeling that it boded well for the future comfort of their rehearsals. She had already found many of the officers to be good-humoured, and Mr. Wickham was no exception.
Mr. Darcy continued to be moody, however, and he was glaring at Mr. Wickham in particular. It was just like him to take somebody in aversion for no good reason at all, but perhaps a little unusual for him to be so intent upon it. Elizabeth glanced his way several times and saw no alteration in his hostile expression, or change in the apparent object of it, which made her wonder if there was something more to this than just his usual arrogance.
The arrival of the last guest increased her curiosity. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a tall, handsome gentleman, rather like Mr. Darcy, except for having a pleasant expression. That only lasted for a moment, however, and then he also took up the torch of hostility. His smile dropped the moment he looked at the officers, and his glare also seemed to be directed particularly at Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth could only think that both gentlemen had some acquaintance with the new officer, and probably a great dislike for him.
The puzzled look which Colonel Fitzwilliam then gave his cousin was further evidence of this idea. There was clearly something going on. Mr. Darcy made some hasty introductions, and he interrupted Mr. Collins’s enthusiastic speech of welcome to another of Lady Catherine’s nephews in order to rush himself and his cousin out of the room.
The awkwardness of this was mitigated by Mr. Bingley saying that they would just wait for Colonel Fitzwilliam to get settled in before making a start on their rehearsals. Conversations began again, and Elizabeth saw that Mr. Collins was now looking eagerly in her direction, but fortunately there was not a seat to be had in her vicinity. She was very glad that Mr. Wickham remained where he was.
“I believe I was speaking of hospitality,” he said. “I have been told that I may expect all manner of pleasant entertainments this winter, which sounds most agreeable. I am a social man and very fond of good company. Such an excellent beginning makes me confident of being exceptionally content this winter.”
Elizabeth thought that it was exceptionally tolerant of him to overlook Mr. Darcy and his c
ousin.
“I considered myself very fortunate at being offered the opportunity to act in this play as well. At the last minute one more person was needed to make up the half dozen which I understood Mr. Bingley had requested, and I jumped at the chance.”
“I hope you will not come to regret your participation,” she said. “From Mr. Darcy’s behaviour this morning, I have formed the apprehension that he means to be unpleasant to you. I thought your forbearance commendable, but you must have been made uncomfortable by his cold manner.”
“It was a bit of a shock, but I learned a long time ago not to let Darcy cause me discomfort.”
“I take it that you are acquainted.”
“Very well acquainted. We have almost nothing to do with each other these days, but there was a time in our lives when we were friends. We grew up together, and I was his constant companion for many years.”
“You astonish me. How could he have been so cold toward you this morning? Oh! You need not answer that. I should not ask about your private affairs.”
“I take no offense. He has already made it obvious that there is a rift between us. Indeed, if you do not mind me unburdening myself upon you, it would give me some relief to explain my current dilemma and to seek your advice on the matter.”
Elizabeth assured him that she was happy to be of assistance, and he proceeded to give her an account of his childhood at Pemberley, his deep affection for the late Mr. Darcy, who had been his guardian, and his youthful friendship with the only son of the house. Then he described the souring of that friendship, which had caused him a great deal of sorrow, and the jealousy which had turned his former friend into an adversary, eager upon thwarting all his chances and destroying all his dreams.
Much Ado About Many Things Page 7