A/N Given my feelings about his manner during his proposal, I have taken quite a delight in making Mr Collins as clueless as possible.
This story is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own. Thank you to those that pointed out the last chapter was riddled with them, I shall go back at some point to do a full edit, but I thought for now I would focus what little time I have for writing on progressing the story.
As always, so you so much for your reviews and feedback. Also, welcome all new readers, there were quite a few of you over the Christmas period. Please keep favouriting and reviewing! Enjoy x
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Friday 11th November 1796
Elizabeth had remained at Netherfield only until the next morning, assured of her son's good care with her family but missing him nonetheless. Jane's fever had broken during the night, and Elizabeth was content to leave her to tender affections of the Netherfield party, though she promised to visit each day until her elder sister was able to return home. On one such visit she was accompanied by Miss Charlotte Lucas, a dear friend to both the eldest Bennet girls, and as such was granted a valuable second opinion on the suspicions which had been brewing all week.
Mr Bingley was nurturing tender feelings for her sister. Of that much she was certain. To Elizabeth, it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a way to be very much in love. But she was concerned that this regard would not be obvious to others, since Jane united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent.
Elizabeth mentioned this to Miss Lucas during a large gathering at Lucas Lodge.
"It is sometimes a disadvantage," Charlotte observed, "to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely - a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a woman had better show more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."
"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it too."
"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do."
"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out."
"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. Their interaction of late has been a happy coincidence, born of her illness and his present immobility. Now that she has returned to Longbourn, she cannot see him often – he surely shall not dance for months, and I am certain his leg should not tolerate a carriage-ride for some time, so he cannot call on her. Jane should therefore make the most of every half-hour which she can spend in his company. She must command his attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses."
"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in question but the desire of being well married, and if one were determined to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say one should adopt it. But these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of its reasonableness. She has not known him for long, nor spend any significant time in his company. She has danced four dances with him before the accident, dined together thrice and have seen each other at Netherfield when their ailments eased enough for their paths to cross. This is not quite enough to allow her to understand his character."
"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life."
"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself. I certainly did not. I knew quite enough of my Fitzwilliam's defects to know that I should love him regardless."
Engrossed in her conversation with Miss Lucas, Elizabeth had not noticed the gentleman across the room whose eyes seemed drawn to her – each time he looked away, his gaze somehow returned. He was powerless to stop it.
Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball. When they next met, he was wholly occupied with more important matters, pertaining to their mutual relations and mutual grief. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself that she hardly had a good feature in her face – and that her beauty was of little importance anyway - than he began to find her countenance rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. He acknowledged her figure to be light and pleasing, bearing all the softness of a mother and all the strength of an active woman. Her manners were easy and playful, her mind was sharp and her tongue was quick to both cut and comfort, as needed. To these discoveries succeeded one quite mortifying: he had not confined himself to learning how his cousin had fallen in love with such an unconventional woman, and instead found himself getting lost in her fine eyes.
Troubled by this discovery but unable pull himself away, Mr Darcy attended to Elizabeth's conversations without the clarity of mind to speak himself. Having grown accustomed to the man expressing his opinions to her, despite his often withdrawn nature, his silence drew Elizabeth's notice.
"What does Mr. Darcy mean," she wondered aloud, "by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster without contributing?"
"That", replied Charlotte, "is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer."
On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such a subject to him; which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and said:
"Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"
"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady energetic."
"You are severe on us."
"It will be her turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."
"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend! Always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers. I am perfectly happy to keep my love of the instrument to myself."
On Miss Lucas's persevering, however, she added, "Very well, if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with: 'keep your breath to cool your porridge' and I shall keep mine to swell my song."
Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.
Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end of the room.
Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at the turn of the evening. He had been chivvied out of the door by Binlgey, who felt he was falling back into reclusive habits, and what better way to pass the evening that to accompany Miss Bingley and Mr and Mrs Hurst to a local gathering. He was much engrossed by his troubling thoughts, to the exclusion of all conversation, and did not perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began:
"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society."
"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance."
Sir William only smiled. "I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy."
"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."
"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James's?"
"Never, sir."
"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"
"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it."
"You have a house in town, I conclude?"
Mr. Darcy bowed.
"I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself, for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas."
He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to her:
"My dear Mrs Fitzwilliam, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very accomplished partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you."
Mr Darcy, however much he wished to take Elizabeth's hand, or perhaps because of this very desire, drew back and said with some discomposure to Sir William,
"Indeed, sir, I had not the least intention of dancing. Please excuse me." With this gruff parting, Mr Darcy turned his back and was gone.
oOoOoOo
Monday 14th November 1796
"I hope, my dear," Mr Bennet said to his wife as they were at breakfast, "that you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."
"What do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in – and I hope my dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe she sees such at home."
"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger. In fact, it is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life."
This roused a general astonishment; Mr Bennet had the pleasure of being eagerly questioned by his wife and five daughters at once. After amusing himself for some time with their curiosity, he thus explained,
"About a month ago I received this letter," he said, brandishing the offending missive, "and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."
"Oh! my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that mentioned. Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your own children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago to do something or other about it."
Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to her the nature of an entail. They had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on which Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.
"Why it is a very lucky thing that Lizzy was able to catch the Colonel before he found himself dead, for if we did not have Somerford to move to when Mr Collins takes possession of this estate, then we should have been thrown out to the hedgerows."
"It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet, "and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself."
"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false friends. Why could he not keep on quarrelling with you, as his father did before him?"
"Why, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that head, as you will hear."
"Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15th October.
"Dear Sir,—
"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance. My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh," at this, Elizabeth raised a brow and leaned in, "whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.
"As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within in the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, 14th November, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.
"I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
"WILLIAM COLLINS."
"At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman," said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. "He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so indulgent as to let him come to us again."
"There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and if he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to discourage him."
"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can mean to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his credit."
Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Lady Catherine - who by report she knew to be quite lacking in the benevolence he described - and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying his parishioners whenever it was required.
"He must be an oddity, I think," said she. "I cannot make him out; there is something very pompous in his style. And what can he mean by apologising for being next in the entail? We cannot suppose he would help it if he could. He can hardly be a sensible man."
"Indeed, by dear, I quite agree. I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him."
"In point of composition," said Mary, "the letter does not seem defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed."
Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet said little, but the ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty with a grave and stately air, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in marriage. This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers, especially the daughter who had already been married once, and the significance of whose surname had clearly been lost in the commotion of his arrival.
Mrs Bennet, who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most readily. "You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly."
"You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate."
"Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with you, for such things I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates will go when once they come to be entailed."
"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted—"
He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration. The hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised; and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet's heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own future property. The dinner too in its turn was highly admired, and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its cooking was owing. But he was set right there by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a quarter of an hour.