Author's Note: Well, this was supposed to just be a funny little one-shot, but it somehow evolved into a short story. I hope you guys will enjoy it. As with my first story, please don't forget to tell me what you guys think of my latest foray into writing.
On a more important note, please take note that for the purpose of this story, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy are present during the infamous conversation between Elizabeth and Lady Catherine at Rosings, which happens about a week before Easter Sunday. Also, Lady Catherine and Elizabeth's conversation takes place during dinner, rather than in the sitting room when the men and women are separated.
Mr. Collins' Easter
By Winterspell1812
Prologue
Caught by surprise, Mr. Collins sputtered. Thereby inhaling the lovely, yet overly large bite of potato croquette he had been previously savoring. As the morsel lodged itself in his throat, the rotund man choked, and his eyes watered at the uncomfortable sensation. Thankfully, with a few, graceless strikes from his meaty fist at the base of his throat, the hapless parson managed to successfully shift the mislaid vegetable. His plump features ruddy from the experience, Mr. Collins was left to catch his breath, his dinner companions having utterly failed to take notice of his little misadventure with Lady Catherine's famed croquettes. This, however, was very much to the parson's satisfaction, for Mr. Collins could hardly countenance the mortification he would have felt at being found in such an undignified state. The notion that he, a man of the cloth, and a servant of the venerable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, could be brought so low by a lowly spud!
Inconceivable!
Such an undignified and ridiculous end would hardly have been fitting for a man of his position and consequence.
Thus Mr. Collins could only count his blessings that the unseemly scene had remained unnoticed by his company and thank the Lord for his beneficence in this matter. In his vanity, the pompous little parson flattered himself with the self-serving notion that the Good Almighty Lord must most certainly have a great need of his person, and rightfully sought to smooth his way.
But such a prospect, no matter how gratifying, would have to bare the weight of further contemplation at a later hour. For at that very moment, his illustrious patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, gruffly cleared her throat from her seat at the head of the table. Attuned as Mr. Collins was to every gesture, every word and every sentiment of his most beloved and most magnificent patroness, such a clear indication of that great lady's displeasure could not fail in capturing the parson's attentions. Thus, Mr. Collins was most abruptly distracted from his edifying (and self-aggrandising) thoughts. Returning his attentions to the assembled company, the hapless parson was horrified to find Lady Catherine glaring distastefully at his younger cousin, Miss. Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.
"Upon my word," cried her ladyship, a sneer most prominently displayed upon her noble features, "you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person."
Having been reminded of his cousins' most shocking speech, the poor Mr. Collins flushed from the tips of his ears to the edge of his collar. This, in equal parts due to shame (as resulting from the embarrassment of any relation of his displeasing his most venerable patroness) and anger (as resulting from the fool's skewed understanding of his own person). Thus it was that, in small-minded vanity, Mr. Collins wholly attributed the blame for his little misadventure with Lady Catherine's croquettes to Miss. Elizabeth, dismissing entirely the notion that his own poor table manners were more likely to blame (as any poor unfortunate who had shared a table with the pompous parson could rightly attest).
"Pray, what is your age?" Lady Catherine asked, looking upon Elizabeth with a moue of distaste.
"With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth, smiling, "your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it."
At this most irreverent response, Mr. Collins spluttered and choked (spraying the poor, unfortunate Mrs. Jenkinson, who was seated at his left, with several droplets of white wine), his features purpling under the shock of his cousin's audacity. Thankfully for the parson's sake (and Mrs. Jenkinson's composure), the distasteful scene remained largely unnoticed, the assembled company focused as it was upon Lady Catherine's retort, and all else lost under the din of that great lady's admonitions.
Thus, the evening progressed and Mr. Collins watched, aghast, as his cousin sought to embarrass him at every turn. As if her brazen discourse at dinner had not been cause enough for mortification, Cousin Elizabeth then began addressing the gentlemen much too familiarly, displaying the same coy manner (or so the fool believed) which had once ensnared him. As she monopolized the gentlemen, leading even the illustrious Mr. Darcy to stray in his attentions towards his most beloved fiancée, the parson watched on with a growing sense of shame and dismay. The thought that he, with his exalted position as parson to the most venerable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, could own such a relation, however distant the connection may be, left Mr. Collins feeling utterly humiliated.
Thankfully, his beloved patroness (in her infinite wisdom) swiftly took notice of Cousin Elizabeth's most inappropriate behavior, and rightfully sought to intercede in the matter. Thus, that great lady most astutely (craftily) pressed his unworthy cousin into entertaining them at the pianoforte. This, in spite of having previously determined that (as indicated to her by that young woman's education, class and relative poverty), Miss Elizabeth's performance at the pianoforte would be middling at best (and this, Lady Catherine discerned without so much as the benefit of ever having heard the girl perform beforehand).
Still, his silly relation did not desist. And so it was that, with a coy smile and a pert retort, the gentlemen followed Cousin Elizabeth to the pianoforte. At this, Mr. Collins' equanimity was sorely tested, as the poor man rightfully worried that this latest show of impropriety would prove to be too much for his patroness to bare. Indeed, gazing upon Lady Catherine's noble visage, the parson was dismayed to see his beloved patroness purse her lips and look upon his unworthy relative in distaste. Still, forever a model of good breeding, that venerable lady avoided calling attention to her displeasure, and waited several long moments before recalling her nephews' attentions.
Throughout, Mr. Collins admired the noble bearing of his patroness as she removed her nephews from Cousin Elizabeth's undue influence.
Mrs. Collins, likewise, admired that lady's deft manoeuvering, as Lady Catherine forced her nephews' attentions upon her daughter, whilst effectively banishing Elizabeth to the pianoforte.
Thus Cousin Elizabeth spent the reminder of the evening seated apart from the company. This suited Mr. Collins very well. For, remaining at the pianoforte, his silly relation was well out of anyone's way. What was more, relegated to a darkened corner of the room as she was, the impertinent Miss. Elizabeth was afforded little notice. Her mediocre performance (in Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine's astute opinion) failing to captivate the attention of her audience (again, in Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine's opinion) and proving to be of little hinderance in the company's conversation. Mr. Collins could only hope that, in having been so clearly set apart from the rest of the company, Cousin Elizabeth had learned her lesson and now understood her proper place within their merry little party.
Still, seated in the carriage that evening, Mr. Collins could only worry over the events of the night. That Lady Catherine had been utterly disgusted with Cousin Elizabeth's unseemly display had been rightfully evident, even to one as obtuse as Mr. Collins. Thus the wretched parson was left to worry that the evening might reflect poorly upon him, and result in Lady Catherine withdrawing her favor. In this vein, Mr. Collins was left to wonder how it was that his dear Charlotte could have ever prevailed upon him to allow Cousin Elizabeth's visit.