Chapter Fourteen: In Mrs. Bennet's Favor
Elizabeth could not look at Mr. Collins in the eye for the remainder of the day. The mortification of his knowing it all had not yet cooled off; and though she supposed she could not keep acting so much longer, she consoled herself by assuming that the said gentleman surely knew why it was that he was being shunned.
Jane was, perhaps, the only one in the entire household— nay, all of the world—who knew of Elizabeth's discomfort. Mrs. Bennet was much too happy about visiting Rosings and the ball in Westerham, as were Kitty and Lydia (though their pleasure was derived mostly from the latter, and barely at all from the former, despite a bit of curiosity to meet Colonel Fitzwilliam). Mr. Bennet, as solicitous as he usually was for Elizabeth, could not notice either; for he was too much trying to find peace amongst all of the anxiousness and chaos, that the largest favor he could do for anyone was to shut himself up in Mr. Collins' library, as he did not infrequently do at Longbourn. Mr. Collins was not clever enough to suppose that Elizabeth was suspicious at all of his overhearing her private conversation, or if she was, that her eldest sister had informed her of it long ago; for his vanity led him to believe that the moment she learnt of it, she would be so ashamed that she could not avoid apologizing to him for half an hour straight (as he undoubtedly would have done in such a situation). And even though Mary was a great studier of human nature, her studies were mostly confined to that of books on the topic, or people with whom she was little acquainted with; for there could certainly be nothing at all exciting in studying one's own sister. And she was also principally occupied in maintaining Hunsford, and doting on her husband, as he undeniably enjoyed since it inflated his ego yet further.
The morrow, which brought on a fresh visit to Rosings, came much more quickly than Elizabeth would have liked, though much more slowly than Mrs. Bennet would have liked. Elizabeth hadn't enough time to wallow in her misery before proceeding on to indulge herself in a bit more of it—Mrs. Bennet hadn't had enough time to order Elizabeth a new white dress in order to impress Mr. Darcy.
Had Mrs. Bennet been aware of the feelings of Mr. Darcy, however, she would not have been plotting to give a fashionable white dress to her second daughter, but have her wedding clothes already ordered.
It was gloomy, dark, and raining a little when the Bennets and Collinses were destined to go to Rosings; and Elizabeth had great hopes of the engagement being postponed; but Lady Catherine, being as condescending and affable as she was, sent over a carriage for them all to go in. Mr. Collins was already rehearsing his thanks on the way there, and Mrs. Bennet frequently alluding to the subject of her favorite person at that moment, which was, of course, Mr. Darcy. She mentioned it so often that no one was any longer surprised of its being brought up; and even Kitty and Lydia had grown tired of teasing Elizabeth on the subject. Elizabeth could barely comprehend her sudden change in sentiments towards the man; the only time she had ever liked him was that brief period between when Elizabeth had told the infamous lie and the Netherfield party's departure. After that, it had quickly sunk into resentment, with Elizabeth receiving more pity than was her due; but so soon as the opportunity was given for a chance for Elizabeth to 'win back' his heart, Mrs. Bennet became very much the gleeful matchmaking woman she ever was.
"Don't do that!" snapped Mrs. Bennet on observing Elizabeth fiddling with her hair as the carriage drove through the rain, "your hair will be in ruins!"
Elizabeth hid her scowl at such a comment. She had done little but sit and have her hair styled all of the day, and try on her entire wardrobe before Mrs. Bennet was satisfied with her appearance. She was almost considering informing her mother that Mr. Darcy would never notice her no matter what she looked like, but supposed that such a comment would have no effect. She would receive praise only for her humility, and then be ordered to remove the raggedy garment which she dared to call a dress.
Elizabeth thought she looked ridiculous—she had dressed with care for the Netherfield Ball, but never had she cared so much for her appearance as this. Her dress was Jane's—white—and made of muslin. Her hair was made up in an elegant coiffure, with so many ornaments that she was sure she would be completely incapable of moving silently. Lydia and Kitty were Elizabeth's only consolation; for they were the only ones dolled up enough to distract the rest of the party's attention from Elizabeth's extravagance of dress.
The carriage pulled up the drive of Rosings Hall, with Mr. Collins remarking how well the building looked even in the midst of such disagreeable weather. When the carriage had drawn to a stop, Elizabeth quickly stepped out, and, when she was certain of her mother's not looking in her direction, slipped off to another part of the entryway. She was feeling quite uncomfortable because of her excess of jewelry, and was hastily removing a pearl necklace, when she saw a shadow move towards her. She quickly turned about, and saw a man standing before her; not one she recognized. She was rather tall, and had a cheerful enough countenance, though he was not at all handsome; and Elizabeth supposed that he must have been Colonel Fitzwilliam. She quickly curtseyed, and the gentleman returned the civility with a bow, though obviously stifling a laugh.
"Miss Bennet?" he asked. She nodded.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam," he said, confirming her suspicion; "and what are you doing?"
Elizabeth smiled, and explained, "I am removing some of the gaudy jewelry that my mother forced me to wear."
"Indeed? Well, I cannot say I can relate to your dilemma—but perhaps I can be of assistance?"
"If you would be so kind!" said Elizabeth warmly, removing some of her hair ornaments, "Perhaps you could leave these somewhere?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam declared his willingness for such a scheme, and took the jewelry from her hands, placing it into a nearby room, with gracious thanks from Elizabeth. The rest of the party was nearly assembled by this time; and, the only discourse which there was time for afterwards was Colonel Fitzwilliam asking:
"But what if your mother notices?" And then, answering his own question before Elizabeth had an opportunity to reply, added, "But I will just tell them that Mr. Darcy stole it."
"That would make my mother happier than you can imagine," murmured Elizabeth as they rejoined the party. They both received a few curious looks from having entered from a separate room together; but, without any interrogation, Lady Catherine proceeded to introduce Colonel Fitzwilliam to all of the guests.
They then proceeded to the dining parlor, where food was ready to be eaten, and Elizabeth overheard Lydia whisper to Kitty:
"Colonel Fitzwilliam; ugly fellow, isn't he?"
"Aye; but I dare say we shall meet handsome officers at the ball!" responded Kitty, which caused both to begin incessantly giggling. Elizabeth nudged Kitty's arm and directed a warning look towards her, which luckily encouraged them to become silent pretty soon.
When they all entered the dining parlor, Mrs. Bennet managed to arrange it in such a way (for she was very good at such schemes) that Elizabeth had no choice but to sit next to Mr. Darcy. To Elizabeth's relief, however, Colonel Fitzwilliam sat across from her, so that she might direct her attention towards him instead of his disagreeable cousin.
"Mr. Darcy tells me you play and sing, Miss Elizabeth," said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"It is true, though very poorly," Elizabeth admitted.
"Really?" replied the Colonel, looking at his cousin suspiciously, "I should never have supposed it to be so according to my cousin's account."
"Miss Elizabeth is surely afflicted with false modesty," said Mr. Darcy.
Mrs. Bennet, who was sitting next to Colonel Fitzwilliam, could not help but overhear it all, and thought it a perfect opportunity for her to contribute.
"Ah! My Lizzy is a very excellent player, indeed; such good taste, good taste! Always practices so hard, too—"
"Mama, we are surely not speaking of the same Elizabeth. I rarely practice," said Elizabeth, which was pretty much the truth.
"Rarely practice?" cried Lady Catherine, who happened to catch the latter part of the conversation, "You know, no excellence can be acquired without constant practice. Does Georgiana get on well with her instrument, Darcy?"
"She plays very well," Mr. Darcy said. Lady Catherine then went on to have her share of another conversation.
"Ah!—you see, Miss Darcy undoubtedly practices frequently. When you meet her, Lizzy—"
Elizabeth found this an opportune moment to put on a coughing fit, since she did not much like the direction in which the conversation was heading. How was she to ever keep her mother from embarrassing her without having grown hoarse by the end of the night! After she had finished, Mrs. Bennet had quite forgotten what she was speaking of, which satisfied Elizabeth.
"Are you all right, Miss Elizabeth? That was quite a bad fit of coughing," commented Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Bennet beamed at him.
"Perfectly well, I thank you!" said Elizabeth hastily, watching her mother carefully.
Mr. Darcy watched Elizabeth carefully all through dinner; he noticed the great amount of time she spent watching her mother, and blushing whenever she made a comment the least bit embarrassing (which was rather frequently), and quickly changing the subject directly afterwards. He could not help but pity her; though his aunt was not exactly the flower of courtesy either.
Afterwards, they all quitted to a drawing room, where card tables were assembled. Mrs. Bennet was attempting to persuade both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth to join the table at which she sat, and had nearly gotten her way, when Elizabeth thought of a quick solution (which would hopefully not be the object of infinite regret months later).
"Ah! But I promised Colonel Fitzwilliam I would play the pianoforte! And I am sure that Mr. Darcy would much rather sit with his cousin," she said, gesturing to the sofa at which Colonel Fitzwilliam sat.
Mr. Darcy, who would much rather take Elizabeth's advice than her mother's, owned that he would much rather talk with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Bennet, noticing how quickly he agreed with her daughter, and feeling that listening to someone sing (and sing well) was a certain step to falling in love, could not object, and satisfied herself with merely observing from a distance. She was, however, to be pleased, as Mr. Darcy almost invariably had his eyes fixed on Elizabeth. Yes, he was surely partial, she could observe it! She was an excellent matchmaker indeed!
The instrument as opened; and although Mary was eager to exhibit, Mrs. Bennet effectively detained her so that Elizabeth could play first. Her performance was by no means capital, though her voice was pleasant; however, it was not immaculate enough for Lady Catherine, and she was hastily offering her advice, though she could not play herself (but had the very best taste, and would have been a great proficient had she ever learnt, as would have Anne, who had better taste yet). Elizabeth mused that, if her mother and Lady Catherine were placed in a room by themselves, they might talk each other to death.
Elizabeth was applied to for a second song, and soon after she had begun, Colonel Fitzwilliam resolved on being her page-turner, with Mr. Darcy following closely behind.
"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."
"I shall not say that you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own."
Such conversation continued on; descriptions of Mr. Darcy's ill-behavior at their first meeting at the assembly in Meryton were described to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He seemed highly amused by his cousin's behavior, as it seemed that it was made obvious he did not typically act in such a manner. It was soon put to an end by Lady Catherine demanding that she have a share of the conversation, and then once the song ended, Mary eagerly succeeded her sister at the instrument.
Elizabeth, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Darcy then all sat together at a grouping of sofas, as they did not have much other choice, and Mrs. Bennet would not have had it any other way. Mary began playing a concerto; immaculately performed, though with not so much expression as Elizabeth.
"Your mother does not notice your lack of jewelry," mused Colonel Fitzwilliam in a low tone, eyeing Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth laughed heartily, though Mr. Darcy seemed quite confused by it all.
"Ah! My dear mother; she does mean well, though can get a little carried a way now and then; and has never been a very great observer, unless she particularly sets her mind to it," replied Elizabeth.
"So much the better," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a shrewd smile; "though Mr. Darcy, I am sure, is quite puzzled by all of this."
"Oh, yes," said Elizabeth indifferently; "I shall explain it. My mother was determined to have me wear so much jewelry that I might not be able to walk properly; so I was in the midst of removing about half of it, when Colonel Fitzwilliam discovered me."
"Not very exciting when it is only being told," observed Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Their conversation carried on, as they spoke of their interests, though Colonel Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth did most of the talking. Mr. Darcy was studying Mrs. Bennet; noticing her follies, and her ridiculousness, and reminding himself of such reasons why he ought to not think anymore of Miss Elizabeth Bennet; though, it seemed this was becoming increasingly difficult. She was so lovely, so quick-witted! He could detect that she was wishing, almost expecting his addresses; and to be so amiable in spite of having to put up with such a mother. Ah—he could save her from her mother, as she had saved him from playing cards with her—but he could save her forever. But he quickly managed to shake away such thoughts, realizing he was getting a bit carried away with his reverie, and tried in vain to focus on the conversation.
The evening passed away agonizingly slow for Elizabeth; and when it was time they left, Lady Catherine insisted on its being delayed. The rain had worsened, and was much more like a storm; surely they had better wait to go; but Elizabeth was determined on leaving. The storm wasn't so bad; it might only become worse if they waited; but Lady Catherine was insistent, and no one else so much opposed to it either. They could stay the night; Rosings was large enough to accommodate them all.
Elizabeth would have rather walked home, in her white dress, and have risked catching cold, than stay the night at Rosings, and was on the verge of offering it up, though she realized that no one would have agreed; and if she seemed too eager to go, it might be a bit rude.
Mrs. Bennet managed to persuade Elizabeth to the scheme, who was perhaps the most adamant on accepting the invitation—perhaps more so than even Mr. and Mrs. Collins. But Elizabeth had already fixed on it being the most miserable night she would ever spend, and would not get a wink of sleep.
