Chapter Three – The Honorable Mr. Collins

"Oh, Lizzie, he wants to throw a 4th of July party, isn't that sweet of him?"

A scant two days after the Lucas' party, Bingley had asked Jane to dinner and a play, and it hadn't been long before they were practically tied at the hip. After several days of barely seeing her love-struck sister, Eliza had finally gotten Jane all to herself for a few hours… but as fools in love are wont to do, Jane hadn't stopped talking about him all afternoon while they sat on the beach.

"How ironic!" Eliza said, turning onto her stomach. "An honorable Englishman wants to celebrate the day his country lost an extremely valuable asset in the most humiliating way possible! ... He really must be in love with you, Jane."

Jane blushed under her enormous sun hat. "He hasn't said anything of the sort. We're taking it slow."

"Otherwise known as the 'I'm saving myself for marriage' path. Oh, Jane… I really hope he's as good as you say. I'd hate to see you heartbroken," Eliza said cautiously. Her sister was still in the giddy, lovey-dovey stages of the relationship, and Eliza was torn between jealousy and fear that her innocent sister might get hurt. Jane had never been in a serious relationship before, and Eliza knew a rich, family money young man like Bingley was probably expected to be with an equally rich, family money young woman; although the idea was disgustingly out-dated, Eliza could tell from the high-and-mighty Mr. Darcy's behavior toward Jane in the few times they'd passed by that he wasn't pleased with the situation. Neither were Bingley's sisters, although they absolutely poured sugary compliments all over Jane as if she were a cute little puppy. Eliza was a bit more observant to their snide glances than poor Jane was, and she hated them for it, no matter what Jane said.

"Oh, Lizzie, stop worrying so much. And it wouldn't kill you to be a bit nicer to his sisters. They're very lovely when you get to know them," Jane said with a pout.

"Tuh, I can barely stomach them as it is… but I suppose I could be a bit more civil… for your sake only, Jane," Eliza said pointedly.

"And William isn't all that bad, either," Jane said hopefully.

"William?" Eliza asked.

"Darcy! I know you still don't like because of what happened at the Lucas', but you haven't really met him! You always ignore him when he walks by, but he's really not all that terrible," Jane trailed off, as if still trying to convince even herself.

"Tuh!" Eliza said again. She groaned into her towel… Darcy… blech. For a few days after the Lucas' party, her story had spread like wildfire, and everyone, even her father, had been proclaiming their extreme dislike for the young man. She had received more pity glances than she could endure; Eliza hated being pitied, because it implied she was vulnerable. He hadn't upset her as much as everyone assumed he had… in fact, she had thought the whole thing rather hilarious, but now she was even sick of his name.

"Eliza, please? He's Charles' best friend!" Jane pleaded.

"Why, though? Why on Earth are they friends?" Eliza asked for the millionth time.

"I've told you, Charles trusts him above anyone! They were roommates and Charles said they got very close."

"How close?" Eliza said with a cheeky smile and a wink. "Eh?"

Despite herself, Jane giggled. "Lizzie!"

"Why did they even have to live in a dorm room? Couldn't they have just bought the whole building?" Eliza said bitterly. She knew she was upsetting Jane, and hated herself for it, but Bingley had been monopolizing her sister's time ever since he moved in. She barely saw Jane anymore, and was invoking her right to feel selfish and left out.

"Lizzie, just be nice? It's all I ask," Jane said, her voice breaking slightly.

Eliza sat up in alarm at the sound of the hurt in her sister's voice. She immediately felt furious with herself; what kind of sister was she? Jane was the sweetest, most generous person in the whole world, and Eliza was acting like a bratty child just because Jane was happy, and deservingly so.

"Oh, Jane, I'm sorry," Eliza said, moving to her sister and throwing her arms around her. Jane sniffled against her shoulder. "I've been a horrible, horrible sister… I'll be nicer, I swear," Eliza went on, her heart sinking. "I just…"

"I know, Lizzie, I know. No one's ever come between us like this, and it's all my fault," Jane said, still sniffling. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"What? You? Nothing's your fault, sweetie. I've been lucky enough to have you all to myself for twenty-one years. I'm just being selfish – it's time to give someone else a chance to have the joy of having you all to themself." She smiled encouragingly to her sister, whose breathing calmed as she smiled back.

"Charles is perfect for you… and I doubt he's ever even hurt a fly," Eliza said with a chuckle. "He's probably a huge pansy."

Jane giggled happily. "I won't get hurt, I promise."

Eliza knew it was foolish promise, but Jane was smiling so happily that she nodded. She was about to lay back down when her phone began ringing like mad. Diving into her bag, Eliza fished around for it.

"Hello?" she said when she finally found it.

"Lizzie! Why didn't you answer sooner? Have you no consideration for my poor nerves! Get home at once, your father's new intern has just arrived!" her mother's shrill voice came through the other end.

"Mom? Is that you?" Eliza said teasingly.

"Lizzie! This is no time for your jokes! Get over here at once!"

"But I thought he wasn't coming until the weekend," Eliza said, recalling her father mentioning to her that his new intern would be trailing him around his home office for a few weeks. What was his name? she tried to recall. Tim? Frank? … Tom? That's it, Tom!

"He came early! Come home this moment!" Click. Her mother had hung up, and Eliza rolled her eyes at Jane.

"Come on, we'd better get home before Mom has a heart attack. Dad's intern is here," she said bleakly.

"Already?" Jane asked, surprised. "But I thought…"

"Yeah, he came early. Let's pack up," Eliza said, standing up and beginning to roll up her towel.

"What's Dad told you about him?" Jane asked as they began to walk back home.

"He sounds like a very strange dude. Dad said he used to be a ballet dancer" – Jane giggled – "but that his patron persuaded him he was horrible and got him a place at Yale Law."

"Who was his patron? They're always so delightfully wealthy! Can you imagine being a patron of a ballet dancer? Or an opera singer? Or perhaps an entire orchestra!"

Eliza laughed at her sister's enthusiasm. "You can ask him. I'm sure when you and Bingley are married and rolling in your own dough, you can be a patroness of anyone you want."

"Lizzie," Jane admonished, but she smiled all the same.

They reached home a few moments later; a sleek, shiny Mercedes-Benz was parked in the drive. Hurrying inside, they heard their mother's voice coming from the sun room.

"Oh and we must show you the garden – oh! There you are, girls! Come, come, Tom is dying to meet you!" their mother hurried toward them and pulled them forcibly into the room.

A man whose build looked remarkably like Bingley's was standing with his back to them, but upon hearing them coming into the room, he turned around and Eliza couldn't help but gasp. Although slightly tall and lanky, Tom Collins had none of the deportment and grace that made Bingley so appealing. Instead, he had a rather large head set upon his skinny neck; his face was pudgy, with dull skin, small, beady eyes, and quite a prominent nose. He smiled in delight upon seeing them, and Mrs. Bennet patted Eliza's arm excitedly.

"Tom, please meet my two eldest daughters, Jane and Elizabeth," Mrs. Bennet said her eyes fixed on Tom, whose eyes had bulged as he stepped closer.

"Miss Jane, Miss Elizabeth, it is an absolute honor to meet you. I've heard so much of your beauty, ladies, but I can assure you, Mrs. Bennet, that none of the rumors come close. Not close at all. Why, if my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh were here, she would be delighted. She has the finest taste in beauty," Tom said, kissing Jane's and then Eliza's hand. His voice was high and nasally, as if he had a constant cold.

"Lady Catherine?" Eliza inquired, very intrigued indeed.

"Yes, Elizabeth, Lady Catherine resides in England most of the year; she married the title-holding Lord de Bourgh, God rest his soul. But of course, she also has a house in Manhattan."

"Right, of course," Eliza said. "And how exactly did she become your patroness?"

Tom seemed beyond thrilled that she had asked. "Well, my dear Elizabeth, Lady Catherine is one the most respected patron of the arts in both London and New York. Many of my fellow thespians had patrons who pay a great deal of money to see their dancers on stage. But of course, Lady Catherine, in her infinite wisdom, persuaded me that I was far more fit for the law. She has been providing for my education ever since."

"Well, Lady Catherine sounds like a very kind and generous person," Eliza said politely.

"Oh, she is very generous, very generous indeed, Elizabeth. Being in her position in life, she does not have to be so generous, but Lady Catherine is filled with charity. Of course, she holds very high standards, yes she does Elizabeth, but that is to be expected."

"Naturally," Eliza said, feeling uncomfortable that all his attention and conversation was being directed at her. Her mother, however, was watching them with the upmost happiness.

"Has my mother offered you anything to drink, Mr. Collins?" Eliza said desperately. "I myself am rather parched, can I get you something?"

"Oh, no thank you, Elizabeth, you are too kind," he said with a smile. Eliza smiled hesitantly back, and then darted out the door.

Yuck, she thought as she walked to the kitchen. What a nincompoop. Haha, nincompoop. She giggled as she filled a glass of water, but her amusement was short-lived. She knew her mother would push her towards him to no end, now that Jane was practically married to Bingley. Tom seemed to have a great deal of money because of this Lady Catherine, and lawyers – corporate lawyers, that is – made a good chuck of change. She sighed, but gulped down the rest of her water and went back into the sun room. She had disappointed her mother before, and she wouldn't feel terrible about doing it again.

"Ah, Elizabeth," Tom said the moment she stepped into the room. He was standing by himself by the window; the others had seemed to find things to amuse them for a while: Jane was talking on the phone (probably with Bingley), her mother was reading a magazine, Lydia and Cate had run outside, and Mary was practicing her flute softly in the corner.

Eliza turned a grimace into a smile and walked over to Tom. He motioned that they sit on the window seat, and she did so, making sure to keep a good foot between them.

"Your mother tells me you'll be a senior at NYU this year," he began.

She nodded in reply.

"A fine school – Lady Catherine herself has said so," he said pointedly, as if that would impress her. She raised her eyebrows in an impressed sort of way, and he seemed pleased.

"And what is your major?" he asked.

"Anthropology, but I've already finished all my credits. I'll be focusing on my Art minor this year," she said; she'd rather talk herself than listen to him blather on. "In fact, in mid-July I'll be doing an internship at the Metropolitan."

"Is that so?" he said. "Lady Catherine just adores the Metropolitan, she is a well-known donator there as well. If you mention her name, you'll be gold," he said in what he must have thought a helpful way. It was obvious that he thought this hint would thrill her, and she inwardly rolled her eyes but gratified him.

"Wonderful! I'll be sure to do that," she said with a false smile.

"You won't be sorry, Elizabeth," he said happily. "Now, what is this I hear about a party on the 4th of July?"

Eliza was caught completely off guard. She looked to her mother, who winked noticeably. She groaned softly, but hitched a smile back on her face.

"Yes, the young man who has rented the large mansion on the beach is having a little get-together," she said, but no sooner were the words out of her mouth than Jane practically hopped over to them, a broad smile on her face.

"Oh, excuse me, Tom, but Lizzie, Charles has just told me the most exciting news. He and his sisters have decided to make the party a black-tie in their ballroom!"

"They have a ballroom?" Eliza asked, blown away.

"Yes, and they're going to have an orchestra and everything! Won't it be delightful?"

"Oh, Jane, we must going into the city and buy you a dress!" Mrs. Bennet said at once. "And you, too, Lizzie, you want to look your best, don't you?" she said, nodding her head toward Tom. "Tom, you'll join us, won't you? For the party, I mean, not for shopping! We wouldn't want to bore you!"

"Oh, Mrs. Bennet, you could never bore me," he replied, staring very intently at Elizabeth. Eliza also felt she was in no danger of being bored; on the contrary, she felt rather in danger of severe upset stomach.

Bingley's 4th of July party came far too quickly for Eliza's taste. She had finally learned how to avoid Tom moderately successfully (employing the help of her father, of course), but at the party nowhere would be safe. He could follow her around all night if he wished, and she had the foreboding feeling that that was exactly what he would do. Mrs. Bennet kept exclaiming in glee how much in love with Eliza Tom was, and how wonderful it was that he could be around so often. Eliza rather thought that Tom was in love with his esteemed patroness Lady Catherine… or at least with her money. What baffled her was why Tom insisted on being so infatuated with her when Eliza had relatively little to offer as far as money went, and it was quite obvious that Tom was as much infatuated with wealth as he was with Elizabeth. Lady Catherine's opulent mansions, cars, and private jets took up much of his conversation, and her impressive generosity was praised more often than Elizabeth… and he praised Elizabeth quite often.

Eliza had never much fancied the idea of falling in love and settling down, for the simple reason that it seemed to take up too much of your time. Indeed, she was seeing even less of the smitten Jane as the days wore on, and Tom was spending so much time being "in love" with Eliza that he spent not nearly enough time doing what he ought – that is, being her father's intern. The Friday before the party – which was that Sunday – Tom had followed Eliza around speaking of nothing but what a joy it would be to waltz with her. Eliza only knew how to waltz because her aunt had taken her and Jane to lessons when they were younger, but she suspected that Tom, who was rather klutzy, didn't even know his right foot from his left. She was fearing the party so much that she considered throwing herself down the stairs, but decided against it – after all, she began her internship in two weeks, while Tom would stay here… and she didn't want to begin her internsip with a broken foot.

"Eliza, I must respectfully demand the first dance. I shall be absolutely distraught if you dance with someone else," Tom said as he watched Eliza clean out the goldfish aquarium.

Eliza's heart dropped, but knew it was impossible to say no. Tom would just stand by her side and scare away any other guy who might want to dance with her.

"Of course, I'd love to," she said dully.

"Excellent! You must be such a wonderful dancer," he mused, gazing at her with his beady eyes.

She laughed hollowly. "We'll see."

Sunday arrived so fast Eliza felt sure the clocks must have been turned ahead. She felt as if a stone had formed in her stomach overnight; this was bound to be the most humiliating day of her life, even more so than the time she threw up while making a speech in the ninth grade.

"Oh Lizzie don't look so glum. Who knows, maybe Tom's a wonderful dancer," Jane told her over breakfast, trying to soothe her, but it was so obvious that Jane was giddy with excitement that Eliza was not soothed at all.

Jane eventually gave up on Eliza and began telling the others that Charles had told her that if this party went well, he'd be delighted to have another. Eliza had to excuse herself from the table; she was in desperate need of some Pepto Bismol.

As the day wore on, and Eliza and Jane were sent to the salon for their hair and makeup – they were, after all, the two with the most immediate romantic prospects – Eliza was torn between anxiety and incredulity at her anxiety. Normally she was calm and collected, and tackled things head on, but day after day of employing every clever technique she could think of to shake Tom off and none being successful, she was beginning to think that she was destined to have him constantly by her side for the rest of her life. And she hardly wanted the entire neighborhood to think that she was as much in love with him as he was with her, but with their gossiping tongues and ability to jump to conclusions, she had no doubt that they would have her marrying him before she even graduated.

Eliza was just zipping up her dress, when,

"Lizzie! Tom is here for you, dear! Hurry up!" her mother called through the door.

"What?" she exclaimed, her stomach dropping ever lower. "I thought he was meeting us there," she said through clenched teeth as she poked her head out the door.

"No, dear, he wants to take you. Isn't that sweet?" Mrs. Bennet said, glaring at Eliza even as she smiled.

Eliza sighed. "Tell him I just have to put my shoes on."

Mrs. Bennet flew down the stairs to tell him. Eliza slowly pulled her shoes out of their box and wearily began to put them on.

"Oh, Lizzie, it won't be so bad," Jane said.

But Eliza was already angry enough that Jane's ever-present patience and sweetness just annoyed her.

"Yeah, maybe for you, because you've got super-boyfriend. I've gotten fuckin' Senator Kennedy down there probably having an orgasm about something fucking Lady Catherine said. But I don't see anyone feeling sorry for me because I'm practically married to a guy I loathe. Noooooo, they're fawning over you and Mr. Perfect and Charming!" she finished bitterly.

"Lizzie, I –" Jane began, but Eliza didn't want to hear it.

"I'll see you there," she said, and stormed out of the room. Tom was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs looking pretentious as ever in a crisp tuxedo. He was practically drooling by the time she got to the bottom of the stairs, but she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to the door.

"Let's get this over with."

For those nifty non-Americans, Senator Kennedy is a US senator from Massachussetts with an abnormally large head. But he's a Democrat, so hoorah for him!