Chapter Fifteen

There was not a place in the whole of Hertfordshire that was hotter than Longbourn at the precise moment. In the space of a night's sleep and a morning's breakfast, all hell had come loose; precipitated entirely by Mr. Collin's proposal to Elizabeth's and fuelled by Mrs. Bennet outrage at her audacity to refuse 'such a fine gentleman and brilliant offer'.

The proposal in itself was very lengthy and not lacking in effusive display of feelings but as was the character of the man doing the proposal, it was an epitome of such arrant nonsense that were she in a position to advise him upon his mannerisms, Elizabeth certainly would do so but since it would only add injury to insult, her decline would have to do.

"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth," so Mr. Collins had started after excusing Mrs. Bennet and Kitty to speak in confinement with Elizabeth, "that your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying- and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."

Since he was saying nothing of which Elizabeth had no inkling before, she had allowed him to continue uninterrupted though his words were grating on her ears not to mention her nerves.

"My reasons for marrying are, first," continued he, "that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances- like myself to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add greatly to my happiness; and thirdly- which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford- between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin; that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views were directed towards Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place- which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."

The lengthiness alone was enough to put a woman of less strength and fortitude to sleep but Elizabeth bore it all with forbearance worthy of praises; but since there was none other than herself and Mr. Collins in the room, she contended herself with:

"You are too hasty, sir. You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to decline them."

This, Mr. Collins waved off with one impertinent hand saying: "I am not now to learn that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am, therefore, by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long."

No amount of conviction would persuade Mr. Collins that she spoke gravely and without pretence- not even her remark that Lady Catherine might as well disapprove of her. He relegated her decline to the coquettishness of elegant females and hoped that the persuasion of her 'excellent parents' would yield in his favour. Elizabeth saw no other recourse than to repeat her position to him firmly and withdraw from the room.

News of Elizabeth's decline reached her mother from Mr. Collin's mouth himself and he was left with a state of assurance- that Elizabeth shall be prevailed upon by herself and her father to accept the proposal albeit her headstrong nature and foolishness was prone to make her act in a brash manner. To this later statement, Mr. Collins deemed it fit to add a threat that, "but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity."

Mrs. Bennet was quick to assure him that it was only in cases such as this that her second eldest daughter was headstrong and he should be assured of her acceptance. However, her petition to Mr. Bennet who was in the library all the while the drama was unfolding in his house was most unfavourable. After lending voice to her complaint, Mr. Bennet had Elizabeth herself summoned to the library to give her account of the story.

"I have sent for you on an affair of importance," said he when she made her entrance and Mrs. Bennet nodded in agreement to his words. "I understand that Mr. Collins has made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?"

"Yes it is true sir," replied Elizabeth with utmost confidence that her father, unlike her mother, shared her opinion that Mr. Collins was conceited, pompous and as such unfitting for any of his daughters.

"Very well- and this offer of marriage you have refused?" Mr. Bennet proceeded.

"I have, sir," replied she.

"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Yes," her mother said with emphasis obviously enjoying the upbraiding as she saw it. "Or I will never see her again."

Mr. Bennet sighed gravely. "An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do."

And such was how Elizabeth gained victory over both Mr. Collins and her mother; how Mr. Collins came to accept his rejection for what it truly was and how Mrs. Bennet came to be attacked by a severe case of failing nerves that prompted her to grouse every second of the day about how irresponsible her daughters were, how much she endeavoured by them to ensure they lived a good life and how ill used she was in her own home.

There was no reprieve to be had except perhaps in sleep for her complaints were long and unceasing.

Till the next day, her failing nerves endured and her bitterness was transferred to Mr. Collins who contrary to Elizabeth's supposition that he might leave earlier than intended on account of her refusal, remained in Longbourn and declared that Saturday remained his day of removal from Longbourn. It was yet Thursday and Elizabeth despaired already of the days to follow for Mr. Collins' reproachful stares and her mother's poor nerves were such powerful combination that was tearing away at her sanity.

Perhaps, the situation was at last gripped with some semblance of control by the arrival of Miss Bingley's letter for Jane. Elizabeth was with her sister as she read the letter and immediately read from her sister's change in countenance that something was definitely amiss. And it was- for the content of the letter- when Jane revealed it to her when they were alone was one that immediately rose in Elizabeth a sense of righteous indignation on her sister's behalf towards the entire Bingley party; the Bingley's sisters and Mr. Darcy for what she perceived could only be their connivance and Mr. Bingley for being too weak to overcome the persuasion of his friend and sisters. Mr. Hurst was relevantly inconsequential to her thoughts. From the tone of Miss Bingley in the letter, the party had departed with no intentions of ever returning.

Elizabeth's anger was adequately justified for the letter read thus:

"Dearest Jane,

I believe that by the time this letter shall reach you, we; myself, Louisa, Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy would be on our way to town after my brother who left earlier this morning. Though he has the advantage of time over us, we mean to dine in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst had a house and by the morrow, we shall continue the journey. I do not pretend to regret anything I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend; but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of that delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved correspondence. I depend on you for that. When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which took him to London might be concluded in three or four days; but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd- but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.

Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?"

Till I hear from you, dearest friend,

Caroline Bingley.

All attempts to persuade Jane of her conviction that Caroline, her sister and Mr. Darcy all contrived the move to town as a scheme to waylay Mr. Bingley and keep him in town and away from Jane fell on deaf ears. Jane, ever so ready to disbelief of any ill towards anybody refuted her statements. Secretly, Elizabeth entertained the idea that the scheme might very well be because of what Mr. Darcy conceived of her but she could not tell Jane so.

"You do not know Caroline as I do- she is incapable of wilfully deceiving anyone," said Jane. To this, despite knowing otherwise, Elizabeth could form no reply, but she persisted in instilling in her sister hope that Mr. Bingley would return perhaps in the winter and continue with the courtship he so adoringly began. However, Jane despaired that his sisters wanted him to marry someone else. "But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry elsewhere?"

Here, Elizabeth sighed her frustration at Jane's consideration for the sisters who had no love for her. "You must decide for yourself and if, upon mature deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by all means to refuse him."

This passionate speech elicited a smile upon Jane's lips and Elizabeth was gratified for Jane took the letter with great despondency thus far. "How can you talk so?" said Jane. "You must know that though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could not hesitate."

"I did not think you would," returned Elizabeth.

"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be required. A thousand things may arise in six months!"

In those words, Jane was sensible, but Elizabeth dared to hope that her trust in Mr. Bingley's love would supersede the plot of his friends and sisters. Already, she could imagine how much poison Mr. Darcy and Caroline would feed him with when they finally met with him in town. If he was taken in by them, Elizabeth would be greatly disappointed in him- but she knew it was likely. Mr. Bingley did not appear to her as a man who strayed far from the influence of his family and friends and though it was an admirable quality on a general note, it was less than desirable to her simply because her sister's feelings were involved. They both agreed, however, that Jane should send a reply to Miss Bingley to keep the interactions intact and by so doing, gain more intelligence about the situation.

Mrs. Bennet was only informed by agreement of Jane and Elizabeth lest they added salt to injury- that the Netherfield party had repaired to town and thus allowed her to form her opinions thereof. This distracted her attentions significantly from Elizabeth's 'disgraceful conduct and disobedience'.