It is difficult to say whether the instrumental duties of religion, as they are usually termed, have been more misrepresented by superstition and hypocrisy on one hand, or by vicious refinement and vain philosophy on the other. By the former they have been extolled, as if they were the whole of religion; while the latter have decried them as vulgar, unavailing, and insignificant. The real truth is, that they are not only a part of religion, but an essential and important part of it; essential, as expressing its several affections, and important, as nourishing and maintaining them; essential, as a direct compliance with the divine authority, and important, as rendering such compliance more ready and habitual. Sermons to Young Women, Dr. James Fordyce
Mr Collins towered behind the altar, sermonising with a steady and serious tone. "It is difficult to say," he said, "whether the instrumental duties of religion, as they are usually termed, have been more misrepresented by superstition and hypocrisy on one hand, or by vicious refinement and vain philosophy on the other."
Mary sighed and prepared herself for another familiar sermon. She had only been to church three times during her stay but already had heard from Fordyce, Sterne and Atterbury. It was not that she disapproved of quoting from established and renowned preachers, but she would have preferred to at least occasionally hear an original sentiment, or at least some different wording.
And it would have been very easy not to come to church. Miss de Bourgh was only just now able to come herself, and before that it had been an effort to persuade Lady Catherine that Mary should not stay and keep her company. But, regardless of the quality of the sermons, Mary was not to be so easily swayed from the path of piety, and with all the changes in her life she appreciated the familiar rituals of Eucharist and prayer.
Looking around the congregation after the service, Mary tried to put a name to the various faces. There was Mr House, the baker, and his wife. There was the Elliot family, second only to the de Bourghs in consequence (a very distant second, if Lady Catherine's disdain was any guide). There were the Mason sisters, who ran the local school. She had met some of these people as visitors to Rosings, but the only time she had a chance to speak to them alone rather than as Miss de Bourgh's accessory was at church. Not everyone was friendly, and sometimes she found them looking at her strangely and making odd remarks. But this was not very different to her experiences at church in Meryton.
The elder Miss Mason smiled and came to pay her respects.
"Well, Miss Bennet," she asked, "how are you settling in? Does Hunsford compare well with your own Meryton?"
"Oh yes," replied Mary. "Although it is not of much consequence to me where I am situated. Happiness should come from within and not rely on superficial external circumstances, after all."
"Perhaps," said Miss Mason. "But as superficial external circumstances go, one could certainly do a lot worse. My sister and I come from Leeds, where it is all cold winds and desolate moors. Everything is so much more alive here, so green and warm. And the people are lovely too, so welcoming! I hope you have found them so yourself. Lady Catherine keeps a close eye on us all like a watchful gardener, pruning and planting as needs be. Watch out, here she comes, hopefully none of our branches are out of shape and need snipping off. Good morning, Lady Catherine! I must thank you for the books you suggested we buy; the children have found them most edifying."
Lady Catherine graciously accepted Miss Mason's thanks, and offered some further advice on curriculum before firmly bringing the conversation to an end and steering Mary towards the carriage.
"I am not sure you should speak too much with those Mason women, Miss Bennet," said Lady Catherine as they rode away. "They are from all accounts perfectly acceptable schoolmistresses, but you do not want to be associated with blue-stockinged spinsters. I must introduce you to some of the right sort of young people. Have you not made any acquaintances at the local assembly?"
"Do not mind my mother," said Miss de Bourgh later when they were alone. "You should associate with whoever you please. And for myself, I can think of no more worthy companion than the Misses Mason. I am sure they are a better influence on you than I am. You should certainly not look at me as a model for embroidery; I do not know why I bother."
She unpicked at the growing tangle of threads beneath her needle halfheartedly and then asked, "Speaking of my bad influence, have you made any progress with your Latin?"
"A little. I am still not entirely convinced that it is proper for me to learn it."
"Come now, Miss Bennet. I have seen the wistful look in your eye when you pass the natural history books in the library. You cannot be satisfied with expurgated primers forever. And is Latin not the language of God? I am sure we have an old Vulgate Bible lying around somewhere, you could read it in the original. Although I suppose that if you really wanted to get back to the source I should have you learning Greek as well."
"Latin is sufficient for now, thank you."
Her doubts as to its propriety notwithstanding, it was not in Mary's nature to relax on a task once she had started it, and she applied herself to her Latin primer studiously. It had been some time since she had last learned a new language, and she enjoyed discovering all the similarities and differences with English and French, and untangling the ancient roots of so many modern words. She wondered what it would be like to follow Miss de Bourgh's advice and also learn Greek. Or perhaps Italian, even if that would inevitably lead to more melancholy poetry.
Another advantage of the primer which she was currently appreciating was that it served as a distraction from Miss de Bourgh waxing lyrical on the many virtues of Charlotte Collins.
"Did I tell you that she agrees with me about the need for new roofs for the south tenants? She could not say so in front of my mother of course. Ah! A woman of such sense and taste is wasted on that odious, stupid man. I do not know how she can bear to be touched by him. The way he simpers and preens, and always so fawning to Lady Catherine and myself, as if we cannot see that it is all out of self interest."
"Do you suspect him of insincerity then?"
"I am not convinced that Mr Collins is capable of sincerity, unless it is that his dishonesty runs so deep that he has even fooled himself. Have you noticed that he never unequivocally expresses an opinion until he is sure we agree with him? And you have said yourself that he gets all his sermons from books, I suppose it saves the unnecessary effort of original thought."
"But how is this different from Mrs Collins? Does she not also change her opinion to match that of Lady Catherine and yourself?"
"No! Well, yes, she does temper her opinions somewhat in order to please Lady Catherine, but so do we all. My mother is not a woman many dare contradict without good reason. Charlotte always admits her true opinions to me when we are alone. If those opinions should happen to be similar to mine it is only because we are like minded. Ah! And here they are. Mrs Collins! And Mr Collins. What a pleasure it is to see you."
"Miss de Bourgh, so good to see you! And Miss Bennet, too, of course. Indeed, the pleasure is all ours to see you. And to be invited once again to Rosings Park! It is a unique and unparalleled honour as always."
Mr Collins looked slightly less pleased to find himself manoeuvred into a seat as far from Miss de Bourgh as possible, buffered by first Mary and then his wife. Mary was not entirely pleased with this seating arrangement either, but tried to make the best of a bad lot.
"Mr Collins, on the subject of your sermon this morning — I have often meditated on Fordyce's metaphor of religion as Divine Friendship. Would you agree then that the attendance of church services, under this metaphor, is rather like a Divine..."
"Come now, Miss Bennet! I know that it is considered impolite to listen in on other's conversations, but I could not help but overhear Miss de Bourgh telling you this morning that she was fatigued by an excess of sermonising. As a clergyman I am of course in the business of sermons, but even I must agree that they should not be taken in excess. Since I am sure that like myself you would never wish to cause the least distress to our most generous host, let us talk of other things. Have you seen the changes Mrs Collins and I have made to our little rectory garden? It is no match for the fine grounds of Rosings Park, of course, but I flatter myself to say that for a rectory garden you could not do much better. Lady Catherine herself suggested some of the key features, and I am inclined to think that they make all the difference. Would you not agree, my dear?"
"Do not forget Miss de Bourgh's suggestion of planting chamomile near the entrance."
"Oh no, of course! That was indeed most helpful advice. Miss de Bourgh, I must apologise profusely if I in any way seemed to imply that your wonderful suggestion was not appreciated or remembered. No, indeed, I think of it every time I enter or leave our little house, and am happily assaulted by a profusion of refreshing scent."
Mary sighed to herself and thought wistfully of verbs.
Mary was fairly stuck with the Collinses. Not only were they at church and in frequent social contact with the de Bourgh's, but being her nearest family acted as her chaperones to those social functions Lady Catherine did not deign to attend. These included all of the frequent local assemblies, for whatever Mary's personal inclinations were, Lady Catherine was determined to fulfil her promise to Mrs Bennet to put Mary in the path of eligible young men.
It was only now, attending such events without her sisters' company, that Mary realised how much she had relied on them for conversation and introductions at assemblies and balls. Mr and Mrs Collins had certainly followed Lady Catherine's orders and introduced her to everyone they knew, but their natural tendency was to associate with other older or married people, and by the end of the evening it was usually the case that the only people Mary had really spoken to were the Mason sisters.
Having prepared herself for yet another assembly, Mary wandered to Miss de Bourgh's chambers to make her farewell for the evening.
"Good night, Miss de Bourgh," said Mary, poking her head through the door.
"Good night, Miss Bennet," replied Miss de Bourgh, looking up from a letter with a short-lived smile that quickly changed to an expression of horror. "Good Lord, Miss Bennet, what are you wearing?"
"It is a dress Lady Catherine gave me. She said my other dresses were ill fitting and out of fashion."
"I can see that, I remember it well from two seasons ago. But...do you like it?"
"Like it? It is not immodest, and seems to me to resemble what other young women are wearing. I might prefer something a little more comfortable."
"But the colour. And oh, the sleeves... For a woman of my mother's age and tastes is one thing, but for you... Surely it cannot be to your tastes."
"I have no preferences to speak of. The clothing you have seen me in is all from my sisters. My youngest sister tends to discard dresses as out-of-date before they are very worn, any pattern you have seen in my clothing is due more to her tastes than mine."
Miss de Bourgh frowned to herself. She then looked Mary steadfastly in the eye and said, "Very well. I suppose we cannot do much about that at this late stage. But would you object to me having Jackson refashion your hair? It seems a waste to bunch it all up like that."
"It makes little difference to me, but I would not object."
As Jackson bustled around her head, pinning and twisting, Mary said, "I am very grateful to Lady Catherine and yourself for your advice in the matter of my appearance. It would be pleasant to think that I might find a soulmate who puts no value in such shallow considerations, but I know in my heart that it is unlikely. With your help I have an increased chance at finding a match, and for that you have my thanks."
"Do not thank us yet," replied Miss de Bourgh. "We may know a little more than you of fashion, but note that I am still unmarried though eight years your senior. I would put my money on you being married before I ever am, with or without our help."
"But you are so well read!" replied Mary. "I suppose you are a little older than most men prefer, but you are still young enough to have children. It is unfortunate that you are not able to come out into society, I am sure you would fare better than I. If nothing else you have wealth on your side, and I have heard it said that the plainest woman is counted attractive so long as she has money. And you are not really plain, one might almost describe you as pretty."
Miss de Bourgh smiled. "Well! Thank you for such a sincere compliment. I will return it by saying that you are not so very plain yourself. Regardless, I am resigned to my fate; in fact I have begun to quite enjoy the idea of avoiding matrimony. I cannot think of many men I would trust to have such power over me, or to care for Rosings Park as it deserves."
"You do not wish to get married?" asked Mary incredulously. "But what will you do with your life? What purpose will you serve?"
"That which I do now," replied Miss de Bourgh. She added, "Miss Bennet, the hour of your departure is nigh upon us, and I see that Jackson has finished working her magic on your hair. I hope you have a delightful evening, with much flirting and dancing and other useful steps to matrimony, and I will see you on the morrow."
Thus dismissed, Mary left.
The Collins stood silently waiting in the light of the approaching carriage, stiff and separate in the evening chill. Their hellos said, they would likely have remained silent for the rest of the journey had Mary not spoken.
"Mr Collins," she began. "Might I ask your advice?"
"Of course, dear cousin! If there is any way in which I might share the benefit of my experience and, dare I say it, my own little share of wisdom, then do not hesitate to ask."
"I am sure we can both agree that matrimony is the only natural and desirable goal for any unmarried woman. But if a woman finds herself a spinster, if perhaps she simply cannot find a suitable husband, can she still find happiness and purpose without marriage? Or is even considering such a life an insult to her sex?"
"Miss Bennet!" cried Mr Collins. "Do not give up hope! Whatever your other flaws, you are still young!"
He leaned forward and grasped her hand."Perhaps you have allowed an affection to take root where it was not reciprocated. Perhaps the desired young man finds another more attractive and suitable. Such rejection would sting grievously, I am sure. But no matter how remote the possibility, you must continue to hope for a husband. Truly, it is your only chance at an useful and happy life. There is nothing more pathetic or unnatural than a woman who chooses to remain unmarried. Life without a husband and children is no life at all."
"I do not mean me, Mr Collins. I refer to Miss de Bourgh."
"Miss...de Bourgh? She has expressed to you a desire to remain unmarried?"
"Yes. And I worry that this attitude may lead to detrimental effects on her future. Could you perhaps talk to her, and explain the dangers of remaining unmarried, as you have to me? Or should I try to convince her myself?"
"Oh, but that is completely different! No, for you are not able to support yourself, and so must marry in order to avoid being a burden on your family. Miss de Bourgh has her own fortune; she is very rich indeed and so..and so it does not do any harm, you see, for her to remain unmarried. No, I would not dream of criticising her choice in this matter, if that is her decision."
"But you made no mention of money before; what has that to do with it? What is your opinion, Mrs Collins?"
"Well," she replied cautiously, "I am afraid to say that money has a lot to do with it, whether we like it or not. Regardless of duty, you will find that the world is a difficult place for an unmarried woman without independent means. As to Miss de Bourgh...the lives of the very rich are different to ours, and I find it is best not to hold them to the same standards that one might apply to you or I. And it has been my experience that they are not usually of a mind to listen to advice from those beneath their station."
"But that would be dishonest! And I must strongly protest your implication that money or station make anyone except from the usual dictates of morality. Are we all not equal in the eyes of the Lord? I defer to Lady Catherine's judgement on account of her age and experience, but she and Miss de Bourgh are subject to the same laws as I am, and will face the same moral calculus come judgement day."
Charlotte laughed. "Indeed, Miss Bennet, you sound like a frenchman." After a quelling look from her husband she added, "But believe me when I say that you should not press the issue with Miss de Bourgh. Should you wish to persuade Lady Catherine or Miss de Bourgh of your opinion, and as a rule it is not your place to do so, it should not be done directly. If you are friendly and attentive, and speak carefully, you can make it appear that your idea is in fact their idea, and they will be able to accept it without loss of pride. Leave it to Mr Collins and myself, we know how to talk to them."
Unsatisfied, Mary sat brooding for the rest of the journey, and at the assembly found herself unable to apply herself much to the necessary task of mingling and flirting. She was asked to dance once, but as unusual as this was, she did not take it as much of a compliment, for the young man spent the whole dance unsubtly promoting his own interest in a local dispute over which Lady Catherine had influence.
When it became clear that Mary did not sympathise with his tale of woe and unfortunately placed apple-carts, he made his excuses and sought after more pliable companions. Remembering some of the advice Lydia had given unbidden every time she felt Mary was being too unsociable (which is to say, every time the two of them went out together), Mary sat herself by the punch bowl and watched the bustle of social commerce around her.
Lydia's advice turned out to be effective — before long she was engaged in several friendly if brief conversations about the quality of the punch, the number of dancers, and the recent variability of the weather. She took note of each speaker's social position with respect to her own and compared this with the tone of their address, and as the evening wore on she began to wonder just how many people had the same attitude as the Collinses. Those beneath her in station, or wishing to ingratiate themselves with the de Bourgh's, seemed on the whole much more friendly, and those above her much less predisposed to please. She wondered how many of her social inferiors only seemed interested in her ideas and well being. And how much more true must this be for Miss de Bourgh? Mary's determination to speak to her increased.
Luckily, Mr and Mrs Collins were no more interested in burning the midnight oil than she was, and Mary did not have to entertain herself with such thoughts for long before returning to Rosings. Passing Miss de Bourgh's chambers on her way to bed, Mary was surprised to see a candle still burning.
She quietly stuck her head past the door. Miss de Bourgh was resting her head on her arms across her writing desk and staring with half lidded eyes at the various unfinished correspondences littering its surface. She looked up.
"Hello, Miss Bennet." Miss de Bourgh smiled sleepily. "I did not realise it had become so late. My stomach is being particularly troublesome this evening, so I could not sleep. Did you enjoy the assembly?"
"Yes," replied Mary.
"Oh, good."
Seeing that Mary still stood in the doorway, Miss de Bourgh asked, "Is there something else?"
"No," replied Mary. "Good night, Miss de Bourgh, and pleasant dreams."