Chapter 11
Elizabeth was barely listening to her sister excoriate Mr. Darcy, following their fleeting encounter.
"Thank God I have been banished from Rosings these three weeks, so that I will not have to see him," Kitty remarked as they made their way home. Kitty had been all but barred, receiving no invitations to Rosings Park. Lady Catherine in her anger was punishing her in the most grievous way she could imagine- depriving her of her company. Kitty was delighted to be left alone by the woman, yet felt the sting of her exclusion keenly. Mr. Collins now made his morning calls to Rosings alone and returned home to disparage Kitty with renewed vigour after having endured and enjoyed Lady Catherine's condescension on the subject, so that Kitty did not really escape Lady Catherine, but received her strictures by proxy.
"That must be Mr. Darcy's cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam," Kitty continued. "They came down this week to spend Easter with their aunt- she spoke of nothing else for a month beforehand." Kitty rolled her eyes as she spoke.
"I wonder if he will wear his regimentals to church. It has been ever so long since I have seen a man in regimentals," she sighed wistfully. Kitty, lost in her own fantasies, did not notice her sister's disquiet. Far from vexing her, her sister's relapse into her peurile folly would have warmed Elizabeth's heart, had her mind not been absorbed by another topic. That Mr. Darcy was here was unfortunate and unforeseen, and his appearance had thrown her into a panic: she feared exposure and its effect on all her family; she dreaded his attentions, but also his neglect.
By the time they arrived home, however, Elizabeth had regained her usual equability. As for his exposing her, the idea was absurd and irrational. He would gain nothing by doing so and would be most unwilling to have such gossip concerning himself spread around his aunt's residence. She was certain that as, as Kitty had said, she was unwelcome at Rosings, they may see him in passing or in church, but that would be all. She would certainly not have to spend any time with him, which was a very good thing. She had been surprised, not just by his being here, but by the flood of sentiment that she had experienced on seeing him, as if her emotions had been frozen by the winter chill, in his absence, and the spring thaw of his presence had reawakened everything- her resentment, her distress and that other, counterpoising feeling that she had been beginning to forget.
The next few days were uneventful and just as Elizabeth was becoming complacent in her dismissal of Mr. Darcy's proximity, her reassurance and that of Kitty were shattered by a note from Lady Catherine inviting them to call. In it she declared that she was curious to meet Mrs. Collins' sister, whom she had heard from reports was handsome and affable, and whose efforts with her sibling the Lady wished to acknowledge.
They went, of course, shepherded out the door by an agitated Mr. Collins. They were admitted to Lady Catherine's drawing room by a dark skinned footman in a grey wig, where they stood awkwardly in front of her throne. Her houseguests were nowhere to be seen, but her insipid daughter, Anne, was sheltered by the fire, neither expecting, nor expected to take any part in the conversation.
Lady Catherine observed Elizabeth intently and unhurriedly as Mr. Collins performed the introductions. She was determined not to show any weakness to this woman who she suspected to be quite a tyrant and stood in front of her for inspection, meeting her glare with a steady eye. Finally, Lady Catherine seemed to have made her judgement, for good or ill, and bade them take a seat.
Lady Catherine proceeded to inquisition Elizabeth, and was well pleased with herself for the knowledge she was able to impart to Elizabeth about her own situation- primarily gathered from Kitty, but also from her spies in Hunsford. She soon became bored with this game, however.
"And so you have come to address your sister's inadequacies, Miss Bennet," she digressed. "How do you fare so far?" Elizabeth was disgusted with Lady Catherine's asperity and would have loved to answer with as little respect as the enquiry demonstrated. For Kitty's sake, she would not.
"My sister is very young, but she is eager to learn and she and I have been reviewing the accounts at the parsonage. I believe she now has a better understanding of how to direct her household." She smiled at Kitty encouragingly.
"By that I hope you also mean how to manage the servants. I was appalled to hear about that business with the chambermaid- a very poor beginning, indeed. Well I'm glad that Mrs. Collins has some relation who knows what they're about. There is nothing more detrimental to the running of a household than insolent servants," she revealed sagaciously.
"But she is not so very young - old enough to have a better grasp of her household than she does. Why was she not taught this at home? That is what I would like to know. And what sort of home is it that she has come from, if this is the product of it?" She seemed to have forgotten that Kitty was even in the room. "If I ever meet your mother, Miss Bennet, I intend to take her to task on the subject!" Lady Catherine paused in her speech to peer about her petulantly, as if expecting one of her guests to account for Mrs. Bennet's indolence.
Elizabeth did not feel that she could justifiably defend her mother's education of Kitty, which was clearly lacking, but she could not permit Her Ladyship to malign her mother's skills as wife or hostess. "I assure you, Lady Catherine, that my mother is a most able mistress to Longbourn and our home is comfortable and well-managed. I believe I heard Mr. Collins several times, while staying with us, pass on your remarks of approval in response to his description of our household. And any wifely duties I have learned, which now prove useful to my sister, have come from my mother's example."
Lady Catherine expressed her astonishment at the vehemence of her guest's reply, but did not make any further response. Elizabeth suspected that Her Ladyship had not often been confronted in such a way and did not quite know what to do with her. She was not displeased, exactly, at Miss Bennet's show of defiance and was not sure whether she thought better or worse of the girl for her speech.
In a warmer tone, Lady Catherine continued, "I hear from Mrs. Fortescue that you brought your sister to the butcher and advised her on her purchases. I cannot tell you how often I have lectured her on the proper cut of meat for a lady of her station. I did hear, however, that you came away with a neck of mutton. I must say, I was surprised. You should stick to scrag end from now on, for a stew. Mrs. Collins must learn to adopt more parsimonious methods, as befits a parson's wife." Elizabeth, watching her fingers curl around the gilded arms of her chair, doubted Lady Catherine's authority on financial prudence. She nonetheless took Her Ladyship's lukewarm commendation of her purchases as a seal of approval and was pleased on Kitty's behalf.
Lady Catherine was finished with this line of conversation and, without allowing Elizabeth to justify her choice at the butcher's shop, or perhaps determined to prevent the same, turned without warning to Mr. Collins and said "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a rather pretty little thing, and she seems quite capable. She is also older than her sister, I believe." She waited for Mr. Collins' anxious nod of confirmation before continuing. "All of which begs the question as to why you did not marry her." The entire room was astounded- even Anne stared over at her mother in rapt disbelief. Mr. Collins was almost purple and spluttered like a landed fish- unable, for once, to respond- but Lady Catherine was oblivious to it all.
"Nevertheless… I am relieved that you have come, Miss Bennet, and I pray you will be successful in your endeavour. She is, contrary to your earlier claim, rather old to be attempting to amend her character, but we shall see what can be made of her. As I said to Mrs. Harvey, only yesterday…"
Elizabeth would never know what Lady Catherine had said to Mrs. Harvey yesterday, as she was interrupted by the arrival of a gentleman, whom the sisters soon recognised to be he whom they had glimpsed riding with Mr. Darcy two days before. His ruddy complexion and the glowing appearance of his freshly-washed face attested to his good health and humour.
"My, but it is a glorious day outside, aunt. Oh, I beg your pardon; I did not realise you had company." He halted both his speech and his advancement into the room on seeing the Collinses. He briefly glanced at each and nodded, but his warm gaze finally came to rest on Elizabeth.
"Ah, there you are, Fitzwilliam. Where is Darcy? Is he not with you?"
"I believe he is speaking to your steward on some matter of small importance. He should be here shortly."
"Ah, Darcy. Such a nephew: so attentive. Although one could argue that he takes a more… personal interest in our affairs, here at Rosings Park," Lady Catherine confided to the whole room. Her features radiated the secure satisfaction of a woman certain that her plans would soon come to fruition. Elizabeth was somewhat puzzled by this remark, but could not ponder it overlong, as Lady Catherine had finally come to make the introductions. Though degrading to the Collins party and embarrassing to any who could claim a relation to Her Ladyship, Colonel Fitzwilliam was quite pleased on their completion. He had presumed that one of the ladies was married to Mr. Collins, and his pleasure on finding that it was not Miss Elizabeth was visible.
Soon Lady Catherine began to miss her favourite guest and wonder aloud at what could be keeping him from her presence. She expressed a wish to introduce Mr. Darcy to the Collinses and was quite put out to find that she was not required in that office, due to their previous acquaintance. She then consoled herself by demanding praise for the dignity and eminence of her nephew, which Mr. Collins was happy to supply. Thankfully his commendations ran long enough that Elizabeth was not required to expand on them with her own tribute, but short enough that they were concluded before the subject of them joined the party in the drawing room.
Darcy entered brusquely, briefly apologised for his tardiness and bowed to the guests, stiff as a poker and ramrod straight. He met the eye of no-one in particular and took an available seat near the Colonel, who, for his own part, was determined to have some conversation with Mrs. Collins' pretty sister. He politely addressed Mrs. Collins, however, who was seated closer to him.
"And how do you find your new home at the parsonage, Mrs. Collins? I confess I have never been inside, but it does make a charming prospect when driving past."
Kitty was so unused to being addressed with any civility in this house that she was momentarily flustered at the polite enquiry, particularly from such a gallant gentleman of the armed forces. Her answer, therefore, did not do any service to her intelligence and Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed bemused and diverted by her ramblings, but struggled dutifully to supress his reaction. Elizabeth did not dare look at Darcy, though she thought she heard a huff of disapproval at her foolish sister.
Little did the Colonel know what a pandora's box he had opened in mentioning the parsonage, and Mr. Collins, seeing an opportunity to give flight to all the devotion he bore, and to speak on the subject most dear to his heart, took over from his wife and continued to speak on the topic for a full five minutes, hardly pausing for breath. He outlined in such exhaustive detail as could only be found in its architectural blueprints, the dimension of his home and every alteration his patroness had ever made to it. This soon extended into a general panegyric on the many benevolences of Lady Catherine De Bourgh. He did not need more than a nod of the head by any member of the party for encouragement to continue and worked himself up into such an agitation of gratitude and adulation, that Elizabeth did not know how he stayed on his chair with all his bowing and stooping. He seemingly endeavoured to impress on his patroness, by his very warped posture, the servility which, Elizabeth was sure, made up at least fifty percent of his person. Eventually even Lady Catherine grew weary of his fawning and silenced him.
Elizabeth was mortified by the display that her family had produced in their first meeting with Mr. Darcy. His earlier words on her family taunted her and she could remember him describing, "the lack of propriety almost universally displayed by your family." He said not a word now, but she saw him cringing as he once described doing; most pronouncedly when Mr. Collins turned, as he occasionally did, to direct his remarks to Mr. Darcy himself. Even as she stepped in to try and distract the company and began to speak, Elizabeth knew not what she was saying. She fell to praising the Park and hoped she did not too closely resemble her cousin in doing so. The Colonel, seeing her plan and keen to relieve her distress, chimed in. He described some of the best views to be seen in that part of the country and advised her on where she might venture on her next walk. An instant camaraderie was formed through their conspiring and what was begun as an awkward diversion, soon developed into a entertaining conversation between the pair on, among other things, the relative merits of riding and walking as a form of exercise, which in turn led to a debate on the benefits of life in the country over that in Town. This tête-à-tête was peppered with frequent disconnected interruptions from Lady Catherine, parroted by her loyal sycophant.
Mr. Darcy who had hardly looked in her direction, even initially, as she had begun speaking to the whole group, was, despite himself, also becoming silently involved in their repartee. His attention was caught when Miss Bennet began to tease his cousin about the adversities that the life of an Earl's second son must involve. He maintained the illusion of attending to his rather one-sided conversation with his aunt, but frequently glanced sideways at the floor just in front of the two sisters' seat. Elizabeth was not fooled and knew that he was listening closely. She was uncomfortable, but his silence allowed her to dismiss him and she learned to pretend that she was not affected. The Colonel's conversation was diverting, though, and Elizabeth soon became earnestly interested in getting better acquainted with the man. His manner reminded her somewhat of Mr. Bingley in its open easiness, but Mr. Bingley was a boy- eager for approval, full of energy, and ultimately, it had turned out, inconstant- whereas Colonel Fitzwilliam was a man- steady and assured. Elizabeth soon discovered that he was a worthy conversationalist, charming and urbane, and she began to enjoy her visit to Rosings, just a little.
For his part, Darcy was in agony. Her visit, since its announcement by Lady Catherine at breakfast had been the Sword of Damocles hanging over him. He had delayed and dawdled as long as possible, but even he had not realised the danger he was in of putting himself under her power again, when he finally met her once more. He had tried his best to remain detached, and certainly would not engage her in conversation, but her sweet impertinence, that balance of integrity and wit, was displayed to best advantage in such arguments as she was now having with Colonel Fitzwilliam. That was the salt in the wound: he had been her partner in such debates; her sparring words and quick retorts had been her means of showing to him that regard, which neither could openly admit and which he could no longer entertain. Now she directed them towards another.
Lady Catherine did not long leave the genial pair to their fun, however, and recaptured their attention with a loud enquiry of the Colonel on the recent change to his uniform. The group continued under this tedious autocracy until the time came for the visitors' polite removal. Kitty, with minimal prodding from Elizabeth, performed her duty and took leave of their hostess, who was eager to regain the complete attention of her nephews. Both Bennet sisters were happy to go, for their own reasons. Darcy was relieved, but could not say he was happy. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Collins were the only two in the room who were truly sorry for the party to break up and Anne glanced impatiently at the clock, wondering when her mother would allow her to retire.
Mr. Collins was in an ebullient mood as they walked back to the parsonage: a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was not a naturally combative man and his admonition of Kitty, and their constantly being at odds had been unpleasant for him. Lady Catherine's re-admittance of Kitty into her society had done much to ease his distress and, though she was by no means forgiven, he felt confident that, with Elizabeth at her side, his wife could right her mistakes and rehabilitate herself in Her Ladyship's eyes. Now Elizabeth saw, by his clasping of his wife's arm against his own and his frequent mooning gazes, the re-emergence of Collins the Lover, if such a creature could be believed to exist. She felt that perhaps her mother's letter might be needed after all, and sooner rather than later. Mr. Collins' conduct towards Elizabeth on this journey was comical. After seeing Her Ladyship's approval of her, the walk home was not long enough for him to express his concomitant approbation with enough simpering civility to satisfy his sense of justice and gratitude, and she began to wish that Her Ladyship had been displeased with her, if only that she may have some peace from the man.
Elizabeth walked out alone early the next morning. She knew that she would have a trying day and needed to gather her strength as it was now past time for her to speak to Kitty about their mother's letter. She knew from the dull knock and muted whispers that she had heard some after retiring to bed that Mr. Collins had requested, but been denied, admittance to her sister's chamber that night. Elizabeth would now have to convince Kitty to take her husband into her bed- what a dreadful proposition!
She trudged home in time for church, her heavy steps betraying her mood and the thick mud complementing it. The whole Rosings party were present in the De Bourgh pew, even Anne, as it was Easter Sunday. Afterwards, Colonel Fitzwilliam was eager to continue his easy banter with Elizabeth, but she was less so, under the resolute, but distant glower of Mr. Darcy and was glad to see the back of them all.
She was surprised to see the Colonel again when he called to the parsonage later that day, but supposed that the company must be very tiresome at Rosings, considering its inhabitants. Kitty was particularly impatient to make up for her humiliation of the day before and the Colonel was only too happy to oblige her with a few stories of his campaigning in France. He recommended himself to all and left the ladies in a far better mood than he found them.
In a private moment, when their visitors had left and while Mr. Collins visited a parishioner, Elizabeth saw her opportunity and introduced the delicate matter that had been on her mind. "Kitty, I think I should tell you that Mama sent me here, not just to help with the management of the household, but also to ensure that you and Mr. Collins are happy in your marriage… in other ways." This was a bit of a stretch of the truth, her mother's directions being more concerned with Mr. Collins' satisfaction than Kitty's; her advice to her being more in the line of 'Lie back and submit', but Elizabeth did not think that it would be helpful to dwell on that. Her sister's bowed head was all the response she needed and she felt warranted in introducing their mother's letter.
She handed it to Kitty, who after only a few seconds blanched, her eyes wide in shock, or horror, Elizabeth could not tell. She placed the letter down on her knees with her eyes pressed shut, before silently handing it to Elizabeth. She could hardly dare to read it, but knew she must. It turned out to be a very odd, disturbing missive, obviously written in much haste and perturbation. It began with a paragraph of the standard reproaches Mrs. Bennet was now wont to spout every time Kitty's name was mentioned. She then went on to list her orders, her prescription for a successful coupling, which included such sage words as "You will never get with child if you do not satisfy your husband" and "You are not the first girl who has had to lie with an unappealing man," before progressing to the plain ridiculous, such as "You should not wash it, for men love the smell!" It then descended into various anecdotes of her experiences with their father, which were both nauseating and startlingly comprehensive. There was even one nebulous account, which, from what details of the attending gentleman were divulged, she was sure could not have involved Mr. Bennet and must have (she hoped) predated their marriage. Elizabeth knew not where to start analysing such a message, and the letter understandably gave Kitty no comfort, so she decided to leave her mother's words aside for the moment and attempt to draw her sister out on her own experiences. She discovered that it took very little prodding to do so and the urge to tell such tales was obviously a common propensity in married women, for in Kitty's stories, and the need to unburden herself of them, she shared unfortunate similarities with her mother.
"Oh that first night I was ever so scared. And then he took it out and it was this ugly little thing, like a fleshy mushroom." Kitty then launched into the story of her lost maidenhood with unrelenting detail. Her story, though distressing in its vision of a stumbling and insensitive husband could not be uncommon, Elizabeth thought. Kitty's former coyness now was thrown from her like a stifling cape, and once she had begun talking she could not stop. A stifled giggle would frequently escape her or her eyes would go wide at the remembrance of a particularly salacious memory. She did not seem sensible to the fact that her sister had not gone through the same experiences and so could not relate to most of it. Reverting to her status as the younger, and therefore less experienced, sister that she had always been, she entreated Elizabeth for her help. Elizabeth listened for similarities in her sister's stories with her own assignations, though she knew of course that there was much more to the marital bed than she had ever undergone. She was baffled, however, to find that the delicate touches, the exquisite tension and ultimate release were nowhere mentioned (except for the face Kitty had so kindly imitated, and which Mr. Collins apparently pulled when finally satisfied). Their encounters seemed to be dry affairs- literally and figuratively- and Kitty, as far as she could tell, had derived no pleasure from them. They were generally completed, from his knock on her door to her husband's meek removal, within ten minutes. These visits had stopped altogether with their recent strained relations.
"But things do seem to be improving now, do they not? You now have a far better grasp of the household duties, you have distanced yourself from the servants and Mr. Collins seems to be willing to leave this quarel behind you."
Kitty reluctantly replied that he was and further saw that putting her husband off indefinitely would not solve her problem. Elizabeth asked her to start by giving her husband more of her attention when they met during the day (If she became better acquainted with him, it might make their evening reunions less awkward) but left it at that and decided she needed to think on the subject before offering any more material advice.
During her few days at Hunsford, Elizabeth had been more than pleased with Kitty's willingness to learn and adapt, under her tutelage, and so should not have been as surprised as she was to find that Kitty took her words to heart. She had always been an impressionable girl and, without Lydia, she now relied on Elizabeth's guidance unreservedly. When Mr. Collins returned home, he was taken aback by his wife's enthusiasm for Mr. Liston's leg ulcer, as he regaled them with his anecdote over dinner.
Kitty's consideration towards her husband lasted into the evening, though the strength of Mr. Collins' response shook her resolve almost to breaking point. He did not desist in his attentions, but seemed to get more excited as the evening wore on, until he could contain himself no longer and began to suggest to Elizabeth that she looked very tired and that she should not to let 'Catherine and myself' keep her up. Kitty's pleading eyes led her to demur retiring early for a time, but eventually even Elizabeth's iron will could not disregard Mr. Collins' allusions and she left Kitty to her fate. Judging by the bumps and muffled whispers that she heard down the corridor not long afterwards, Kitty had followed her advice to the letter.
The next morning, an early walk allowed Elizabeth to avoid the happy couple and she felt restored to her natural vitality as she wandered. Sprinting down hills was her secret pleasure and she noticed a promising field to which she now moved. She launched herself from the top, her speed increasing until she could barely stay on her feet and thought she could trip and tumble down the hill at any moment. That feeling of her stomach in her mouth, her blood pumping from the recognition of her peril, was what she sought. She even closed her eyes and felt the breeze in her hair, bearing her cares away with it, her mind focused on nothing but her wild descent. She sensed the terrain levelling off and gradually came to a halt. Her eyes were still closed as she basked in the lingering flutterings of exhilaration. She stood this way- eyes closed, grinning- until the outside world began to intrude. The 'kokokok' of a pheasant was the sound that roused her and she slowly opened her eyes.
Presently, there was a disturbance to her right- the rustle of branches cast aside and the contented sounds of a horse well-used. Even Mr. Darcy's appearance on his spindly gelding could not dampen her mood, and her subsequent greeting was more cordial than her animus towards him could warrant. She did not know how long he had been there, whether he had seen her capering and what he now thought if he had. She did not concern herself with it, as she was convinced that he would promptly take himself and his disapproval off in some other direction and leave her to her bliss once more. He dismounted, however, and seemed resolved on joining her walk. She was perplexed, and annoyed at herself for encouraging this familiarity with her affable greeting, but had no choice other than to accept his proffered arm. He steered them, without discussion, in the direction of the imposing treeline.
