I beat on the door of the infernal parsonage with sufficient heft to let Mrs. Collins know I was not to be trifled with. I really did not understand that woman. She had been nearly a year half a mile from my home, yet had barley visited Rosings a half dozen times, and paid not the slightest attention to any of my very thoughtful and excellent advice. She was a headstrong and stubborn girl, that's what she was.

I assumed she must also be quite the shrew, as Mr. Collins never really seemed to be himself after he married. He was only half a man in the first place, and after about three or four months married to her, he diminished even farther; perhaps to a quarter man. When the fever came for him, it was just taking the shell that was left of him, and I doubted the woman would really miss him when he was gone. She had not even done her duty in producing an heir, despite nearly a year of marriage. Yes, there was definitely something very wrong with Mrs. Elizabeth Collins.

The door opened, and I barely managed to keep my countenance. Most of the parsonage was dark, and the lady of the house opened the door herself. Where were her servants? This parsonage held a perfectly good living, so why was she answering the door personally? This was most peculiar, but in a moment I began to see that she was simply insuring that I was shown the proper deference as patroness. Most likely she did not trust her servants to perform the office adequately, as they would have very little cause to learn the finer points of etiquette, and might not have the vaguest idea how to behave with a woman of my station. Yes, that perfectly well explained it.

Mrs. Collins did at least know what she was about, as she greeted me with all the appropriate civility of bearing, if not the proper attire. She looked more like a goodwife than a lady, but her dress was immaculately clean and well pressed, and her hair was done properly. Perhaps she wished to maintain the distinctions of rank, which I had to admit was to her favor.

Her greeting was one of surprise and pleasure, which was hardly surprising considering I was condescending to visit her humble abode.

"Lady Catherine! How good of you to visit! What an unexpected honor! Please come in! I am very happy that you condescended to visit."

Her curtsey and her bearing left nothing to be desired, so there was nothing to criticize, except for the deplorable lack of servants. Obviously we were not to have a conference in the entry hall, and since she had taken the duty of greeting me, she also took the task of leading me into the very small parlor.

I was astounded as I entered the parlor to see the dining room dark and shut up, and the stairway also blocked by quilts. What a peculiar state of affairs! I determined I would get to the bottom of it sooner or later, but for the moment, I thought I would reply to her greeting, but she was already performing the next office.

"May I please assist you with your wrap, Lady Catherine? I assure you, it would be my pleasure."

This was again singular, but it was obvious she did not trust her servants to properly care for my clothing. Her care for myself and my property was to her credit, but her inability to manage servants was not; so I thought I might offer some assistance at a later time.

I replied perhaps more curtly than her greeting called for, but I was most vexed and wanted to get my purpose served as soon as it may be done, "No, you may not! I am looking for my nephew."

The lady of the house astounded me by giving the brightest and pleasantest smile I had ever seen grace her face, and replied, "I thank you for the compliment, Lady Catherine. It makes me very happy! Very happy indeed! I am truly honored!"

What in the world was she going on about? How could asking for my nephew be considered a compliment? Perhaps she was not a shrew. Perhaps she was touched in the head, or French.

I looked her over carefully, but seeing no malice or disrespect I answered with my usual frankness, "I have not the pleasure of understanding you. To which compliment do you refer?"

With nary a pause, she said, "That you find my company worthy of your nephew, of course! I would never have presumed you would approve of your nephew calling on me, but I am most gratified to find that you do. Perhaps I should invite him to supper tomorrow… no wait, that would be too soon. It must be Friday if I am to have a meal that is worthy. Of course, you should come as well and bring Miss de Bourgh. That will be most wonderful! I can just imagine it now! I have never had such distinguished guests, and of course, I have been hoping to ask your advice on a particular matter, so it will all turn out as it should! Yes, Friday will do nicely. Will six o'clock be convenient?"

Getting more confused by the minute, or perhaps becoming more exposed to her malady by the minute, I gave her my most imperious stare.

Showing I was not to be trifled with, I replied, "What do you mean, implying that I approve of my nephew calling on you? How can you believe such a thing?"

The lady paused not at all, and looking perhaps sane but a touch disturbed, she said, "Pardon me, Lady Catherine! Perhaps I overestimate your nephew's complaisance! I could not dream any nephew of yours would do something you disapprove of whilst residing in your own home, but perhaps I am wrong."

What was this? To imply such a thing was anathema, and I let her know forthwith.

"Of course not! You are absolutely correct. My nephews are most affectionate and respectful! They are the very best of men, and they esteem me exceedingly. They would not dare tempt my displeasure, but of course they never would do anything out of sorts anyway."

She smiled even more broadly if that was possible and replied, "There you have it then! If you disapproved of your nephew calling on the parsonage, you would not be here looking for him; as it would be quite impossible for him to be here against your wishes. Since you are here, you must approve. It is simple deduction, really, and I must say your approbation is very much appreciated, but of course with all due humility!"

Now I was becoming even more confused. Perhaps she was a serpent, not a shrew. I thought I might slap her impertinence right back where it belonged, and said, "Well, of course my nephew is descended from a respectable, honourable, and ancient-though untitled—family, and it would I suppose be proper for him to show condescension to those within my purview."

She nearly bounced on her toes and agreed, "I would expect no less from a nephew of yours, Lady Catherine. Your approval means very much to me."

Still feeling a little bit put out by the whole affair, I told her, "Naturally! Although I must say, you give your opinions most decidedly for such a young wife."

She became all contrition, and said, "My apologies, Lady Catherine… perhaps I overstate my case. I would never wish for my humble personage to come between you and your esteemed nephew. Family relations are so very important, but easy to disrupt, and I could not bear he thought."

The gall of the woman, to think one such as she could possibly come between my nephew and I! Such a thought! I put her to rights straightaway, "Such is not possible!"

Having been set in her place, she paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. It must be taxing for someone as young to keep up with me, but at length, she said, I am glad to hear that."

Then she took a bit of a breath and asked the oddest question, "Perhaps you could clarify one point for me, Lady Catherine?"

This was behavior I could approve of, so I replied as is proper, "Yes, of course! I am celebrated for my frankness. Ask as you will."

She then asked, "Who exactly is this wayward nephew? I must assume you have several, and I am not at all certain I know any of them. As you well know, my society is limited and very rarely includes the first circles."

What was this? How was it possible for a young woman to be so ignorant of my family; but then I realized she had not been to Rosings more than a handful of times, so she would not necessarily know of all my family dealings. That was more normally the purview of her husband, such as he was.

Naturally, I answered with fortitude, "Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy! He has been staying at Rosings this past se'nnight. He visits every year, but usually at Easter. You of course have not been introduced so you could not know."

She looked a little bit put out by my answer, as if it were even possible and gave the oddest reply of the evening.

"Ah, Mr. Darcy! Yes. I knew him slightly when he visited Hertfordshire last winter. I believe I may even have danced with him once before I was married, but it is difficult to remember."

Now I went from shocked to scandalized! How was it possible that she actually knew my nephew, but claimed she could not even remember a dance with him! Impossible! She must be prevaricating. I did not know which I thought worse. Firstly that my esteemed nephew might dance with some country nobody when he was betrothed to my daughter, or that anyone whose station in life was so decidedly below his could possibly forget a dance with such an august personage. It would have been the highlight of her life.

Thoroughly put out, I asked, "How could you possibly forget a dance with my nephew?"

Her answer was even odder. She said, "Oh, we did not get on particularly well, so I have mostly forgotten him. I believe he found our society somewhat savage, and made his opinion clear. I did by chance have a thought about him this morning, but only to reflect the unlikelihood of ever seeing him again, and to be frank, my satisfaction with that state of affairs."

Now I was even more confused and somewhat alarmed. First she could barely remember him, and now she as much as professed to dislike him. How was it possible a country miss of no importance seemed to disapprove of my noble nephew; and how was it conceivably her place to do so? It was not to be born.

I collected my thoughts for a moment, and asked, "So you say he considered your society; what was the word you used; somewhat savage?"

"Yes, your Ladyship, I believe he did, or at least I must assume so from his manners."

This conversation just kept getting worse and worse. Now she was to criticize my nephew's manners? Or perhaps, she was simply commenting that he was holding himself in the reserve proper for a man of his station, which anyone would approve of. The whole conversation was leaving me insatiably curious, so I asked, "And yet he danced with the ladies."

She shrugged her shoulders, a most unladylike gesture if I ever saw one, and one that I would work out of her deportment if it killed me, but then she at last answered, "Oh, no. He did not dance with the ladies in general. Only me, and only the once."

Now we were getting somewhere, and I was quite fatigued with her evasiveness, so I forthrightly demanded, "Do not dissemble, Mrs. Collins, it does not suit you. You remember the dance quite well, do you not?"

As shocking as the revelation was, at least now we were getting to the bottom of it. I saw her stumble in her speech a bit, probably reflecting on how confusing she was, but finally answered with a wistful look, "Yes, you are correct, Lady Catherine. That was the very last time I danced."

That seemed to take all the wind out of her sails, but it would certainly give me something to think about over the next day. I could not tell if she was sad because she had not danced again, or because her attempts to trap my nephew had failed, or if… the thought was impossible to countenance but my frankness demanded no less… perhaps, she actually did not like my nephew. Something very odd had gone on between the two of them, and I was determined to find out every detail. Fitzwilliam was obviously taken, and Mrs. Collins was obviously married for the moment, but I could not stand the idea of a person in my sphere thinking badly of my nephew; particularly when it seemed remotely possible he had earned her disapprobation.

She seemed to be just about done in, but she quietly asked with the greatest humility, "My offer is still open Lady Catherine. You are welcome to dine, but do not feel I will be offended if you decline. Not everyone is resilient enough for the simple fare we partake of here."

The nerve of the woman, to imply I could not easily handle the worst of foods and direst of conditions. It was intolerable! I come from the hardiest of stocks. Or was she regretting stepping so far above herself. Oh, it was too confusing, so I simply took charge of the affair as I should have from the beginning.

"We will be here at six o'clock on Friday. I will bring Anne and Darcy both. I mean to get to the truth of this matter."

She quietly said, "You need not trouble Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine. The company of you and your daughter will be quite sufficient for me."

I was to have none of that, and replied in the strongest terms, "Nevertheless, he will attend. I will know the rest of the story of your dealings with him in Hertfordshire! I am very nearly his closest relation and should be aware of all of his affairs."

She seemed distressed by that plan, so perhaps she actually did not like him; but simply said, "You can get the story from him by simply asking, Your Ladyship. You need not trouble him to attend."

Wishing to put the topic to rest, I told her, "Rest assured Mrs. Collins, he will give me the story first; but he will attend."

I looked around at the closed up rooms and stairway, still curious but I imagined that could await supper on Friday for my satisfaction.

I asked, "You do not have a French cook, I hope?"

The young lady actually chuckled, another habit I intended to break her of, and said, "I can assure you that the cook in this house is as English as you can get; 300 years at the very least."

Tired of fencing with her, I ended the interview.

"We shall be here promptly at six, Mrs. Collins. If you do happen to see my missing nephew, please tell him to attend me at his earliest convenience. You are certain he is not here?"

She answered, "I can assure your Ladyship, he is not in the living portion of the parsonage. Of course, he may well be in the kitchen, or an upstairs bedroom or a servants attic; or possibly right behind that quilt! Would you like me to check?"

The nerve of the woman! Well, I must own that she did have a touch of impertinence, and I could see that Anne could use just a bit of that herself. Perhaps Friday would not be such a trial after all. I assured her, "No, Mrs. Collins; that will not be necessary."

She replied cordially, "Should I happen upon him rattling about the parsonage, I will happily deliver your message. Good evening, Lady Catherine and thank you for calling. I shall look forward to supper on Friday."

Mrs. Collins walked me back to the entry hall where I had left a footman, and watched as I entered the coach to leave for Rosings.

What a singular encounter! Most vexing, but singular!