Mr Collins appeared with admirable promptness at four o'clock. Unfortunately, as far as Elizabeth was concerned, it was the last admirable thing he did.
The early evening leading up to supper was filled with talk… and talk… and talk… and talk. The man was inexhaustible on every subject, repetitious to a nauseating degree, and generally a bit on the silly side. Elizabeth could not quite escape the man, though she tried her best to ignore him as much as possible.
The man talked in superlatives and comparisons. Everything from the furniture to the paintings to the articles of plate were compared to something it vaguely reminded him of in his parsonage or at Rosings. Of course, every comparison to Rosings had to show the superiority of that particular abode and his noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The dining room must be compared to the small breakfast parlour. The silver was compared to the second or third best at Rosings. The paintings appeared to be made by a man who might later in life (with more skill and experience) grace a wall on Rosings. What little of the garden he could see in November reminded him of his own plot at the parsonage, which he managed himself. (That part was actually sensible, but nobody happened to be listening at the time).
On and on it went until Elizabeth would have screamed if not for one advantage she had over her sisters. She did not care in the least what Mr Collins said, did, or thought. She was not engaged, but she was being courted, which put her safely out of Mr Collins's reach, even if she never did accept Mr Darcy. Her mother and some of her sisters were still unaware of any connexion at all, but her father knew, and that was all that counted. After all, it was not as if Mr Collins would enter the house one day and pick the companion of his future life that very same evening. Such a thing would be preposterous even for Mr Collins and Mrs Bennet.
Nobody could be that stupid.
Dinner was more of the same, with the parson praising the cooking, place settings and the like. He made a major faux pas in asking which daughter was responsible for the meal. It was bad enough that he did not understand the mechanics of an estate the size of his future inheritance to know it would have a cook, but even worse was the fact that he had been in the presence of said ladies since his arrival and they could not possibly have made it to the kitchen. Mrs Bennet was mightily offended, but Mr Collins managed to get back in her good graces with sufficient grovelling (which he seemed well-practiced at).
Elizabeth was grateful she was seated across and down the table several places from the man. Mrs Bennet had tried to sit her next to him, but she simply refused to do so at a time and place where Mrs Bennet could not make too much of a fuss. It seemed likely the matriarch had not quite worked out why Mr Darcy was so prevalent at Longbourn; but since his prevalence consisted of only two visits, she had not quite gotten the matrimonial scent… and Elizabeth did not wish to lay a scent trail prematurely.
While Elizabeth had her own things to think about, she was mildly curious about Mr Collins. Not having to worry about being shackled to him allowed her to view the man dispassionately.
For certain, he was a foolish man, but many men were. Lady Catherine sounded like an interfering busybody, but her interference at least included spending money on the parsonage, which was… not quite so bad. It did not bode well for the future Mrs Collins' ability to run her own home; but having a generous benefactor had certain advantages.
All in all, she thought Mr Collins might make someone a marginally adequate husband—with the natural proviso that someone was not her.
Between the first and second courses, Mr Collins made his play for the evening's entertainment. "I thought I might read for an hour or two from Fordyce's sermons."
Elizabeth looked to her father, who appeared to be having the best night of his life (or at least his recent life). Lydia and Kitty looked horrified, while Jane and Mrs Bennet looked resigned.
Mary surprised everyone with her answer. "We shall be happy to listen to the good reverend if you allow me to choose the passages."
The gentleman looked stunned, while Mr Bennet looked highly amused, and most of the other diners looked at her in shock or curiosity. Lydia and Kitty were astonished that Mary was saying something that was not a direct quote from Fordyce, while Elizabeth and Jane were surprised that she said it so sweetly.
"Why would you wish to pick the passages? I can assure you that I know the good reverend very well. My profession and Oxford education give me excellent insight into the education required …" and then he paused to look meaningfully at Lydia and Kitty, then continued, "… though of course, I will take any suggestions under advisement."
"While I dislike disputing with you, I must insist."
Mr Collins looked to Mr Bennet in an apparent bid to get him to bring his recalcitrant daughter in line but found the patriarch grinning. "I have no horse in this race, sir."
"Why would you wish to choose, Miss Mary," Collins finally asked, seemingly flustered.
"Because I have been rather fixedly studying the reverend for the last year or two. I have recently been discussing it in detail with my elder sisters. We concluded that much of what he has to say is pure gold, but much is also harmful drivel. If your intent is to educate, I prefer more of the former and less of the latter."
Nobody at the table had the slightest idea how to react to the newly assertive Mary—even Mr Collins.
After about a quarter-minute, Mary said, "Well, that is settled then," and returned to her meal.
Just before the next course was cleared away, Mrs Bennet asked a bit more about Rosings and Lady Catherine, seemingly unable to get enough.
"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."
"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?"
"She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property."
"Ah!" said Mrs Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?"
"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks the young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in many accomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies."
The ladies found the idea of being sole heiress to a large estate terribly romantic. Even though Elizabeth thought Mr Collins was contradicting himself by calling her both handsome and sickly, she was not one to quibble on some improvement in the conversation.
Lydia and Kitty loved the idea of a rich heiress and spent a good quarter-hour pestering the gentleman for more details on the heiress, how she dressed, how she lived, and most importantly—all about her phaeton and ponies.
The more he talked, the more Mrs Bennet thought Lady Catherine might be of some use to her if she could somehow be introduced. That lady obviously had only one daughter to marry off, which should be child's play.
With that in mind, she started her attempt to work out if there was an appropriate scheme. "How old is Lady Catherine's daughter?"
"She is five and twenty."
Mrs Bennet scrunched her head in confusion, unable to make any sense out of the statement.
The matriarch finally decided to just ask. "How is it possible she is not married? Even though you say she is sickly and has not been presented, with an estate of that size for a dowry I should imagine she bats suitors away by the dozen."
Only the three elder daughters winced at the vulgarity, while the two youngest looked on in eager anticipation. Mr Bennet looked on in amused anticipation for the answer.
Mr Collins beamed with all the pleasure of one who had the juiciest gossip to share. "Well, she has been engaged to her cousin for many years, and Lady Catherine anticipates the long-awaited event will occur this year. Lady Catherine observes they are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, honourable, and ancient-though untitled-families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective houses. The combined estates will be one of the largest in England."
All Mrs Bennet got out of that description was that the young heiress would soon be out of the way, and Lady Catherine would likely have nothing to do once Miss de Bourgh's husband took over Rosings. It seemed a perfect opportunity to get the great lady to assist her with some of her more troubling offspring, such as Elizabeth and Mary.
"Who is this paragon she will wed?" she asked in breathless anticipation.
"Her cousin is the master of a grand estate in the north. I understand it bests Rosings in size and productivity, and nearly matches it in elegance."
"And the name of this estate?" Elizabeth asked suspiciously.
"Pemberly!" he blithely replied, having completely missed the threat in her voice.
Elizabeth frowned until her teeth were ready to break, and she might have said something very intemperate if Mary had not squeezed her hand beneath the table. "Are you implying that Miss de Bourgh is intended for Mr Darcy of Pemberley?"
Collins face lit up almost enough to make him handsome (perhaps not handsome per se, but less unhandsome), and his smile could not be hidden. "You have heard of Mr Darcy? I had no idea his fame spread this far, but of course, a man of his consequence must be known everywhere in the kingdom."
Elizabeth snapped angrily, "Answer the question!"
Collins shook his head. "I imply nothing! I state it as undeniable fact, straight from Lady Catherine's mouth. Their marriage is as certain as the tides."
Jane surprised everyone by saying gently, "You might wish to stop conflating Lady Catherine's opinions with fact, Mr Collins. They are likely very different things. My mother has asserted my marriage was imminent to no fewer than four men since I came out; and yet, here I am—still single."
That one stunned everyone at the table, even the two youngest. Mrs Bennet seemed prepared to say something egregious, but even she was having trouble working out how to react to Jane showing a bit of fire. As far as the matron was concerned, such an occurrence was unnatural, and not to be encouraged or repeated. Mary taking up the axe suddenly a few days earlier had been far more change than she cared for.
It never occurred to anyone to inform Mr Collins that he was presently sitting in a chair that had been occupied by the aforementioned Mr Darcy the previous day.
Elizabeth was grinding her teeth in frustration, though neither Jane nor Mary could work out exactly which kind, and none of the other occupants even noticed.
Mary decided to enter the breach once again. "Mr Collins, you asserted that Lady Catherine likes to have the distinction of rank preserved. I cannot say whether that is truth, but Rev Fordyce agrees, saying: You should never forget the importance of respecting those who are above you in social rank or station. This means showing deference and obedience to those in positions of authority, and avoiding any behaviour that might be seen as presumptuous or disrespectful."
She stared at him to be certain she had his attention. "Do you agree?"
"Wholeheartedly!" he said with grave conviction.
"Then perhaps—just perhaps—you should reconsider the wisdom of spreading unfounded rumours about a man who is as far above you in station as Lady Catherine is, and even farther in consequence. I doubt the gentleman would enjoy learning you were gossiping about him."
Elizabeth looked to Mary, wondering when she had time to sharpen her claws so very sharp.
Mr Collins looked at Mary condescendingly, as a patient tutor might look at a not particularly bright child.
"My dear Miss Mary, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom-provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty."
Mary stared at him, thoroughly unable to answer such a load of balderdash. She did not even know where to begin with such a stupid and contradictory statement, let alone the assertion that gossip and duty were synonymous.
Elizabeth did. "Are you asserting, sir, that since you are a clergyman, you are empowered to gossip like a fishwife about your social superiors?"
"Mr Darcy and I are both gentlemen," he said, which made Elizabeth just shaker her head in wonder.
"Perhaps, but what sets social position is how long your family have been of the gentry, and how much fortune and consequence they yield," Mary said, trying her best to both pound some sense into the man and keep Elizabeth from scratching his eyes out.
"By your own reckoning, you are only considered a gentleman because you made it through Cambridge and got a living from Lady Catherine. You are a gentleman of very minor fortune and a few months' standing at best. Mr Darcy is a very wealthy gentleman, and according to Lady Catherine, from respectable, honourable, and ancient-though untitled-families."
Collins finally saw the potential problem if word should get back to Mr Darcy, and almost reconsidered. "I understand your reasoning, but you can rest assured that, in the unlikely chance you ever meet Mr Darcy, he will approve of my words."
"ENOUGH!"
The bellow was enough to bring the servants running to check on the family, but when they peeked into the room and saw Miss Elizabeth standing with her chair knocked over, leaning across the table on her fisted knuckles staring at Mr Collins; they universally decided discretion was the best part of valour and receded immediately.
Elizabeth leaned over even more threateningly. "Mr Collins… my sisters have been trying to steer you toward gentlemanlike behaviour this quarter-hour with nothing to show for it, so pray allow me to be more explicit. Mr Darcy will be at this table on Wednesday, and I very much doubt he will be happy to learn you have been gossiping about him."
Collins looked so confused she almost felt sorry for him. "I do not understand your anger, Miss Elizabeth. Mrs Bennet asked a simple question about people known to me and I answered it."
"You answered it with wild speculation from the fevered imagination of Lady Catherine de Bourgh."
"She does not imagine things. If she says they are engaged, they are! I am sorry you disagree with a simple statement of fact, but I hardly think shooting the messenger is called for. I can assure you in the strongest possible terms that Lady Catherine knows far more about Mr Darcy than you possibly can after what must be a rather trifling acquaintance."
Jane felt a sense of déjà vu from when Elizabeth was about ready to decapitate the Netherfield gentlemen. "Liiiiizzzzy" she said in a tone designed to hopefully calm her.
Elizabeth looked at her, and then around the table to find everyone staring as if she had a third eye. She imagined they were surprised by them first chastising Mr Collins for gossiping like a fishwife, followed by Elizabeth bellowing like one.
She finally stared at Collins until he started to squirm.
"Listen very carefully, Mr Collins—and I strongly suggest you start working out how you will attempt to repair your reputation. Mr Darcy is NOT engaged to Miss de Bourgh, nor will he ever be… because he is courting ME!"
Then with an exasperated huff, she turned and stomped from the room without a by your leave, frustrated beyond measure by every male in the room, since her father was chuckling at the debacle.
It took an hour for Mary and Jane to reach Lizzy's room, which was probably for the best. They found her sitting on a window seat.
"I suppose the cat is loose among the pigeons, Lizzy. It took all our effort to keep Mama from storming the door," Jane said with a smile.
Elizabeth laughed. "I wanted a few more days of quiet, peaceful, uncomplicated courtship—but that seems unlikely now. How was Mama assuaged?"
Mary and Jane looked at each other in anticipation, and Mary said, "Believe it or not, Papa took her into the bookroom and read her the riot act. He explained that Mr Darcy is courting you, but he is skittish as a new-born colt. He said the gentleman would probably bolt at the first whiff of matrimonial machinations—asserting the man has apparently been evading Lady Catherine for a decade, so she should just let him get on with his courtship without interference."
Elizabeth gaped. "OUR father said that?"
"He did."
"I am all astonishment!"
"As were we," Jane admitted. "He even directly quoted something Mr Darcy said while he was asking permission to call: Undoubtedly, there is a meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable."
Jane giggled. "You can imagine how Mama took that bit of verbiage."
Elizabeth laughed heartily. "That sounds like something he might say… though I have yet to sketch his character well enough to know whether he would be serious or half-jesting. He does have a sense of humour."
Mary chuckled. "That he does. Of course, I doubt Papa planned on us listening at the door, but if he does not understand Longbourn by now, he never will."
"He knew you were there. It was the fastest way to spread it to the whole house."
They laughed a bit, and Jane asked, "Why were you so angry, Lizzy. I have not seen you ready to commit murder since Netherfield."
"I can assure you that things with Mr Collins will not work out as they did with the Netherfield lunkheads."
All three laughed uproariously.
Jane was like a dog with a bone. "Did Mr Collins' assertions make you question Mr Darcy's sincerity? As you said, you could not stand him Sunday morning, and you do not know him all that well. He would not be the first charming rogue who wanted one last fling before being leg shackled, and you have spent a grand total of perhaps two or three hours speaking with him."
"That is ALL I have been thinking about since I returned. The reaction was instinctive, visceral, and quite surprising to me. I had to think for a bit to sort it out."
"What is your conclusion?" Mary asked.
Elizabeth gave a grim smile.
"I was livid, because Mr Collins was casting aspersions on my Mr Darcy."
"Have you decided then?" Jane asked with a concerned expression, apparently worried about the pace of change.
"Of course not, but I will not be diverted by the likes of Mr Collins. I now know more about Mr Darcy's family, and once he explains his mercenary aunt, I will understand more. One day, I will know it all."
"I am not certain you ever know it all," Mary observed.
"I will know enough!"