Chapter 6 ~ Unwearying Civility
15 Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that." 16 As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. 17 So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin. (James 4:15-17, ESV)
5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. 6 In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. 7 Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil. 8 It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones. (Proverbs 3:5-8, ESV)
The next morning after a most enlightening conversation with Mrs. Bennet Mr. Collins
decided to inform his future father-in-law of his qualifications to be a husband. He followed him therefore to his library soon after breakfast. After noisily selecting one of the largest folios in the collection, he sat beside the window to earnestly pretend to read it. His performance included several thoughtful "hmmms", one knowing "precisely" and two revelatory "ahHHhs!" but his host studiously focused only on his own book. A most dedicated performer the clergyman continued for almost seven minutes and when Mr. Bennet still would ask him no question he attempted an insinuating "very interesting." This too failed to elicit a response. Mr. Collins supposed that his cousin may be hard of hearing and so he chose to begin the conversation, introducing his subject in a voice ill suited to the dimensions of the space. Rarely taking a breath he described his house and garden at Hunsford in tedious detail.
Mr. Bennet, though used to encountering folly in every other room of his house expected his bookroom to be a sanctuary from it, and was exceedingly discomposed. He attempted at first to discourage his guest with curt monosyllables, pointed looks and even by turning his back and raising his book but the interloper paid him no heed and rambled on with little cessation. When his daughters informed him that they were to walk to Meryton that morning Mr. Bennet was most eager to invite Mr. Collins to join them. Being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader and confident that he could finish his description the following morning, his cousin was perfectly satisfied with the change.
Mary had been considering what was to be done for her wayward sister and the confused clergyman. Having observed that Mr. Collins was in sympathy with her on the shocking reading material and the conversation that followed, she wished to commiserate with him this morning and engage him to speak with the curate. She would do what she could for Elizabeth whose moral character it was her Christian duty to guide if she could into a better way of thinking. With this purpose in mind she had determined not to join her sisters on their walk. When her cousin emerged from the bookroom to attend them, she changed her mind and soon took her place at his side.
Surprised by this confidence from the least handsome of his cousins – he had by then determined that with the eldest unavailable and Miss Elizabeth unsuitable he would rescue young Kitty from her elder sister's corrupting influence and make her his choice – he could not be otherwise than gratified by her attention. Miss Mary's excellent judgment in seeking his advice and assistance made him consider her a little more seriously. And when she took his arm, speaking with quiet confidence her trust that he would guide the young man serving in her own parish, she began to look almost pretty. The conspirators walked more slowly than their companions at last catching them up outside the milliners. Looking through the window Miss Lydia was admiring a really new muslin and Miss Kitty talked of nothing but the very smart bonnet she had not enough pin money to purchase. Mr. Collins made his choice right then and from that moment Miss Mary was very beautiful indeed. She was the fortunate lady destined to preside at his table and drink tea with no less a personnage than Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Lydia having seen Mr. Denny and Captain Carter across the way directed their party to meet them. The whole party were talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. They dismounted and Darcy immediately claimed a place beside Elizabeth as his friend drew Miss Bennet into conversation.
"I was on my way to Longbourn," Bingley said, "on purpose to inquire after you. I am very glad to see that you are well!"
Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to draw Elizabeth's arm through his own, when he was suddenly arrested by the sight of Mr. Wickham approaching from the road. Elizabeth, happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour; one looked white, the other pink. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat -- a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? -- It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know. Mr. Darcy joined the general conversation and with studied carelessness positioned himself at just the angle that would block Mr. Wickham from joining the others and focused his attentions most assiduously on Elizabeth.
Mr. Collins made up for their rudeness by engaging Mr. Wickham in conversation, advising him in melancholy tones of the types of reading material suitable for a vicar. This discourse, delivered in hushed tones, Mr. Wickham was incapable of attending. His mind was engaged on another subject entirely. Knowing that Mr. Darcy would only marry to advantage, his attentions to Miss Elizabeth could, unless his character were much improved in recent years, have dishonourable intentions. He was trying to distinguish Miss Elizabeth's voice to make out her responses to the scoundrel. Did she welcome his notice? Fortunately Mr. Collins required no reply and his companion's grave expression convinced him of his success all the way to Mr. Philips's door.
The gentlemen all walked with the young ladies until they reached their destination making quite a procession down the high street of the village. The soldiers then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips' throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation. Mr. Darcy ignored that particular civility and made excuses to Miss Elizabeth for his friend and himself. He spoke quietly to Bingley and then bowing they mounted their horses and turned toward Netherfield. Mr. Wickham was detained by Mr. Collins' condescending entreaties that they could continue the conversation, for Mr. Collins had much more wisdom he wished to impart – having not yet begun to explain the topics of conversation most useful and pleasing for the edification of one's patron and his daughters. It was only after promising Mrs. Phillips that he would attend a card party on the following evening that Mr. Wickham was permitted to make his escape.
Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome. As difficult as it had always been to pull any gossip from her more prudent elder nieces Mrs. Phillips did hope to learn something about the goings on at Netherfield to whisper in 'strictest confidence' on her morning calls. She had another opportunity to learn some valuable information in the tall sturdily built Mr. Collins, a young man unknown in the area. Thus was he received with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more,
"I must apologize for intruding on your hospitality without any previous acquaintance with you. Your attention and consideration quite overwhelm me, madame, to be receieved by you with such an excess of courtesy is beyond my expectation. This exceptional courtesy might, I cannot help flattering myself, be justified by my relationship to the charming young ladies who have done me the honour of introducing me to your notice."
Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding but soon turned her attention to her nieces eager to describe the card party she was planning for the following evening. Once she had their promise to attend she tried what she could to learn something of the stay at Netherfield, but heard only that they served a ragout de boeuf one evening and that Mrs. Hurst and her sister were most attentive. The morning's news about the officer's return from London the younger ladies had already learned from the gentlemen themselves and as there was not much more to be said and the girls were fearful that Mr. Collins may begin one of his speeches they decided it was time to return to Longbourn. Mary collected her reticule relieved that she was not to be quizzed about Mr. Wickham. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies as they quitted the room, put on their bonnets and exited the house. He was assured at the door that they were perfectly needless. Mrs. Phillips, when she was at last permitted to close the door, was pleased with her morning's work. Although she had gained scant information she was certain that she could make something of it nonetheless. She was to spend the following morning exaggerating the luxuries of Netherfield's table and dressing Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst in the garb of saints and angels for the purpose of good conversation.
As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain their reactions than her sister.
Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but had even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. And, on his express recommendation, included even poor Mr. Wickham. Something, he supposed, might be attributed to his connexion with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.
Mr. Wickham had spent a very troubled afternoon. Weeks ago he was very much surprised to learn that Fitzwilliam Darcy, arrived in the neighbourhood. He had been able to avoid his presence so far and gave little thought to the man. This first encounter changed everything. Was it his duty to inform others what he suspected of his habits? Did he wish to do so because he was still resentful that the living promised to him was bestowed elsewhere? His return to the parsonage became a meditative prayer walk as he contemplated his dilemma.
That there was so much more reason to be grateful to the Darcys than to resent them could not be denied. It was George Darcy who provided him with a gentleman's education. The money he received in place of the living was certainly enough to make a future on and his investments were profiting. Fitzwilliam Darcy had little opportunity to know him and it was his responsibility to bestow the living on a man he respected and trusted. By the time Wickham hung his coat by the kitchen door, slipped a roll from the basket and sat at the table that served as his desk he was certain he had made peace with the past as far as it concerned him. There was more he learned about the current Mr. Darcy which the people of Hertfordshire did not know.
They had not socialized in school but because they attended during the same years Mr. Wickham heard much of him. Fitzwilliam Darcy was talked of everywhere; no one took any notice of the obscure steward's son. Darcy was described as a charming rogue, the kind of rogue who gambled his allowance and ruined tradesman's daughters. Darcy was expected to marry a fortune, when he considered it for a man like Darcy to show Miss Elizabeth such marked attention at the very least would end with a broken heart and at worst a broken reputation.
It was possible that the man had reformed. Because their fathers had been friends, because they spent their earliest years raised almost as brothers Wickham wanted to have reason to think well of Fitzwilliam Darcy but there was still a part of him that was more than pleased to justify his early dislike of that other boy. It was as gratifying as it was disappointing to know that he did not deserve even his good opinion. Is it possible to do right when you have selfish motives? If it would be wrong to be silent did his small personal triumph mean that he must not speak? If there was a corner of his heart that still harboured resentment would it discount speaking truth as he understood it? This was the part he still needed to wrestle with.