Mary was happy, and Elizabeth could happily write that much to Mr. Bennet.
One source of her happiness no doubt came from how it was Mary who decided upon their evening entertainments and who chose the subject of conversation.
Mr. Collins read aloud from whichever book she ordered him to read. He would converse about the difference between Fordyce’s and Hannah More’s view of the ideal place of a wife if that was what Mary wished to speak about. They debated the proper (metaphorical) interpretation of the Beast in Revelations when instead that was the subject that Mary asked for.
And, it seemed, Mr. Collins was not unable to perceive from aspects of his wife’s behavior when she was particularly amenable to being begged to favor them with music.
Beyond all that, Elizabeth discovered clear signs as the evening became late that Mr. and Mrs. Collins would like it, while they of course would by no means suggest this directly to her, if the party might break up early in the evening, so that they could retire to bed. That is to say, Mr. Collins and Mary often shared affectionate touches and little smiles, and they sat as blushingly close as a bride and groom were supposed to.
On the second day they settled into more normal routines. Mary sat in the parlor for much of the day, reading, practicing on the piano, or knitting. She told Elizabeth that she often made calls on the parishioners, and that they would always reserve a part of their income here for the relief of those amongst the parish who were in need of temporary aid, but not so poor as to go onto relief.
“With Mr. Collins’s expectations,” Mary said, “it is not so important that we put aside a large fund every year as it might be otherwise, and our needs here are modest.”
At first it slightly surprised Elizabeth to see that Mary still focused on her music, but Mr. Collins had an untutored delight in Mary’s playing, and he came in from his garden to work upon his sermon and listen when she began to practice.
It seemed to Elizabeth that Mary now tended to pick pieces that focused more on being pleasant than difficult. There was now less of the studied air in how she played, and more actual enjoyment of the music.
Mary’s interest in making extracts from improving texts still gave her things to speak about with her husband, and over the course of their luncheon Elizabeth found that Mary’s advice and suggestions had become as important as those of Lady Catherine in the composition of Mr. Collins’s weekly sermons.
That afternoon, when Elizabeth came down from her room dressed to take a walk and finally get a chance for a private look around Rosing’s fine park, she saw a light carriage standing out by the gate with two women in it, one much younger and the other older.
Mary and Mr. Collins stood outside speaking with them for some five minutes.
It was a fine equipage, with excellent horses and a footman standing on the back.
Elizabeth wondered if she ought to step out to join them, but she worried that Mr. Collins or Lady Catherine and her daughter, for such she suspected them to be, might think that an imposition.
She could survive waiting for the introduction without any pain.
The length of the time they kept Mary out in the breezy wind struck Elizabeth unfavorably, as did the appearance of the younger of the two. She was small and cross looking, and not at all the sort of gleaming and beribboned creature that Elizabeth imagined Mr. Darcy would intend to marry.
No, no, she would not do for him at all. She cannot be Miss de Bourgh, it must be another.
Certainly, Elizabeth would be surprised to hear that Darcy, with his habits of graciousness to those who were of a lower order, would marry one who did not have the kindness to come in if she meant to make a call.
But when the phaeton drove off and Mary and Mr. Collins returned to the house, Mr. Collins exclaimed upon seeing Elizabeth, “You too have been blessed to see Miss de Bourgh. Did she not look very well? And was she not exceedingly kind in calling at our gate and talking to us for so long? When she came I thought it might be an opportunity to introduce you to such a great personage, but then I considered that she might consider it an impertinence, and that you will in good time have your introduction to both Miss de Bourgh and her Ladyship. So, I refrained from having you called down.”
“I thought likewise, sir.” Elizabeth replied, “And I am glad to have at least seen Lady Catherine and her daughter.”
Mr. Collins looked at her in some surprise, and with what seemed to be almost disapproving shock. “The old lady was but Mrs. Jenkinson who lives with them. She is nothing to Lady Catherine.”
“I have now learned.”
“I am afraid,” Mary said, “we received distressing news. Lady Catherine usually invites us to dine on Saturdays so that she may discuss Mr. Collins’s plans for the sermon the following day, but as Mr. Darcy is to arrive tomorrow, a few days earlier than he had initially planned, she will not see us.”
“Most distressing,” Elizabeth agreed, though she did not think that she managed to say the words with such grief in her tone as was warranted.
Mary smiled at her with a knowing smile that suggested that she was not fooled. “I look forward to introducing you to her Ladyship. And I do think you shall enjoy the experience.”
“I depend upon that.”
“Of course Elizabeth will be delighted beyond measure when she meets her Ladyship,” Mr. Collins said, “And Miss de Bourgh had been specifically charged by her mother to tell me that I am to send the text of the sermon to her early on Saturday morning, and she has promised to find the leisure to read it and send commentary and corrections during the course of the day.”
“Such condescension,” Elizabeth replied, “is not to be found often. And it shows a seemly concern for the spiritual health of the parish.”
And an unseemly distrust in the capabilities of her chosen parson .
The next day Mr. Collins spent the whole morning walking within the view of the opening into Hunsford Lane so that he could have the earliest intelligence of the arrival of Lady Catherine’s nephews. After he had made a bow to the carriage as it passed, he hurried home with that most important of information. Mr. Darcy had arrived in a carriage carrying his cousin and an additional gentleman whose identity Mr. Collins could not ascertain.
Additional guests did not please Elizabeth, as they would suggest even less reason for Mr. Darcy to often seek her company. But that was a thought she pretended she did not have.
It did amuse her a little that she and Mr. Collins both had a similar interest in gaining early intelligence about the arrival of that gentleman, though from wholly different causes.
Mr. Darcy was here. Less than ten minutes’ walk away. They would see each other, and she would greet him with the same friendship that they had parted with, and nothing else. Full of his own concerns and business, he had no doubt barely thought of her in the past months, but she knew he would be happy to see her when they met.
Elizabeth paced back and forth around the room, but perceiving herself to be observed by Mary, and not wishing either discussion of her sentiments, or discovery of them if Mary was not aware, Elizabeth forced herself to settle on the sofa and pick up some sewing—this time working on modifying one of her bonnets by adding a new ribbon in a way that she thought would look most fetching with the color of her hair.
For the first minutes her mind was still full of Darcy, but when the ribbon was properly fastened, Elizabeth went to look at herself in the mirror.
She could almost not recognize herself.
Curls falling to each side of her cheek, a looser bun than before that didn’t pull at the skin, the lovely blue of the bonnet’s ribbon. It only needed a little fringing of some durable type of lace—she would happily use a cheaper lace to make the effect. She was no Mrs. Bennet who felt a need to be seen wearing the best.
Elizabeth smiled at her own reflection.
I do not wish to ever go back .
That thought gave her an unpleasant jolt.
Of course she did. She loved Mr. Bennet too much. And she should still be grateful. And she was a bastard, and Mary might not like her to be here if she knew. And…
That shining reflection.
She was beautiful.
Elizabeth smiled at herself.
“You look so perfectly fetching,” Mary said with her own smile. “Oh, Lizzy, I am glad that you are here, and you must be in no hurry to leave.”
“I will not be.”
They were then startled by the doorbell.
“Who could that be?” Mary asked with some surprise. “This is not the usual hour for callers. It is part of being a parson’s wife—odd people call at all—Mr. Darcy, it is very good to see you.”
For it was Mr. Darcy come, and Elizabeth had not had any time to prepare herself to see him.