Several days later, and only after Bingley and Darcy had insisted on proving Elizabeth’s boasts about shooting and her eccentricity by taking them with her one morning for their sport when Jane was healthy enough to easily sit up with Bingley’s sisters.
Elizabeth had of course hit every bird, though one was winged rather than struck clean.
Darcy in fact missed one of his birds, and Bingley three.
That had been a delightful morning, and she had felt great interest in seeing how the two gentlemen behaved themselves when chiefly entertaining themselves, rather than being on display in the drawing room.
It was also Elizabeth’s dear hope that Mrs. Bennet never heard about the story.
Elizabeth and Jane returned home to Longbourn to find the house in a flutter, and Mrs. Bennet’s nerves nearly destroyed.
Mr. Bennet’s cousin, a clergyman by the name of Mr. Collins, was to visit, and he would arrive in time for dinner.
This was the substance of the joke which Mr. Bennet had subjected his fair wife to. He had waited to tell her about this most significant guest until the morning that he would come. Elizabeth rather suspected that a part of his delay was not only for the fun of springing this upon his wife, but to avoid having her in this extreme flutter of agitation for more than half a day.
Mr. Bennet was in a high mood, and as soon as Elizabeth stepped through the door, he smiled to her and told her that he had missed her very much, and he was glad to see her returned. He spoke likewise to Jane.
The letter from Mr. Collins was immediately shown to them. Elizabeth could not help but perceive a great deal of the ridiculous in it.
Elizabeth noticed that Mrs. Bennet treated her with a sort of suspicious distaste for much of the day, and that she was more eager than usual to find Elizabeth tasks that she might be made to do, and thus Elizabeth found herself helping to air out the guest bedroom, and set in place all of the sheets and blankets while the maid whose task it usually would have been was slaving in the kitchen under the irate guidance of the chef, who had been deeply annoyed by the way that Mrs. Bennet had demanded they entirely change the plan of dinner.
Several times Mrs. Bennet moaned and regretted how the house did not keep so many servants as it should. Mr. Bennet laughingly made a comment about the dearness of wages in reply.
Elizabeth now openly wore her locket again, since Mr. Bennet was present to be immediately appealed to if necessary. But of course, Mrs. Bennet did not make any such appeal.
When she was not employed preparing the house, Elizabeth sat in the library with Mr. Bennet, writing in her journal or playing chess.
“And how did you find the Netherfield library?” Mr. Bennet asked Elizabeht as they went at it.
“Quite empty,” was the reply.
“Ah, Sir Clement must have taken everything with him when he left,” Mr. Bennet replied. “It was not a bad collection.”
“There were a couple of agricultural books left behind. I browsed them a little after I finished The Iliad .”
“Mrs. Bennet thought that you did not toss Jane at Bingley with sufficient vigor,” Mr. Bennet said with a smile. “And for that I will thank you for the maintenance of propriety.”
“She should be satisfied that matters are as promising as one could hope,” Elizabeth said, “For the last days of the visit he would sit with her in the evening for hours.”
“Mrs. Bennet will only be happy upon this matter,” Mr. Bennet replied, “when she is informed that actual proposals have been ventured and accepted.”
Promptly at four ‘o clock their guest arrived.
Immediately it was clear that Mr. Collins was there to admire and be admired.
Upon his introduction to Elizabeth as the ward of Mr. Bennet and a distant cousin, she was treated to a lengthy speech upon the importance of gratitude, of ceaseless industry, and demeaning oneself properly before those that the Almighty has placed in positions above them.
“Do you pursue every task given to you as though it was placed before you by the Lord? I always say in my sermons that those who are placed below, they are meant by the Lord to glory in their labors and in their situations of dependence and inferiority, for that is the path to virtue.”
“I always do what is needed of me,” Elizabeth replied.
“She does not require such a lecture,” Mr. Bennet said. “Elizabeth is a perfectly capable girl, not so silly as most.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Mr. Collins said. “Yet, even for those who have absorbed those most important lessons very well, it can never go amiss to have them be reminded of their place and their duties.”
“Lizzy is a very biddable girl.” This was Mrs. Bennet’s opinion. “But I cannot agree that she is always active and industrious. The girl walks about too much, and she reads too much. She often sits about with a novel or just stares out the window. She seldom works at the pieces in the poor box. I encourage her to show greater energy, but Mr. Bennet always lets Lizzy do as she will. He dotes upon the child.”
“Novels!” Mr. Collins exclaimed. “I do not approve of such things. They are quite likely to lead the mind of the young woman astray. Mr. Bennet, especially with a girl who has no portion, I would urge you to make sure that she does not sow her seeds amongst the weeds.”
“I shall seek to be more diligent,” Elizabeth said. “One can always become more diligent with profit.”
“My Elizabeth is precisely who she ought to be. I would not change her in any way,” Mr. Bennet replied, appearing less amused by Mr. Collins than Elizabeth believed that he had expected himself to be. “No more on this subject. But Mr. Collins, you must tell us about your patroness. I understand that you have been most fortunate in gaining her regard.”
Mr. Bennet’s fierce approval had left Elizabeth with a warm glow, and thus she had in her mind more than enough space to have sympathy for Mr. Collins as well.
He made frequent long speeches about the virtues of his patroness. They combined the deepest respect with an intense need to constantly express himself as humbler than Lady Catherine. While Mr. Bennet found these speeches quite entertaining, Elizabeth felt an odd sort of sympathy with him.
They both were persons who had their positions due to the kindness of those of greater consequence than them. They were both subject to the demands of a strongly willed woman who was in a position to command them. Further they both had the deep sense that they ought to not only be grateful to the ones that had placed them in their present happy position, but to always express to others that gratitude.
The next morning when Elizabeth came down from her bed, she overheard Mrs. Bennet saying to Mr. Collins that she felt it incumbent on her to hint that her eldest daughter was likely to be very soon engaged, but that she knew of no inclinations with regards to her younger daughters. After a second’s reflection Mrs. Bennet then added, “Though Lydia is full young to marry, only fifteen, and I do not know if she has the temperament to be a clergyman’s wife.”
When she saw that Elizabeth had entered the room, Mrs. Bennet immediately exclaimed, “What are you doing lazily wandering around at this hour. Go to the kitchen and ask Cook if she needs any help to set the breakfast out.”
Mrs. Bennet said to Mr. Collins, “We have enough servants that my daughters never need to do any work. And we could do well enough without Miss Lizzy’s help, but idle hands are the devil’s playthings. As she has no portion, and no hope or expectations, I believe that I ought to teach her to have habits of industry. She is after all not so well born as my daughters.”
The whole way to the kitchen, Elizabeth smiled at what she thought was Mrs. Bennet’s clear motivation for absenting her. The woman wished to ensure that Mr. Collins would not fix upon her as the relation he meant to marry.
Elizabeth was too much Mr. Bennet’s daughter. The stupidity and slowness that Mr. Collins displayed would be intolerable in great doses. Were Mr. Collins to make her an offer, despite all her situation of dependency, lack of a portion, and uncertainty as to the future, she would refuse him.
This did not even speak to the point that she could have neither hoped for, nor accepted such an offer in good conscience, since he must believe that she was the legitimate child of respectable parents.
The knowledge that Miss Bennet had a prior prepossession did not damage Mr. Collins’s intention of selecting a wife from amongst his fair cousins. However, it was a matter of some difficulty to select which of the two girls that he had been directed towards would be the object of his affection, the companion of his future life.
By right of position, being next to Jane in birth, Mary ought to succeed. But she was inferior in looks to Miss Kitty.
Thus, thinking highly of his rights to that which was most attractive in life, Mr. Collins dedicated himself to the entertainment of Miss Catherine.
Alas, Miss Catherine was not entertained.
For the past weeks, Kitty and Lydia had been obsessed with the news of the officers, the gossip of the mess, and the hope for dancing with a man in regimentals. While Kitty was more sensible, sober, and distractible from this quest than Lydia, she was by no means inclined to attend to the endless speeches upon moral conduct and the excellence of Lady Catherine that Mr. Collins offered.
Over the course of the first day of Mr. Collins’s attendance on them, Kitty frequently retreated to her room, began speaking to Lydia in the midst one of Mr. Collins’s lengthy speeches, and she always sighed very loudly when he caught her alone.
As the less preferred sister Mary watched the gentleman with Kitty, and at certain points she tried to bring him to speak to her instead.
From this she discovered that Mr. Collins also made a practice of writing down things that he wished to remember forever. In his case, rather than improving excerpts from books, it was rare passages from the Holy Book, frequent statements of Lady Catherine’s, and occasional statements from his favorite professor when he was in university.
Mary managed a conversation of an hour’s length solely made up of them passing back and forth such quotations. Elizabeth sat to the side reading and smiling as she half listened to them.
That afternoon before dinner, Mary approached Elizabeth and had her join her when they went to dress. “Help me look a little better today—Lizzy, surely you can.”
“Me,” Elizabeth said with some surprise. Given her general effort to look as unfashionable, mismatched and ill-fitting as possible, she never would have expected to receive such a request. “Do you not think that Jane, or even Kitty might have better thoughts?”
Mary made a face. “I have no patience for Kitty today.”
“Jane?”
“She is effortlessly pretty—it does not matter what she wears, it all looks good on her.”
“That is not true,” Elizabeth replied. “She has excellent natural taste, and a strong sense of what looks best on her. Mrs. Bennet does as well.”
“I don’t want their advice.”
“I am only surprised that you ask mine upon such a case.” Elizabeth pursed her lips. “I also confess to a little surprise that you wish to attract Mr. Collins’s attention.”
“Did I say that I did?”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.
“Mayhap I only dislike that every gentleman looks at Kitty or Lydia, and never me.”
There was hesitation in Elizabeth’s reply. “I do not know...while I know that you can wear colors that are more flattering, arrange yourself better, Kitty and Lydia are, ah...”
“Three beauties in the family, and I am the plain one. I know. Do not think I do not know—I do not hope to be prettier than them. Or even pretty . Perhaps I might achieve almost pretty . And perhaps that might be enough.”
“Do you wish to marry Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth said with some surprise. “He is not a...well that is to say. He is not so very handsome. Nor clever.”
“Not all of us are so pretty as you,” Mary replied.
“I am not pretty,” Elziabeth said instantly and with some conviction.
Now it was Mary’s turn to employ skeptically raised eyebrows.
“I do not mean to be.”
“Besides,” Mary said, “ I do not mean to marry him. I only wish to have enough of his attention to know him better. Your mind jumps as rapidly as Mama’s from my wish to dress a little better to the loud ringing of wedding bells.”
A laugh gurgled out of Elizabeth. “I have never thought of myself as like Mrs. Bennet in any respect, but you have a fair point. If you think I can help you, I happily will.”
“Of course you can! No human could dress in such an ugly manner as you—everything out of place, completely eccentric, yet perfectly crafted to give exactly the impression you wish—without a great deal of natural taste.” Mary smiled. “And you are very pretty, and maybe if one of us married, you would not need to hide it.”
“I hope that I can be confident that you would not use my wellbeing as an argument in favor of a marriage with Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said quickly.
But Elizabeth then stepped back, and she critically examined Mary, no longer denying that she did have a sense of what the girl might do to dress better.
“First the hair.” Elizabeth released the bun that Mary kept it in, and worked to make two ringlets fall forward over the face. “Much better. And a ribbon through to match your dress.”
“I do not have any of that color.”
“We must then buy additional ribbons for you, and a bit of lacing for the collar of your dress. Tomorrow when we go out—you would not wish, I imagine, to ask one of your sisters.”
The face that Mary made spoke volumes.
“I do not know that I have so much pocket money,” Mary said. “I have spent most on sheet music. Drawing pencils, a couple of books of sermons that Papa refused to purchase…”
“And which are utterly unavailable from a circulating library.” Elizabeth laughed. “I can lend you enough. This would not all be so expensive.”
“You have so much saved?”
“Mr. Bennet always gives me a great deal of pocket money; I just do not like to spend it—now let us see. That red coral bead necklace you have—the one Mrs. Bennet gave you and that you do not like to wear. Now is the time. It shall set off the color of your dress neatly.”
Such was done, and Mary already looked rather fetching.
The girl seemed to realize that looking at the mirror. She frowned. “That little makes a difference? I hardly like it though. I do not feel as though I am myself. I never wear my hair in such a way.”
“Why do you not?”
“I suppose…” Mary sighed. “I suppose I am vain.”
Elizabeth giggled.
“No, but it is so,” Mary said. “I do not compare myself to Jane. She is oldest, and everyone agrees that she is unusual in her looks. But that Kitty and Lydia are so much prettier. I cannot improve my looks so far that they surpass theirs.”
“And thus, you wish to make it clear to all that you do not make the attempt? You yourself have created quite the image of yourself as the studious girl, always writing and practicing, but perhaps that is not who you wish to be.”
“No, no…I do wish to be who I am. Only…it is so odd to look at myself with this hair.”
“You need not change anything at all, if you do not wish to.” Elizabeth smiled. “ I certainly will not tell you to compete for the attention of a Mr. Collins. You see, I am in fact nothing like Mrs. Bennet.”
Mary laughed.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
“What is your chief aim? Your own aim,” Elizabeth asked. “That is the question you must ask before you decide what to do.”
“I do like how that necklace looks on me. Maybe not the hair, but the necklace. It does not matter if I am still not so pretty as Kitty. It is vanity to intentionally look poorly out of such a motive. Vanity is when we give too much concern to what others think of us.”
“If you do not like the hair,” Elizabeth said with a thoughtful frown, “let me try a different approach. It is the curls you dislike, I think?—they do soften your face, but they make you look very different from how you have always presented yourself.” So saying Elizabeth reworked Mary’s hair into a bun, and then tied a ribbon—unfortunately one that did not match the dress and the necklace properly, but one must work with the materials available. “Does this have more of your own particular character?”
Mary studied her image for a while. A smile crossed her face. “Oh, yes. But I see why you insist that the ribbon ought to match either the necklace or the dress.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll walk out to Meryton and buy everything you need—a blue sash around the waist. I have just the thing in my own closet.”
Elizabeth returned, and while the piece was one that the eyes of a lady would identify as made from a cheap fabric, she thought that the eyes of a Mr. Collins would only note that Mary’s figure was set off to better advantage by the way it was tied.
At dinner Mr. Collins was seated between Kitty and Lydia. Mrs. Bennet had noticed the clergyman’s preference for the prettier daughter. A sharp lecture from Mrs. Bennet before they went down, and her mother’s occasional fierce glowers forced Kitty to make a better pretense of paying attention to Mr. Collins than she had during the previous whole of the day.
However, as soon as the party went to the drawing room Mary drew Mr. Collins into conversation with her, and Elizabeth thought from his expression that he appreciated Mary’s changed appearance. Despite that, Elizabeth was by no means confident that Mary’s efforts would win out over Kitty’s good looks which had both nature and all of Mrs. Bennet’s practiced arts in their favor.
From Mrs. Bennet’s frowns at Mary, Elizabeth thought that her benefactress had not considered the possibility that Kitty might refuse to marry Mr. Collins. Elizabeth considered that a certainty, and she knew that in a matter such as this Mr. Bennet would take the effort to oppose Mrs. Bennet. Therefore, Mrs. Bennet thought that Mary was interfering with a very promising romance.
The next morning, Mary spoke to Elizabeth in whispers around the breakfast table saying that she was very grateful for the help, and that she could tell it had improved matters enormously.
Mr. Collins still showed an early morning preference for bothering Kitty to conversing with Mary. And then he retreated to the library with Mr. Bennet to bother his host.
A half hour later, Mr. Bennet strongly suggested to the whole group that they walk out to Meryton, which served Elizabeth and Mary perfectly well as they needed to visit the shops.
Mr. Bennet’s patience with Mr. Collins’s endless speeches had already worn thin.
As soon as Mrs. Bennet could not see them, Kitty began to pointedly ignore Mr. Collins once more. When he came up to take her arm, she shook it off and then took Lydia’s arm. The two youngest girls walked off at a very fast pace, calling back that they would visit Mrs. Phillips.
Mr. Collins looked after Kitty with a frown that seemed a mix of confused and offended.
Had he at last realized that Miss Kitty had not the slightest interest in him?
Mary approached him with a smile and said, “But Mr. Collins, tell me more about the improvements that Lady Catherine plans to make to the parsonage once you have married.”
That decided it, and the gentleman in a vastly better mood talked to Mary, who nodded along and seemed, to Elizabeth, to be almost actually interested.
Elizabeth walked along with Jane who ventured to wonder when they would all see Mr. Bingley again. And then Jane asked her what her opinion was of Mary having begun to wear more ribbons and change the style of her hair for Mr. Collins’s sake.
Elizabeth shrugged and did not say much, thinking that given Mary’s near dislike of Jane, she would not like it if Elizabeth spoke about their conversation from the previous night.
Jane added that she thought very well of Mr. Collins, and that he seemed to have a great many thoughts, and that his patroness was very kind to him.
“But, Jane, will you admit that you are happy that you are not the one who must bear all of his conversation?”
Jane laughed in guilty surprise when Elizabeth said that.