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F ew things have more power to annoy a young woman of gentle birth than an unwanted suitor.

Elizabeth Bennet, who had dealt with just such a suitor a few days ago, was as familiar with the sensation as any other woman alive.

While Elizabeth was no longer required to endure him—Mr. Collins, the man who had proposed to her, now seemed to find the neighboring estate much more to his taste—that did not mean she escaped the predictions of dire consequences for her unnatural insistence on having her way.

“If only you had agreed to marry him!” lamented Mrs. Bennet, her melodrama grating on Elizabeth’s nerves. “It would have been the salvation of us all! Now we must wait for that day when your father will leave us unprotected, knowing that we must make way for a man who now despises us!”

“As loath as I am to contradict you, Mrs. Bennet,” replied her husband in his droll tone, “I shall reiterate that I do not yet feel the icy hand of death grasping me.”

“That brings me little comfort,” complained his wife. “It may not happen for another day, a year, or even ten years, but it is inevitable. If only you had made Lizzy marry him!”

“While I apologize for having a different opinion, I cannot agree with you. Lizzy would not have made Mr. Collins a good wife.”

“Say rather that he would not have made me a good husband, Papa.”

Mr. Bennet offered Elizabeth a smile. “That is an accurate assessment, my dear.” Then Mr. Bennet turned his attention back to his distressed wife.

“Nothing would make me force my daughters to marry men they do not favor, Mrs. Bennet. Had you any sense at all, you would have directed Mr. Collins to Mary, who I judge looked on him with a kindlier eye than her sisters.”

The look of utter revulsion on Mary’s face told the story of her opinion on the subject. “If you will pardon me, Papa, I have no wish to accept Mr. Collins. While he interests me as a parson, I found his knowledge lacking, his opinions silly, and his person altogether repulsive.”

“There you have it!” Mr. Bennet nodded to his middle and often forgotten daughter. “Even Mary wishes to have nothing to do with my foolish cousin. As there was no chance of any of our girls accepting him, there is little to be done but to allow the subject to rest altogether.”

At that moment, the sound of the front door opening signaled the return of their unwelcome guest, and the family eschewed the conversation. That is, all but Lydia, who muttered:

“I care little for his opinions, but he is malodorous enough to put me off my dinner.”

Mr. Bennet snorted his diversion, and the other ladies grinned at each other, but Mrs. Bennet huffed her disdain at what she was seeing. “When Mr. Collins turns us all out to starve in the hedgerows, you will all see that I am correct!”

“Far be it for me to contradict you, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet, “but I at least shall not witness it, for I shall be dead.”

There was little reason to respond to such a comment—even Mrs. Bennet saw that, though she was quite put out—so the family fell silent, waiting for their guest to enter.

Mr. Collins did so before much longer, and while they could always count on him to drown them in a waterfall of nonsensical words, on that occasion, Mr. Collins appeared to have nothing to say.

Were Elizabeth to guess, she thought he was more than a little angry, though as he maintained an unusual silence, the provocation for his anger remained a mystery.

“Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Bennet, the only one who cared enough to speak other than to murmur a welcome, “it is good to have you return from Lucas Lodge. I hope our neighbors were well.”

Though the parson appeared little inclined to speak, he offered a curt nod. “They are, Mrs. Bennet, though I am afraid I do not find your neighbors so agreeable as you do. There is something altogether unsavory about them.”

Elizabeth looked at the parson with astonishment. Eager to praise all and sundry as he was, she could not but wonder at the reason for such incivility as this. The rest of the family was no less shocked, though other than a snort from Lydia, they all remained silent.

“That is curious, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Bennet, his grin showing his glee for his cousin’s continued eccentricity. “Why, the Lucases boast an excellent reputation in the neighborhood—Sir William himself owns to it without disguise!”

Hearing nothing of irony in Mr. Bennet’s statement, Mr. Collins still appeared to realize he had spoken amiss. “Yes, well, I suppose there is nothing wrong with their reputation. Yet I cannot say they interest me.”

“Is that so?” asked Mr. Bennet. “That must be why you have been there these past three days complete.”

“Then you find Longbourn much more welcoming,” interjected Mrs. Bennet.

Unless Elizabeth missed her guess, she suspected her mother meant to turn the conversation back to Elizabeth herself, though what she meant to accomplish was a mystery—Mr. Bennet had already declined to intervene in the matter of Mr. Collins’s attempts to gain a wife.

The comment did not provoke the response she expected.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Bennet,” intoned Mr. Collins, his appearance as haughty as Mr. Darcy at his most arrogant, “I find Hertfordshire is not at all to my taste.”

“Is that so?” interjected Mr. Bennet again. “That is curious, for I am credibly informed that we are no more or less respectable than any other neighborhood in the kingdom. Perhaps you would like to elaborate on your opinion of us?”

Again, the parson defied their expectations when he declined to be specific.

“Do not concern yourself, Mr. Bennet, for I mean no slight.” Mr. Collins appeared to consider his host for a moment before he spoke again.

“As I said, I have little affinity for this neighborhood. As I am to return to Kent on the morrow, where I belong, I shall do so with no ill will and even less intention of ever returning.”

It was clear to Elizabeth that her father was enjoying the spectacle. “Then I must remind you of a most regrettable fact, Cousin, for you are the heir of this estate. Unless you mean to lease it out and live forever at the beck and call of your patroness, you have no choice but to return.”

Mr. Collins grimaced, but he did not hesitate to nod, though he said nothing more. This diverted Mr. Bennet so much that he could not remain silent.

“It is unfortunate to see you so resolved against Longbourn, Mr. Collins. If this be your opinion, perhaps it would be best to end the entail, for it appears that being a parson is your true calling in life.

To the shock of them all, Mr. Collins eyed Mr. Bennet for a long moment and then said: “Yes, perhaps you are correct, Mr. Bennet. Please allow me to consider the matter. I shall contact you anon to let you know what I decide.

“Now, if you will all excuse me, I shall retire to my room, for I must depart early.”

So saying, the parson left the room without another word, leaving a shocked family of seven behind. Elizabeth was not at all certain Mr. Collins had even reached the stairs before the babble of voices filled the silence; one rose above them all.

“What can he mean, Mr. Bennet?” demanded his wife. “Will Mr. Collins resign his inheritance? If he does, what will happen to us?”

“No, Mrs. Bennet, I cannot suppose he does mean it,” replied a bemused Mr. Bennet. “I suspect he will come to his senses, though how long that will take I cannot say. If he is so short-sighted as to agree to dissolve the entail, I could leave the estate to any of our daughters that I choose.”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened to an astonishing size. “There would be no more entail?”

“Not if Mr. Collins agreed to end it. Had I fathered a son, I intended to end the entail when he came of age.”

Mr. Bennet shrugged. “In the end, I suspect there is little reason to hope, for I cannot imagine my cousin is so senseless as to refuse future prosperity in favor of toiling as a parson for the rest of his life, even a man so enamored with a woman as Mr. Collins is with his patroness.

That Mrs. Bennet understood Elizabeth noted at once, but she also saw her focus turn inward.

Despite what her husband said, Elizabeth was certain her mother would pour all her hopes and dreams into the unlikely possibility that Mr. Collins would act against his best interests and agree to end the entail.

While Elizabeth did not disagree with her father’s assessment, the subject distracted her attention, leaving Elizabeth in peace.

That was such a benefit that there was no reason at all to illuminate Mrs. Bennet’s understanding.

WHEN CHARLOTTE APPROACHED Longbourn the following morning, Elizabeth espied her as she approached the drive. Impatient to greet her friend, Elizabeth went to the door and hurried out, catching her friend in an embrace filled with laughter.

“I know not what happened at Lucas Lodge last night, Charlotte, but it must have been a sight to see. Mr. Collins returned yesterday, and the scene did not do him any credit.”

“He was angry, was he?” asked Charlotte with a knowing smile.

“Yes, and he made statements I still cannot understand. Do you care to tell me of his visit?”

“As it happens, I came here this morning for that purpose. Tell me, Lizzy, has Mr. Collins departed for Kent yet?”

“He has,” confirmed Elizabeth, now even more curious.

“Then let us go into the house, and I will tell you all. It cannot be agreeable to stand in the cold in naught but your dress.”