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Longbourn – Driveway - Elizabeth

A t precisely four o’clock, the sound of wheels on gravel stirred the household into motion.

The Bennet family had gathered just outside the front door, Mrs Bennet eager to offer the warmest possible welcome, Kitty and Lydia fidgeting with excitement and curiosity, Jane composed, and Elizabeth leaning on her walking stick with careful dignity, her steps tentative and measured.

The carriage turned in through the gates and rolled up the drive with an air of excessive ceremony.

As it drew to a halt, a gentleman of stately height and self-importance stepped down, adjusting his coat with studied precision.

His complexion was florid, his bearing formal, and his expression one of humble gravity.

Mr Bennet stepped forward first. “Mr Collins, you are very welcome to Longbourn.”

Mr Collins bowed deeply. “Mr Bennet. Dear sir. The honour of your welcome quite overcomes me.”

He bowed again, even more elaborately, to the assembled ladies. “Mrs Bennet-my honoured relation-and young ladies! What felicity, what unparalleled delight, to find myself among such charming company.”

“You are very welcome, I am sure,” Mrs Bennet said, flushed with gratification. “We are delighted you could come to us so promptly.”

“Indeed, madam, your kindness overwhelms me. To be received so graciously by the very family whose acquaintance I most desired to cultivate-truly, it is a blessing. I come, as I hope Mr Bennet has conveyed, with the most sincere intentions of reconciliation and goodwill.”

He turned to Jane, eyes widening slightly. “And Miss Bennet-your beauty, though much praised, does not do justice to your countenance in person. Fame, it seems, has fallen short of the truth.”

Jane offered a polite smile. “You are very obliging, sir.”

Elizabeth, pale from fatigue, shifted her weight subtly onto her good leg. Jane, always attentive, moved to her side and quietly offered her arm. With a grateful glance, Elizabeth accepted the support.

Mr Collins bowed to her as well. “And Miss Elizabeth-it is most gratifying to find all my fair cousins in such-relatively-excellent health.”

Elizabeth inclined her head. “You are kind to say so.”

“If I may say so,” Mr Collins continued, “it is most gratifying to see the domestic virtues so well represented. Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself has often said that true gentility resides in the home.”

Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance with Jane but said nothing. Mrs Bennet beamed.

“You must be tired after your journey, sir,” Mr Bennet said. “Will you come in?”

“Indeed, yes. I should be delighted. Though no journey, however fatiguing, could dim the joy of such an arrival.”

The family led him indoors, where Hill had already prepared a light repast. Jane helped Elizabeth navigate the entry hall and into the sitting room, ensuring she was seated on the settee with her foot elevated and a cushion tucked behind her back.

Mr Collins noticed the arrangement but said nothing, merely adjusting his coat as he took his place.

Once seated, Mr Collins wasted no time in praising the elegance of the hallway, the proportions of the sitting room, and the furnishings therein.

“Such tasteful arrangements! I see a most judicious sensibility in every object. One can quite imagine the harmony that reigns within these walls.”

Elizabeth caught her father’s eye and was met with the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Mr Collins went on, scarcely needing encouragement, and quite impervious to any attempt to curtail his enthusiasm. “The windows-so well placed for natural light! And the settee-most inviting! One sees at once that good taste and modest affluence have met here in a most felicitous union.”

He turned to Mrs Bennet once more. “Madam, I must congratulate you on so fine a family. I had heard much of your daughters’ charms, but as is so often the case, rumour does not suffice. You are truly blessed.”

Mrs Bennet simpered. “You are very kind, I am sure. I only hope they may all do well, for otherwise they will be quite destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly in this world.”

“You allude, perhaps, to the entailment of the estate,” Mr Collins said with great solemnity.

“I do indeed,” Mrs Bennet sighed. “It is a grievous affair for my poor girls. Not that I blame you, sir. These things are all chance. ”

“I am very sensible of the hardship to my fair cousins,” Mr Collins replied, puffing up, “and though I am cautious of appearing forward or precipitate, I assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present, I will say no more. But perhaps, when we are better acquainted-”

He was interrupted by a summons to dinner, and Elizabeth, meeting Jane’s eyes, smiled faintly. The performance was only just beginning.

As they moved toward the dining room, Mr Collins hovered near Elizabeth with what he clearly intended to be solicitous concern.

“I trust, Miss Elizabeth,” he said solemnly, “that your ankle-though still an unfortunate affliction-will not prevent you from enjoying your dinner. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is most particular about posture and the healthful effects of regular meals, even in cases of mild incapacitation.”

Elizabeth blinked. “I shall endeavour to eat upright, sir.”

“That is most wise,” he replied, nodding gravely. “It is truly gratifying to see you bear your misfortune with such fortitude. Lady Catherine always speaks most highly of a composed female invalid.”

Elizabeth caught Jane’s eye, her expression unreadable, though her grip on the walking stick tightened just slightly.

Mr Collins admired everything. The wood panelling, the china, the carving on the sideboard-all came in for particular praise, often repeated.

“What refinement!” he exclaimed as they were seated.

“One sees at once the care of generations. Lady Catherine would, I am sure, approve the symmetry of this table.”

Mrs Bennet, thoroughly gratified, assured him the table had belonged to her late uncle Phillips, who had been quite a gentleman.

The meal passed slowly, with Mr Collins expounding at length upon his living at Hunsford, the condescension of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and the elegance of Rosings Park.

“My humble parsonage stands but a lane’s width from the great gates of Rosings,” he said. “Lady Catherine has often deigned to pass by in her phaeton, and has even visited my little abode to offer suggestions for improvements. Indeed, the closet upstairs now boasts shelves of her own recommending.”

Mr Bennet, silent for much of the meal, now spoke. “Your patroness seems very attentive.”

“Indeed she is, sir. It is the mark of true nobility, I believe, to concern oneself with the domestic welfare of one’s inferiors. And Lady Catherine is most particular. She has graciously approved two of my sermons and has kindly encouraged me to marry-with discretion, of course.”

Elizabeth kept her eyes on her plate, though Jane, sitting nearest her, offered a subtle nudge of sympathy beneath the table.

“Her ladyship,” Mr Collins added, “believes it most proper that a young man of the cloth should seek a companion of good character and modest means. Someone of amiable disposition. Someone who might… enhance the comforts of home.”

Here he looked meaningfully around the table, though without landing on any one of the sisters too directly.

“I am sure your intentions are quite honourable,” Mrs Bennet said, already calculating the possibilities.

Elizabeth, however, felt her ankle throb in sympathy with her rising irritation. She longed for her father’s ironic calm-or a timely distraction-but the conversation rolled on.

Mr Collins was profusely apologetic. “I beg your pardon, madam! I did not mean to offend. I am fully aware that young ladies of refinement do not trouble themselves with such concerns. My admiration was purely for the domestic arrangements as a whole. Quite in keeping, I might add, with the principles of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who encourages elegant simplicity in all household matters.”

Mr Collins praised the soup, then the roast, then the boiled potatoes, then the suet pudding, and begged to know which of his fair cousins had prepared such delicacies. There was a certain reverence in his tone when he spoke of the potatoes.

Elizabeth leaned back slightly in her chair, pressing her fingertips to her temples. The clink of cutlery, the hum of Mr Collins’s voice, the mild headache forming just behind her eyes-it was all terribly domestic.

And terribly inescapable.

He continued in this strain until the servants were withdrawn, and Mr Bennet, clearly seeking amusement, began to inquire about Lady Catherine herself.

The result was predictable-and spectacular. Mr Collins launched into a lengthy discourse on her many virtues. Her condescension, he said, was unparalleled. Her manners affable, her conversation delightful, and her advice invaluable.

“She has, on more than one occasion,” Mr Collins declared, “deigned to approve my sermons-and even suggested a shelf arrangement for the upper closet in my parsonage! Her guidance is of the most refined and practical nature.”

Mr Bennet’s face remained impassive, though Elizabeth noted the way he carefully refilled his wineglass at intervals that matched Mr Collins’s more effusive turns of phrase.

“Lady Catherine,” Mr Collins added reverently, “has even counselled me to marry soon-though with discretion. Her concern for my happiness is quite touching.”

“How very proper and civil,” Mrs Bennet said. “And I daresay she is an agreeable woman. Does she live near you, sir?”

“The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship’s residence.”

“Ah!” said Mrs Bennet. “And she has a daughter? ”