Page 3 of The Cat Who Loved Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
Longbourn awoke to the grey, misty calm of an early autumn morning. In the dining room, the family gathered for breakfast with a determined air of hospitality—at least on Mrs. Bennet’s part.
The table was set with more ceremony than usual: a large dish of eggs, toasted bread stacked high, and freshly brewed tea poured steaming into the best cups.
Mr. Collins took his seat with elaborate courtesy, flourishing his napkin before laying it neatly in his lap.
Mrs. Bennet beamed at him across the teapot. “I hope you slept well, Mr. Collins. I trust the bed was sufficiently aired?”
“Most comfortably, madam, I thank you.” He inclined his head solemnly. “I am grateful for such Christian hospitality. I must admit I had feared the sheets might be damp—but they were perfectly dry.”
Elizabeth, sitting beside Jane, shared a brief, knowing glance with her sister.
“I have always believed it a duty to treat family well,” Mrs. Bennet went on with determined cheer. “Now, sir—you must tell us all about your living at Hunsford! It must be such a comfort to have a secure situation.”
Mr. Collins straightened with pompous satisfaction. “Indeed, madam. Hunsford is a most respectable parish. The house itself is small but well arranged—thanks in no small part to the invaluable advice of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth’s spoon clinked deliberately in her teacup. “Does her ladyship often inspect your arrangement of furniture?”
Missing the irony entirely, Mr. Collins nodded earnestly. “She is gracious enough to give her opinion on every improvement. She recommended the shelves in my study be moved to the opposite wall—such discernment in the matter of symmetry!”
“Ah, symmetry.” Mr. Bennet raised his brows. “The foundation of a happy marriage, I am told.”
Mrs. Bennet ignored this. “And you are so very fortunate to have it all settled! A secure living, your own house… It is every young woman’s dream, you know.”
At this, Elizabeth choked back a laugh.
Mr. Collins’s small eyes darted along the table, resting a moment too long on Jane, then on Elizabeth, as though weighing their virtues.
“Indeed, madam,” he said heavily. “Lady Catherine herself advised me that such advantages ought to be shared with a suitable companion. It is…my intention, in coming here, to seek—”
Mr. Bennet interrupted swiftly, voice mild but cutting. “More toast, Mr. Collins? Or perhaps you will favour us with your thoughts on the drainage of Hertfordshire farmland?”
Collins blinked. “The—ah—drainage?”
Elizabeth gave him a bright, innocent look. “Yes, sir. We hear you have a keen eye for improvement.”
“Well—I must say—I had meant rather to speak of…domestic felicity.” Mr. Collins flushed slightly. “The choice of partner is a weighty matter, of course.”
Jane lowered her gaze quickly to her plate. “Yes—so weighty one should be very sure.”
Mrs. Bennet shot her a prompt glare, then turned back to Collins with forced brightness. “Our Jane is so modest. She says little of her own merits.”
Her husband regarded her circumspectly.
Mr. Collins puffed with satisfaction. “Ah! Modesty—a true feminine virtue. Lady Catherine says—”
“We are always eager to hear of Lady Catherine,” Mr. Bennet interjected again. “She is, I gather, a woman of remarkable powers.”
“Unrivalled in moving shelves, probably,” Elizabeth replied, her eyes dancing.
Mr. Collins looked offended. “Indeed, her judgment is most sound.”
After listening with an expression of patient martyrdom, Mary spoke at last. “I should rather wish to live in London myself. There is so little intellectual society in the country. All one hears is gossip of neighbours and the state of the roads. Hunsford must be terribly dull, Mr. Collins.”
The table fell momentarily silent.
Elizabeth bit her lip to contain a laugh, and even Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched.
Mrs. Bennet turned on Mary with exasperation. “Mary! Pray do not talk nonsense. London is full of sin and temptation. Besides, you are too young yet to think of marriage before your sisters are settled.”
Mary flushed, blinking behind her spectacles. “I was speaking only of society and libraries, Mama.”
Embarrassed, Mr. Collins cleared his throat heavily. “The city has many dangers, it is true. I am fortunate to have such a respectable living in the quiet of the country—where a sensible, pious wife might be content with domestic comforts and parish duty.”
Considering, Elizabeth tapped her fork lightly on the table. “I suspect some might find that life…unexciting.”
Collins’s gaze swung to her, offended but determined. “It is the very essence of propriety, Miss Elizabeth. Lady Catherine herself approves of simplicity and regular habits in a wife.”
Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “How…very instructive.”
Mr. Bennet set down his cup with a decisive clink. “Well, sir. Your intentions do you credit. But do not be hasty in choosing, I beg. One would not wish a hasty match to result in misery. Or—worse—discord in the furniture arrangement.”
Elizabeth let out an unrepentant snort of laughter.
Mr. Collins frowned, looking at Mrs. Bennet for rescue. She fluttered her hands. “Yes, yes, of course. Plenty of time to talk in the parlour later! We shall discuss everything properly.”
Sophocles, who had been curled under Elizabeth’s chair, chose that moment to emerge and stretch, brushing against Elizabeth’s legs before hopping onto the window seat. He yawned extravagantly and blinked at Collins with heavy-lidded disdain.
Elizabeth reached down to smooth his fur, voice silky. “Don’t trouble yourself, old friend. We shall discuss domestic felicity in the drawing room later. If we must.”
***
The parlour was brighter than usual, the autumn sun slanting through the tall windows in pale gold. Mrs. Bennet had seen to it that the best cushions were arranged just so, and the good hearth rug was freshly beaten.
Kitty and Lydia had been shooed away with muttered instructions to help Hill and the maids with linens. Mary had withdrawn in offended silence, a book pressed tight to her chest.
That left only Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Jane, Elizabeth, and their uncomfortably distinguished guest.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat heavily, glancing from Jane to Elizabeth and back again as he took his seat.
Mrs. Bennet perched primly on the edge of her chair. “Well now, Mr. Collins, we are quite comfortable. No need to stand on ceremony. Do tell us more about Hunsford. I am sure the girls are all attention.”
Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap, face composed into polite neutrality, while Jane offered her mildest, most careful smile.
Collins sat forward slightly. “Ah—yes. Hunsford. A very compact but convenient parsonage. Two parlours, a small garden—quite suitable for...a family. I am fortunate in possessing a respectable living of nearly ￡246 a year, and I keep two servants in constant employ—arrangements Lady Catherine herself considers perfectly proper for my station.”
His gaze lingered a moment too long on Jane before shifting to Elizabeth with anxious significance.
Mrs. Bennet positively glowed. “How charming! So practical! I have always said a small house is easier to manage. Why, a sensible wife would find such contentment there.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose faintly. “Especially if she loves dusting.”
Mr. Bennet gave a light cough, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. “Or rearranging shelves. I believe Lady Catherine is an authority on the subject.”
Appearing pleased, Collins puffed with solemn satisfaction. “Indeed. Her Ladyship has taken an interest in every aspect of the parsonage. She is a model of considerate guidance. Any gentlewoman residing there would benefit immensely from her advice.”
“Yes. Imagine being so...supervised.” Elizabeth bit back a smile.
Mrs. Bennet waved a hand at her. “Nonsense, Lizzy! Advice from such a great lady would be an honour. Jane, do you not agree?”
“I think it might be...a little intimidating.” Jane blushed slightly and lowered her gaze.
Mr. Collins blinked at her, flustered. “Oh—but Lady Catherine means only to improve! She expects order and obedience, qualities essential in a clergyman’s household.”
“I fear I lack the obedience required.” Elizabeth’s eyes danced. “My cat refuses even to sit when I ask him.”
As if summoned, Sophocles, who had been dozing on the hearth rug, rose, stretched with theatrical care, and leapt into Elizabeth’s vacant lap when she shifted. He settled with his back firmly to Collins.
Mrs. Bennet clicked her tongue. “Ignore her, Mr. Collins. She likes to talk nonsense. Really, you must not mind her teasing. She has no idea what is good for her.”
Elizabeth smiled beatifically. “No idea at all.”
Unsure whether he should feel offended or not, Mr. Collins cleared his throat again. “Indeed. I have been advised that it is proper to choose among the daughters of the family I have the honour to call kin—so as to heal any past unpleasantness over the entail.”
Mrs. Bennet practically wrung her hands in delight. “So right and proper! Oh, you are a considerate young man! It is precisely what I told Mr. Bennet you would say.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him with amused gravity. “So you mean to choose a wife here on this visit? Rather an efficient plan, I must say.”
Mr. Collins flushed and bobbed his head. “I think it only dutiful to do so, if any lady were gracious enough to accept me. I—” his eyes flicked once more between Jane and Elizabeth “—I wish to approach the matter with due delicacy.”
Jane’s colour deepened uncomfortably. “I... thank you, sir. It is a very serious matter.”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. “Quite so. One wouldn’t want to choose too hastily. Or too ill-matched.”
Mr. Bennet steepled his fingers. “We would never wish you to feel pressed in so delicate a negotiation, Cousin. Surely you can understand this. After all, one’s comfort in marriage depends on perfect compatibility.”
Mr. Collins frowned slightly. “Yes—of course—but surely, I daresay, with goodwill on both sides—”