9. The Dreaded Cousin
Mr Collins turned out to be all the Bennet parents dreamed of and their daughters dreaded. Mr Bennet found the man far sillier than even he had anticipated, much to his pleasure. Mrs Bennet found the man’s olive branch to be in earnest, and he was not the least bit subtle about what he meant by it. The daughters found him unbelievably tedious.
Mr Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been, but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of manner; but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity.
Mr Bennet loved the combination of pomposity and servility, as well as the silly nothings the man spouted almost constantly. He managed to spout his balderdash quite often, primarily because the man never shut up. He could drone on and on about his parsonage, Rosings, and his noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, almost without breath.
In fact, he maundered about that lady and her rather ignorant sounding advice so often over dinner that Elizabeth wrote to her uncle to ask him to investigate the grand dame that very night—expecting an answer within the week. She also wrote what happened with the viscount, as she told him about everything important that impacted her life—particularly things of a nature that he could use in his business.
Mrs Bennet enjoyed the fact that the man planned to take one of her daughters off her hands, ideally one of the most troublesome ones.
Elizabeth thought nothing of the man’s obvious matrimonial ambitions, particularly when anyone with the slightest bit of sense— even Mrs Bennet — would nominate Mary for the task, and Elizabeth strongly suspected her sister would have no objections. That conviction only lasted the course of a day or so, after which his behaviour became even less subtle.
It now first struck her, that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors.
All doubts about his intentions were removed by a fraught conversation with Mrs Bennet.
“Lizzy, Mr Collins is paying you particular attention, and you would do well to reciprocate—in fact, I insist on it. Just imagine, you could be the mistress of this house on your father’s decease, and we would all remain comfortably ensconced in Longbourn. I commend to your notice the general agreeableness of his situation, his connexions with Lady Catherine, and his parsonage sounds fine… exceptionally fine, indeed.”
“I am surprised he did not fix on Jane like every other red-blooded man.”
“Oh, he did, but I advised him that she is already being courted, and we expect an offer quite soon.”
“That was entirely premature, Mama!” she snapped. “I advise you in the strongest possible terms not to spread such rumours. There are very few things more likely to drive Mr Bingley away from Jane than aggressive matchmaking.”
“Oh, what do you know?”
“More than you, apparently,” Elizabeth snapped. “Do not forget that I do not spend all my time here among the four and twenty families. My time in London has taught me quite a lot, and I can assure you that I know far more about the Mr Bingleys of the world than you ever will.”
“Stuff and nonsense! You know not of what you speak. Mark my words, Jane will be engaged by Christmas.”
Elizabeth was astonished by such wilful intransigence but thought herself unlikely to change her mother at this late stage of her life.
“Be that as it may, I agree that Jane should be excluded from his attentions, not because of Mr Bingley, but because she would not be suited to that life. She is not tough enough. That said, you really should point him to Mary. She enjoys her Fordyce and her Bible above all things. She has always aspired to become a clergyman’s wife, and I doubt she would be overly distressed by Lady Catherine’s interference in her business. Why you would pass over the most religious lady in the house when looking for a clergyman’s wife is beyond my comprehension.”
“Mary is far too plain to risk our future on! Besides that, she knows almost nothing about keeping house. Even though I would be here to guide her after your father’s demise, Mr Collins has shown not the slightest interest in her, while he has clearly demonstrated a great deal in you. It will be such a comfort to have you in charge of the estate in my old age, and you know as well as anyone that at least some of your sisters are likely to remain unwed. Mary and Kitty will be a trial, and I doubt there is another man in all of England who would be willing to tolerate your impertinence.”
There it was in plain unvarnished English. Mrs Bennet was after her own comfort, not that of her daughters, and getting rid of Elizabeth once and for all was an idea she could look on with great enthusiasm.
“You seem to be missing one crucial point, Mother. I will not accept him, and you cannot make me!”
Mrs Bennet’s ire rose to nearly unprecedented heights. “You most certainly will. I have raised you for twenty years, and you will do what you must for the good of this family.”
“Aunt Gardiner has been far more of an influence than you, but that is neither here nor there. Do you honestly believe someone who spends her time with Uncle Gardiner is going to go along with such a scheme?”
“I have no idea why your father allows you so much time there.”
“Perhaps not, but you rejoice in my absence, so you cannot turn it into a complaint now. All of that is getting off the main point. I will not marry Mr Collins. I have told you before that neither you nor your unwed daughters will ever starve in the hedgerows. Uncle Gardiner will see to you and steps have already been taken.”
“Yes, perhaps he might see me settled in some hovel with one maid of all work, but he will not see me living in the style to which I am accustomed.”
“And why should he? You have had a quarter-century to save and prepare for that inevitable day, and yet both you and Papa have done nothing . You will not live in a hovel. You will live as well as Aunt Philips, and probably better, which to be frank, is more than you deserve.”
“Live like an attorney’s wife!” she screeched. “After being a leading matron of the area for decades! Never!”
Elizabeth sighed in frustration. If her mother’s attitude had not been clear for years, she was certainly forthright about it now. It seemed obvious that, with Elizabeth still six months from her majority and still ostensibly under her father’s control, Mrs Bennet thought she could force the issue. The plain and unpalatable fact was that, if Elizabeth did not have her Uncle Gardiner, her parents might have been able to pull it off. That said, she did have her uncle, and she could name twenty places she could easily hide for six months, with or without her uncle’s help.
Elizabeth decided it was high time to play her strongest card.
“I will dismantle your premises one at a time in due course, but before I do, will you give me leave to give you the one argument you might be able to comprehend?”
“Go ahead. Get it over with,” the matron said with ill-disguised impatience.
“Let us just suppose you convince me to accept Mr Collins, or more likely force me against my will. What in the world makes you think I would allow you to live with me after that? ”
She gave her mother a hard stare that she knew was extraordinarily intimidating, that she rarely used with anyone she knew, and saw her gulp in consternation.
“You would not!”
“I would! You would be gone from this house with naught but the clothes on your back before I left Hunsford, and you would never cross the threshold again.”
Mrs Bennet gaped like a fish for a moment, and Elizabeth decided she had won her point well enough. Moving the man’s attentions to Mary was not her problem, since she was not the one silly enough to point him at Elizabeth in the first place.
“Mark my words, madam! Move his attentions to Mary, or I will dissuade him myself. I will not marry him—not now, not ever,” she said just as she exited the parlour.
Elizabeth considered the problem of Mr Collins solved and did not particularly care if she had simply traded Mary for herself in the fire. She felt slightly guilty about not asking Mary how she felt about the clergyman, but once again, that was Mary’s problem to solve. She was eighteen years old, perfectly old enough to think for herself, and she could decline the odious man as well as Elizabeth could. Besides that, if he did move his attention to Mary, Elizabeth knew perfectly well she would have plenty of time to coach her sister about how to handle the problem.
~~~~~
With the issue of the odious cousin more or less solved, it seemed time to move on to others.
The day after her conversation with Mrs Bennet, Mr Bennet encouraged all the daughters to take Mr Collins and go somewhere else. He had about had his fill of the clergyman and just wanted some peace and quiet.
Mr Collins made it obvious that Mrs Bennet had not spoken with him, so Elizabeth sighed and decided to put up with his attentions for two more days. If that did not work, she thought she could talk to her father, but she had no more expectation of success with that endeavour than she expected Mr Darcy to succeed with the earl.
When they reached Meryton, she became rather alarmed by how much her sisters’ behaviour had deteriorated.
Elizabeth had been in London for more than six months the previous summer and returned to find Lydia out at barely fifteen. Her sister was not the least bit ready to be in society. In Elizabeth’s opinion, she was not even ready to be out of the nursery. That said, her parents never paid much attention to outside opinions, and she had quit trying to give hers some time earlier.
Lydia’s behaviour, and Kitty’s by extension because she copied Lydia, was in a word abhorrent. It was generally terrible at home, but Elizabeth was well able to ignore that, a skill that came in useful with the Miss Bingleys of the world. She had only been to the one assembly with Lydia, and while she had been a bit wild, it had at least been somewhere near the bounds of propriety—if she squinted enough.
The advent of the militia had removed all restraint. Over the course of a week, her two sisters descended into a level of silliness that was sufficient even for her father.
Elizabeth became quite alarmed by their flirting, which was blatant and ongoing. Both girls (she could not think of them as ladies) were showing a level of décolletage that would be barely acceptable in a London ballroom in the evening, where such excesses were ordinary, but even Miss Bingley would not stoop to such a display in a day-dress.
The men reacted as men would be expected to. It was easy for Elizabeth to pick out the troublemakers among the officers, but it was not much of a challenge, since anyone who even spoke to a fifteen-year-old was suspect by definition.
Between the annoyance of her sisters, and that of Mr Collins, she was about ready to tear her hair out by the time they met Mr Bingley walking his horse into town.
Elizabeth was about an inch from forcefully warning Captain Denny away from Lydia because it was obvious he was a rakehell and make no mistake about it. She tried patiently explaining that to Lydia and Kitty, but once again, she was beating her head against a wall worse than Mr Darcy with the earl.
Mr Bingley greeted the group amiably and Jane warmly, which Elizabeth took to be a modestly good sign. She still had qualms about the man’s resolution based on his history with angels and his poor handling of his sisters—but she was willing to extend him the benefit of the doubt. He was not bad enough to warn Jane off, but not good enough to recommend him either. It was not as if it were her decision anyway. Jane would just have to muddle through on her own.
He mentioned he was just on his way to Longbourn to check on Jane’s health. The fact that she was obviously well enough to walk a mile to Meryton was not sufficient comfort for him, so he offered to walk them home.
During the walk, he managed to quietly tell Elizabeth that Mr Darcy departed with the viscount in tow a few hours after she left with Jane, but he expected to return for the ball, which he was apparently ready to schedule.
Why Mr Bingley thought Elizabeth cared in the least whether Mr Darcy would return or not was a mystery, but she supposed it was better to know than not. On occasion, though, she experienced some slight curiosity about Mr Darcy. He had handled her rather blatant snubbing of his person relatively well. He had overcome his natural tendency to support men in general and his relatives in particular with far less intransigence than she expected. Aside from his first slight, which happened sight unseen, he had been entirely polite. She supposed he might be worth speaking to. He had even said he liked her quite a lot, which she took to mean he liked any lady who did not chase after him with a pitchfork, but even such weak sauce was… interesting. She supposed Mr Bingley might have the right of it. She was mildly curious to see what the Derbyshire gentleman had to say for himself.
The next several days went by with visits from the officers, visits to Meryton to hunt for the officers, endless talk of officers, and even dinner with the officers.
Elizabeth could readily tell that some in the militia were no doubt honourable men who just liked to eat better at the Bennet table than the officers’ mess, as the difference in both quality and quantity was substantial. Those men put up with the flirting of the younger Bennet sisters as the price of the meal. Elizabeth thought they were getting the poor end of the bargain, but since she had never dined in the officer’s mess, she could not be certain.
She could equally determine that some of the men, and Captain Denny in particular, were flirting with a specific goal in mind. While her parents kept Kitty and Lydia entirely ignorant, which was stupid but typical of English society, Elizabeth was not. She recognised them for what they were and made her best effort to warn Lydia and Kitty whilst remaining just barely within the bounds her father had set.
Her results were not auspicious, and she was still engaged in that fool’s errand right up to the day of the Netherfield ball.