Page 11 of What Comes Between Cousins

I T IS THE CURSE OF a man possessing a weak understanding to value his own abilities at a level which is far out of touch with reality.

Perhaps few captured this truth more than Mr. William Collins. Mr. Collins was a member of the family who had long been sundered from the Bennets living at Longbourn and would not even have been the heir of Longbourn but for the inability of the Bennets to produce many children in recent generations, and of the present property holder producing only girls. And that did not even count a great uncle, who had left England to go to the New World; any male progeny of that member of the family would be the rightful heir, though there was little chance of ever discovering them.

Mr. Collins, however, did not see this, as he did not see the limitations of intelligence and sense under which he was forced to operate. In Mr. Collins’s mind, he was the heir, and as such, should be afforded the respect of his position. He also had an inflated sense of his position in society as a parson, which led to his curious mixture of haughtiness and servility.

Having come to Longbourn to heal the breach with his cousin’s family, Mr. Collins had expected to be welcomed with open arms and to have the pick of his cousins for a wife as Lady Catherine had demanded. That three should already have suitors had not pleased him, and with the other two unsuitable to be the wife of a parson, he had begun to feel rather aggrieved.

But that was nothing compared to the information he had gleaned about those supposed suitors. Mr. Collins was now faced with a dilemma. It was without question that Lady Catherine would not be happy to learn that her nephews were fraternizing with such unsuitable ladies. But Collins was not certain what he could possibly do concerning the matter. He could possibly woo one of the girls away from them, but a man did not bestow his favors on two young ladies at once.

For the present, he did what he could—he dispatched a letter to Lady Catherine as soon as he rose the morning following the disagreement at dinner. Her ladyship would no doubt journey to Longbourn to make her sentiments known and pull her wayward nephews back from the calamity they were entertaining, if that was, indeed, what they were contemplating. Though they had paid attention to Elizabeth in particular, Collins was still not convinced they were at all serious in those attentions. But prudence demanded he confront the matter with the seriousness it deserved.

But until instructions arrived from Lady Catherine, he was alone in a hostile environment. Lady Catherine would be displeased if he did nothing. Thus, he would need to do what he could.

After sending his letter to Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins made his way back to Longbourn, arriving as the rest of the family was descending the stairs to partake of breakfast. Miss Elizabeth alone was returning to the house the same time he was, and he wondered at it. It seemed she had been out for some time as her cheeks and nose were red.

“Cousin Elizabeth!” exclaimed he as he approached the house.

She whirled in surprise, evidently not having known he was there, and relaxed when she saw him.

“Mr. Collins,” said she by way of greeting, before making to turn back to the house.

“I would be very happy, Cousin, if you would allow me to escort you to breakfast.”

A rush of gratification accompanied his cousin’s acceptance of his arm, and as they walked into the house, Mr. Collins began regaling her with tales of Rosings Park and the parsonage which was his home. And he fancied that he might be able to pull her from her contemplated improprieties with Lord Chesterfield.

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U NFORTUNATELY, MR. Collins once again overestimated his abilities.

“I am surprised to see you out of doors so early this morning, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth when they had entered the house.

“I had a matter which required my attention,” was his blithe response. “I must own that I am surprised that you were outside.”

“It is not unusual for me to walk out in the mornings,” replied Elizabeth. “I do so almost every morning when the weather permits. It is one of the reasons why winter is my least favorite season, for I am often denied.”

“Walking about the park in the back of the house is beneficial exercise,” replied the parson with a sage nod. “I often walk about my own gardens. I believe you will enjoy them, Cousin, for they are beautiful, and the grove in which stands my home is delightful.”

Elizabeth ignored the assertion that she would one day see his gardens. “The back wilderness is all I am afforded at times. But as this morning is quite mild, the gardens were not my destination. I walked the path which follows Longbourn’s border with Netherfield.”

The way Mr. Collins’s head suddenly swiveled to look at her with horror told Elizabeth that she had made an error. “You walked so far already this morning?”

“I am an early riser, Mr. Collins. As I said before, it is not unusual.”

“But surely there is no call to walk so far.”

“It is one of my favorite activities, Mr. Collins. I have been doing so for many years. I do not know how you could possibly object.”

Mr. Collins was silent. He glared at her for several moments, considering her words, and when he spoke, his tone was all suspicion. “I hope you were not walking in that specific direction in hopes of an accidental meeting along a secluded path.”

“I do not appreciate your insinuation, Cousin,” said Elizabeth. She placed her hands on her hips and returned his glare. “I walk for enjoyment, exercise, and the ability to be alone with my thoughts. I do not go searching for men to arrange some assignation with them. I would highly appreciate it if you would not make such insinuations.”

With those words, Elizabeth turned on her heel and made her way to the dining room, the heavy tread of Mr. Collins following her thither.

When they arrived, Mr. Bennet looked up and smiled at Elizabeth, but when he saw her countenance, his expression became one of annoyance. The parson, though he was the recipient of her father’s censure, seemed unaware of it, so focused on Elizabeth herself was he.

“Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Bennet. The parson started, his forkful of food flying into the air when he jerked, falling on the sleeve of his black coat. Mr. Collins remained oblivious as he turned to Mr. Bennet, though Elizabeth was near to laughter at the spectacle. She dearly needed a laugh.

“Yes, Cousin?”

“I hope we do not need to repeat the words we exchanged last night. Do we?”

Apparently, Mr. Collins saw something in Mr. Bennet’s countenance he did not like, for he only shook his head and muttered: “I believe that is not necessary.”

“Excellent!” said Mr. Bennet, and he turned back to his breakfast.

While one might have thought the inanities would be finished for the day, only one who had never met Mr. Collins would have entertained such a hope. Enter the Netherfield party and the silliness was destined to increase.

They were led into the room by Mrs. Hill and welcomed by the company. Mr. Bingley, as was his wont in these situations, went to Jane immediately, greeting her with the ardency of a suitor, and Elizabeth could watch with nothing but pleasure. Then she found herself being addressed by those who had increasingly become of interest to her.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, leading his cousin to where she stood. “How are you this fine day?”

“I am very well, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “I thank you for asking. And you? Everyone at Netherfield is well, I expect?”

“All very well,” replied Lord Chesterfield. He leaned in as if imparting a secret. “Miss Bingley is not best pleased by the reason for our errand today, but you shall discover the reason for that anon.”

“Cousin Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly in mortification at the sound of the detested voice. She did not need to turn around to know the parson was scurrying toward them, and with resignation, she turned to him, plastering a smile on her face.

“Mr. Darcy, Lord Chesterfield, I must thank you profusely for paying attention to my poor cousin. But I assure you, she has no need of such attention, for I am happy to attend to her myself.”

The way both gentlemen regarded Mr. Collins suggested they considered him to be less than an annoying bug. For his part, Mr. Collins seemed oblivious, for he beamed at them as if he had just said something worthy of being passed down by sages.

“I was not aware that a man could not greet a woman with whom he is acquainted without sparking censure, sir,” said Lord Chesterfield.

The smile fell away from Mr. Collins’s face. “I only mean to remind my cousin to remember her place, Lord Chesterfield. It is not seemly that she should attempt to seduce the attention of such illustrious gentlemen as yourselves.”

“Your choice of words is suspect, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth darted a glance at the gentleman, and she could see he was not pleased by Mr. Collins’s silliness. “If a man enters a room and approaches a woman for the purpose of greeting her, there is no reason to suppose it is anything more than acquaintances exchanging civilities.”

“You are quite correct, sir,” said Mr. Collins, dropping into a series of hasty bows. “I had not meant to insinuate anything more.”

Though Mr. Darcy clearly did not believe him, he proved himself to be a true gentleman by allowing the matter to drop. For the next few moments, the two gentlemen carried on a conversation with Elizabeth, mostly consisting of the aforementioned courtesies, while Mr. Collins took every opportunity to interject. It was something of a relief when the demands of civility asserted themselves, and the two Netherfield gentlemen turned to the other members of the family and greeted them. As soon as they left, however, Mr. Collins turned to Elizabeth. His countenance was severe.

“You must desist in this course, Cousin!” hissed he.

Elizabeth turned and glared at him. “Really, Mr. Collins, I think you must acquire spectacles, for your eyesight appears deficient. The gentlemen entered the room and approached me , not the reverse. Did Mr. Darcy not say as much?”

Then Elizabeth turned her back on the man and walked away. Though she paid him no more heed and attempted to ignore him, she was not unaware of the heat of his gaze upon her back.

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M R. COLLINS WAS, WITHOUT a doubt, one of the most curious creatures Darcy had ever had the misfortune to meet. Had that fact not been sufficiently established during the walk from Meryton to Longbourn, Darcy would have known without a doubt during a half-hour in his company in the Bennets’ sitting-room.

Furthermore, Mr. Collins’s purpose for acting as he did was only a secret to one who was, like him, completely bereft of wit. Darcy did not know how Lady Catherine did it, but she consistently managed to find lackeys who would protect her interests as if they were their own. In the case of Mr. Collins, his zeal was beyond anything Darcy had seen in her ladyship’s previous underlings.

After greeting Miss Elizabeth, Darcy and Fitzwilliam both turned to the rest of the room and made the required salutations to the family, and then they sat with them for the required visit. Bingley, though the purpose of the visit was his, sat by Jane Bennet and could not be moved from the object of his devotion. Darcy watched them for a few moments. Bingley’s preference was clear for all to see, but Miss Bennet’s serene countenance was not one to be easily understood. At first, Darcy had been inclined to warn his friend to be cautious, but a conversation with his cousin had changed his mind.

“Miss Bennet is a good sort of girl, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam when Darcy had voiced his concerns. “It is true that she may not have much in the way of fortune, but she is a steady influence on your sometimes temperamental friend, and in matters of society, she would be a step up for him. She is , after all, the daughter of a gentleman, whereas he is naught but the son of a tradesman.”

“I had not thought you to espouse such opinions, Fitzwilliam,” replied Darcy. “Even with your elevation to the status of a viscount, I had thought you to be of a more liberal mind.”

“And you would not be incorrect,” replied Fitzwilliam, unoffended by Darcy’s words. “Some attention must be paid to such matters, of course, but if it does not concern Bingley, what is it to anyone else?”

“True,” said Darcy. “But I do not object to the girl because of her situation.”

“So you do object?”

The grin accompanying Fitzwilliam’s question told Darcy his cousin was attempting to make sport with him. Darcy only shook his head—at times his cousin was rather predictable.

“I only wish for the best for my friend,” replied Darcy. “Bingley is, as you have seen, a jovial soul. I do not think he would be happy with a woman who did not return his regard.”

“You do not believe Miss Bennet does?”

“It is more that I am unconvinced. She is serenity personified, and that leads me to believe her heart will not be easily touched. Furthermore, you know what Mrs. Bennet is—I am not certain Miss Bennet would be allowed to refuse any offer which came her way.”

“I think Mrs. Bennet—and Miss Bennet, for that matter—might surprise you, Darcy. But be that as it may, I suggest you watch Miss Bennet the next time you see her in company with Bingley. She is not indifferent to him; quite the opposite, in fact.”

And so, Darcy had taken his cousin’s advice to do just that, and what he found filled him with shame for the mistake he had almost committed. Darcy, who was universally judged to be reticent, or even taciturn, should have seen such reserve in another. Miss Bennet behaved as properly as any young woman he had ever seen. She accepted Bingley’s conversation with pleasure and responded with as much animation as she was capable of offering. She did not throw herself at him, unlike some others he could name.

That settled in his mind, Darcy felt free to turn his attention away from the couple, knowing that Bingley, if he did decide to propose, would live a happy life with his angel. After all, that is all Darcy had ever wished for his friend.

It was while Mr. Collins was distracted that Miss Elizabeth approached Darcy, and after greeting him broached the subject of the previous visit with a gravity with which he usually did not associate with her.

“My father warned us all about Mr. Wickham,” said she, cutting through to the heart of the subject. “Even Lydia, who was fascinated by Mr. Wickham’s good looks, has promised she will not associate with him.” She paused and directed a faint smile at him. “Mary and Jane and I have agreed to watch her to ensure she makes good on that promise.”

“That is prudent,” replied Darcy. “If you will forgive me, your sister appears to be a little . . . immature, perhaps? She is the kind of girl on whom Wickham loves to prey.”

“She is flighty and silly and has not the sense God gave a goose,” was Miss Elizabeth’s assessment.

Darcy could not help but chuckle. “I shall not agree with you, Miss Elizabeth, for fear of appearing censorious toward your sister. I shall simply say it is prudent to be watchful.”

“Thank you, sir.” Miss Elizabeth paused and seemed to be considering something. “Might I be correct in supposing that you and Lord Chesterfield visited Colonel Forster concerning the matter?”

“We did, and as you may expect, he was not pleased to learn that such a man was to join his regiment. He plans to inform the shopkeepers that they should not extend credit to his men, or if they plan to do so, that it should be limited to small amounts.”

“That is excellent news, Mr. Darcy. I know my father spoke with Sir William Lucas briefly this morning. Since he is aware of the situation, I do not doubt it will be known throughout the neighborhood without delay.”

It was, of course, then that Mr. Collins espied them speaking together, for he let loose a desperate-sounding “Cousin Elizabeth!” and scurried toward them as if his very life depended on his attendance. Thus, Darcy was forced to endure the man’s simpering attentions, not to mention his dark looks at Miss Elizabeth. Had it all not been so very pathetic and amusing, Darcy might have been put out with the parson.

But then, sometime later, Darcy noticed that his cousin was speaking with the youngest Miss Bennets, and when his cousin laughed with the two giggling girls, Mr. Collins turned white. His reaction was much the same as it had been when he had first seen Darcy and Miss Elizabeth together.

“Cousin Lydia!” exclaimed he, and off he went to interrupt their conversation. Fitzwilliam, who seemed to have been enjoying himself—though Darcy could not know of what he could speak with such silly, immature girls—appeared more than a little put out over Mr. Collins’s actions.

A huff of exasperation from his side pulled Darcy back to his companion. She was watching the parson, no friendly expression in her dark eyes. Had she been a man, Darcy thought she might have called the man out for stupidity. When Miss Elizabeth noticed his scrutiny, she shook her head.

“You informed me you were aware of the type of man your aunt employs. Might I assume that Mr. Collins has acquitted himself as you might expect in every particular?”

“He has exceeded my expectations,” replied Darcy. “My aunt has outdone herself on this occasion. But there is one thing I do not understand.”

Miss Bennet cocked her head to the side and regarded him through dark, mysterious eyes. Darcy had rarely seen such a fetching mannerism. “Perhaps I might assist you in shedding some light on the subject?”

“I well understand Mr. Collins’s actions toward me .” Darcy snorted. “Given my aunt’s unrelenting expectations concerning my future felicity, I am not surprised she would have shared it with him. Hoping she will be more circumspect is a fool’s hope.

“But Mr. Collins seems eager to prevent any interaction between my cousin and members of your family, particularly your youngest sister, even when he is not in company with you. Where you are concerned, Mr. Collins’s reason may easily be discerned. But Miss Lydia? I cannot fathom that he would suspect any danger on that front. She is, as you said, full young, and not ready to marry.”

Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks bloomed with embarrassment, but she did not scruple to reply. “My mother may . . . have some hopes in that direction for my youngest sister.”

“Truly?” asked Darcy, eyes wide. “But she is naught but a child!”

“Yes, but she is also my mother’s favorite.” Miss Elizabeth fixed a tight smile on him. “Furthermore, Mama thinks that if one of you fall in love with her, that you will be content to wait until she matures and is ready for marriage to secure your bride.”

“There are several fallacies in that line of thinking, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy. He was not certain whether he should laugh or throw up his hands and depart the madhouse that was Longbourn forthwith.

“Yes, but it is so like my mother.” Miss Elizabeth paused, and then directed a beseeching look at him. “Please do not fault my mother, sir. She loves us all prodigiously, but her fear for our future often overrides her judgment.”

“Fear for the future?” asked Darcy.

“You have not heard that Longbourn is entailed?”

Understanding bloomed in Darcy’s mind. “Of course. I was not aware, but it now makes sense.” He directed a glance at Mr. Collins, who was still annoying Fitzwilliam with his interference. “Might I assume that your father’s heir is in this room?”

“You may.”

“Then the mystery is solved.” Darcy paused, thinking about what he should say. When he saw her anxiety, he fixed her with a smile. “Your mother is no different from many other mothers I have met in the past. I am not offended. As for Mr. Collins, I assume that he is attempting to direct your youngest sister away from my cousin because he thinks his patroness will not approve.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded. “Perhaps, then, you may take the opportunity, should it present itself, to inform your mother—allowing Mr. Collins to overhear—that neither Fitzwilliam nor myself have any designs upon your youngest sister. She is yet a child; gentlemen of thirty years of age do not fall in love with children. If they do, they are not fit for the appellation.”

A relieved look stole over Miss Elizabeth’s face. “I will do so, should the opportunity present itself. I should warn you that my mother will likely not believe me.”

“Then perhaps a passage of time will convince her.”

“I hope you are correct, sir.”

They changed the subject and continued an interesting conversation thereafter. Mr. Collins, for his part, hurried between himself and Fitzwilliam, attempting to intervene with both conversations. Now that Darcy knew what he was about, he could only be amused by the situation. Or at least he would have been amused had he not found Miss Elizabeth so fascinating.

When the thirty minutes of their visit had almost elapsed, Bingley roused himself to make the communication which had been the purpose of their visit.

“Mrs. Bennet,” said he, “I am pleased to announce that my family and I will hold a ball on Tuesday next to thank you all for the welcome we have received.” Producing a card, Bingley stepped forward and handed it to the Bennet matron. “I hope we can anticipate the attendance of your family.”

“Of course, Mr. Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet, her reply almost restrained. “We would be delighted to attend. We thank you for your civility and generosity.”

“Excellent!” cried Bingley. Then he turned to Miss Bennet. “If I might be so bold, may I ask, Miss Bennet, for your hand for the first two dances?”

Had Darcy still had any doubts about Miss Bennet’s feelings, her rosy countenance and smile of utter pleasure would have put them to rest. She accepted with alacrity, which set Bingley to beaming. Darcy had often informed his friend in a jesting manner that he appeared quite ridiculous when he smiled in such a way, but on this occasion, it was appropriate. Bingley seemed near to finding his angel, and Darcy could not be happier for him.

Mr. Collins, who had been flitting about the room, watched them with grave attention and then nodded. It seemed like he had come to the same conclusion as Darcy had. If he had espoused any hopes in Miss Bennet’s direction, they were now well and truly extinguished.

Turning back to his companion, Darcy noted her pleasure for her sister’s good fortune and a powerful feeling stole over him. Before he even knew what he was about, Darcy caught her eye and addressed her thus:

“Miss Elizabeth, perhaps this is a little precipitous, but I believe that Bingley has set a good example for us all. Might I request your first sets of the evening as well?”