Page 19 of What Comes Between Cousins

I T IS THE FATE OF A man who does not possess a furtive bone in his body to appear silly when attempting that state. It was diverting, indeed, to see Mr. Collins returning to Longbourn the morning following the ball, and when Elizabeth saw him through the window, walking up the drive, she almost burst into laughter at the sight, for it appeared he was close to tiptoeing! Elizabeth neither knew nor cared where he had been, but she indulged in a laugh at his expense nonetheless.

When he entered the breakfast room and took his seat, he did so with little fanfare, merely sitting in his usual spot and helping himself from the dishes placed on the table. As the night before had been a late one, most of the family had slept late as well, such that the breakfast of which they were partaking was more the hour they usually sat down for luncheon.

Lydia and Kitty appeared weary, drooping before their plates and eating by rote; Elizabeth was certain they would retire once again to their rooms when the meal was completed. Lydia, it seemed, had not hurt her ankle enough to make her unable to navigate the stairs, though it would be at least two weeks before she could walk into Meryton. While the girl would likely rail against her forced confinement, Elizabeth was anticipating the freedom from embarrassment her lesser mobility would engender.

As for the rest of the diners, Jane was contemplative, no doubt thinking of Mr. Bingley and perhaps even of what Elizabeth had told her the previous evening, while Mary was watchful, not only of her sisters, but her wary gaze settled on Mr. Collins more often than not. Mrs. Bennet was as lethargic as her youngest daughters, while Mr. Bennet focused on his meal. It was not long before he finished and excused himself, freeing his daughters to depart to their own activities as well.

As expected, Lydia and Kitty were soon gone to their rooms, and Jane excused herself as well. Mary and Elizabeth went to the sitting-room, Mary to read a book while Elizabeth thought to write a letter to her Aunt Gardiner. Mrs. Bennet seemed likely to follow three of her daughters above stairs when she was accosted by Mr. Collins.

“Mrs. Bennet,” said he, “might I have a word with you? I have something I wish to say which I think will be of great interest to you.”

The Bennet matron had never thought well of Mr. Collins—everyone in the family had known this since the first day of his arrival. Elizabeth knew her mother had espoused some hope of attaching Kitty or Mary to the parson, but when he had fixed on Elizabeth instead, she had quickly grown exasperated with him. Mrs. Bennet watched him, suspicion radiating from her in waves. In the end, however, she gave him a clipped nod and sat in her usual chair, the parson attending her close by, and speaking in a low voice.

“What do you suppose that is all about?” asked Mary.

Elizabeth, who had been watching the man through wary eyes, shook her head. “Likely some insipid entreaty again regarding Lady Catherine’s nephews,” replied Elizabeth. “I do not doubt we shall know before long, for Mama is not likely to oblige him.”

In the end, Elizabeth’s words proved to be prophetic, for it was not five moments later when the conversation became heated.

“No, Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head with vehement denial. “What you ask for is nonsensical. I will not allow it.”

“But Mrs. Bennet,” pleaded the parson in what sounded more like a whine. “Surely you must see this is for the best. It is the particular—”

“I care not for anything you or your patroness wish!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “I do not know how you think you can impose your will upon us, but I will not yield. Can you not see that my daughter does not favor you?”

“No,” sniffed Mr. Collins, his tone filled with disdain. “She favors men who are far above her in consequence and lineage and, furthermore, those who are already claimed by other women. Your daughter will one day be mistress of this estate if you will only oblige me!”

“For that last time, I will not!” cried Mrs. Bennet. She jumped to her feet and glared at Mr. Collins, who rose with her and regarded her with haughty affront. “I would not agree to your request if you were the prince regent himself! My daughter has no care for your demands, and neither do I. I wish you had never come to Longbourn!”

And with those words, Mrs. Bennet marched from the room, the door through which she exited fairly slammed behind her. For a moment, silence reigned in the room. And then Mr. Collins turned his attention to Elizabeth.

“Cousin Elizabeth, I will speak with you,” demanded the parson. “You will attend me this instant.”

“I apologize, Mr. Collins,” replied Elizabeth, “but I have no intention of hearing anything you say.” Mr. Collins’s jaw worked in his anger, but Elizabeth did not concern herself with his petty ire. “If I am not mistaken, my mother just denied you whatever you asked, and as such, I have no compunction against doing the same.”

“You will hear me!” cried Mr. Collins.

He rushed toward Elizabeth, and in her sudden fear, Elizabeth rose herself, managing to put the sofa between them. He had always been such an ineffectual dolt that Elizabeth had never been frightened of him before. But now, with his dander up, she was forced to recognize that he was a large man, towering above her more diminutive height. He had never seemed vicious, but she could not predict what he might do in his offense for how she was speaking to him.

Mr. Collins glared at her from the other side of the sofa, but he made no attempt to follow or reach for her. Instead, he huffed his contempt and began to speak.

“Then I shall speak regardless. It is quite clear to me that you would make a most unsuitable wife for a man in my situation, for your brazenness is quite beyond anything I have witnessed.

“Be that as it may, my patroness has demanded this of me, and so I shall obey, as shall you. Lady Catherine has decreed that we shall wed. Therefore, I propose marriage to you, knowing that you have no offer before you and confident that you have no other option than to accept.”

Whatever Mr. Collins had expected, he was clearly shocked by the sight of Elizabeth’s sardonic laughter. Mary, who had risen from the sofa at the same time as Elizabeth, watched her sister with astonishment. But Elizabeth was heartened to see that while Mary was unable to laugh as Elizabeth did herself, she watched the parson, determination evident in her manner.

“I believe, Mr. Collins, that your proposal must be the worst which has ever been offered by any man in all the history of mankind. What care I for your patroness’s demands? She is naught but a prideful woman seeking to impose her will upon her grown nephews.”

“You will not speak of Lady Catherine in such a way!” snarled Mr. Collins.

“I will speak of her however I please,” retorted Elizabeth. “Despite what you seem to believe, she is not deity. I commit no blasphemy by castigating her as the silly, stupid woman she is.”

“Enough!” roared Mr. Collins. “If you say one more word, I shall not be responsible for my actions!”

“Mr. Collins,” growled Elizabeth, “let me once again say that I have no concern for your patroness’s whims. I would not marry you were you the only man standing between me and a life of poverty. And let me say that even if I was removed from the equation, it would make it no more likely Mr. Darcy would be compelled to marry his cousin. I cannot think he has any inclination toward her, for if he did, he would already have married her!”

“You will obey, Cousin Elizabeth,” snarled Mr. Collins. “You will be made to marry me.”

“No, she will not.”

The words, spoken in a slow and deliberate cadence surprised the three combatants, none of whom had heard anyone enter the room. Mr. Collins whirled about in his shock, while Elizabeth and Mary only looked up to see their father standing inside the door, his countenance suffused with such a look of fury as Elizabeth had never before seen. By his side stood Mrs. Bennet, her contempt for the parson clear for them all to see. The disturbance had also drawn Jane, who watched with wide eyes of shock, while their footman, John, also stood at Mr. Bennet’s shoulder, scowling at the parson.

“Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Bennet, “I understand from Mrs. Bennet that you requested her permission to pay your addresses to Lizzy. Ignoring, for the moment, that it is to me you should make such a request, I have been informed that you were denied permission. Is that so?”

The parson drew himself up to his full height and glared at Mr. Bennet, his patroness’s haughtiness reflected in his manner. “I have come to offer honorable marriage to your daughter, Mr. Bennet, despite her clear lack of respectability.”

“Did my wife deny your appeal or did she not?” enunciated Mr. Bennet.

“It matters little—”

“You are a fool, Collins,” interjected Mr. Bennet. The parson goggled at him, but Mr. Bennet only shook his head. “Your father was perhaps the most objectionable man I have ever met. Rough and uneducated, yet haughty and determined he knew best, some of the arguments we exchanged were truly sights to see. It is clear to me that you have learned at the man’s knee, for I find myself disgusted by your behavior.”

“My father told me all about you, Mr. Bennet,” spat Mr. Collins. “And yet I have offered you this olive branch to mend the rift, knowing how badly you treated him. And this is the thanks I receive?”

“Whatever fantasy your father spun for you, Mr. Collins, it does not give you the right to attempt to impose yourself on my family or my daughter in particular. There are rules of society to be met in any such offer. The woman’s father must be petitioned, for example, and her favor must be obtained. You seem to believe that you are above all these things by virtue of your position as a parson. Or perhaps because of your perceived impression of how high your patroness is in society. Neither is true, sir.”

“Very well, then,” said Mr. Collins. “I hereby ask your permission to marry your daughter.”

“Denied,” replied Mr. Bennet. He fixed the shocked parson with a thin smile, one which did nothing to hide his contempt. “How you can think my Lizzy would be yours for the asking is quite beyond my comprehension, sir. She—all my daughters are precious to me. I would no more force her into marriage with you , of all men, than I would marry her to one of the pigs on the farm.”

“Mr. Bennet—”

“No, Mr. Collins!” exclaimed Mr. Bennet. “You have disrupted my house quite enough. It is time you departed. I want you gone by this afternoon at the latest.”

Mr. Collins gasped. “You would betray me in such a way? How am I to make my way home?”

“I care not, Mr. Collins. Your behavior has rendered the question moot. If you hurry quickly enough, perhaps you may catch your patroness as she flees the county with her tail between her legs. At the very least, I expect you have money for a night at the inn, if required, and money for the post coach to return you to your home.”

It was clear Mr. Collins was not about to move, as he gaped at Mr. Bennet, unable to fathom what he was hearing. Mr. Bennet’s patience, however, we clearly exhausted.

“John!” commanded he, bringing the footman to his side. “Please escort Mr. Collins above stairs to retrieve his belongings. He is to pack his trunks and depart from the estate. If he refuses, you may do whatever you wish with his belongings and call in the stable hands to evict him forcefully. I want him gone within an hour.”

“This way, Mr. Collins,” said John, approaching the parson and gesturing toward the open door.

Mr. Collins watched them all, attempting to gauge their will and, more particularly, John. The footman was tall and lean, and Elizabeth had seen enough of him around the house to know he possessed strength in his frame. Furthermore, though Mr. Hill—the butler—was an older man, the stable hands were both young and burly men and would have no difficulty seeing Mr. Collins evicted. In the end, Mr. Collins came to the correct conclusion himself.

“I see your betrayal, Cousin,” hissed he. “I hope your wife and daughters are prepared to live on whatever pittance you will leave them, for they will receive no charity from me.”

“Whatever our dispute, sir,” replied Mr. Bennet, “it has never been clearer that you are not fit to wear that collar. Regardless, I shall not continue to bandy words with you. Be gone at once!”

With little choice, Mr. Collins glared at them all with contempt and exited the room, John trailing behind. The sound of his boots on the stairs informed them he was, for the moment, at least, obeying her father’s edicts. Mr. Bennet waved to the butler, who appeared in the door, gave some instructions, which Mr. Hill hurried to carry out. Then he turned his attention to Elizabeth and Mary.

“Well, girls, how was that for a bit of excitement?”

Elizabeth shook her head—trust her father to find humor in such a situation! “Far more excitement than I might have wished to experience. What an odious man he is!”

“He is at that,” said Mr. Bennet, his mercurial moods once again settling into seriousness. “I have sent for Lydia and Kitty. You all shall remain here with me until Mr. Collins is gone. I would not put it past him to attempt something with you. His desperation to do as his patroness bids might drive him to it.”

The sounds of the stable hands entering the house soon reached their ears, along with Kitty and Lydia entering the room, protesting at being roused from what was surely their slumber. Mr. Bennet, with a patience he did not often possess with his youngest daughters, explained what had happened and why they had been summoned. Their complaints were then reserved for the loathsome parson.

“Are you well, Lizzy?” asked Jane when she sat beside Elizabeth, turning to her with concern in her eyes.

“I am, Jane,” replied Elizabeth. “I will own that Mr. Collins showed much more bite than I had ever attributed to him, though his bark was as loud and obnoxious as ever.”

“Lizzy!” exclaimed Mary, though quietly. “How can you make sportive comments of such an event? I truly feared for you in the face of that man’s actions.”

“I must laugh, Mary. Else I shall surely cry.”

The three sisters laughed at Elizabeth’s words. “Perhaps we shall be quite fortunate to receive the Netherfield party’s visit this morning to distract us,” continued Elizabeth. “The sight of Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Darcy now would be welcome, I dare say. And I am certain Jane wishes to see Mr. Bingley again, though she was hardly parted from his side last night, even by the demands of the dance!”

Both of her sisters realized this was Elizabeth’s way of moving past an objectionable event, and they only shook their heads. It was for Jane to say: “Though I do not know if the cousins will come, I know that Mr. Bingley will not. He informed me last night he had some matters of business in London which required his attention. He was to depart today, intending to return in four or five days.”

“Then we shall have to comfort you in your bereavement, dearest sister,” teased Elizabeth. “I cannot bear the thought of you pining after your beau, so it shall be my purpose to induce you to laugh!”

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W HEN MR. COLLINS CAME down the stairs, it was to the sound of the Bennet sisters’ laughter, and had he not been so closely followed by Longbourn’s employees, he might have gone into the sitting-room to confront Elizabeth again. As it was, the three men ensured he understood that no detours were to be tolerated and that he was to leave directly.

“You should all remember that when I am master of this estate, you will all be put out without reference,” said he to the three men.

“But you are not the master yet, are you?” replied the footman. “The current master requires your absence. It is him we obey.”

Mr. Collins only sniffed in disdain. “Regardless, you should not expect any charity from me when I inherit. I remember those who betray me.”

“His effects have been gathered?” asked the butler, who appeared in the vestibule before them. When the footman nodded, the butler turned to Mr. Collins. “If you wish it, Clive will take you to Meryton in the wagon. But you are not to return—the door will be barred against you should you attempt it.”

“I need no such assistance from the likes of you,” said Mr. Collins. “I am able to make my own way.”

The butler did not speak. He only nodded and opened the door, and Mr. Collins felt all the insult of being unceremoniously forced from the house which would one day be his. By the time he was halfway to Meryton, he regretted refusing the offer to see him to the town, for his arms ached from the strain of carrying his effects over the uneven ground.

“I will know how to act,” muttered Mr. Collins. “Mr. Bennet will rue the day he betrayed me.”

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T HE EVENTS AT LONGBOURN that morning were unknown to the inhabitants of Netherfield. But that did not mean they were not beset by their own trials. That their trials were perpetrated by the erstwhile mistress of the estate was not a surprise to Darcy. The woman had become more desperate the longer they had been in residence without the achievement of her designs.

“I am off to London this morning,” Bingley had said when he greeted Darcy and Fitzwilliam earlier than Bingley had any right to be awake. He had always been a late riser, and though Darcy had known of his intended journey to London, he thought Bingley might have waited until later in the day.

When he made that observation, Bingley only laughed. “Under normal circumstances, you might be correct, my friend. But today I am impatient to be gone, for the sooner I leave, the sooner I will return. I find myself quite eager to return, I assure you.”

Darcy grinned at his friend, feeling quite light-hearted. Bingley returned his gesture, but then his countenance became almost stern.

“I should also inform you that last night Louisa asked for permission to assume the position of my hostess at Netherfield, and I have accepted. I have no doubt Caroline will attempt to assert her authority, but with Hurst supporting her, Louisa will fend our sister off.”

“Oh?” asked Fitzwilliam, the first time he had spoken since Bingley arrived.

Bingley shook his head, his exasperation evident. “Surely you saw Caroline’s performance last night? She had little interest in behaving in a manner befitting the mistress of the estate. Louisa pointed this out, quite correctly, and I agreed.

“I am also certain Caroline will attempt to induce you all to follow me to London. I know the calendar is turning late in the year, but I hope you will consent to stay for a few weeks longer.”

“Of course, Bingley,” replied Darcy, resisting the urge to glance at his cousin. “I am quite happy to stay.”

“As am I,” added Fitzwilliam.

Darcy did not attempt to divine his cousin’s purpose and Bingley did not see anything untoward in their interactions.

“Excellent! Then I shall depart, for I have already called for the carriage. I shall return anon, as I have promised.”

Betting against Bingley’s characterization of his sister was a fool’s wager—had Darcy not already understood this, he might have thought his friend’s words were prophetic. As it was, Darcy had anticipated Miss Bingley’s performance. In fact, he was interested to see what form it would take.

After breaking his fast, Darcy settled himself in the library for some time, choosing a book which interested him from Bingley’s pitiful collection. There he stayed for most of the remainder of the morning. When the time for luncheon approached, he made his way to the sitting-room, where he found Fitzwilliam in the company of the Hursts. Of Miss Bingley, there was no sign. It was unfortunate that state of affairs did not persist long.

Only moments after Darcy entered, Miss Bingley waltzed into the room. She greeted them and then set about the business of fulfilling Bingley’s predictions.

“It has become a little late in the day,” said she, “but if we are about the business of packing, we should be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. I find that I am eager to be in London once again, as I am sure you all are.”

“Then you would be incorrect, Caroline,” replied Mrs. Hurst. By her side, Hurst watched with amusement evident in the sardonic sneer he directed at his sister by marriage. “I know of no such plans to depart for London tomorrow. In fact, our brother was quite specific about his intention to return within five days.”

“Oh, you know Charles,” said Caroline, an airy wave of her hand swatting her sister’s words away. “Once he is in London, he will be in no hurry to depart. There is no need to wait until he summons us—we should simply join him now.”

“On the contrary, my dear sister,” said Hurst, “I am quite settled at Netherfield at present.”

“As am I,” added Louisa. “It is a pretty estate; do you not agree? And the people of the neighborhood are friendly and obliging. Charles could not have found a better estate had he tried.”

Miss Bingley glared at her sister, before she turned to Darcy, a forced smile adorning her countenance. “Surely you are eager to leave, Mr. Darcy. As a member of a much higher strata of society, these people must grate on your nerves. And your dear sister, Georgiana! I am certain you must be wild to see her!”

“I would need to go north if I wished to see Georgiana,” replied Darcy. “She is at my uncle’s estate in Derbyshire at present. I am in no hurry to depart, for I am quite enjoying myself in Hertfordshire.”

Miss Bingley glared at him as if he had delivered her some mortal insult. But Darcy hardly noticed. Instead, he was contemplating a young woman of his acquaintance, one whom he had begun to see as a special young lady. Her dark, beautiful eyes haunted his dreams and thrilled his senses. Was it too late in the day to visit Longbourn? Perhaps visits were discouraged the day after a late ball, but he could not suppose Mrs. Bennet would object to his coming.

“What of you, Lord Chesterfield?” asked Miss Bingley. “Are you as tied to Netherfield as my relations and yours?”

Interested to see how his cousin would respond, Darcy pushed his musings to the side. Fitzwilliam, for his part, darted a glance at Darcy—the significance of which Darcy did not miss—and nodded.

“I am quite happy to stay here, Miss Bingley.”

“Very well then, my lord,” cooed she. “Then we are happy to have you. I am certain we shall all have a merry time here, assuming we manage to avoid the locals.” She tittered at her own jest, laughing alone, as no one else joined her. “Perhaps you might even be induced to stay for Christmastide!”

The woman continued to prattle along, seeming intent upon maintaining the fiction that she was still the mistress of Netherfield. Darcy did not hear one word in ten, for he was considering her capitulation and what it meant. In short, she had surrendered far too quickly for his taste. She was becoming desperate. Darcy knew he needed to take great care.

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“L OUISA! HOW DARE YOU betray me!”

It was all Louisa could do not to turn and snap at her sister. “As I informed you last night, Caroline,” rejoined she through clenched teeth, “if you had behaved in the manner you should, you would still be mistress of this estate.”

“I do not know what has happened to you,” snarled Caroline. “Have you forgotten our determination to climb society’s ranks so quickly?”

“That was always your ambition, Caroline. Not mine. I have no desire to be anything more than I am.”

“Then you are as dull as I always thought you were. I shall know how to act!”

And Caroline went away, leaving a relieved Louisa behind. Her sister was becoming all but ungovernable. They would need to do something about her before long.