Even that little action filled Elizabeth with resentment on behalf of her sister, even though it was an act that could have been understood as caring, rather than domineering, from a different gentleman.
Jane’s peaceful expression did not change, and she showed no resentment on her own behalf.
Elizabeth found that Mr. Collins now studied her.
“Lady Catherine,” he said, “in her wisdom has commented several times lately upon how such a large family of unmarried daughters — four! — hardly reflects well upon me. I am your guardian now. I have invited a member of our neighbourhood who lost his second wife a year ago to visit, in hopes that I might rectify this. He has promised to come ready to admire and be admired. I wrote in my letter about his station in life, his connections, and his position. Furthermore, and I perhaps ought to have led with this, he has the approval of Lady Catherine. Of lesser, though not trivial importance, Mrs. Collins would also be eager,” Mr. Collins now looked directly at Elizabeth again, “for one of her sisters to be settled near her, especially when the time of her confinement draws near.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Mama clapped her hands. “To have another of my daughters married! I could not imagine such happiness. Lizzy, you must be very friendly to this man when he comes, I command it.”
Elizabeth ventured not to answer.
That sense of isolation and of being trapped in a world without any friend in her home was back. She wished Mr. Darcy was here. She wanted to tell him about the story and ask him to agree with her that she should not marry Mr. Sykes, unless she very much liked him. And she was confident that she would not admire any man who was a favourite of both Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins.
When Papa had been here, she always could trust him, and trust that he would support her in such a situation. Her mother would throw her to the wolves, and Elizabeth knew that it was possible her situation at Longbourn might be made intolerable.
“Perhaps Mary, or Kitty might also like Mr. Sykes,” Jane said softly.
It seemed thatshecould still tell, despite the months since they had seen each other, what Elizabeth’s attitude on the matter was.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Collins said. “Mary is not nearly handsome enough for Mr. Sykes, and Cousin Catherine is only four years older than his son.”
Lydia giggled. “They’re gonna make you marry an old ugly man.”
Elizabeth rather wanted to vomit like Jane had at the prospect being given to her, but she hid everything under a fixed small smile.
After the tea had been brought and served, Mr. Collins sipped it thoughtfully, swirled it around in his cup, and then he rang for Mrs. Hill to return. “The quality of the biscuits are quite poor, while this tea is too fine to be economical. Unless you are entertaining a great man from outside of the neighbourhood, you should use a cheaper leaf.”
Mrs. Hill, her resentment clear enough to Elizabeth, simply bobbed her head, and said, “Yes, sir.”
She’d apparently learned her lesson about making any attempt to explain her reasoning to Mr. Collins the last time she’d tried.
“Very good, now go, go.” Mr. Collins waved her off, and then he said, “There was an additional reason, beyond bringing the estate under proper management once more, and introducing you to Mr. Sykes, that drew me from Kent to Hertfordshire — I hoped to make the acquaintance of the exalted nephew of my Lady, Mr. Darcy. I have been informed he is presently resident in the neighbourhood. We shall call on him at the appropriate hour tomorrow, but I wish to learn what is said of him and how he behaves now.”
“Oh, he is a very fine gentleman. Very sad, he always wears a mourning armband, and sombre clothes. He thinks himself too fine for our neighbourhood,” was Mama’s reply.
“As he ought to, his wife was a very great woman,” Mr. Collins replied placidly.
“I thought he liked our Lizzy,” Mama said with annoyance. “But he told us all that he was absolutely determined to never marry again. It is not right.”
“He is right not to. It will give her ladyship joy to hear that from me,” Mr. Collins said. “His first wife, as the daughter of Lady Catherine, was of such quality that she could never be surpassed by any other. No one could take her place. And Mrs. Bennet, I must warn you, you have looked above your station. Even should Mr. Darcy marry again, Cousin Elizabeth is from far too humble of a station to be worthy of marrying such a great man.”
Well, if Mr. Collins thought so, Elizabeth should simply accept that fact. But having it specified hurt. She’d been stupid. She kept trying to not imagine being taken away from this situation by such a dashing and charming gentleman — and one she liked talking to, who could be a true friend, and who was aperfect father to his child. But despite her efforts, the reminder that it would never happen, that she was simply not enough for a man like Mr. Darcy, hurt.
If only she had met a man who was like Mr. Darcy, clever and conversational, but poorer and without a determination to never remarry.
“My girls are good enough for any gentleman in England,” Mama stoutly insisted. “Especially Lizzy.”
Mr. Collins put down his tea cup with a small clank. He stared at Mama. In a cold yet thin voice he said, “Mrs. Bennet, I beg you to not defy me.”
Immediately Mama bowed her head before her master. “I apologize. I did not mean to do so.”
“I bless you with my forgiveness.” The usual warmth, such as it was, returned to Mr. Collins’s voice, and he said, “The chief impediment to his future marriage is that Lady Catherine’s grandchild is a girl. As Mr. Darcy’s estate is not entailed, at present she will in good time unite both Pemberley and Rosings. Two of the greatest estates in the land. Can you imagine what a great wealth of power and position would follow from that? But if Mr. Darcy remarried…” Mr. Collins’s voice trailed off as though all should understand the menacing implication.
“What might transpire if he marries again?” Elizabeth asked in a brightly fake voice.
“He might have a son.” The slow tone of Mr. Collins’s voice said clearly enough that he believed himself to be speaking to a dullard. “And then Lady Catherine’s blood would lose its rightful place. And then the great estates of Pemberley and Rosings would not be united.”
“How horrible,” Elizabeth replied, “for Mr. Darcy to have ason.”
