“You live inside the beneficence of my estate,” Mr. Collins said sharply. “You will show obedience to that authority I am endowed with by the Almighty. I am a clergyman, and I am thepaterfamilias. Do you understand?”
Elizabeth’s teeth ground together. She knew what she had to say. But she simply could not.
“Say that you promise to read no more novels, and we may end this conversation.”
There was a red tightness in her chest. And resentment on behalf of her father whose place had been taken by Mr. Collins. She hated him.
The two stared at each other.
Mr. Collins seemed stymied, clearly not knowing quite what to do when Elizabeth refused to agree with him.
“You must understand,” he said in a wheedling voice. “I am a man of the cloth, and what is more, I am the beneficiary of the beneficence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I must do my duty. I must protect the souls of all who are in my flock. I cannot let you travel upon that primrose path that leads to perdition.” He stood suddenly and said, “I shall speak further with your mother upon this matter, and I shall ask Lady Catherine to advise me when I return to Rosings, but I assure you, Cousin Elizabeth, that I will not forget your obstreperousness.”
When he left, leaving Elizabeth for the time as the victor in possession of the breakfast table, she slumped back into her chair. A tension, a readiness to fight slowly drained from her, but the anger did not leave.
Plans that she’d had flit through her mind for a long time, of seeking to become a governess — the real reason she had put effort into the improvement of her drawing, piano, and Italian of late — or throwing herself as an unwanted dependent on the mercy of her aunt and uncle came back.
In the carriage, sandwiched between Lydia and Mary, and feeling far too crowded, Elizabeth made a point of not meeting the eyes of her mother, or Mr. Collins. Jane looked quite sick, and Elizabeth had been with her when she cast up her accounts into the chamber pot once more this morning, before having a hearty meal of dry toast and exceedingly thin tea.
It was not nice, Elizabeth thought, to pack so many people into the carriage, but Mr. Collins had determined it would be best to make the call with the whole of the family.
She contemplated the whole way the question of whether to ask Uncle Gardiner to stay with him, or to seek her own way as a governess. Obviously staying with Uncle Gardiner would be superior from the standpoint of her own comforts and station.
But the great advantage of finding a dependent position in employment was that everyone would know about how the sister of Mr. Collins’s wife, and what was more, his own second cousin, was in employment. That would shame him.
What would Lady Catherine say?
Imagining it nearly made Elizabeth chortle in delight.
When they arrived at Netherfield, all of them got out, and they were greeted by the butler.
Jane was quite weak and stumbly, and it was on Elizabeth’s shoulder that she supported herself, rather than that of her husband, as she exited the carriage.
Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy both came out of the house to greet their guests.
Darcy held Emily, and he smiled at seeing her.
Elizabeth noted, as they stepped up to greet them, how Mr. Bingley stared at Jane before greeting Mr. Collins who bowed to them both. Mr. Collins extravagantly thanked them both for coming out, and he then made a long speech to Mr. Darcy about Lady Catherine and his happiness in being able to give Darcy the news that the woman he must respect even more than the memory of his own mother, as he was doubly tied to her, was in excellent health, as of two days ago.
Her understanding of Mr. Darcy’s character was sufficient that Elizabeth could tell that the gentleman stared at her cousin with distaste. He shifted himself so that he kept Emily further from Mr. Collins and stepped away when Mr. Collins tried to touch the girl while saying, “Hello, my little great heiress.”
Mr. Collins blocked the doorway to Netherfield, preventing the rest of the group from entering the house to escape from the autumnal chill. Elizabeth turned from watching the scene to check on Jane, to see how she did. There was a bit more colour in her cheeks, and she studied Mr. Bingley, but then looked down when she noticed that gentleman looking back at her.
Mr. Darcy, with only a moderate display of rudeness, turned his back on Mr. Collins and marched to the drawing room. Collins followed him, not breaking in his speech, and all of them were free at last to enter.
Mr. Bingley begged an introduction to Jane when they reached the drawing room, the duty of which fell upon her mother, as Mr. Collins was too occupied lecturing Mr. Darcy upon the importance of caring properly for Emily, and how he ought to have never exposed the girl to such chill air as they had just stood in.
Elizabeth sat near Mr. Darcy and Emily, and she managed to catch his eye and draw a smile from him, as she gestured with her head towards Mr. Collins.
Miss Bingley hung about, standing where Darcy’s gaze would naturally fall upon her. She took a striking pose, her bosom upthrust, and the hands held in a posture that Elizabeth was quite sure must have been taught in that fine seminary that the Bingley girls had attended.
Politeness prevented Miss Bingley from interrupting Mr. Collins’s endless stream of inanity, just as much as it controlled Mr. Darcy. However, Miss Bingley’s eyes showed that she only paid attention so that she might find a chance to break into the conversation. No doubt she wished to exclaim loudly once again about the perfections of Darcy’s paternal instincts, the perfections of little Emily, and to subtly imply that she would be happy to provide Miss Darcy a mother. That Darcy frequently insisted that he was not in the market for such a personage was of no matter toher.
Little Emily insistently hid about her father for a long while, though when Elizabeth found a ball to toss towards her, she tossed it back with a shout of glee. Emily then ran about the carpet in a half circle that ended when she tumbled to the ground happily.
“Oh, no, no. Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Collins said, “do you not realize that, as your august aunt always says, that children are to be seen and not heard? You should strive, above all, to encourage Miss Darcy to control her manners and show a ladylike face to the world.”
“I would thank Lady Catherine if she kindly kept her advice for your parishioners and spared me.”
