Elizabeth laughed, though it slowed her substantially to figure out how to convey in those ancient languages the tale that Mr. Darcy had thought fit to warn her particularly against paying attention to Mr. Wickham and suggested that he tended to prey upon young women.
Fortunately, Kitty and Lydia were not so unprotected that he would be likely to form a low design on them, and unfortunately not so wealthy that he might form a seriousdesign, it would be likely best for Mr. Bennet to not invite him around often.
The fact was that the words that Elizabeth could think of to express all of these ideas in Latin were far cruder than any that she could have borne to speak aloud in English, even with great blushing. But the distance created by the use of a language that was not her native tongue made it possible for her to refer quite directly to the marital act without more than a strong temptation to giggle.
After she completed this, Mr. Bennet frowned for half a minute, and then he said in English, “I do hope that Mr. Darcy did not express himself so crudely toyou. I may need to call him out, or at least severely chastise him if so.”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, no, no. You know he did not. It is merely difficult to be roundabout and circumspect in Latin, while at the same time being sufficiently specific that the audience is sure to understand what I mean.”
“I imagine that there are a great many words and ways of speaking that would have been used by the ancient Romans, their equivalent of ‘La’ and ‘Heavens’ or ‘By Jove, he’s popped that fellow’s cork,’ which we simply do not know of because Cicero did not see fit to write in a diction which used them.”
“And what,” Elizabeth asked giggling, does “‘he’s popped that fellow’s cork’ mean?”
“It was a phrase that some fellows in university used when fisticuffs had progressed to the point that there was a bloodied nose or face. Or I suppose if someone had been stabbed, but that never happened amongst my set—do not look at me with such shock. I too was young once.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Did you ever participate in such fisticuffs?”
“I shall leave you to imagine that I made whichever answer you consider more impressively disreputable.”
“No, not you?”
Mr. Bennet laughed. But then he said in a more serious mode, “That Mr. Darcy does take a concern in your interests. I imagine that you shall miss him.”
The inquiring look of Mr. Bennet brought a flush to Elizabeth’s cheeks. But she then replied, in Greek, since the time to practice that language was on them, and because the statement was one she knew how to easily make in it. “He is a noble friend, but ‘Send me off, after the libation, unharmed—and you farewell.’”
Mr. Bennet was satisfied.
Since she likely could never marry, having Darcy occupy a part of her heart—which he certainly would for a time—was a pleasant thing.
The two of them chattered in Greek for a while, much of it trading quotations from Homer, several times Elizabeth was able to note, on the basis of her recent reread of the book, that Mr. Bennet had slightly mangled the quote.
Their pleasant time was interrupted when Mr. Collins intruded.
In truth Elizabeth was rather surprised that he had not entered earlier, as he tended to always come to the book room after breakfast. Perhaps he was a gentleman who slept heavily after such a ball as last night, and that was the explanation.
He bowed deeply to Mr. Bennet who sat up straighter and looked at him with a fixed smile. Elizabeth knew that Mr. Bennet was looking very much forward to when Mr. Collins returned to his Lady Catherine, and he hoped to keep any future visits that the gentleman might make to the scope of only two to three days.
“My honored father, for such you shall be, I wish to ask for your permission and blessing to marry your lovely daughter. You must know how nearly from the first moment I laid eyes upon her, I had selected her as the companion for my future life.It had been my intention, I do not hesitate to confess, as I believe it was a respectable wish, to select a wife from amongst your daughters. My great patroness, Lady Catherine, had sent me off with such a suggestion when I left. She said, ‘You should marry for your own sake, and for mine let her be a gentlewoman, and then I shall visit her.’ I fancy that this visit, which I know she shall make not long after I return to Hunsford Parsonage with my wife, is not amongst the least of the advantages that I shall offer to her.”
Elizabeth was quite pleased for Mary at hearing this, and at seeing that Mr. Collins appeared to be truly content with his choice. She of course could never happily marry such a man, not even if the alternative was to be awful poverty, but the characters of the two were more compatible, and if Mary believed this would make her happiness, she was inclined to trust her.
Mr. Bennet’s expression, however, was very unsettled as he listened to Mr. Collins with mouth all agape.
When that gentleman paused for breath, Mr. Bennet interrupted him, his nimble fingers tearing apart a piece of writing paper on the desk. “I am wholly astonished to hear this. I must apologize, sir, but you must explain to me what you mean. You mean to marry one of my children? Which of my daughters do you refer to?”
This question rather surprised Mr. Collins who affirmed that it was Miss Mary to whom his heart was given.
Mr. Bennet pushed aside the pile of trash he had made and rose. “Mary. And she accepted you?”
“I have been most blessed by a gift of happiness from a second worthy gentlewoman. I think myself to have been uncommonly fortunate in—”
“And she accepted you? There is no mistake. I had no notion that this would happen. Mary acceptedyou?”
“Sir,” Mr. Collins said in a more concerned tone of voice. “I assure you that I would not have presumed so far as to make an offer of my hand if I had not believed myself to be in possession of parental permission to do so. I had thought Mrs. Bennet to be most clear in her encouragement to me when I suggested my hopes to her. Had I known that you did not have any notion of this, I assure you that I would have presented my application to you first. I in no way wish to make any failure of acknowledging your position or to show myself as anything but your dutiful and most willing to be humbled son.”
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Bennet paced between the window and the mantlepiece, with the portrait of his father and a pair of dueling pistols hanging above it. “Of course. Mrs. Bennet would have encouraged you. Do ask Mary to come, I must speak to my daughter before I can give you any answer.”
“I hope I have not given you any cause for offence.” Mr. Collins knelt before Mr. Bennet. “I assure you have my sincere respect for your position. And I hope that your daughter Mary did not make a mistake by offering a favorable answer before coming to you and assuring herself of your approval first. I know her character to be the most serious and always dedicated to doing what she thinks is right and proper, and if she had realized you expected such a thing, I know she would have come to you first.”
