Perhaps it might have been wiser to restrain her temper, thought it appeared Mr. Collins misunderstood her comment.
“I understand. Be comforted that I shall return at once.”
“Ugh!” exclaimed Lydia the moment the door closed behind the two men—Elizabeth was not certain Mr. Collins could not hear her sister’s burst of displeasure. “What an odious man he is! How couldanyonelong for his return when all they can expect is to be bored to death?”
“Who would marry such a man?” demanded Kitty. “I would not wish his attentions on my worst enemy!”
“Your father will take him in hand,” said Mrs. Bennet, giving her daughters a decisive nod. “This will end his attentions to Lizzy, but I would have you girls all know that you may refuse any civilities Mr. Collins may offer with my blessing.”
“Thank you, Mama,” said Mary, her disgust for Mr. Collins as obvious as any of them. “I believe I speak for Jane when I say that nothing would induce me to accept any assurances Mr. Collins might deign to offer.”
Though she listened and approved, Elizabeth could not help the sense of impending trouble she had felt since Mr. Collins’s arrival. There was something off about the man beyond the obvious deficiencies of character and intelligence. There wassomething she did not know, leading her to suspect that her father’s warning to his cousin would do nothing to resolve his objectionable behavior.
AS BENNET TOOK HISseat behind his desk, he watched his cousin, wondering about the man’s game. The position Bennet assumed, that of obvious authority, was not by chance, for Bennet had thought he might have more success with the silly man if he emphasized the differences in their situations. How efficacious this might be in bringing about Collins’s good behavior—if such was even possible—Bennet could not say, but at least the solid bulk of his desk would prevent him from giving in to his baser instincts and strangling the man with his clerical collar.
Mr. Collins, he noted, sat in the indicated chair, his droning voice never faltering for a moment, though he focused on such subjects as Longbourn, the study, the number of books on the shelves, and Bennet’s dedication to his duties. Interspersed with this, however, there were a few significant comments about Bennet’s choice of literature.
“It seems you are a learned man, Cousin.” Collins sniffed with what appeared to be disdain, adding: “It appears your choice of books is not inspired, for we are told that it is good to be educated but only if we adhere to good books and the learning required by our Lord.”
As Bennet was not eager to receive the lecture of an imbecile, he did not pursue the subject. Directness was necessary, for nothing else would pierce the fog of Collins’s conceit.
“It appears you have come to Hertfordshire for a particular reason, Cousin.”
“How astute of you to have noticed it, Mr. Bennet,” said Collins, inclining his head. “Indeed, it is on the advice andinstruction of my excellent patroness that you now have the benefit of my presence, for when she heard of the discord between us, she adjured me to repair the breach between us.” Collins shrugged. “Though I shudder to think of what my father, who suffered from your betrayal, might think, I could not do otherwise.”
Again, Bennet refrained, though he could arguewhobetrayedwhom. As a man who did not enjoy company and preferred to keep the objects of his amusement at arm’s length, this interview was already interminable. So was Collins’s very presence, though the reasons for agreeing to host him for a time were still in force. Otherwise, Bennet might cut the visit short, send him back to Kent, and instruct him not to return.
“Tell me, Mr. Collins, this business of healing the breach; I assume it is something more than fostering good relations between us. Do you not have something more permanent in mind?”
“To be certain,” replied Mr. Collins. “It is not proper to speak on the subject without disguise; I intend to offer a most particularolive branch, thereby obtaining my happiness and doing what is best for all your family.”
“On the contrary, Cousin, I cannot but suppose that frankness is required in this instance. By ‘olive branch,’ can I assume you mean to make your addresses to one of my daughters?”
“In a word, yes,” said Collins.
Bennet regarded him, wondering at the man’s continued inability to see the truth. “Very well. The choice of whether to accept youwillbelong to whichever of my daughters you find agreeable, of course. Kitty and Lydia are yet too young, so I must direct you away from them.”
“Oh, that is no trouble, Mr. Bennet,” interjected Mr. Collins before Bennet could come to the point. “I have no interestin your youngest daughters, for I suspect neither is ready for marriage.”
It was the first sensible thing Bennet had heard Collins say since he arrived.
“While your eldest daughter is everything lovely,” continued Mr. Collins, “and your middle daughter shows a pleasing piety, I find myself entranced by your second daughter. If I may be so bold, I consider her quite the jewel of the family, perhaps the entire county. With her as my wife, I cannot but imagine felicity will be mine through all the days of my life.”
The parson stopped and frowned. “Then again, she shows a distressing tendency toward outspokenness, which is unfortunate. I have every confidence in my excellent patroness, for I know she will not hesitate to instruct Cousin Elizabeth on the finer points of proper behavior.”
Collins’s stupid soliloquy fanned Bennet’s simmering temper into an open flame. The “instruction” of which the man blathered was not so much teaching as molding her into what he and his patroness considered a proper woman, and Bennet would never allow his daughters to have their spirits broken.
“Then we have reached the source of our misunderstanding, Cousin,” said Bennet, still clinging to civility, though everything urged him to berate the silly man and throw him from the house. “Before making your choice, do you not suppose it would have been best to inform her father of this salient fact? What do you suppose that I, as her father, think of a man who settles on a woman mere moments after making her acquaintance?”
“Oh, I am certain there can be no impediment,” said Collins, ineffectually waving his hand while ignoring Bennet’s second comment.
“There is a very good impediment,” growled Bennet. “Knowing nothing of the situation, it makes sense to approachher father and discover if any other connections bar your approach.
“Elizabeth is engaged, Collins,” said Bennet, speaking over whatever the man meant to say. “As another has already spoken for her, I trust you understand that you have no hope of attracting her attention.”
“Cousin,” said Mr. Collins, trying to appear serious but only giving the impression of petulance, “you must see reason. Should I marry your daughter, I will ensure your wife and other daughters’ support for the rest of their lives. Is that not something your dear wife desires?”
“In speaking thus,” said Bennet, his impatience making him curt, “you suppose I have made no provision for them. Even if that was true, Elizabeth is to marry a man of wealth who is intimate with my family and will not hesitate to support them should the worst come to pass. Your charity does you credit, but we already have these matters in hand.”
