Mrs. Bennet clicked her tongue. “Ignore her, Mr. Collins. She likes to talk nonsense. Really, you must not mind her teasing. She has no idea what is good for her.”
Elizabeth smiled beatifically. “No idea at all.”
Unsure whether he should feel offended or not, Mr. Collins cleared his throat again. “Indeed. I have been advised that it is proper to choose among the daughters of the family I have the honour to call kin—so as to heal any past unpleasantness over the entail.”
Mrs. Bennet practically wrung her hands in delight. “So right and proper! Oh, you are a considerate young man! It is precisely what I told Mr. Bennet you would say.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him with amused gravity. “So you mean to choose a wife here on this visit? Rather an efficient plan, I must say.”
Mr. Collins flushed and bobbed his head. “I think it only dutiful to do so, if any lady were gracious enough to accept me. I—” his eyes flicked once more between Jane and Elizabeth “—I wish to approach the matter with due delicacy.”
Jane’s colour deepened uncomfortably. “I... thank you, sir. It is a very serious matter.”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. “Quite so. One wouldn’t want to choose too hastily. Or too ill-matched.”
Mr. Bennet steepled his fingers. “We would never wish you to feel pressed in so delicate a negotiation, Cousin. Surely you can understand this. After all, one’s comfort in marriage depends on perfect compatibility.”
Mr. Collins frowned slightly. “Yes—of course—but surely, I daresay, with goodwill on both sides—”
Elizabeth interrupted, voice sugar-sweet. “I am afraid goodwill would not help me. I am terribly opinionated.”
At this, Sophocles shifted in her lap, twisting round to fix Mr. Collins with a slow, unblinking stare before turning deliberately away.
Collins watched him warily. “Ah—the cat seems very…particular.”
Avoiding any direct reply, Elizabeth smoothed Sophocles’s ears, not bothering to hide her smile. “He is an excellent judge of character. He has never been wrong yet.”
“I confess I rely on his opinion myself,” Mr. Bennet said, coughing again, carefully.
Mrs. Bennet, losing patience, snapped, “Mr. Bennet, you encourage them in such foolishness! Mr. Collins, you mustn’t mind them at all. They mean nothing by it.”
Elizabeth blinked at her mother with wide-eyed innocence. “Nothing at all, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet attempted to regain control of the conversation, smiling too brightly. “Perhaps, Mr. Collins, you might wish to speak with one of the girls alone in the garden later? So proper. So…romantic.”
Mr. Bennet sat forward. “I think not, my dear. The weather’s grown damp. Far better to keep such important discussions indoors where the whole family can enjoy them. Don’t you agree, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Oh, yes, Papa. I insist on family participation in all such negotiations.”
The silence that followed seemed, for the moment, the best option for everyone. Collins’s mouth worked silently for a moment.
Mrs. Bennet gave a little shriek of frustration. “You will ruin everything!”
Elizabeth petted Sophocles’s head, who flicked his tail in regal agreement. “I rather think Papa has saved everything.”
Mr. Bennet looked at Collins kindly, as though concluding a pleasant business meeting. “Well then, sir. More tea?”
Cousin Collins sagged back in his chair, caught between mortification and determination.
Mrs. Bennet pressed her lips together so hard they turned white, vowing to try again after dinner.
Elizabeth petted Sophocles’s head, who flicked his tail in regal agreement. Sophocles closed his eyes slowly, judgment delivered.
Mr. Bennet looked at Collins kindly, as though concluding a pleasant business meeting.
“Well then, sir. More tea?”
Collins cleared his throat, gathering the remains of his dignity. “Thank you, Mr. Bennet, but no more for me just now. I—I must confess myself at a bit of a loss.”
