Mr. Bennet leaned back, studying his cousin with amused detachment. “I see you are already quite the authority, Mr. Collins.”
Collins puffed up a little. “Only what I have gathered from Lady Catherine herself. I think it important for young ladies to know the worth of such a gentleman, even at second-hand.”
Mrs. Bennet, however, seemed to have heard only one thing. She clasped her hands fervently. “Ten thousand a year, did you say? My dears, you must all be agreeable and civil when he calls. Do not drive him off with your giggling. Ten thousand a year!”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane and sighed.
Elizabeth could not help smiling. “Mr. Darcy sounds...interesting.”
Mr. Bennet raised one eyebrow at her. “Interesting, yes. And well worth your best curtsey should he visit. Though you may have to endure some silence in the bargain.”
The discussion had nearly made them forget dinner altogether. But catching the hungry, expectant look on Mr. Collins’s face, Mr. Bennet delivered the final judgment with dry relish. “Well then. Let us hope he appreciates sincerity over simpering. Or we shall be ruined before we begin. Now, let’s eat, please.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched in spite of herself, and even Jane smiled.
Meanwhile, Sophocles, roused from his doze under the table, stretched luxuriously and turned his back on the whole discussion—offering his own unbending verdict on the matter.
***
Mrs. Bennet could not sleep. It was quite impossible.
She tossed and turned like a general uncertain of how best to place his troops before a crucial battle. For truly, what was a mother of five unmarried daughters if not a field commander, charged with strategy, vigilance, and an utter refusal to leave anything to chance?
Normally she prided herself on knowing precisely how to receive a guest—especially if he might be a potential suitor. One, she could manage with ease. Two, she told herself sternly, should still be child's play. Why, she could handle a dozen if need be!
After all, Mr. Bennet was steady and predictable enough; the girls were usually obedient when properly directed; even the servants responded crisply to Mrs. Hill’s authority.
No—the real difficulty was Mr. Collins. It would be easier, she thought grimly, to arrange a battery of cannons on the lawn than to control him in front of the visitors.
She made up her mind in the darkness, and with sudden resolve, gave her husband a sharp shake.
“Mr. Bennet! Wake up. We have a problem.”
From beside her came a muffled, disgruntled sound as Mr. Bennet turned over. “What is it now, woman? Is the house on fire?”
She sniffed. “Worse. Cousin Collins!”
There was a pause. He sighed. “You’ve had a nightmare. Drink a glass of water and go back to sleep.”
“Nonsense. I haven’t closed my eyes all night. He is a problem, and you must solve it.”
“Me? Now? At this hour? Even the glow-worms are asleep, Mrs. Bennet.”
“Listen carefully. Tomorrow Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are calling. Correct?”
“Yes, yes. So what do these young gentlemen have to do with our cousin?”
“It is obvious! I will not have your cousin chasing off one suitor, let alone two.”
Mr. Bennet gave a dry chuckle in the dark. “He seemed eager enough to meet Darcy personally—”
“You see? Exactly! He will talk and talk, say heaven knows what—hint about choosing one of our girls—”
He yawned loudly. “You exaggerate, my dear. Better to keep Kitty and Lydia from giggling or batting their lashes at the guests. As for Mary, I shall caution her not to lecture them on morality or offer scripture.”
Mrs. Bennet slapped the coverlet in frustration. “That will not do. We must be rid of Collins. And of that wretched cat.”
There was a moment of silence as Mr. Bennet considered this.
