“Of course, Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet said breathlessly, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I shall speak to them—you may depend upon it.”
Mr. Collins, who had been blinking in solemn confusion, cleared his throat in portentous preparation. “Well, Cousin Bennet, if that is your settled view, I cannot help observing that you seem to have forgotten my own humble request—that one of your daughters might soon do me the honour of becoming my wife, thereby drawing our family ties closer for the benefit of all. Her Ladyship would be most gratified—”
Mr. Bennet turned to him, one brow arching with dry finality. “On the contrary, Mr. Collins, I have not forgotten your request, nor have I ignored it. But you must agree that Providence seems to have other plans at the moment, and I, for one, would prefer not to disappoint it. I am sure the Almighty will find the proper means to provide you with a suitable wife in good time, to your satisfaction—and that of Lady Catherine. Meanwhile,” he added with a faintly ironic smile, “let us be grateful for the blessings we already possess.”
Mr. Collins blinked rapidly, clearly unprepared for such a reply. His mouth opened and shut once, twice, before he managed a pompous little cough.
“Ah—yes. Quite so. Very proper indeed. I am... most gratified to see your trust in Divine Providence. It is always best to leave such matters to the wisdom of the Almighty. Ahem.”
He smoothed his waistcoat with trembling fingers, avoiding Mr. Bennet’s gaze while his ears turned a vivid shade of red.
Elizabeth, watching from across the table, bit her lip to keep from smiling. Jane lowered her eyes politely, and even Mrs. Bennet seemed momentarily too surprised to scold, merely fluttering her hands with uncertain enthusiasm.
Mr. Bennet only lifted his cup with leisurely satisfaction, remarking in an undertone no one was meant to hear, “Well said, Collins. For once.”
There followed a short, awkward hush, broken only by the tap of a spoon against china.
At last, Mr. Collins cleared his throat with deliberate care. “Mr. Bennet,” he said, mustering what dignity he could, “in view of these... alterations in family prospects, I believe it most prudent for me to curtail my visit and return to Hunsford without undue delay.” He folded his hands before him solemnly. “Her Ladyship, as you know, expects my punctual attendance, and I would be mortified to disappoint her.”
Mr. Bennet blinked mildly, inclining his head. “Your sense of duty does you credit, Mr. Collins. I am sure Lady Catherine will approve your careful attention to her wishes.”
Mr. Collins nodded with relief, his expression smoothing into measured satisfaction.
“Yes—quite so. It is always best to demonstrate respect and gratitude for such a patron. I shall depart tomorrow, if that is convenient to you all.”
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, biting back a small, resigned smile of understanding. Jane lowered her eyes politely, responding only with a gentle, reassuring nod.
Mrs. Bennet pressed her lips together, adopting a polite tone. “Naturally, Mr. Collins. We would not wish to keep you from your important duties.”
Mr. Bennet settled back in his chair with mild approval. “Then it is settled. We shall ensure you have everything you need for your journey.”
Relieved by this tidy arrangement, Mr. Collins beamed. “My dear cousins, your hospitality has been most exemplary. I shall speak of it very favourably when I return to Kent.”
And with that, the matter was concluded, allowing the family to finish breakfast in somewhat easier spirits.
***
Two days after the assembly, just past noon, Longbourn was in an unusual hush. Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty had set off early in the gig under the pretext of buying new bonnets in Meryton, though Elizabeth suspected their real aim was to parade near the militia encampment and ogle the young officers.
This left Jane, Elizabeth, Mary—who had claimed the best light by the window for her book—and Mr. Bennet enjoying a rather more peaceful drawing room when the maid arrived to announce Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Bennet closed his book with unhurried precision. “Ah. Our illustrious neighbours. Lizzy—Jane—try not to intimidate them.”
Elizabeth arched a brow at him. Jane simply flushed with quiet composure. Mary looked up primly over her spectacles, giving a small sniff as though the visit might disrupt her serious reading.
When the gentlemen entered, they paused just inside the door and bowed first to Mr. Bennet.
“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley—welcome. Pray be seated.”
“Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Bingley greeted him with bright, eager cordiality, “good day, sir. Thank you for receiving us.”
Mr. Darcy followed with dignified courtesy. “Mr. Bennet. I hope you are well.”
“We do our best. Pray again, come in and sit. You are both welcome.” Mr. Bennet inclined his head, steepling his fingers.
Mary set her book carefully in her lap, folding her hands with a gravity that suggested she intended to inspect everything that followed.
Only then did Bingley turn, beaming at Jane with unmistakable warmth. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he added with unguarded delight, “I trust you are both well?”
