Mrs Bennet murmured her thanks as she busied herself with the tea service.
“Never,” he continued with solemn admiration, “have I beheld such beauty collected within one household!”
Mr Bennet cleared his throat. “Well, credit must be given where it is due. As you can plainly see, it is my wife who bestowed her charms upon our daughters; my own share of comeliness is trifling by comparison.”
“Nonsense, Mr Bennet!” Mrs Bennet cried, clearly affronted. “You are by far the handsomest man I have ever beheld! From the very first moment I saw you, I told my sister so—and you may ask her if you doubt me—”
“My dear wife, I meant only to tease.” Mr Bennet caught her hand and kissed it with mock gallantry before turning to their guest. You must forgive my sense of humour, sir. As you see, even after more than twenty years, I continue to perplex my wife on occasion.”
Pacified, she handed a cup of tea to Mr Collins, who accepted it with gratitude and took a cautious sip. “What an excellent blend!” He peered curiously into the cup before raising it to his nose for another appreciative sniff. “Is this of local making?”
“It is prepared here at Longbourn.” Jane replied, speaking for the first time. Her voice was gentle, as soothing as the tea itself. “I am pleased you find it agreeable. The blend is the result of much experiment. Mary keptcareful notes of each variation as she crafted it, adjusting until the flavour was perfected.”
Mr Collins turned to Mary with solemn approbation. “It is indeed perfection,” he assured her. “Not even at the table of my patroness have I tasted anything so delightful.
“I do not believe you mentioned in your letter who conferred the Hunsford living,” observed Mr Bennet. He smiled congenially, lifting his cup to his lips.
Their guest brightened. “No, I believe I did not. I am blessed beyond measure to have been granted a benefice so early in my vocation. My patroness is Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park. She is a most…condescending and attentive lady, deeply concerned with the welfare of her parish. I am invited to dine at Rosings once a week, after which she is pleased to discourse with me upon my duties.”
Elizabeth thought she discerned more in his cautious phrasing than his words declared. He meant, perhaps, that Lady Catherine was officious and overbearing, and far too involved in her clergyman’s affairs.I wonder how many decisions she directs, and how often she interferes in his work. Poor man.
“Will you tell us of your parish?” Mary asked with polite interest. There was genuine enthusiasm in her manner. Despite having been urged to diversify her reading, Mary’s inclination towards religious study had never diminished. Her compassionate nature had deepened, too, since their family’s change of fortune. She oversaw the preparation of tenant baskets, with Jane’s assistance, and personally delivered them. She even lent her aid to Netherfield’s tenants, a kindness Elizabeth had noted with gratitude.
Mr Collins launched into an earnest description: his parsonage, his parishioners, the little church where he preached, and the village ofHunsford itself. Mary listened with close attention, asking intelligent questions and offering murmurs of approbation as he spoke.
Mr and Mrs Bennet, meanwhile, appeared otherwise engaged. She spoke in low tones to her husband, who leaned nearer with attentive good humour.
The sight warmed Elizabeth’s heart. She turned back to Mr Collins’s recital, only for the peaceful atmosphere to be broken by Lydia’s loud sigh. Miss Morris gave a discreet cough, prompting the girl to straighten and compose herself. “Papa,” Lydia said with forced politeness, “may I be excused?”
Mr Bennet inclined his head. “Kitty, you may also go if you wish.”
Kitty glanced towards her younger sister, uncertainty written in her countenance. Elizabeth understood her hesitation—her wish to remain and be included as though she were already out. Yet, at length she followed Lydia from the room, proof enough of her own ennui.
Later, when the tea and cakes had been consumed, Mr Collins turned to their father. “May I speak to you privately, sir?”
Mary had occupied him in conversation for much of the visit, while Jane and Elizabeth had taken up their needlework and their parents continued their quiet discourse. Mr Bennet rose as the tea things were cleared.
“Of course, sir. Perhaps you might join me in my study. I have matters of business there which cannot wait.” Mr Collins followed him from the room.
Mrs Bennet gave an audible sigh of relief once the door closed. “Goodness, but my heart is all spasms and flutterings,” she moaned, sinking back in her chair. “I thought I had conquered this irrational fear, but I am as great a ninny as ever.”
Elizabeth rose and crossed to her mother’s side. “’Tis no small thing to receive the man who might once have cast you from your home,” she saidsoothingly, pressing a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “You acquitted yourself beautifully, Mama. Indeed, I doubt anyone not so well acquainted with you could have guessed your unease.
Her mother dabbed her eyes. “Thank you, Lizzy. He seems a kind and amiable gentleman. Perhaps it will not be such a trial to have him here. Now that the first meeting is over, I may face him with more equanimity. But ’tis good he will be here only for a fortnight.”
“I like him very much.”
Mary’s soft declaration drew all eyes on her. Surprise mingled with pleasure on the faces of her mother and sisters, and the poor girl flushed scarlet. “I know ’tis too soon to form an opinion, but he appears everything I could wish in a clergyman and a gentleman.”
Jane laughed lightly. “Have you formed atendreso soon, dear sister? Then make the best use of his visit to come to know him better, and perhaps you will both find reason to be pleased.”
“Oh, another daughter married!” Mrs Bennet clapped her hands in delight. “Three in all! I shall go distracted! And Kitty will be able to come out! ’Tis wonderful!” She fairly quivered with joy, though Jane sought to calm her enthusiasm.
“Mr Bingley has not proposed, Mama, and we have only just met Mr Collins.” She did not lift her eyes from her needlework, the fine thread passing steadily through the muslin. But the soft bloom on her cheeks betrayed her thoughts. Elizabeth stifled a laugh.
“Whatever is to happen, will happen,” Elizabeth said with cheerful firmness. “Now, I need to go upstairs and check on Elinor. She will be ready for her tea.” Elizabeth left the room with a little spring in her step. If Mary could find love with Mr Collins…well, best keep those musings until they knew the man better.
Bennet
