Elizabeth, regarding Mr. Collins with affectionate raillery, added her voice to the chorus.
“You have favored us with descriptions before, Cousin, but indulge us once more. We have no such splendor in Hertfordshire to compare.”
Mr. Collins, gratified beyond measure by the interest of his fair cousins—each question seeming to him a mark of their excellent understanding and familial affection—bowed with earnest warmth.
“Rosings, my dear cousins, is a seat of true magnificence, governed with a wisdom that commands universal admiration. Lady Catherine’s condescension extends to every particular; her judgment upon parish affairs, the ordering of the grounds, even the arrangement of apartments, is infallible. Miss de Bourgh, though delicate in constitution, possesses a sweetness of disposition that renders her society most agreeable when health permits. The parish of Hunsford, under her ladyship’s patronage, enjoys every advantage of orderly charity and moral instruction. Before my departure, her ladyship agreed to the organization of a poor-relief distribution, twice weekly in winter, for widows, the aged, and the infirm.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded vigorously, though her thoughts had already returned to more immediate concerns.
“And the gentlemen themselves—pray, what manner of men are they? You have been much in their company today, Mr. Bennet.”
Her husband hesitated for a moment then supplied the first impressions with his customary dryness.
“Mr. Bingley is all affability and good humor—precisely the sort of young man to please wherever he goes. Mr. Darcy is more reserved, but his manners are correct, and his understanding, I believe, superior.”
Mrs. Bennet turned eagerly to Mr. Collins.
“And you, Cousin—you must give us particulars. Are they indeed as eligible as they appeared from the windows?”
Mr. Collins, his voice rich with sincere admiration, replied with measured yet heartfelt enthusiasm.
“They are gentlemen of the first distinction, madam. Mr. Bingley possesses an openness and warmth of manner that must render him universally beloved—his liberality, his readiness to be pleased, promise the greatest felicity to any society. As for Mr. Darcy—though his reserve may at first appear formidable, I am persuaded it conceals a depth of character and true gentility. Beneath that exterior of gravity lies discernment, steadiness, and a generosity of spirit that reveal themselves to those who observe with patience. A little indifference—nay, even a shadow of it—may serve to draw forth his true colors, for such gentlemen are often most eloquent when least solicited.”
Elizabeth regarded him with a spark of mischief in her fine eyes, though her tone remained composed.
“Patience and indifference, Cousin? You prescribe a curious remedy for reserve.”
Mr. Collins bowed faintly, yet persisted with earnest conviction.
“I speak only from attentive observation, dear cousin. A lively mind such as yours may find, in time, that gravity is but the guardian of deeper worth.”
Lydia, who had been listening with restless animation, could no longer contain herself.
“But you probably didn’t find out what happened to Miss Lucas, Cousin William!” she burst out with a triumphant laugh. “Only think. You know she might have been engaged to that dull old Mr. Harrington, but Jane and Lizzy with their clever talk quite sent him out packing from Lucas Lodge. He has withdrawn altogether now!”
Kitty giggled in agreement, while Jane nodded modestly and Elizabeth’s lips curved in quiet amusement.
Mrs. Bennet looked momentarily severe.
“Lydia! Such forwardness—but I confess I am not sorry for it. Charlotte is a good girl, but seven-and-twenty is rather late for such a match.”
Mr. Collins, whose attention had been instantly arrested by Lydia’s exclamation, felt a sudden warmth suffuse his countenance—thrilled by the intelligence, and conscious of a deep, grateful indebtedness to his fair cousins.
“Mr. Bennet was so kind as to tell me that Miss Lucas is disengaged,” he murmured, his voice soft with hopeful wonder. “I had not hoped for such change… Pray, how does she bear the disappointment? And Sir William—is he much cast down?”
Elizabeth regarded him with gentle raillery.
“Charlotte bears it with her usual good sense and composure, Cousin. She is still at Lucas Lodge, I believe—perhaps reflecting upon the advantages of independence.”
Mr. Collins bowed his head, his heart too full for immediate reply, the evening’s prospects—and those of tomorrow—appearing suddenly brighter than he had dared to hope. The drawing-room, warmed by firelight and the affectionate bustle of family, settled into a contented hum of speculation and anticipation, the promise of the morrow hanging pleasantly in the air.
***
The fire in the small parlour of the Red Lion had burned low, casting a soft, flickering light upon the two gentlemen as they lingered over the remains of a plain but satisfying supper, thedecanter of port between them half-emptied in companionable silence. Mr. Bingley, whose natural spirits had been buoyed by the day’s successes, leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh, his countenance reflecting the easy satisfaction of one who saw only bright prospects ahead.
“I declare, Darcy,” he began at length, his voice warm with anticipation, “that I have seldom felt so decided upon any undertaking as I do upon Netherfield. The house, the grounds, the situation—all promise such scope for improvement. I already picture a new conservatory upon the south side, perhaps an extension to the library shelves, and the park walks laid out anew. A man might make it a place truly his own, and one to be proud of in every particular.”
Mr. Darcy, who had been gazing thoughtfully into the dying embers, inclined his head with that grave composure which characterized him, though a faint curve touched his lips at his friend’s enthusiasm.
