Lydia giggled outright, earning her mother’s glare.
Mr. Collins, forcing a smile, allowed himself to be seated, though he perched upon the chair as though ready to flee at any sudden movement from the spaniel.
Tea was brought, and he took his cup with solemn gratitude. “How pleasant to be thus welcomed. Lady Catherine would commend such civility, I am sure. She has often remarked that gracious manners, properly directed, are the surest mark of refinement. Indeed, I must tell her that Longbourn’s hospitality does her justice.”
Mrs. Bennet glowed with pride. “You are too kind, sir. We are simple country folk, but we do our best.”
Mr. Bennet stirred his tea, his tone mild. “Does Lady Catherine also advise her clergy on the proper arrangement of their teacups?”
“Indeed she does,” Mr. Collins said with perfect seriousness. “Her ladyship is of the opinion that every action, however small,may reflect one’s understanding of propriety. She has even done me the honour of inspecting my bookshelves.”
Elizabeth bit back a smile. “How fortunate you are, sir, to be so perfectly guided. It must save you from ever being wrong.”
“Precisely so,” said Mr. Collins, glowing.
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands, turning toward her husband. “Well, Mr. Bennet, I must say our cousin is a most excellent man. So gracious, so obliging! I am sure we shall all be very happy with him at Longbourn.”
“I have no doubt,” Mr. Bennet replied, lifting his cup. “Especially the dog.”
Elizabeth laughed quietly; Pippin wagged as though in agreement.
Mr. Collins, mistaking the amusement for admiration, bowed once more. “You are very good, sir. I shall hope to prove worthy of your kindness. And, if it would not be considered forward, I should count it an honour to lead your family in prayer this evening.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands in delight. “How proper! Oh, Mr. Collins, you are too good.”
Elizabeth leaned toward Pippin, whispering, “You hear that, my love? Our trials begin at sunset. Let us pray for patience.”
Pippin gave a small whine—one that sounded suspiciously like despair.
***
MRS. BENNET SPARED NO effort in honouring their guest that evening. The dining table at Longbourn gleamed beneath the candlelight, heavy with dishes more numerous than refined. Every shining spoon and steaming platter proclaimed her triumph in receiving a Clergyman of good fortune and great expectations—even one so peculiar as Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth, seated midway down the table, could not help noting the air of solemn ceremony that had settled over the company. Their cousin had already spent the better part of the afternoon discoursing on Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s “noble condescension” and her “talent for improving the morals of the parish,” and he now surveyed his plate as if the arrangement of the vegetables might also bear her influence.
Mr. Bennet, his countenance composed but his eyes betraying mischief, broke the hush.
“My dear cousin,” he said with studied politeness, “I recall your generous offer to lead the family in prayer. It so happens that at Longbourn we observe our devotions rather strictly—just before we take the first bite. Would you oblige us?”
Jane’s fork paused midair. Lydia’s lips parted in a delighted gasp. Even Mary blinked in confusion. Theyneverprayed before meals.
Mr. Collins rose at once, looking gratified. “With pleasure, sir. A household that honours the Almighty before pudding must surely prosper.”
He clasped his hands and began, his tone measured and pompous:
“Heavenly Father, we give Thee thanks for this table so abundantly supplied, for the blessings of kinship, and for the noble examples set before us by our betters—most especially the virtuous Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose conduct illumines every Christian household…”
Elizabeth lowered her head, not to pray, but to conceal the twitch of her mouth. Across from her, Lydia choked audibly, and Kitty hid behind her napkin.
When the prayer at last concluded, Mrs. Bennet declared, “How proper! I daresay we have never been so pious.”
“Indeed,” murmured Mr. Bennet, his expression unreadable, “and I find myself most edified.”
The soup was served, conversation resumed, and Mr. Collins—secure in his success—began to praise every detail within reach. “Such table linen, Mrs. Bennet! Such attention to order! I vow Lady Catherine herself would commend this household for itsdecorum.”
Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Jane, whose smile trembled on the edge of laughter.
It was then that a small, familiar shape appeared at the door. Pippin, evidently confident of her welcome, trotted into the room and seated herself at Elizabeth’s feet, her tail sweeping the carpet in genteel expectation.
