Elizabeth met his gaze politely. “You are very kind, sir. We are, all of us, quite ordinary.”
“Far from it, Miss Elizabeth,” he said earnestly. “A lady of lively understanding and modest temper is the crown of domestic happiness. The true companion of a clergyman must possess gentleness of spirit, yet strength enough to guide his leisure with grace.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands. “Indeed, sir, how beautifully said.”
Jane's eyes dropped to her lap, color touching her cheeks. Lydia coughed into her fist. Kitty stared, unblinking, between the two. Mary remained perfectly still.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Then I hope you find such a lady, sir. She will be most fortunate in her choice.”
"Fortunately, Hertfordshire is not deficient in gentle ladies. We have at least two in this room alone—perhaps three, though I confess I sometimes lose count."
Mrs. Bennet's face flushed. "Mr. Bennet!"
Mr. Collins nodded with earnest approval. “I see that Mr. Bennet’s humour conceals much affection. My esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, often says that a cheerful disposition in a husband is the surest guard against female folly.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “Does she indeed? Then Lady Catherine must have studied the subject closely.”
“Most profoundly,” he said. “She has been so good as to advise me to marry. She insists it completes a clergyman’s usefulness. And when I informed her of my intention to reconcile with my fair cousins, she most graciously approved the principle.”
Mrs. Bennet nearly glowed. “How right of her ladyship! A wife from among your relations—how proper indeed.”
Elizabeth bent her head, the corners of her mouth trembling with suppressed laughter. Beneath the table, Pippin gave a low sigh and pressed her nose against Elizabeth’s knee, as though sharing her opinion.
“Well, my dear,” Elizabeth murmured softly, “if he means to unite prudence and affection, I hope he begins with silence.”
Pippin blinked once in solemn agreement, then laid her head on her mistress’s slipper, as if the entire business of matchmaking bored her beyond endurance.
***
BY NOON, ELIZABETH HAD endured a complete tour of Hunsford Parsonage without leaving her chair. It seemed Mr. Collins had taken her mother's advice to heart and had therefore decided to devote all his attention and conversation to her. He had described every room, every window, the arrangement of Lady Catherine's shrubbery, and the moral advantages of living under her ladyship's immediate observation.
Elizabeth’s patience, long tested, was nearing its end.
“…and the greenhouse, Cousin Elizabeth, is not only spacious but condescendingly permitted to my use by her ladyship herself. Few clergymen, I dare say, enjoy such patronage. Indeed, Lady Catherine’s attention to the clergy is as maternal as it is distinguished.”
Elizabeth folded her hands, smiled faintly, and rose. “How very obliging of her, Mr. Collins. Now, if you will excuse me, I must take Pippin for her exercise before the day grows too warm.”
Mr. Collins leapt to his feet. “Ah! Then allow me to attend you, Cousin Elizabeth. Lady Catherine always remarks that a turn about the village promotes both health and reflection. I should be delighted to escort you.”
Pippin, who had kept her distance since Mr. Collins positioned himself in the chair nearest Elizabeth, barked sharply at his movement, startling him into silence.
Elizabeth caught her dog’s eye and said lightly, “You are very good, sir, but I am taking Pippin to the village green. She runs best when she can chase after butterflies without restraint. I am afraid she has little regard for polite walking.”
“Surely the garden is space enough for the creature to run about,” said Mrs. Bennet from her chair, fanning herself.
“Not quite, Mama,” Elizabeth replied. “She needs a proper stretch of field, or she grows restless and steals ribbons for amusement.”
Lydia laughed. “She tore mine yesterday and looked very pleased with herself.”
Mr. Collins, regaining his composure, cleared his throat. “I see she is of a lively disposition. Lady Catherine holds that animals should be obedient, though their temper may reflect too much freedom.”
At this, Pippin rose and stared at him with fixed attention, her head slightly tilted as though assessing his worth. When he attempted a smile, she gave a single, quiet bark.
Mr. Collins stepped back with visible unease. “A creature of intelligence, I perceive. I have always respected dogs, though from a safe distance.”
"An admirable precaution," Elizabeth said sweetly, grabbing and fastening Pippin's leash. "She tends to form her own opinions about people, and I never argue with her judgment."
Mr. Collins managed a nervous chuckle. “Then, I believe I shall remain here and converse with Miss Mary. I perceive she is reading Fordyce’s Sermons—a text Lady Catherine particularly esteems.”
