Page 153 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“Seven and a half months,” she murmured. Nodding decisively, Mama said, “that is a nice length of time to plan the wedding. We must order some cards.”

“When I marry,” Mary said unexpectedly, “I want a small wedding.”

Lizzy and the rest of her sisters stared at her. Mary blushed and looked down at her plate.

“Well, I do,” she muttered.

“A small wedding, indeed,” Mama scoffed. “That might do for you, but do you think we can only afford a small wedding for our eldest child? I think not. My brother and his family must come. My sister and her family. The Lucas’ of course…so many others.”

“Will you invite my heir, my dear?” Papa asked.

Mama snorted. “I should think not! The heir? Who is he, pray, to interfere in our celebration?”

“He is a rector,” he informed her.

“We shall have our own good vicar perform the ceremony,” Mama retorted. “He has known our Jane most of her life.”

“Oh, yes,” Jane said, glowing in the midst of the talk of her wedding, “I would so much prefer that.”

“As would I,” Mary said, nodding slowly. She frowned at their father. “How do you know the heir is a rector, Papa?”

Equally puzzled, Lizzy focused her attention on her father in time to see his lips twitch and his right eyebrow rise and fall like a shrug.

“Have you been corresponding with him?” Lizzy asked, surprised.

He shook his head. “I have not written to him.”

Mary, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, asked, “Did he write to you?”

“Yes, did he, Papa?” Kitty asked.

“I wager he did,” Lydia said with a teasing grin on her lips.

In a gesture of surrender, their father put his hands in the air. “Peace, I beg of you. Yes, I received a letter from him yesterday. He introduced himself and wrote that he had taken a position as a rector in Kent. It was prettily written, I admit.” He pinched his bottom lip. “I confess, however, that I have not yet decided if I should answer the letter.”

“Whyever not, Papa?” Jane asked, blinking her surprise at him.

He shrugged. “I mean to think about my response for a while. There is no need to write back in haste.”

“For my part, I think you should burn the letter and have nothing to do with him,” Mama said caustically.

“If I do that, Mrs. Bennet, you and our daughters will not meet him until after my death,” Papa pointed out to her. “Would it not be better to get to know him a little before that unhappy event?”

Mama made a face, and ungraciously said, “Oh, I suppose it is. But I do not promise to like him, mind.”

“I would not presume to dictate how you must feel toward anyone.” Papa glanced around the table at his daughters. “His name, should you be interested, is Mr. Collins. Mr. William Collins, rector of Hunsford parish.”

“Goodness,” Lizzy murmured. “Did he mention his age?”

“He is five-and-twenty,” Mr. Bennet answered. “And, before you ask, he is unmarried.”

Mama halted the movement of her fork to her mouth, staring at her husband. Lizzy’s eyes widened, and she exchanged a look with Mary.

Here it comes. I shall be encouraged to try and attach my cousin! I do not think I wish to marry a clergyman. Where would I put my animals? And then, there is Mr. Darcy. “Love, D.”, was how he closed his letter. Did he mean to say “love”?

The letter, tucked under her pillow like she had turned into a silly school girl, had caused her heart to trip as though she had been racing across the meadow with Harry. I wonder if Mr. Darcy likes to run?

“I insist you invite your heir, Mr. Bennet,” her mother said with strident fervor.