Chaos Comes To Kent Read online

  Her words brought Mr. Collins up short, and he stared at her, attempting to make sense of what she had said. In the end, he must have decided it must not matter, for he only said: “I believe you have the right of it, Cousin.” It was clear from the slightly mystified distance in his eyes that he did not understand her words, and perhaps he even thought she was mocking him. She was, of course, but he did not need to know as much.

  Mr. Collins turned and beckoned them into the house, and they followed, eager to go inside and rest from their journey. That, however, was not to be, as Mr. Collins, with the excitement of a small child, began to show them about the parsonage, noting everything of consequence—and many more things of no consequence—during a drawn-out tour of his home. No detail was too small. He waxed eloquently on the stairs, declaring them perfectly suited to his position as a parson; Mr. Bennet observed, in turn, that since they reached the second floor, he had no doubt they served their purpose. Mr. Collins showed them his parlor, which afforded a view of the garden in the back; his bookroom, from whence he told them he could easily see whenever Lady Catherine or her daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, should pass by so that he may hasten to make his obeisance; and each of the bedrooms in detail. He also informed them, with no trace of humility, that he was in a position to employ a woman of the village to come to his house and cook his meals and was even able to employ a maid and a manservant.

  Every detail was lovingly pointed out with enough words to make a poet envious, and Elizabeth caught a distinct air of self-congratulation about him. He had obviously come into sudden prosperity at an earlier age than a man of his profession might have been able to expect, and it had gone to his head, leaving him with an inflated opinion of his own worth. As Elizabeth might have expected, her father seemed to enjoy every exaggerated statement, every boast, even though he must be as worn as the rest of them were.

  At length, Mr. Collins was persuaded to show them to their bedchambers, though Lydia’s often spoken “Oh, I am so tired!” might have had something to do with it. There were, it seemed, a dearth of chambers to be found, with only three available for their use, which necessitated Mary sharing with Elizabeth and Jane, while Kitty and Lydia had their own room. Elizabeth, who had slept on occasion with Mary as a young girl, knew her younger sister tended to move about a lot during the night and was not anticipating repeating the experience, especially when there would be three crammed into the bed!

  “Now, I will excuse you to refresh yourselves,” said Mr. Collins with magnanimous solemnity. “The maid has been instructed to provide wash water to all the rooms, so you may cleanse yourself from your journey. Dinner will be served in one hour. I look forward to receiving you all in the dining room.”

  Then with a bow, Mr. Collins turned and departed, leaving them all standing bemusedly in the hall. They looked at one another for a moment—even Mrs. Bennet seemed to sense that their cousin was a foolish man—before they separated to their chambers. But before Elizabeth could enter her room with her sisters, her father sidled up to her, and in a soft voice, said:

  “He is delightful, is he not? I am anticipating our sojourn here quite keenly, I assure you.”

  “I think I will consider ways to make myself disagreeable,” said Elizabeth, making a face at him. “I would not wish for him to fix his attentions on me as the companion of his future life.”

  Mr. Bennet grinned. “I suggest you simply continue to make statements that he does not understand. He will likely consider you unsuitable if he cannot understand you, though he will attempt to fool himself into believing that you simply do not make sense.”

  Elizabeth laughed. It was perhaps the most sagacious piece of advice her father had ever given her.

  The family descended to the dining room at the appointed time. One of the first things Mr. Collins did upon their arrival was to install Mrs. Bennet as the mistress of his home during their time there, though as Elizabeth was to learn, it was largely an empty position: as he did not entertain, her mother would not take up any decisions for the man’s house.

  “I am well aware that under normal circumstances it would not be proper to have you all here, since I have no wife and, therefore, no mistress of my home. But I believe that as family, you, Mrs. Bennet, may act as such during your stay, so that the demands of propriety are met. I am all keen anticipation, I assure you, of my future happiness when I unearth the companion of my future life and she may take up the role in perpetuity.”

  Having said this, Mr. Collins’s eyes roved over the five sisters, his gaze containing a particularly leering quality that Elizabeth found distasteful. The man was essentially correct in that it was permissible for a woman of the family to act as hostess for a bachelor, but with the question of whether their presence was at all proper, Elizabeth decided not to concern herself. Of more importance, Elizabeth’s sense of her own perception into the characters of others was telling her that, in this instance, her first impression was no less than correct. The prospect of receiving this fatwit of a man’s intimate attentions was likely to induce her to cast up her accounts.

  They all went in to dinner, and it was soon served. The food was more than adequate, and Elizabeth acknowledged that his cook was, at the very least, competent. She did not think on the difference in cooking for eight as opposed to cooking for one, and the additional strain this must put on the poor woman. She assumed Mr. Collins had considered the matter.

  It was not long after they had sat at the dinner table when Mr. Collins was diverted to his favorite subject, one Elizabeth knew instinctually he could speak of without cessation for hours, if allowed.

  “We noted a large estate up the road as we approached, sir,” said Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth considered his enjoyment of Mr. Collins’s silliness almost unseemly and shot her father exasperated looks when he repeatedly threw fuel onto the fire of Mr. Collins’s stupidity.

  “Rosings Park,” replied Mr. Collins in a tone which betrayed the danger of his falling into an ecstasy. “The home of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. There is no greater estate in all the land, I assure you, Cousin. Even if the building were not already the cream of English estates, her ladyship’s presence would elevate it to the edge of the divine.”

  “Indeed?” asked Mr. Bennet. “It is even more impressive than Blenheim or Chatsworth, is it? I am very much interested in seeing it, for a house which makes Chatsworth a mere hovel in comparison must be a sight, indeed.”

  It was unsurprising that Mr. Collins did not understand the irony in Mr. Bennet’s tone, and it was equally evident that he had never seen the grand estate to which Mr. Bennet had referred. He only nodded his head in apparent agreement and said: “I see you are a discerning gentleman, Mr. Bennet, and you see things aright. Though there are many worthy estates in England, there are few which can claim the right to be compared with the jewel of Kent. I have told her ladyship of my appreciation for the elegance? of her home many times, I assure you.”

  “And I suppose she accepted your flattery as nothing more than her due?”

  “But it is!” protested Mr. Collins. “And I would not call it flattery, precisely. After all, if praise is due, does not flattery merely become a statement of the truth?”

  “That is an interesting question, indeed,” said Mr. Bennet with a sage nod of his head. “Some might say that you are completely correct.”

  But even as Mr. Collins nodded his head vigorously, Mr. Bennet’s eyes found Elizabeth’s, and he winked. Elizabeth could only shake her head. It seemed like Mr. Collins blurred the lines between flattering for the sake of ingratiating oneself and giving a sincere compliment. If the first, then there was no way Mr. Collins was correct. The second, she was convinced, was quite beyond the man’s capabilities.

  The conversation wound on, and Elizabeth watched as her father subtly led Mr. Collins from one absurdity to the next. Many centered on his veneration for his patroness, but if that were the extent of the man’s silliness, Elizabeth might
have been able to forgive him. As it was, he had little understanding of proper behavior, a highly developed (and completely unwarranted) notion of his own abilities, and he showed a remarkable lack of understanding of his religion, to which priesthood he was duly ordained and its tenets, he was bound to promote. It was one of the most ridiculous spectacles to which Elizabeth had ever been witness.

  Mrs. Bennet was not the most discerning of creatures. Despite her husband’s words to the contrary, she was not entirely unaware of this fact herself. Brought up the daughter of a country solicitor who was, himself, the grandson of a gentleman, she had had little occasion to learn the social graces. It was only after her fortunate marriage to a landed gentleman that she began to understand that certain behaviors were required. She was also blessed with an impulsive disposition, one which resulted in her making comments before truly thinking about them.

  But even with these deficiencies, Mrs. Bennet could see that her husband’s cousin was far from a model of propriety himself. He was, in fact, more than a little silly, not attractive of countenance or manners, and almost seemed determined to make a spectacle of himself every time he opened his mouth. Mrs. Bennet did not know what to make of the man.

  One truth she kept firmly in mind, however, was that Mr. Collins almost literally held their futures in his hand. Mr. Bennet was healthy and would, God willing, live for many more years. But one could never be certain. And should he die before his daughters were disposed of in marriage, their situation would instantly become pitiable. So, she forced any thought of the man’s strangeness aside, knowing that should he choose to marry one of her girls, their future would forever be secured.

  As it happened, Mrs. Bennet found herself near to Mr. Collins after dinner, and she was not certain it was not by the man’s design. She had not spoken more than a few words to him since their arrival, as most of his attention had been on her husband. She was, therefore, surprised when he addressed her while the rest of her family were involved in their own conversations.

  “I must own, Mrs. Bennet, the charms of your daughters are quite beyond what I had ever imagined.”

  The charms of her daughters was one subject which never failed to incite Mrs. Bennet’s eloquence—especially when speaking with prospective suitors—so she set to her task with eagerness.

  “They are good girls, Mr. Collins, if I do say so myself. And I have trained them all to be excellent mistresses. I am certain they will do any man credit.” Mrs. Bennet paused, and then thinking that she could remove one of them from the man’s consideration immediately, said: “Of course, Lydia is full young and not yet ready for marriage. But my older daughters are ready to assume such a responsibility and are much admired, I assure you.”

  “I can see why, madam.” Mr. Collins paused, and he looked from one of her girls to the next, and though Mrs. Bennet was prepared to approve of him for no other reason than to secure all their futures, she could not help but be a little wary of him. The look he bestowed upon them was nothing less than a leer.

  “They all appear to be good girls, indeed. But it seems to me that the eldest Miss Bennet, in particular, must be admired by all.”

  The inflection in his voice suggested that there was some reason for Mr. Collins to speak of Jane, but Mrs. Bennet was quite used to men singling her out. And for good reason—Jane was admired wherever she went, being the most beautiful of her daughters.

  But Jane was also the daughter on whom Mrs. Bennet had pinned most of her hopes for a good marriage. And why would she not? Any man would be fortunate to secure such a sweet, angelic girl as a wife. But Mrs. Bennet had never seen Jane as a parson’s wife. Her attributes were such that she was entitled—in Mrs. Bennet’s mind—to expect so much more in a marriage. Perhaps she might even aspire to be married into the nobility! If Mr. Collins would not be moved, Mrs. Bennet would relent. But perhaps he might be persuaded to one of the other girls.

  “Indeed, Jane is admired,” said Mrs. Bennet. “But I must tell you that a young man of the area has been paying her attentions, and I should not wonder if an engagement is forthcoming.”

  It was not a falsehood—not an explicit falsehood, in any case. Mr. Bingley had paid her the most exquisite attentions, though his failure to return still vexed Mrs. Bennet beyond all endurance. Mr. Collins did not need to know that those attentions had ceased more than three months earlier. Besides, as a man who was as far from handsome as a man could be, Mr. Collins could not expect the most beautiful wife.

  “Oh, that is unfortunate,” said Mr. Collins, and Mrs. Bennet could sense some real regret in his voice. “I would not wish to intrude upon a pre-existing attachment.”

  “I am certain you would not,” murmured Mrs. Bennet. “Perhaps one of my other daughters might be an acceptable substitute? My Lizzy, next to Jane in both beauty and seniority, is intelligent and agreeable. I dare say she would bring much to any parson, for she has cared for Longbourn’s tenants for some years now.”

  The look which Mr. Collins bestowed on Elizabeth was far from what Mrs. Bennet was hoping to provoke. In fact, the man looked on her with something akin to distaste.

  “I am certain your daughter has many sterling qualities, Mrs. Bennet,” said he, though his tone did not substantiate his words. “But in the brief time I have known her, she seems to display a hint of . . . impertinence in her manner which I do not find entirely seemly. I do not think her penchant for clever comments would at all please her ladyship.”

  That was a statement which Mrs. Bennet could well understand, for had she not warned Elizabeth of that very failing many times in the past? Now that she had heard an eligible man’s opinion, Mrs. Bennet felt vindicated.

  But she was not one to revel in her victory. If Mr. Collins did not wish to contend with Elizabeth’s cleverness and she did not wish to give him Jane or Lydia, why she still had two daughters available.

  “Then if Elizabeth is not to your taste, perhaps Mary would suit? Mary is not so clever as her elder sister, but she is capable. Furthermore, she is knowledgeable concerning the Bible and possesses a streak of morality which I believe would do a man of the cloth quite well, indeed.”

  When Mr. Collins turned a critical eye on Mary, Mrs. Bennet was certain he was about to reject her as well. “Miss Mary has struck me as pious and knowledgeable. But she is not . . . Well, perhaps her attributes are not quite so fine as her sisters’?”

  Mrs. Bennet grimaced, knowing to what he was referring. Mary, plain and awkward, would no doubt have difficulty attracting any man, even one who was not . . . Well, Mrs. Bennet was young enough to remember attraction to a handsome man, and Mr. Collins certainly did not fit that description. She cast about for something to say that would change his mind, when the man himself solved her problem.

  “On the other hand, it is said that beauty is only skin deep.” Mr. Collins gazed at Mary for another few moments, apparently pondering, before nodding his head slowly, his decision made. “Yes, I believe Miss Mary will do very well, indeed. Lady Catherine would surely approve of her piety, and if there is any lack of accomplishment in the matter of managing my house, I am certain Lady Catherine would be happy to see to her education.”

  “I assure you, sir,” said Mrs. Bennet, offended he would even suggest such a thing, “that Mary is well trained and capable. You need not fear for that.”

  “I am sure you have taught her to the best of your abilities,” said he, returning his attention back to her. “But you must understand that Lady Catherine has the most exacting standards, and since she has imparted some of them to me, I cannot but acknowledge her ladyship’s primacy in this matter.”

  In truth, Mrs. Bennet did not see, and it was only by the force of her will that she did not snap at the man for his stupidity. Only the necessity of keeping his good opinion kept her from telling him that he could look somewhere else for a wife if he was concerned about their upbringing.

  Mrs. Bennet watched her host as the night wore on. Soon, h
e took himself to where Mary was sitting on a sofa, watching her younger sisters with her typical disapproval. They began to converse, and as their discussion continued, Mr. Collins became more animated. As for Mary, though Mrs. Bennet had never truly been able to understand her middle daughter, she appeared to have no aversion to speaking with him.

  In all, Mrs. Bennet was satisfied. If all went well, she thought she would soon obtain the first of her long-desired sons-in-law.

  The next morning, the parsonage was graced with the presence of Mr. Collins’s patroness, to whom he eagerly introduced his family when she indicated a desire to know them. She was a tall woman, perhaps a little older than Mrs. Bennet, with an aristocratic bearing, dark hair beginning to grey, and a posture which spoke of a woman accustomed to having her own way and aware of her position in society. What Elizabeth did not expect was how the woman would greet them all with apparent civility, inquiring after their journey and accommodations in a manner which could only indicate an unfeigned interest.

  “How good of you to visit, your ladyship,” said Mr. Collins when the pleasantries had been exchanged. “And your excellent daughter? I hope that Miss de Bourgh is well?”

  “Indeed, she is, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine. “You will all meet her anon, as I intend to have you and your family to Rosings for dinner one night very soon.”

  “Thank you, your ladyship,” said Mr. Bennet, even as Mr. Collins exclaimed: “We are all in your gracious debt, your ladyship. I could not have imagined such condescension as this, the very day after my humble family’s arrival.”

  Lady Catherine turned a pointed look on Mr. Collins, a look he seemed to understand, as he immediately ceased his flattery and fell silent, though his adoring gaze never wavered. Seemingly satisfied with his silence, Lady Catherine turned to Mr. Bennet.