Pride and Prejudice (Clandestine Classics) (11 page)

“Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court.”

“Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town, and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased with the idea, and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her. These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay.”

“You judge very properly,” said Mr Bennet, “and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?”

“They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”

Mr Bennet’s expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in his pleasure.

By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr Collins readily assented, and a book was produced, but, on beholding it—for everything announced it to be from a circulating library—he started back, and begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce’s Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with, “Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of turning away Richard, and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton tomorrow to hear more about it, and to ask when Mr Denny comes back from town.”

Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue. Even though Elizabeth herself had been somewhat relieved by the interruption, her discomfort at her sister’s lack of manners gave rise to her censure. But Mr Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said, “I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes me, I confess, for, certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous to them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin.”

Then turning to Mr Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at backgammon. Mr Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia’s interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would resume his book. But Mr Collins, after assuring them that he bore his young cousin no ill-will, and should never resent her behaviour as any affront, seated himself at another table with Mr Bennet, and prepared for backgammon. Elizabeth picked up a book of her own, and though she read through the pages, she scarcely took in a single word, too distracted by illicit thoughts of a carnal persuasion.

Chapter Fifteen

Mr Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society. The greatest part of his life had been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father, and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant, and the respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to marry. In seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends—of atonement—for inheriting their father’s estate, and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet’s lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority, and for the first evening
she
was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration. In a quarter of an hour’s tête-à-tête with Mrs Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might be found for it at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. “As to her
younger
daughters, she could not take upon her to say—she could not positively answer—but she did not
know
of any prepossession, her
eldest
daughter, she must just mention—she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.”

Mr Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth—and it was soon done—done while Mrs Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.

Mrs Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married, and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

Lydia’s intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten. Every sister except Mary agreed to go with her, and Mr Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr Bennet. Mr Bennet was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself, for thither Mr Collins had followed him after breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity, and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the house, he was used to be free from them there. His civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr Collins to join his daughters in their walk, and Mr Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go.

In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.

Elizabeth soon tired of the pleasantries that were required of her, but the attention of every lady including herself was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came to enquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger’s air, all wondered who he could be. Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be, for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour, he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming. The whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities.

Elizabeth’s heart began to beat furiously at the very sight of Mr Darcy and she did not miss the way his eyes lingered over her body when he made his greeting. In kind, her gaze travelled over his impressive form. Beginning at his broad, powerful shoulders, which were encased perfectly in a tight-fitting riding jacket, her eyes moved lower to the wide expanse of his chest and what she imagined would be a perfectly toned stomach. His thick muscular thighs gripped the horse’s back with unmistakable power, and she imagined her legs wrapped around them, her feet digging into his buttocks while he took her with wild abandon. His physique was the absolute embodiment of a virile man, as handsome as any and infinitely exciting.

Though her desire was improper, she wanted to experience it notwithstanding. The idea of his strong, masterful body crushing hers as they lay together, lost in the throes of passion, was positively sinful, but she could not control the direction in which her thoughts led. But when her gaze returned to his striking face, she realised he had been watching her observation, and a slow, sensual smile filled with possibilities lifted the corners of his mouth. Blood pooled in her cheeks and she immediately looked away, ill at ease at having been caught staring desirously at his body.

Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to enquire after her. Mr Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger. Elizabeth, happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Mr Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine. It was impossible not to long to know. Mr Darcy had not shown open hostility, but it was quite clear he held Mr Wickham in low regard. Elizabeth had never seen him thus, though she now knew his manner to be at times abrupt. The coldness in his eyes when Darcy had looked upon Mr Wickham had been most surprising. It was the complete opposite to the heat Elizabeth had become accustomed to seeing within their depths. Though should she really be surprised? She might very well have been having lustful thoughts about his body, but his quick temper and severe personality left much to be desired.

In another minute, Mr Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.

Mr Denny and Mr Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr Phillip’s house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia’s pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of Mrs Phillips’s throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation.

Mrs Phillips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome. She was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home—which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr Jones’s shop-boy in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away—when her civility was claimed towards Mr Collins by Jane’s introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more. He apologised for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs Phillips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding, but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end by exclamations and enquiries about the other. Of him, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant’s commission in the ——shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street. Had Mr Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become “stupid, disagreeable fellows.” Some of them were to dine with the Phillipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs Phillips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.