Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (16 page)

T
HE BENNETS WERE ENGAGED TO DINE with the Lucases and again Miss Lucas was kind enough to listen to Mr. Collins. Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. “It keeps him in good humor,” said she, “and I am more obliged to you than I can express.”

Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was very amiable, but Charlotte’s kindness extended farther than Elizabeth had any conception of. Charlotte’s object was nothing else than to secure her friend from any return of Mr. Collins’s advances, by engaging them towards herself. Such was Miss Lucas’s scheme; and appearances were so favorable, that when the opportunity arose, she managed to get him alone. It was not hard, for none of the others showed any interest in talking to the man, and were indeed grateful for her attentions to him.

Despite her pragmatic determination, Charlotte felt herself quite nervous as she walked alone with Mr. Collins. There was little need for her to speak, for he was happy to supply both sides of the conversation. In that way, her scheme proved itself to be easy. Though hardly practiced in the arts of flirtation, she did her best to send those subtle hints in his direction — batting her eyelashes, pursing her lips, swaying just a little. At one point, she allowed her hand to brush against the back of his; and, at another, she bent over to pick a flower, stumbling so that her gown lifted ever so slightly at the ankle. Mr. Collins, of course, was obliged to catch her and she allowed her chest to fall directly into his. The poor man seemed most flustered by the attention, and spent an improperly long time looking down at her chest, hand splayed as if he would pounce upon it in lecherous attention.

However, soon after, by the continued flow of his words, Charlotte would have assumed him to be unaffected by her efforts, if not for the strange way he carried his hands before his groin and walked with a wider than normal step. Never before had she been aware of having such a physical effect on a man, and with that awareness Charlotte felt a sense of power. Diligently, she listened to Mr. Collins prattle on. By his own admission he fancied himself too honorable to trifle with a woman’s modesty, and Charlotte meant to use this information to her utmost advantage.

After purposefully tripping a second time, Charlotte fell backwards against him so that her back was to his chest. As she bent forward in an effort to right herself, the back of her skirt brushed indecently against him and she pretended not to notice. Mr. Collins, however, let loose a pained sigh and trembled, his cheeks puffing out with the effort it took to rein in his obvious arousal.

“Forgive me, sir,” said she. “I must confess I am unused to walking alone with a gentleman. However, I feel there is nothing to worry about with one such as yourself, being as you are a man with such a high and noble position.”

This seemed to gratify him, and he assured her in the longest of terms that he did not think less of her for agreeing to walk with him. They continued on as they had before, him talking and Charlotte nodding in encouragement. When they parted that night, he went so far as to kiss her hand, rubbing his thumb against her palm, while staring briefly at her chest. She would have felt secure of her success if he was not to leave Hertfordshire so very soon, making it impossible to further pursue her cause. However, she did have hope that someday he would come back to visit, and perhaps then she could renew her efforts.

However, she did injustice to the depth of his affection, as well as the independence of his character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins, from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known till its success might be known likewise; for though feeling almost secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging, he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane.

In as short a time as Mr. Collins’s long speeches would allow everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both. As they entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day that was to make him the happiest of men, and though such a solicitation must be waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his happiness. The same stupidity that he was favored with by nature must also guarantee a woman would not wish for a long continuance of his courtship. Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure and disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that establishment was gained.

Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent, and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins’s present circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began to calculate, with more interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife should make their appearance at St. James’s. The whole family, in short, was properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes of coming out a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done. The boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte’s dying an old maid.

Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had time to consider it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable. His society was irksome and his attachment to her must be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or matrimony, marriage had always been her object. It was the only provision for well educated young women of small fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all the good luck of it.

The least agreeable circumstance in the business was the surprise the news would cause Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she valued beyond that of any other person. She resolved to give her friend the information herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins to drop no hint of what had passed when he returned to Longbourn. A promise of secrecy was of course dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love.

As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of the family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved for the night. Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness and cordiality, said how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his engagements might allow him to visit them.

“My dear madam,” he replied, “this invitation is particularly gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive. You may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as possible.”

They were all astonished. Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for so speedy a return, immediately said, “But is there no danger of Lady Catherine’s disapprobation here, my good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of offending your patroness.”

“My dear sir,” replied Mr. Collins,” I am particularly obliged to you for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so material a step without her ladyship’s concurrence.”

“You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than her displeasure. And if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, and be satisfied that we shall take no offense.”

“Believe me, my gratitude is warmly excited by such affectionate attention, Depend upon it, you will speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of your regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my cousin Elizabeth.”

With proper civilities the ladies withdrew, all of them equally surprised that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.

The possibility of Mr. Collins’s fancying himself in love with her friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two, but that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from possibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment was consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not help crying out, “Engaged to Mr. Collins? My dear Charlotte, impossible.”

The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a reproach. Though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained her composure, and calmly replied, “Do you think it incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman’s good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed with you.”

Elizabeth recollected herself, and making a strong effort, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her all imaginable happiness.

“I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte. “You must be surprised, very much surprised — so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know. I never was. I ask only a comfortable home and considering Mr. Collins’s character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.”

“Undoubtedly,” Elizabeth quietly answered. After an awkward pause, they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins’s making two offers of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her own, for Charlotte often said she was not romantic in nature and it had been subject of many friendly debates between them, but Elizabeth had not supposed it possible that, when called into action, her friend would have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a most humiliating picture.

Elizabeth sat with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorized to mention it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter to announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them, and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the houses, he unfolded the matter — to an audience not merely wondering, but incredulous. Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken. Lydia, always unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed, “Good Lord, Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do you not know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy.”

Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne without anger such treatment, but Sir William’s good breeding carried him through it all. Though he begged leave to be positive as to the truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the most forbearing courtesy.

Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte. She endeavored to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.

Mrs. Bennet was too overpowered to say a great deal while Sir William remained, but no sooner had he left them than her feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving the whole of the matter. Secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins had been taken in. Thirdly, she trusted they would never be happy together. And, fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that Elizabeth was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that she herself had been barbarously misused by them all. On these two points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could console and nothing could appease her. Nor did the day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she could at all forgive their daughter.

Mr. Bennet’s emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion. It gratified him to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife and more foolish than his daughter.