“Who is Lady Catherine! You do not know who Lady Catherine is? I refer to Lady Catherinede Bourgh.”
He emphasized the last name, as though that ought to have been enough to explain the matter to Elizabeth.
It was not.
“I confess my astonishment,” Mr. Collins said, in an aghast voice. “To hear that you do not know of my most gracious mistress. My benefactor, my dearest friend. The one who I position deepest in my heart and reverence, above even the memory of my own father. She is the finest gentlewoman in all of England, the product of the noble Fitzwilliam line, whose pedigree stretches back centuries, and her estate is one of the glistening emerald jewels of Kent, which is the finest county in England, possessed as it is by the presence of Lady Catherine and her daughter Anne de Bourgh.”
“So her daughter is not married then?” Elizabeth fixed on the one solid point that she could derive from the remarkable speech.
“No, but she is engaged to be married to her cousin, and their union will create one of the finest estates and marriages in the history of the British isles — and I shall marry myself soon, for Lady Catherine believes that it is incumbent upon a vicar to marry: ‘Marry,’ she said to me, ‘and let her be a gentlewoman for my sake, and a useful creature for your own.’ And further she told me that I ought to go to my cousins, and make peace with them — for in her view it is no good thing for a family to be disunified, or for wealth to promiscuously abandon the ties and bonds of blood. And so I am here.”
“To find a wife?” The astonished reply escaped Elizabeth’s lips before she could stop the words.
“That is one of my chief aims, as is bringing an olive branch, and the laurel of peace to Hertfordshire. And now that I have first complimented you, and then scolded you, I shall compliment you once more—”
“That is hardly necessary.”
“So that I might erase any ill will that my reproof may have given — warranted and necessary though it was, as you must acknowledge — I shall now compliment you once more. This is what Lady Catherine advised me to always do in conversation. Let a person be softened up and made aware of your friendliness towards them first, and only then speak to them upon the manner in which they have misbehaved and made a mistake, and then compliment them once more.Sheof course need not do this, as she is so far above us all that no one could mistakeherreproofs as anything but the kindest condescension.”
“Of course not.” Papa must love Mr. Collins. At least until he spoke so much that Papa became bored. “Lady Catherine will always feel free to deliver any correction she wishes.”
“Oh! My perfect cousin! So now let me say that your elegant person makes you the brightest ornament of Longbourn, or indeed in all of Hertfordshire, excepting of course your even lovelier sister Cousin Jane.”
Unfortunately after this astonishing speech, Mr. Collins maintained a constant attendance on Elizabeth’s elegant person for the whole afternoon, speaking to her without break. This left Elizabeth little leisure to think for herself, or to consider what she now thought of Mr. Darcy after the delightful time they had spent together in conversation during the morning.
Elizabeth found dinner both uncomfortable, due to how Mama had seated Elizabeth next to Mr. Collins, and amusing, because of how Papa contrived to draw out from his cousin the most ridiculous and amusing statements, all the while keeping a straight face.
It became clear to Elizabeth during the course of the evening that Mr. Collins and her mother had determined that she would be the peace offering to the Bennets and the vicar’s wife desired by Lady Catherine. Fortunately, Elizabeth was fully in possession of the ability to refuse such an unwanted posting, but it would be better, of course, if she might discourage Mr. Collins’s pretensions before matters reached such a head.
Alas, no effort that Elizabeth made which fell short of rudeness seemed capable of discouraging Mr. Collins, and she was not yet prepared to be actually rude as a preventative measure.
Jane was out of sorts that evening, and she regularly twisted her head side to side and rubbed at her neck. It appeared she was uncomfortable, but Elizabeth was unable to escape Mr. Collins for long enough to question Jane closely and overcome her sister’s disinclination to ever claim herself to be ill. But at last, rather earlier than was her usual wont, Jane retired to bed complaining of a headache.
The next morning upon rising Elizabeth found Jane sitting in the breakfast room with her hand covering her eyes as she faced away from the window.
“My dear.” Elizabeth sat next to her and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Are you well?”
Jane shook herself, as though very surprised to be approached and hear a voice. She grimaced and rubbed her neck with her hand, and then her forehead. “It is nothing — nothing at all. Certainly nothing to complain upon.”
“Jane.”
Her sister laughed at Elizabeth’s tone, and then grimaced while twisting her neck around again.
“I confess,” she spoke quietly, “that I am notwhollywell. But I only have a headache… it feels rather odd though. But I will be well after another day of rest, I dare say. Only it is so bright.”
“Should we call Mr. Jones?”
At this Jane forced herself to straighten up and smile. “No, by no means. Not at all. There is no need. I am wholly sure I shall be better by far tomorrow.”
Over the course of the morning clouds came up and the sky turned quite grey. It promised rain, and Elizabeth did not look forward to an afternoon trapped indoors with Mr. Collins. Though he would have followed her if she’d walked into town, or to Charlotte’s, his presence would not have beenquiteso bad in an open space.
About noon a note arrived from Netherfield inviting Jane to dine with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst while the gentlemen were away dining with the officers.
Mama grabbed the note from Jane’s hand and frowned at it, pacing a little, and looking out the window. “No, no, no. This is most unfortunate. With the officers?” She glanced out the window. “Ha! Rain. It looks decidedly like rain.” She beamed at the clouds, as though she had caused them to come into existence. “Jane, you shall go by horse, and then they will be obliged to let you stay.”
Jane shook her head, pressing her hand against her temple. “I am by no means determined upon going. I feel rather unwell.”
“Not go?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, in a tone rather more appropriate as a response to a woman who had indicated an intention to walk several miles to town in the winter stark naked. “Not go? Do not be ridiculous! Of course you shall go. You have never appeared to be in better health.”
