Everyone in the room looked up from their various entertainments. “Which cousin?” Mrs. Bennet demanded, a cushion half-fluffed in her lap.
“Mr. Collins.”
“Who?”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “I thought you hated your cousin.”
“I did despise his father. But I hate a disordered will even more, and the son may as well make himself known to those whose home he means to command one day.”
There was a beat of silence—then Mrs. Bennet lurched upright.
“Today?” she cried. “You mean to say he was meant to arrivetoday?As in this very afternoon?”
“That was the arrangement.”
“Thomas Bennet, are you telling me a man—a strange man—was meant to walk into this house and begin circulating among my daughters like he was shopping for a melon, and you failed to mention it?”
Elizabeth frowned. “Papa—surely you are joking.”
“I am not in the habit of writing false invitations. He was to arrive by midday. I even instructed Hill to prepare the blue room.”
“You let the servants know before your own family?” Jane asked incredulously.
“I did not wish to cause a scene,” Mr. Bennet said mildly, as Mrs. Bennet made a small strangled noise that might have been the early stages of a seizure.
“A scene?” Elizabeth snapped. “You thought a surprise house guest would go unnoticed?”
“I suspected—rather strongly—that he would be delayed. And indeed, he was.”
Mr. Bennet rose and crossed to the desk, retrieving a thick letter from beneath a neglected copy of theGazette.“It seems he has been detained by affairs of great importance—namely, his patroness.”
“What patroness?” Kitty asked, already losing interest and plucking at the hem of her gown.
Elizabeth could hardly feel more. If there were to be no guest today, why were they still talking about him?
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth coughed. “I never heard of her.”
“Nor,” her father agreed, “had I, but Mr. Collins seemed to expect me to kiss the place where her name was printed on his letter. She seems to have experienced an upheaval of some kind. Mr. Collins, in his wisdom, has taken it upon himself to remain near her bedside. Or at her doorstep. Or perhaps her dinner table. It is not entirely clear.”
“Then why mention him at all?” asked Lydia.
“Because he has sent a letter.” Mr. Bennet’s expression twitched toward the theatrical. “Which he requests I share with the household. And I am not so cruel as to keep such brilliance to myself.”
He unfolded the letter and cleared his throat.
"My most esteemed and recently reconciled cousin—
Though we have not yet enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s company, I write with the sincerest hope that a new season of familial harmony may commence. I had intended to arrive at Longbourn on Tuesday last, but was delayed by a most urgent request from my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who desired my spiritual services in anticipation of an important domestic event.
Though she did not name the individuals involved, I have reason to believe that the forthcoming union, as well as the banns which must naturally precede it, are all of such social and moral weight that my presence was not merely welcome, but required. I hope to share more of this in person.
Having thus discharged my duties with efficiency, I write now to tender my warmest respects and to express my originalintent—should it be amenable to all parties—to select a bride from among the young ladies of your household. I am informed that there are four eligible candidates, and would consider it a mark of both prudence and affection to secure the future of Longbourn by joining our fortunes.
I await your reply with Christian anticipation, and remain—
Yours in reverence and resolve,
