Elizabeth’s curiosity, already active, now became intent. “In what manner, if I may ask?” she inquired.
“Well, in a manner difficult to explain without seeming unjust,” Mrs. Jenkinson admitted. “For I cannot accuse him of any open impropriety. His behaviour is uniformly respectful. His address is guarded. He appears attentive to every duty—especially those that can be seen. But—”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes brightened. “An excellent beginning for a dangerous man.”
Elizabeth cast him a brief look of reproof, though she knew he was only half in jest.
Mrs. Jenkinson continued, “When Mr. Wickham first came, he was received with favour—more favour, perhaps, than many thought prudent in so short a time. The parsonage, it was soon determined, required repairs. Mr. Wickham represented it as scarcely fit for immediate habitation. Lady Catherine insisted promptly that he reside at Rosings until the work was complete.”
“At Rosings?” Mr. Collins exclaimed, the words escaping him before dignity could restrain them.
“At Rosings, sir, indeed,” Mrs. Jenkinson confirmed. “And from that moment everything has worn a different aspect. Miss de Bourgh was uneasy. She spoke, I believe, with more opennessthan is usual for her. I likewise ventured, on one occasion, to hint that such an arrangement might expose her ladyship to remark. Within two days, I was informed that my services were no longer necessary.”
Elizabeth looked grave. “And Miss de Bourgh submitted to this?”
“Not willingly. Poor Miss Anne attempted to interfere. But she has never possessed either the health or the authority to prevail.”
There was a short silence. Mr. Collins, whose imagination had now gone much farther than any prudence warranted, looked alternately shocked, affronted, and uncertain whether he were more injured in his expectations or scandalized in his principles.
At last he said, “This is a most serious account. Yet perhaps—perhaps there may be some misunderstanding. Lady Catherine is not, in general, a lady to act precipitately.”
Mrs. Jenkinson gave him a look in which old knowledge of his character mingled with present weariness. “I should be very glad to believe it so, sir.”
Mr. Bennet, who had hitherto preserved a tone of mild inquiry, now spoke with greater seriousness. “And Miss de Bourgh remains at Rosings without you?”
“Miss Anne desired me to stay near at hand,” Mrs. Jenkinson explained, and for the first time her voice truly faltered. “Miss de Bourgh hoped—she still hopes—that her mother may relent, and that I may be recalled. I have therefore remained at the inn, uncertain whether to wait or to leave the neighbourhood altogether. If I go too soon, I may abandon her; if I remain too long, I may ruin myself. I shall probably leave tomorrow, andwithdraw to Dartford, where my sister resides, until I am better settled.”
As she spoke, her hands, which had hitherto lain composed in her lap, tightened slightly upon each other, as if to steady a resolution not yet secure.
Elizabeth, who had from the beginning been more touched than surprised, leaned forward at once. “Then you must not leave until you are certain what Miss de Bourgh wishes. If she depends on your return, you cannot be blamed for staying.”
“You are very good,” Mrs. Jenkinson said. “But goodness settles very little where income is concerned.”
“That,” Mr. Bennet said, “is unfortunately true.”
Mr. Collins, who by this time had nearly forgotten the dinner waiting for him, suddenly recollected both his own dignity and his connection to the matter. Drawing himself up, he declared, “Whatever the unfortunate singularity of recent events, one point is at least beyond dispute: there is already a vicar at Hunsford.”
Mr. Bennet turned to him with a gravity so composed that only Elizabeth detected the irony beneath it.
“Yes, Cousin,” he said. “That, I think, may be considered the bad news for you.”
***
Mr. Bennet was just as surprised as Mr. Collins, who had assumed that Lady Catherine de Bourgh would either delay her response or send a brief note declining his request and intimating that his visit was unnecessary. However, toeveryone’s surprise, the inn apprentice returned with a message inviting them to dinner that evening. This unexpected invitation filled Mr. Collins with delight, and he immediately offered some coins to the lad as thanks, exclaiming, “You have done a great service to a humble servant of Lady Catherine!”
Elizabeth, who could not but be amused by his eagerness, said with a smile, “What excellent news, Mr. Collins.
Mr. Bennet, with a gravity that scarcely concealed his amusement, observed, “You must be particular, Mr. Collins, in returning so distinguished a civility.”
Mr. Collins nodded earnestly. “Indeed, Mr. Bennet! It would be highly improper not to express my gratitude in the most suitable terms.”
The hours passed quickly, and the travellers had scarcely time to recover from the fatigue of their journey. The innkeeper, sensible of the consequence of his guests, instructed his stable boy to assist Mr. Bennet’s driver in carefully cleaning the carriage, that their arrival at Rosings might be as creditable as possible.
***
As soon as they reached the front of the house, a footman received them at the entrance, while a stable servant hurried forward to take charge of the horses and carriage. Upon entering, the footman bowed and, in an exceptionally polite tone, invited them to follow him to the parlour, where her ladyship was waiting. “Dinner will be served in about half an hour,” he added, turning to lead the way.
As they followed him through the grand halls of Rosings, Mr. Collins could hardly contain his admiration. “Such elegance! Such grandeur!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he surveyed the opulent surroundings. “I remember, on my former visit, being equally struck; yet even now I can scarcely conceive the expense required to maintain so magnificent an establishment.”
