He could not tackle either of those, so he latched onto something hecouldobject to. “I cannot farm the glebe. It is within sight of Rosings.”
Elizabeth spoke emphatically, though with every appearance of confusion. “Ah! I missed that part. That changes the entire picture. You did not tell me Lady Catherine was in trade.”
Turning red and gasping for air, Mr Collins cried, “Trade!Of course not!”
Elizabeth sighed resignedly.
“My mistake! I assumed so, since no estate owner couldpossiblyobject tofarming, since that supports her grandeur. She is surrounded by 5,000 acres of farmland, not to mention the home farm and kitchen garden. I cannot imagine such a lady objecting to 40 acres, if she even noticed; and even if she could have anything to say about what you do with church land, which she does not. Nay, it is a settled thing. Lady Catherine will have no objection to farming the glebe, I can assure you. If she does, do not concern yourself. Your wife shall educate the lady properly, and all shall be well.”
As it was the longest speech Mr Collins had ever heard from the lady, he began to entertain doubts about the entire enterprise. Even so, the offer was made, and the power of answer lay within her hands. His heart squeezed, and he might well swoon on the spot.
She continued relentlessly. “My father is but 45, so according to the actuaries, he is likely to live 20-25 more years. Many things could happen in that time. For example, even 20 years hence, my mother might die, and he could take a wife young enough to bear an heir. Any offspring of your union should only count on your living for their futures,not Longbourn. If you inherit, that is all well and good, but you most definitely should notdependon it.”
Mr Collins, who thought himself practically a landed gentleman already, was near apoplexy.
“I am certain you must agree,” she continued, “any Collins children must be set up in the world; to do so, economies must be made, and money set aside, lest you repeat my parents’ mistake.”
Gasping, he could only mutter, “But… but… but—” while she carried on relentlessly.
“You must agree that a clergyman cannot fritter his income away. You say you do not object to my portion, but think on this. Let us assume any children will come within a year or two, andmightmarry before 20. That would give but 16-18 years to accumulate a dowry or apprenticeship.”
Elizabeth turned the paper towards him. “Do you agree the sums are correct and reasonable?”
Mr Collins was not sure of anything at all, but eventually looked the figures over—hehatedfigures—and nodded.
Elizabeth turned the page back and took up the quill. “Let us assume we put that £500 into the four percents. I have the formula somewhere here.”
The lady went back to the desk, rummaged around, and said, “Aha!”
She covered a small piece of scrap paper with incomprehensible scribbling, and amended her document.
“Let us assume we need an additional £100 for miscellaneous expenses beyond the budget. That might cover more extensive travel, unexpected expenses, and so forth; that leaves us a net of £400 that might be saved.”
Once again, she presented the figures for his inspection. “Does this seem reasonable?”
Thoroughly confused, the gentleman nodded.
“Suppose that goes into the four percents,” she said, and continued writing.
£400 per annum x 20 years at 4% = £12,000
She sighed in satisfaction. “That assumes consols—not a bad return, and exceedingly safe. It will suffice, though clearly one could do better with clever investing. Now, as it seems clear you are not a man of finance, I suggest the best option would be to set your wife’s pin money at £500 per annum. That is the only way, with the vexing English laws, to give her control over your family finances, and that is essential if your income is to be managed properly.”
He sputtered more, but she pinned him with a stare. “What say you, sir?Will you offer pin money of £500 per annum as part of this proposal?”
Sweat broke out on his brow. He pulled out his handkerchief, wiped it several times, then started, stopped, and looked for an escape from the madhouse he had set himself up for. He searched diligently, near and far, high and low, for an escape, and at last the obvious answer struck him, as if handed directly from the heavens.
“No, I willnotset pin money at £500. It will not do!”
Feeling he had won an epic battle worthy of a Viking, he wondered if he need wait for Miss Elizabeth to officially decline his proposal before he escaped that madhouse.
The lady seemed less affected than expected; perhaps she hid her trepidation better, since herofferhad of course been summarily rejected.
“Oh, dear,” said she, “well then… Let me think. My figures are all correct, so it seems you need… hm… let me see…I know!”
He stared in consternation. “You know…what exactly?”
Elizabeth laughed gaily. “It is all so obvious. You need a wife willing to be more sensible and frugal. She will want to limit your children to a small number, which is sensible, but not what I would choose. She will need to be willing to do with somewhat less. Now, of course, she also must be gently raised and trained in the management of an estate, since shewilllikely become mistress of Longbourn.”
