“Oh!” Charlotte understood immediately; this was the man who would one day inherit Longbourn. She curtsied hastily. “I am Miss Lucas.”
“I am glad to meet you, Miss Lucas. Are you here to visit the Bennets?” Of course she was; he felt like an idiot.
“I am, yes.”
“Allow me to get the door for you, Miss Lucas.” There, that was polite, was it not? He was always polite; how could he not be considered a good match for Miss Bennet?
“Thank you, Mr. Collins.” She smiled at him.
The smile almost caused him to trip over his own feet. When had a young lady last smiled at him? None of the Bennet girls had smiled at him, not even once. How had he not noticed that?
Realising that she was waiting for him to open the door, he hastened to do so. Following Miss Lucas into the house, he listened closely as she greeted the Cook and thanked her for the apple cake recipe.
“Did your family enjoy it, Miss Lucas?” Cook asked.
“Very much!” Miss Lucas replied. “My family asked me to convey their thanks to you.”
Mr. Collins was struck by Cook’s tone of respect when she spoke to Miss Lucas, as well as Miss Lucas’ kindness as she spoke with a servant. He thought rapidly. She was not a particularly handsome girl, this Miss Lucas, but she seemed eminently suitable to be a rector’s wife. And he could not help thinking that it would be just recompense for the Bennets to one day lose their estate to Miss Lucas, who would then be Mrs. Collins.
Enamoured of this idea, he followed his chosen bride through the kitchen and the breakfast room and into theparlour, where his cousin Elizabeth formally introduced them, saying that Miss Lucas was her dearest friend.
He sat and listened to the conversation, contributing as often as he could to show Miss Lucas that he was a man of words, a man of consequence, a man she would be happy to marry.
Elizabeth, weary of Mr. Collins’ endless interruptions, soon suggested to Charlotte that they go upstairs to see the new gown she had sewn. “Please excuse us, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said, certain that Charlotte would be equally glad of the respite.
Mr. Collins rose and told Charlotte that he had been delighted – truly, absolutely delighted! – to make her acquaintance, and that he would wait here, in this very room, for her return.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Charlotte as they went up the stairs. “Good Lord, that was worse than usual!” she said.
Charlotte was silent.
“Charlotte? Is something wrong?”
“You are not very polite to him,” Charlotte said, mildly.
“Polite! If I were polite to him, he would never stop speaking, Charlotte.”
“Still…”
“No, truly, we have listened to him rattle on for days now; you cannot begin to guess how wearying it is. And – wait until you hear this! – Mama confided to me that he wanted to marry Jane, but Papa would not permit it!”
“Is Jane not being courted by Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Oh, Charlotte.” Elizabeth’s face dissolved into tears.
“Eliza! What is wrong?”
She could not tell Charlotte about Georgiana, of course, but she confided that Mr. Bingley had abandoned the field in favor of the Colonel, and then the Colonel and Mr. Darcy had left to go to London because of a family emergency.
“But they will return, will they not?”
“We do not know, Charlotte.”
“But what did they say?” Charlotte insisted.
“The Colonel told Jane he would return.”
“And Mr. Darcy?”
