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Chapter 15

Upon returning from their walk, Elizabeth and Mary found the remainder of the family—except Mr. Bennet—in the breakfast room. Mr. Collins stood near the door and, upon their entrance, offered to summon a servant for a fresh pot of tea. They accepted this kindness, assuring him they required no food, having already broken their fast.

“Did you have a pleasant walk, my dears?” Mrs. Ellington asked. “You look truly enlivened by the exercise.”

“We did. The air is brisk, but not so cold as to render a walk unpleasant,” answered Mary.

As no one else immediately filled the silence, Mr. Collins took it upon himself to do so.

Lydia sighed with theatrical impatience. “Must we have another sermon on Lady Catherine’s opinions? Perhaps when you have exhausted the subject of walking, you may tell us what she says of mending stockings.”

The impertinence of Lydia’s manner drew a warning glance from Mrs. Ellington.

“Do not fret, Lydia,” said Elizabeth, her tone good-humoured. “Even Lady Catherine, I am sure, cannot have issued decrees about windows and stockings. Though I daresay, if she were pressed, she would not hesitate to give her opinion.”

Mr. Collins, not at all bothered by the tone of the discourse, agreed with Elizabeth and promised to write to her ladyship on any matters on which the ladies would like guidance. Then, smiling at Mary, he said, “I am sure that until such advice is received, you may rely on the guidance of your male relations, for such authority is given us in the scriptures to direct the conduct of ladies.”

Mary looked up sharply at this. “It is not, sir. The Bible says, yes, that one must obey one’s father, but it says nothing of a cousin. Further, the Apostle Paul writes that the aged women should direct the younger women in the ways they should act. I should therefore take Mrs. Ellington’s or my mother’s counsel on such things, if they wish to give their opinion.”

Mrs. Ellington’s expression, ordinarily even despite Mr. Collins’s temptation to mirth, allowed a hint of satisfaction to show. “I believe such matters are best left to one’s own discernment,” she said.

Mr. Collins knew not how to reply. Before he could steady himself, Mr. Bennet arrived in the breakfast room, his manner stern, and requested to speak with his wife and youngest daughter in his study.

Lydia’s countenance, already sullen, darkened further; it was not in her nature to accept discipline with grace. Yet she obeyed, following her parents into the corridor. The rest of the party was left to await their return, though they did not have to wait long to determine what had transpired. From across the hall, Mrs. Bennet’s exclamations could be heard quite plainly; Lydia’s own protestations, being of a quieter nature, did not reach the breakfast parlour.

Mr. Collins, hesitant to either proceed with his discourse or remain respectfully silent, alternated between smoothing his cuffs and glancing expectantly at Mary. A quiet satisfaction from her exchange with him still warmed her, but the sound of her mother’s complaints from across the hall quickly cooled it. Her thoughts turned to Mr. Lucas, and a fresh wave of anxiety came over her. What if he were to arrive at such a moment? Who, indeed, would wish to unite themselves with such a family?

A few minutes later, the door to the study opened, and Mrs. Bennet’s exclamations grew louder as she retreated to her chambers. Quietly, Jane stood and moved to the bell-pull, ostensibly to summon Mrs. Hill for her mother. She had scarcely returned to her seat when Mr. Bennet entered the room.

“Are my mother and sister well?” asked Mary.

“Physically, they are unharmed.” Mr. Bennet’s tone was laced with his usual irony. “Socially, however, Lydia feels she may never recover from so severe an injury. Having proven incapable of conducting herself like a rational creature, she shall no longer be considered ‘out’.”

A sudden stillness came over Kitty; she stared at the door as if in disbelief.

“Her days of attending balls are at an end,” he continued, “until she can deport herself properly—a matter for Mrs. Ellington and myself to determine.”

Mrs. Ellington’s eye caught the panic in Kitty’s expression. “Do not worry, my dear,” she said gently. “You have done nothing amiss.”

“No, indeed,” said Mr. Bennet. “Although Lydia is quite certain it is unfair for you to be out when she is not, I see no reason to punish you for her follies. You may continue to enjoy your liberty, Kitty, provided you use it more wisely than your sister. However, I should advise you to sleep in Mary’s room tonight, lest Lydia’s protestations keep you awake until dawn.”

“Of course you may stay the night with me, Kitty,” assured Mary.

Mr. Collins, who had been discomposed since Mary’s reply had taken him by surprise, now saw an opportunity to reestablish himself in the conversation. “I must commend you, Mr. Bennet, on your admirable use of parental authority. You did well to restrain the excesses of Cousin Lydia’s youth. Why! Lady Catherine herself frequently observes that where young ladies are left to their own guidance without the influence of a superior intellect, they are likely to fall into a dreadful state of frivolity. Her ladyship would, I am sure, greatly approve.”

“I cannot express the comfort your sentiment brings me,” Mr. Bennet replied dryly.

Elizabeth bit her lip and turned towards the window to conceal her smile of amusement. As she did so, she caught sight of a lone horseman turning onto their drive. “Mary,” she whispered, “Mr. Lucas is soon to arrive.”

Mary’s hand shook slightly as she set down her teacup, drawing notice from those near her.

“Are you quite well, Mary?” asked Jane.

“Perfectly,” was all she could manage. “Where is Lydia?”

“Unless I am mistaken, she is still in my study with one of the maids,” replied her father.

Mary closed her eyes, wondering if there was a way for her to remove Lydia from that room without causing an uproar, or to make it less unusual that Mr. Bennet should receive Mr. Lucas anywhere else. Of course, before she could form any plan, Mr. Lucas was announced. He entered and offered his greetings, his bow taking in the ladies of the party before his eyes met Mary’s for a fleeting moment. He then turned to address her father.