Chaos Comes To Kent

by Jann Rowland

  “I dare say he might,” said Mr. Bennet with a straight face. “But you might be surprised, Cousin. Mr. Darcy always struck me as a competent man, but he might not be the paragon of virtue you seem to think he is. In fact, I am quite certain that Mr. Darcy possesses the capability of behaving atrociously and perhaps even insulting those who are undeserving of his contempt.”

  Elizabeth was forced to raise a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter and, in the process, refrain from spitting her peas all over the table. She turned a severe glare on her father, but he only winked at her.

  For his part, Mr. Collins regarded Mr. Bennet with something akin to horror, before he began to shake his head violently. “Surely you are jesting, Cousin. Mr. Darcy is descended from the noblest stock in the kingdom, his assets vast, his understanding profound. He could never behave in such a manner, I am absolutely certain.”

  “You may be surprised, Mr. Collins,” replied Mr. Bennet. His smirk never wavered, but he refrained from commenting further.

  “No, I absolutely cannot fathom it,” denied Mr. Collins. “Mr. Darcy does not possess the capacity for such things, and should my cousins carry on in their usual fashion, I am certain they will give him grievous offense.”

  Mr. Collins again attempted his stern glare with them. “I will have your solemn promise. You will treat Mr. Darcy with deference and respect, you will not do anything to draw attention to yourselves, and you will rein in your impertinence while he is present.”

  “We shall not offend Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, speaking for her sisters. She was not of mind to say anything else to the man, for he was beginning to irk her with his insistence.

  “That is well. Now, allow me to instruct you of what is proper when confronted by a man of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s standing.”

  What followed was a long and often nonsensical account of what Mr. Collins considered to be appropriate behavior. He spoke with great verve and intensity, warming to his topic and continuing well past what any other person would consider necessary. His advice was often contradictory—how were they to offer the man compliments if they followed Mr. Collins’s advice to not speak at all in Mr. Darcy’s presence?—and he often repeated himself, making it seem like he was saying something new by simply rearranging his words. Within five minutes of this new oratory, Elizabeth had decided to simply stop listening to him—she would certainly end up strangling the silly man otherwise. Her sisters had chosen to do the same.

  “Do you suppose Mr. Collins has ever met a man who would require a person to behave in such a way?” asked Elizabeth of Jane when he had gone on for some time. “I have difficulty believing even the Prince Regent would be so conceited.”

  “I doubt Mr. Collins has ever met anyone of any standing other than Lady Catherine,” replied Jane.

  “Aye. That is what makes it all that much more puzzling. Lady Catherine surely does not require such obeisance. Why would he think it would be acceptable?”

  “I believe part of it to be his upbringing,” said Mr. Bennet, from where he sat by Elizabeth’s side. “His father was miserly and had not much idea of any social graces. I suspect he dominated his son and instilled this obsequiousness. Then he was likely taken advantage of in his seminary, which set his character in stone.”

  Elizabeth acknowledged what her father was saying, but it was still mystifying. Mr. Darcy had been aloof, cold, and arrogant when he had lately been in Hertfordshire, but he had not been nearly so proud as Mr. Collins suggested. And with Lady Catherine present, Elizabeth could not imagine he would behave that way when they met him again the following week.

  “It is best to simply humor Mr. Collins, I suppose,” said Elizabeth. “If he oversteps at Rosings, I am certain Lady Catherine will put him in his place.”

  “That would be a sight to see,” agreed Mr. Bennet.

  “Well, he is useful for one thing.” Mr. Bennet and Jane both looked at Elizabeth askance. She grinned at them and replied: “I shall have plenty of which to write to Charlotte tonight. I am certain she will be excessively diverted at our cousin’s absurdity.”

  The laughter they could not hold in finally drew Mr. Collins’s attention. He did not say anything, but his glare was reproachful, and he clearly suspected them of conspiring to ignore his dictates. Elizabeth did not care enough to disabuse him of it.

  It was only by the slimmest of margins that Mrs. Bennet had been able to hold her countenance when Mr. Collins had blathered on about his idea of proper behavior. What notion could a parson possibly have about proper behavior? Lady Catherine considered Mrs. Bennet’s daughters good enough for her nephews; what could Mr. William Collins possibly have to say about it if her ladyship approved?

  For perhaps the first time, Mrs. Bennet wondered about this courting business with Mary. Mr. Collins had proven himself to be a fool—should she really wish to promote a closer connection with such a man? If her girls were to marry Mr. Darcy and this Colonel Fitzwilliam, should Mary not be able to find a better match than her husband’s odious cousin?

  All the ill feelings Mrs. Bennet had felt about Mr. Collins, even long before she had ever met him, were returning, and she wondered if she should not direct Mary away from him. Mary was a good girl; surely she would agree and obey her mother.

  But in the end, Mrs. Bennet decided to say nothing. Part of her decision was based upon the fact that she thought it difficult for plain and pious Mary to attract a man, so it was likely for the best that she allowed the courtship to play out. She had also noted Mary looking at the man with displeasure when he attacked her sisters. It was entirely possible Mary would rebuff Mr. Collins should he decide to come to the point. In the meantime, Mary could provide a distraction for Mr. Collins while Lady Catherine’s nephews courted Mrs. Bennet’s eldest daughters. Once those marriages were settled, Mrs. Bennet could take some thought to whether to allow Mary’s courtship to continue or end it so the girl could attempt to find some other match.

  When dinner ended, Mrs. Bennet left the dining room with the other members of the family to sit in the parlor for a short time before her daughters were to return to Rosings. There was no separation of the sexes—there had not been any night since they had come to Kent, and Mrs. Bennet knew the reason why. The thought cheered her, making her feel a sort of savage glee to know that her husband could not abide the man alone. It vindicated all her dislike of him.

  The parlor was a dingy little room, in Mrs. Bennet’s opinion—the wallpaper was dark and dull, the furniture was situated all wrong, the windows looked out in the wrong direction, and it was not nearly so large as their sitting-room in Longbourn. She supposed that it was only a parsonage and, as such, could not match the comfort of even a small estate, but she could not find herself at ease in such surroundings either. But it was what they had available, so there they went.

  It was fortunate, indeed, that Mr. Collins took himself to a sofa and sat beside Mary, speaking with her exclusively and not sparing a word for any of her other daughters. Mary, Mrs. Bennet watched closely, attempting to see if she could discern anything of the girl’s feelings. But Mary had always been adept at hiding herself—she was almost as reticent as Jane. Whatever she thought of Mr. Collins, she spoke to him civilly, and seemed to focus her attention on him to the exclusion of all others.

  This worked to Mrs. Bennet’s favor. It was time to begin putting the plan that she and Lady Catherine had devised into action, and there was no time better than when Mr. Collins was inattentive to what was happening around him.

  “Jane, dear, as your cousin has stated, Mr. Darcy is to come soon.”

  “Yes, he is, Mama. I anticipate renewing our acquaintance.”

  “You do?” Mrs. Bennet could own to a little surprise; Jane had been so focused on Mr. Bingley, that she had seemed hardly aware of Mr. Darcy.

  “Of course,” replied her eldest earnestly. “He struck me as an intelligent man, though his manners were a little unfortunate.”
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br />   “I believe he is,” said Mrs. Bennet, though she had no idea if it was true. “Your society at Rosings is likely to become more interesting.” Mrs. Bennet then turned to Elizabeth. “This Colonel Fitzwilliam is, by all accounts, an amiable man. I am certain it will be a relief for you to have someone of like temperament available to keep you occupied.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I will be happy to make the colonel’s acquaintance, Mama. Lady Catherine has given him quite the flaming character.”

  “Excellent,” said Mrs. Bennet. She had half expected Elizabeth to contradict her for no other purpose than to be contrary. With such an auspicious beginning, she felt she could almost begin to plan the weddings and the trousseaux.

  But she would be patient, as Lady Catherine had suggested. Until Elizabeth was engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Jane, to Mr. Darcy, she would need to continue to nudge her girls in the direction they needed to go. For today, it was enough to have sown the seeds of her daughters’ future happiness.

  When the Bennet sisters arrived back at Rosings, Lady Catherine was waiting for them in the sitting-room, though her daughter had returned to her room for the night. Kitty and Lydia excused themselves a little later, leaving Elizabeth and Jane alone with the lady, where they made polite conversation for some time.

  “And how was your dinner at the parsonage, my dears?” asked Lady Catherine.

  “The dinner was excellent,” replied Jane.

  “It seems like the woman Mr. Collins employs is quite skilled,” added Elizabeth.

  “Mrs. Green is a gem,” replied Lady Catherine. “Her children have grown and left, leaving only herself and Mr. Green. And as Mr. Green benefits from being able to eat at the parsonage every day with his wife, it is a beneficial arrangement for all.

  “But come, I expect you were happy to dine with your parents again. Though you came to Kent to stay with Mr. Collins, you have not actually been much in his company.”

  “A very little of his company will do,” muttered Elizabeth. When she saw that Lady Catherine had heard her, she colored in embarrassment.

  “Mr. Collins is an . . . unusual man, is he not?” said Lady Catherine. “Can I assume he outdid himself this evening?”

  “He had many . . . instructions for us,” said Jane. Though Elizabeth had not noted it before, it seemed like Jane was a little disturbed by all Mr. Collins had said. It was not surprising, therefore, that Lady Catherine saw it as well.

  “Instructions? Of what sort, Miss Bennet?”

  “Oh, my apologies, Lady Catherine,” said Jane, feeling her own embarrassment. “I should not have spoken.”

  “No, I would hear what you have to say.” Lady Catherine reached out and touched a hand to Jane’s arm. “You have no need to fear of my reaction. As we have already discussed, I know how Mr. Collins can be.”

  Elizabeth sensed that Jane would not respond, so she took the office upon herself. “Dinner tonight was a long dissertation from Mr. Collins concerning how we should behave when your nephews are present.”

  “Oh?” asked Lady Catherine. That one innocuous-sounding word conveyed a depth of meaning, from annoyance to amusement.

  “Apparently, while your ladyship allows a certain ‘informality of manner,’ in Mr. Collins’s opinion, your nephews are great men who demand respect.”

  “He thinks so, does he?” It was clear that the lady was quite annoyed with Mr. Collins. Elizabeth could well understand the sentiment, for she could not remember a time in his company since they had met where she had not been annoyed with him.

  “I think he simply wishes to ensure we make a good impression,” said Jane.

  Elizabeth snorted. “You are far too apt to think the best of others, Jane.”

  “What do you think his reasons were, Miss Elizabeth?” said Lady Catherine.

  “I am certain I cannot say, though I suspect that he actually believes what he told us.”

  “You are undoubtedly correct.” Lady Catherine shook her head. “But you must not believe him. You have met Darcy, and though your impressions were not the best, I believe you know enough of him to understand that he does not consider himself above his company.”

  Privately Elizabeth was not at all certain of that, but she would not contradict her hostess and insult her nephew.

  “As for Colonel Fitzwilliam, you will see within moments of his arrival that he is a most amiable man. Neither would expect such deference, and neither would expect either of you to be anything other than what you are.”

  “Mr. Collins was most particular in attacking Elizabeth’s impertinence,” said Jane quietly.

  “And I own to a certain level of impertinence,” said Elizabeth. “Quite happily, in fact.”

  “I prefer to think of it as archness,” replied Lady Catherine with a warm smile at Elizabeth. “And I doubt Darcy would label it as impertinence either. Perhaps I should speak with Mr. Collins.”

  “I doubt it would be of any benefit,” replied Elizabeth. “And no doubt he would castigate us for misrepresenting what he said.”

  “Not if he values his comfortable position,” said Lady Catherine. “But I shall be guided by you in this matter. If the man gives you further distress, please inform me so that I might take action.”

  Jane and Elizabeth both agreed and the subject was dropped. Soon the three ladies bid each other good night and returned to their rooms.

  Chapter VI

  “So, Cousin, you have been rather tight-lipped ever since we received word of our aunt’s guests. I understand they are known to you?”

  Pulled from his thoughts as he was—deep thoughts at that—Darcy started at the sound of his cousin’s voice. When he turned to regard Fitzwilliam, the man sat across from him on the rear-facing seat, his manner expressing an entirely unwarranted level of enjoyment. It was always thus with Fitzwilliam, especially when he thought he had the least chance of eliciting some response from Darcy by making sport with him.

  “They are known to me,” replied Darcy in the vain hope that Fitzwilliam would take the hint and be silent. And vain such a hope turned out to be.

  “Well, out with it then! What can you tell me of them?”

  “They are a family of minor country gentry, nothing of any consequence.”

  “Then why do they have you out of sorts?”

  Darcy’s scowl meant nothing to Fitzwilliam, obviously, for he only grinned all that much wider.

  “I am not out of sorts. I am merely disinclined to their company.”

  “I should have known,” replied Fitzwilliam. “For surely a family of pleasant and pretty young ladies would not be agreeable to you.”

  “It is not the fact that they are ladies. It is the fact that the youngest two are silly and improper, and the mother is hardly better. I only knew them for a brief time, but never once did I see the father take his family in hand.”

  “And the elder daughters?”

  Darcy shook his head; it was the elder daughters—one of the elder daughters—who was responsible for Darcy’s being so out of sorts. He had left Netherfield above five months earlier, had only been there for a matter of fewer than three weeks, and still she haunted him. And yet the sound of her laugh was as clear in his memory today as it had been then.

  “The elder daughters are restrained and proper, though I do not remember the middle girl well. The eldest is one of the most beautiful young ladies I have ever seen, while the second, though not so pretty as her sister, is still handsome, as well as being playful and easy in company.”

  “Oh ho!” cried Fitzwilliam. “This visit promises to be quite interesting then, not that visiting Aunt Catherine is a trial.” Fitzwilliam leaned forward and slapped Darcy on the shoulder. “So, which of these sisters is the cause of your odd behavior?”

  With a weary shaken head, Darcy indicated the conversation was over, and he turned to look out the window. Though he esteemed Fitzwilliam more than almost anyone else in the world, it was at time
s like these that his cousin could be so tiresome.

  “Then I shall discover it for myself. I am certain Aunt Catherine would be pleased to help me ferret out your secrets.” When Darcy did not respond, Fitzwilliam continued: “For myself, I would wager it is the playful one. You know beautiful ladies aplenty in London, and none have ever caused such a reaction. Surely she must be more agreeable than Anne.”

  Darcy shook his head; Fitzwilliam had the right of it. “She becomes more insistent each time we visit, and nothing our aunt tells her has any effect.”

  “So, tell her you will not marry her,” said Fitzwilliam, shrugging with unconcern.

  “You know I have tried. My words are no more efficacious than our aunt’s are.”

  “Then I suggest you be more persuasive. If you continue to defy her, I would not put it past her to attempt a compromise.”

  Darcy snorted at the suggestion. “You think I do not already know that? The last two times we visited, I ensured my door is locked and that I was never in a room alone with her.” Darcy shot a look at his cousin, which he had seen so many times directed at him. “You do not think I stayed with you because I enjoy your company, do you?”

  Fitzwilliam guffawed. “What about keys? Are you not concerned that she has obtained the keys to your room to use when you lower your guard?”

  “Lady Catherine has seen to it that the keys are locked away and cannot be obtained by our cousin. And for good measure, Snell always searches out the housekeeper to ensure that she has not . . . misplaced a set. The woman is loyal to Aunt Catherine and would never hand over the keys just because Anne asked for them.”

  “It appears your battle plan is well-drawn, Darcy. Just remember that the best laid plans are only good until first contact with the enemy.”

  “Do we now refer to our cousins as enemies?” asked Darcy softly.