by Suzan Lauder
“I am like Jane! She is the most attractive so I must be better looking than you, no matter that Mama flatters you because you are the baby.” The pitch of Kitty’s whispers rose with her indignation. Obviously, she did not care for Lydia’s opinion of her appearance even though she had spoken such of me. “My cousin has shown no interest in you, no matter how womanly you claim to be. It is not what he likes. Besides, he has said more than once that you are too young. Have you not noticed how he disdains your very presence?”
“Yours as well! He said a lady should not be out until her elder sisters are married.”
“He also said a girl not yet seventeen should not be seen nor heard,” hissed Kitty in response. “I am seventeen and old enough, where you are still a mere child.”
Lydia shrugged with one hand upon her hip. “You are almost seventeen, you mean. And as I said, my figure would argue that point.”
By this time, we were nearing my aunt’s home, and rather than allow them to strangle one another upon the front stairs, I put a hand on each of their shoulders and stepped between them. “Look, Aunt Phillips waves to us from the window!”
They waved back, wearing smiles that appeared more like forced grimaces than any genuine show of pleasure. They would not forget their animosity just because a person they liked showed her happy anticipation of their call.
Once Mr. Collins was introduced, he quickly dominated the conversation with my aunt, who was as besotted by his good looks as any other woman in the county. Lydia and Kitty were cheered when my aunt invited us to return that evening for games and supper. The officers were also to attend, and when my youngest sisters met that knowledge with a mutual look of challenge rather than an outpouring of delight, my aunt appeared slightly bemused.
When it was time to end the call and return to Longbourn, Mr. Collins was effusive and repetitive in his thanks for her notice and the invitation. Having had enough of his pompous nothings, I quietly commented that one expression of thanks would do in any civil circumstance, to which he nodded, bowed low, but gave no reply. Mary and Jane were out the door first and, as soon as they saw that the rest of us followed, quickly stepped forward. Lydia and Kitty hastened to walk close beside our cousin, and I lagged behind.
We were not far out the door when Mr. Collins addressed me without turning in my direction. “Dear Cousin Elizabeth, I flatter myself as well acquainted with the delicacies of social intercourse. Your aunt appreciates my efforts to give her consequence by my attention.”
“Who would not appreciate them?” Lydia grinned at Kitty, and they both burst into giggles.
Mr. Collins made an abrupt halt. The two girls noticed and stopped as well, offering him their best smiles. “Please go ahead with your elder sisters. I cannot tolerate your childish folly,” he said in the coldest possible voice. I continued as if to join them, but he spoke again before I could hurry past. “Well? Will you join me in conversation?” His tone had not warmed; it was as frosty and haughty as I had ever heard it.
He ambled along much slower than my usual brisk pace, clearly wanting to let the others get ahead. “I have noticed you are the clever sister.”
I was stunned. What could he mean by it? “Each of my sisters has her own manner of cleverness, sir. I would not presume to best them in that area.”
“You all have the ways of elegant females, and I pride myself on my ability to discern when a lady has set her sights on me. Most ladies show their esteem when they flatter my affability. Lady Catherine is also a clever woman, and she strives to please me with a great deal more than praise of my intelligence and my consequence as a member of the clergy. Can you imagine? To show her high regard for me, she even offers suggestions for household improvements. She was so astute as to design some shelves in the closet upstairs in my already most admirable and well-fitted parsonage.
“Not only is she inclined to try to impress me, but her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, who is of a sickly constitution, condescends to enjoy my company as often as she is able despite her ill health. With the former rector, she never once deigned to step further into the parsonage than the front gate, whereas I am the daily recipient of either a call by each of those ladies or an invitation to Rosings. I am accustomed to Miss de Bourgh’s frail smiles and Lady Catherine’s sage advice being offered freely to me at any time I should choose to enjoy them.”
“You are fortunate that your patroness indulges you.”
“Very much so, Miss Elizabeth. My spiritual gifts are certainly appreciated. And in return, I offer those delicate little compliments that are always acceptable to ladies.”
“May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment or are a result of previous study?”
“They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions. I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”
I pressed my lips together and averted my gaze in an effort to avoid laughing aloud at his absurdity. “You judge properly and take pride in the talent of flattering with delicacy.”
Mr. Collins’s smug expression confirmed his pride and self-importance. “I came prepared to admire you and your sisters. The young girls are most difficult. They have not the wisdom to encounter my beauty with solemnity as Miss Bennet, Miss Mary, and you are inclined. You manage yourselves well, no matter how struck you are at each opportunity to feast your eyes upon me.”
I should have bit my cheek to help restrain my response, but instead, I could not resist goading him further. “We have your example of how humble one can be when one is extraordinary.”
He nodded. “Now that I have elected to marry, my gallantry in choosing one of you as an olive branch is generous and disinterested on my part. I do not consider it excess praise to say of myself that my choice could be made from a larger and less ordinary selection of ladies, but I believe you know me well enough to recognise my benevolence in spite of my expectations.”
“You are too kind, sir.”
He took the compliment as sincere, joining his hands behind his back with an earnest expression upon his face. “That is correct, madam, but I bear it well.”
He was too much to endure! Could I somehow influence him to tether his inclination to speak excessively about himself, or was he a hopeless cause? “Has it occurred to you that it is not necessary to tell others of your attributes more than once—to trust they are astute enough to recall them or, in fact, that they may have noticed on their own and have no need for a reminder?”
“As you are intelligent enough to have discerned by now, I am a special and unique gentleman. All the ladies, including my patron and her daughter, love my appearance to the extent that every one of them desires to become my wife.”
“Mr. Collins, I doubt even you are above your station to the extent that—”
“Do not question my experience, Cousin. Lady Catherine may be too proud to say so, but when a lady’s admiration of my physical attributes is greatest, she turns covetous. I would wager the thought crossed your mind at some time.”
I bit my lip to prevent my mouth from stating that I had long since changed that opinion, influenced by none other than his own words. But he awaited a reply, so I took advantage of the opportunity. “Come, sir. You are above excessive flattery, be it of yourself or others. I advise you to pause and be quiet whilst attending to their interests. When your turn to speak comes, use thoughtful examples that show you have heard and reflected upon their views, whether you confirm or disagree. That is the way of gentlemen. You should try such a response if you desire the respect of your friends.”
“But I have their respect immediately once they know of my position and that Lady Catherine considers me a most attractive equal. I have no need to pay unwarranted attention to anyone
else. And I do pay notice enough to make up my mind about others, and in turn, they recognize my interests are superior when compared to theirs.”
Had I realized at the time what a fool I was to argue with one who did not understand how to take notice of what others had to contribute, I would have ended it and changed the topic. However, I had not yet completely understood him and continued to appeal to him for the rest of the walk home and for the several days that followed. I could not rest and allow one with such perfect looks to remain so foolish and full of himself in conversation. I could make him a much improved man if only he would heed my suggestions—perhaps even a man worth having.
Chapter 4
My cousin acted almost like a lady at times even though his appearance was pure man. He expected doors to be opened for him, and he walked in a dainty way with his hands lifted in an elegant manner and his fingers spread. Mr. Collins was effusive over the fine china at Longbourn and the delicacy of the hand-painted brush strokes. Mama thought he could scarcely wait for my father to die so he could possess them. She even went so far as to comment that she was not too old to remarry should that occur, only to have Mr. Collins sniff and run his long fingers over a painted cabinet as he paid her no heed.
His esteem of Lady Catherine may have been the reason for his affected appearance and his pleasure with delicate items. We learned that he valued everything to do with that grand lady at a card party at my Aunt Phillips’s home. He spent far too much time in detailed description of the reasons he admired the flocked fabrics on my aunt’s walls, yet that occurred only after he nearly insulted her by saying her drawing room reminded him of the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings.
Later in the evening, when Mr. Collins was invited to play cards, he declined while stuffing his hands under his arms. His nose lifted impossibly high in the air as he stated his concern about others who may have touched the cards. He then pulled out his perfect hands with longish, pretty fingernails and displayed them before us.
“Of course you must admire them! They cannot be soiled. I am very careful on this.”
My smile was probably as wooden as Jane’s, though she was the one who responded. “Of course, sir. Conversation can be held without playing games with paper objects.”
“Indeed, Miss Bennet. In addition to owning a superior appearance, you are also quite astute.”
Jane’s lashes flashed to the floor; even she was affected by such a handsome man’s comments on her beauty although she had been flattered many a time during her life.
“You may start any topic you choose, Miss Bennet. That is, unless you would rather remain silent. I am rather adept at silence should I choose.” He glared in my direction. I assume he was tired of my frequent reminders to refrain from talking about himself so frequently. “However, I find more often than not that I am called upon to fill the void at a gathering because most are not comfortable speaking of themselves the way I am. Many do not have the ability to be so explicit.” Mr. Collins’s voice rose during this speech, and those ladies not already admiring him were now openly ogling. I was not fooled. The dulcet tones of his address no longer hid from me what was about to occur: he was preparing to go on another long-winded lecture on the topic of none other than himself. “But those who have naught to say are often in my debt for my spirited discourse while they simply appreciate my elocution. In my experience, I am in great demand in more refined society. Of course, I am a talented fellow and not merely a pretty face. Fortunately for them, I am ready night and day to put my exceptional oratory skills into practice. Everyone asks for me; everyone wants me—matrons, maidens, young lads, old men, young girls. I swiftly respond to their needs like a thunderbolt!” His voice had gained volume and cadence until he was almost singing the final word.
“What a fine life!” Mr. Wickham responded after a stunned silence while a captivated audience marvelled at Mr. Collins.
“It is a pleasure. I am blessed in my predisposition.”
Mr. Wickham’s lip turned up at one end, giving him an amused appearance. “A more noble life is not to be had.”
“Precisely, sir! And I am a gentleman of many abilities.”
The room began to hum with approval of his claims. They were so enamoured with his looks and self-aggrandizing that they could not see how shallow he was, and I had long desired a relief from my suffering at his delusions of his own magnificence.
I glanced at Jane, who had inspired the lecture but clearly was not its topic. Mr. Collins may have commenced with the intention of impressing her, but he could not hold back whenever he had a chance to tell an audience that he was impressed with himself and they all should be in agreement. Certainly, that was what just had happened.
At that moment, I realized beauty was not merely skin-deep. Because Jane was so beautiful inside and out, I had little experience with people who were more attractive than they were kind. On rare occasions, I have met a person who was somewhat insincere or vain beneath a fine exterior—Mr. Darcy, for example, was too proud—but none had such a significant contrast between superior appearance and inferior intelligence as Mr. Collins.
He was so handsome that, if someone taught him how to behave, he could have a great deal more appeal. Well, it seemed that many in Hertfordshire were willing to allow him his foibles—or they did not hear them as they spewed from his lips like self-serving vomit. Oh, my! Comparing my cousin’s verbal effusions to casting his accounts surely meant I was more than a little disgruntled.
Jane’s lashes lifted as I gazed at her, wishing I could tell what she thought of his speech. When she realized I was observing her, she used an expression I had never witnessed before: she raised her brows, pinched her lips together, and rolled her eyes. Jane Bennet rolled her eyes! She, who never had a bad word to say of anyone for one second, visibly made fun of our verbose cousin.
“Lizzy! Do something!” She mouthed.
My immediate idea was to chastise him and inform him that people did not appreciate him nearly as much as he believed. Heaven knows that, in the past, I had shown restraint when suggesting improvements. But the man insisted he could rewrite the rules of polite conduct; he would force himself to be the centre of attention and ensure it with self-praise mixed with false servility.
But now was not the time for my censure. I could not chasten my cousin in front of my friends and relations even though he was embarrassing himself. It occurred to me that I had expected this to happen all along; however, anticipating correctly was no achievement. Sooner or later, he would demonstrate how small his brain was in comparison to his beauty.
But my cousin was not finished, not even close. He had taken a careful pause to ensure he had their attention before he began again.
“I am an implement of grace, as you are certain to have observed on more than one occasion. You are fortunate to be part of my earthly days.” What was he implying? That he was next to godly? Goodness gracious—the insolence of the man! How could I keep my peace under these circumstances?
Jane caught my eye again, and her lips were easily read. “Say something! Divert everyone.”
Mr. Wickham had drawn nearer, and Mr. Collins took note of him. Despite Mr. Wickham’s earlier assistance with my cousin’s speech, Mr. Collins drew in his nostrils as if something in the room smelled horrid.
Mr. Wickham smirked and dipped his head. “Good evening, Mr. Collins, ladies.”
A few ladies noticed him and replied with a smile, curtsey, and greeting as though they were more familiar with Mr. Wickham than most, but the largest group awaited words from Mr. Collins’s blessed lips.
My cousin chose to challenge his adversary for the attention of those of the fairer sex. “Of course, the clergy sit far above mere common folk, no matter where they hail from or what their position outside of, say, the militia. Tell me, Mr…”
“Wickham.”
“Mr
. Wickham…yes, who would recall such a name?” His audience tittered, and Mr. Collins grinned smugly to himself. “Tell me, sir, where is your home county?”
“Derbyshire, sir.”
“Ah, Derbyshire. A fine county, though not well situated. The county is remote, distant from town.”
“That is true, but I grew up on one of the finest estates in the kingdom and have fond memories of my home.”
“Ah, and where would that be?”
“Pemberley.”
“Ah, yes. I may have heard of it. The house and gardens are nothing to the grandeur of Rosings Park, which is the incomparable estate adjacent to my parish.”
“Perhaps not, but it is dear to me—even though I lost my own opportunity for a parish there.”
Mr. Collins raised one brow. “How could that possibly be?”
“Another man was given the living in spite of a clear promise to set the position aside for me. But mine is a complicated story, so I shall not tire our present society with its recitation. We are at a party, after all. Perhaps another time?”
The ladies waited until Mr. Collins nodded his agreement to determine their own minds on the urgency of Mr. Wickham’s tale. My cousin’s vanity won over any interest he had in another’s story. “You are right. Let us speak more of me and my accomplishments.”
But I was curious. Pemberley was Mr. Darcy’s estate. How did it occur that Mr. Wickham was from there, and how did he lose a parish promised to him? I observed him while absentmindedly listening to my cousin tell of his choice in flowers for his garden and compare the sweetest scent to Jane. When Lydia was called away to play at lottery tickets, Mr. Wickham took her seat near me at the edge of the group.
The room was noisy, so he was forced to lean over and shout into my ear to make conversation. “Mr. Collins is the most popular gentleman in Meryton, it seems.”
“Yes. When Mr. Bingley took Netherfield, he had the neighbours’ curiosity and regard, but now, primary interest has transferred to my cousin. The former may have been the wiser choice, but the eyesight of many of the local ladies overwhelms the acuity of their hearing.”
