beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday. She told them that they could not possibly have the carriage before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them very well.
Miss Bingley was very sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.
The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were going to leave so soon, and tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her – that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm.
To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence – Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked – and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her.
On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, took place. Miss Bingley’s civility to Elizabeth increased at last very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, she even shook hands with the former.
They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet wondered at their coming. But their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle.
They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of human nature. Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, and Colonel Forster was going to be married.
Chapter 13
“I hope, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at breakfast the next morning, “that you have ordered a good dinner today, because I expect an addition to our family party.”
“Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming.”
“The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled. “A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley. But – good Lord! how unlucky! There is not a bit of fish today.”
“It is not Mr. Bingley,” said her husband; “it is a person whom I never saw in my life.”
This roused a general astonishment.
“About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago I answered it. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”
“Oh! my dear,” cried his wife, “I cannot hear that. Please do not talk of that odious man. Your estate should be entailed away from your own children!”
“Nothing can prevent Mr. Collins from inheriting Longbourn,” said Mr. Bennet, “but you must listen to his letter.”
“No, I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent of him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false friends.”
“This is his letter:
“Dear Sir, -
“The disagreement between yourself and my father always gave me much uneasiness. I have been so fortunate to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh. As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence. I would be very much obliged to meet your nice daughters as well. If you have no objection to receive me into your house, I will be glad to visit you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o’clock. I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
“William Collins”
“At four o’clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman,” said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. “He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, upon my word.”
“There is some sense in what he says about the girls. If he wants to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to discourage him.”
“There is something very pompous in his style, I think,” said Elizabeth. “Could he be a sensible man, sir?”
“No, my dear, I think not. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him.”
To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any degree interesting. As for their mother, she was preparing to see Mr. Collins with a degree of composure which astonished her husband and daughters.
Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great politeness by the whole family. He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of twenty-five.
Chapter 14
During dinner, Mr. Bennet did not speak at all; but when the servants were gone, he thought to start a conversation with his guest. He mentioned Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. She had asked him twice to dine together, and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many people he knew, but he had never seen anything but affability in her. She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman. She had even advised him to marry as soon as he could; and had once paid him a visit in his humble house.
“That is all very proper and civil, I am sure,” said Mrs. Bennet, “and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?”
“The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship’s residence.”
“I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?”
“She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property.”
“Ah!” said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is happier than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?”
“She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says that Miss de Bourgh is very beautiful. But she is unfortunately of a sickly constitution.”
Mr. Bennet’s expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as stupid as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment.
By teatime Mr. Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room, and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily agreed, and a book was brought; but when he saw it, begging pardon, he protested. He said that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were brought, and he chose Fordyce’s Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with:
“Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of Richard? I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more about it.”
Mr. Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said:
“I
