Page 29 of Undone

"Tomorrow!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Tomorrow, Mr. Bennet? And you choose to tell me only now, when there is scarcely time to prepare the house? Really, I never heard of such a thing. What can the man have been thinking?"

"I imagine he intended to give us rather more notice than this," said Mr. Bennet calmly, returning to his dinner. "The accident to the mail coach and the weather have conspired against him as much as against us. I therefore find myself as much a victim of circumstance as you, though I confess I bear it with rather greater composure."

"I am sure I cannot conceive why he should come at all," Mrs. Bennet declared. "Unless it is to inspect the house he expects one day to call his own."

"I rather suspect his object is a little more particular than that."

Elizabeth grimaced. There was a familiar expression about her father's mouth, one she knew exceedingly well. He had already reached the conclusion of the matter and was merely amusing himself by delaying everyone else's arrival at it.

"He writes," Mr. Bennet continued, "that having lately obtained a comfortable living and an income sufficient for his wants, he now considers it his duty to set an example of matrimony within his parish. He adds that he cannot but reflect upon the peculiar circumstances of our own family in that respect, and hopes, by his visit, to make every possible amends for what he repeatedly calls the unfortunate entailment."

Jane regarded him with mild perplexity.

Elizabeth, however, required no further explanation. Two years earlier, Miss Ruth, the daughter of a neighbouring family, had married her cousin solely because of an entail. There was scarcely any other means by which such a circumstance could be amended.

"He intends to marry one of us," she said.

"I believe that is very much his intention, Lizzy," replied Mr. Bennet. "Though he has employed nearly an entire page to arrive at so simple a conclusion, and with such industry that I cannot but admire it. I have seldom read anything so wonderfully laborious."

"What is it that you find so amusing, Papa?" Elizabeth asked, though she suspected, from the look upon his face, that he had not yet exhausted the entertainment to be found in his cousin's letter.

"Well," said Mr. Bennet, "Mr. Collins scarcely reaches the second paragraph before every sentiment he expresses is measured against the wisdom and benevolence of his patroness. I believe I have never encountered so much gratitude bestowed upon one lady in so little space."

He tapped the folded letter thoughtfully against the table.

"He keeps mentioning a Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of Rosings, for whom he appears to entertain the highest reverence. He mentions her no fewer than four times in as many paragraphs, and each mention exceeds the last in admiration. If the remainder of his conversation bears any resemblance to his correspondence, I anticipate a very agreeable fortnight."

Elizabeth felt an unexpected flutter beneath her ribs. Her pulse quickened before she could account for it

Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings?

That was the very name Mr. Darcy had spoken upon Oakham Mount only a few mornings past. It was his aunt, the lady whohad wished him to marry her cousin Anne, and who had scarcely spoken to him since he declined her.

She very nearly exclaimed it aloud before she caught herself. To explain how she came by such knowledge would require confessing that she had spent the better part of the last fortnight walking almost daily with Mr. Darcy, conversing with him upon subjects infinitely more personal than any member of her family could imagine. She had no wish to invite such astonishment.

Instead, she lowered her eyes to her plate and occupied herself with her dinner, though her thoughts had wandered far from it.

How extraordinary that her father's absurd cousin should prove connected, however distantly, to Mr. Darcy's family. The world was forever shrinking in upon itself in the most unexpected ways.

Mrs. Bennet, meanwhile, had no leisure for contemplating such coincidences.

"Mrs. Hill!" she called, before the housekeeper had quite entered the dining parlour in answer to the bell. "We are to have a guest tomorrow. Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennet's cousin. We shall require the blue chamber to be aired at once, and there must be something particularly good for lunch. We cannot have the gentleman think us indifferent to his comfort."

Mrs. Hill assured her everything would be attended to before withdrawing once more.

"I wonder what sort of man he is," Kitty said.

"I hope he is handsome," Lydia declared. "If he is to stay a fortnight, I should like him to be tolerable to look at."

"I hope he is sensible," Mary observed. "A clergyman ought to possess a cultivated understanding."

"I should be content if he possesses ordinary civility," Mrs. Bennet replied. "Though I own I shall like him infinitely better if he has forgotten every word of that wretched entail."

Mr. Bennet smiled over the rim of his glass.

"I fear, my dear, his memory is unlikely to prove so accommodating."

The conversation soon dissolved into speculation, each member of the family forming a different picture of the cousin who was expected on the morrow.