Page 24 of The Heart Has Its Reasons

Mr. Collins’s expression altered, and he cleared his throat, conflicted as to how best to respond. “Lady Catherine is indeed most generous to all those under her purview. Why, the day before my departure, I was speaking to her of a young woman whose husband had sadly passed on and was unable to care for herself and her young child. Lady Catherine provided the most practical suggestion that the woman might go into service.”

A brief silence followed, broken by Miss Lucas’s voice. “Sir, I wonder if the young woman is able to go into service. Who would care for her child? Even if she can find someone to care for the babe, our servants are paid but once a month. If she is in dire need, she may not be able to wait so long. I do hope that some food or money was provided for their temporary needs.”

Mr. Collins’s eyes darted between his interlocutors as he considered her words, and his mind worked quickly to contrive a response that showed his patroness to advantage. Thankfully, he did not need to respond, for Miss Mary did so for him. “I wonder if the young lady would have accepted a gift of money or food. That can feel much more like charity, which she might not wish to be the recipient of. Assistance in finding suitable employment, on the other hand, allows a person to maintain their dignity.”

“That is indeed a valuable point, Miss Mary,” said Mr. Collins with approval. “Lady Catherine is always most considerate in her recommendations, ensuring that they uphold not only the needs but also the dignity of the individual.”

Charlotte, however, was unconvinced. “Certainly, employment is an excellent long-term solution, but immediate needs cannot be ignored. Her child will not care that the mother maintained her dignity if its belly is empty.”

Mary was about to reply that Charlotte’s point was a good one, and unless they knew exactly how dire the situation was, such a matter could not be settled. However, their conversation was redirected by the entrance of Lady Lucas and Mr. Lucas and the necessity of introductions.

“I must admit that I have long been curious about the mysterious cousin that is heir to the Longbourn Estate,” said Mr. Lucas with good humour. “I am glad to know that you mean to come to know the area and its people before the time comes for you to take over. It will certainly reassure the tenants.”

Mr. Collins had never considered that his current visit would impact the tenants, nor did he intend on visiting them, but he gave his agreement to Mr. Lucas’s words, then added with a smile at Mary, “I hope, perhaps, that a future closer connection to the Bennets will relieve the local populace even further.”

Mary’s cheeks flushed crimson at Mr. Collins’s unexpected declaration, her gaze dropping to study her folded hands with sudden intensity. Across the room, Mr. Lucas’s jovial expression slipped away, his eyes narrowing in assessment of the clergyman. The notion that a Bennet daughter might align herself with such a man had never crossed his mind until this very moment. More telling still was Mary’s silence; she did not refute or even distract from Mr. Collins’s claims. Mr. Lucas’s thoughts were thrown into a tumult as he considered what a marriage to Mr. Collins would mean for his friend. Financial security, certainly, but at a significant cost. What of her mind? How would one such as she bear up with such a man as Mr. Collins as the companion of her life? Certainly, he could not provide her with much intellectual stimulation. Even more repulsive was the thought of such a mind bound to such a man, of the intimacies a wife could not refuse. The very consideration of it was an offence to his sensibilities.

“Are you quite well, Mr. Lucas?” asked Miss Bennet with concern.

“I am well, thank you,” he said. “I was seized by a momentary indisposition.”

Mary finally glanced up from her hands, raising her eyes to meet his. He could read confusion and a hint of fear in her gaze, a betrayal of her contemplation of the future Mr. Collins had so boldly implied. He wished he might reassure her, to offer some protection against the future Mr. Collins had so boldly implied, but now was neither the time nor the place.

Thankfully, the conversation was soon directed to the needs of those in the parish and the assistance that might be offered. Mr. Collins had a great deal to say about what his patroness would think the proper course of action would be, opinions to which his audience paid very little heed. After a call of far greater length than they had intended, the Bennets departed with their absurd guest, leaving Mr. Lucas to wonder at how he should act.

Chapter 13

As neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bennet raised any objection to the young people’s engagement with their aunt, and as Mr. Collins, after some inward struggle, reconciled himself to leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for an evening, it was thus that Mrs. Ellington, leaning heavily upon her cane, accompanied her five nieces and Mr. Collins into Mrs. Phillips’s drawing-room at precisely half-past six. She settled herself in a chair with a clear view of the room, her sharp eyes scanning the company to ensure her young charges were properly positioned.

Mr. Collins admired the size and arrangement of the room, declaring it almost like the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings. At first, this comparison gave Mrs. Phillips little pleasure; but once she learned what Rosings was and who owned it—after hearing of Lady Catherine’s splendid rooms and a chimney-piece worth eight hundred pounds—she felt the full weight of the compliment and would hardly have objected even to a comparison with the housekeeper’s room. Mrs. Ellington merely offered a quiet, unimpressed sniff, keeping her focus on the girls.

Mrs. Phillips proved to be a most attentive listener to Mr. Collins’s discourse; her nieces, however, were less obliging. Mrs. Ellington caught Lydia’s eye and gave a slight, warning shake of her head, which served to dampen the girl’s fidgeting. Their impatience grew upon learning that several officers—including Mr. Wickham and Mr. Denny—were expected, and were, in fact, already within the house, though presently occupied with Mr. Phillips in his study. The interval, filled only with the conversation of Mr. Collins and their aunt, seemed interminable; yet scarcely ten minutes had passed before the gentlemen at last entered. There were but five officers in attendance that evening, a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond the others in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the red-faced, pompous Mr. Collins.

Mr. Wickham, having heard through other officers that Mr. Bingley’s attentions had been fixed upon the prettiest girl in the room, determined that he ought to seek out that lady’s sister. As he moved through the room, he paused briefly to bow to Mrs. Ellington; she returned the gesture with a stiff, guarded inclination of her head, her gaze following him until he reached the ladies.

Upon remembering there were four, he went against his usual rule of seeking out the youngest, choosing instead the one whom he had observed Mr. Darcy admiring the day before, in the very moment before Darcy had become aware of his own presence. She was a young lady of perhaps twenty years, with dark hair and friendly, laughing eyes. She was not the fashionable sort of pretty, but he could understand why she might interest one such as Darcy.

Putting on his most charming smile, he sat down near her to watch the game of lottery tickets before them. Mrs. Ellington, seated only a few paces away, adjusted her shawl and did not look away from the group. “Your sister does very well at this game,” he said to her, as the youngest Bennet delighted in winning yet another round.