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 to-day, because I have reason to expect an addition to
our family party.”
“Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is
coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in;
and I hope my dinners are good enough for her. I do not
believe she often sees such at home.”
“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. Why, Jane—you never dropped
a word of this—you sly thing! 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 to be got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must
speak to Hill this moment.”
“It is not Mr. Bingley,” said her husband;
“it is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my
life.”
This roused a general astonishment; and he had the
pleasure of being eagerly questioned by his wife and five daughters
at once.
After amusing himself some time with their
curiosity, he thus explained:—“About a month ago I received this
letter, and about a fortnight ago I answered it; for I thought it a
case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. 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 bear to
hear that mentioned. Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do
think it is the hardest thing in the world, that your estate should
be entailed away from your own children; and I am sure, if I had
been you, I should have tried long ago to do something or other
about it.”
Jane and Elizabeth attempted to explain to her the
nature of an entail. They had often attempted it before: but it was
a subject on which Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason; and
she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an
estate away from a family of five daughters, in favour of a man
whom nobody cared any thing about.
“It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,” said
Mr. Bennet; “and nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of
inheriting Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you
may, perhaps, be a little softened by his manner of expressing
himself.”
“No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it was
very impertinent of him to write to you at all, and very
hypocritical. I hate such false friends. Why could not he keep on
quarrelling with you, as his father did before him?”
“Why, indeed, he does seem to have had some filial
scruples on that head, as you will hear.”
“HUNSFORD, NEAR WESTERHAM, KENT, 15TH
OCTOBER”
DEAR SIR,
The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my
late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness; and, since I
have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to
heal the breach: but, for some time, I was kept back by my own
doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for
me to be on good terms with any one with whom it had always pleased
him to be at variance.—“There, Mrs. Bennet.” —My mind, however, is
now made up on the subject; for, having received ordination at
Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the
patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow
of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred
me tow the
valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest
endeavourto demean myself with grateful respect towards her
Ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies
which are instituted by the Church of England. 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; and on
these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures of good
will are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being
next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on
your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch. I
cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring
your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well
as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible
amends; but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to
receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of
waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four
o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the
Saturday se’nightx
following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady
Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a
Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the
duty of the day. 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
peacemaking gentleman,” said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the
letter. “He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man,
upon my word; and, I doubt not, will prove a valuable acquaintance,
especially if Lady Catherine should be so indulgent as to let him
come to us again.”
“There is some sense in what he says about the
girls, however; and, if he is disposed to make them any amends, I
shall not be the person to discourage him.”
“Though it is difficult,” said Jane, “to guess in
what way he can mean to make us the atonement he thinks our
due,6 the wish
is certainly to his credit.”
Elizabeth was chiefly struck with his extraordinary
deference for Lady Catherine, and his kind intention of
christening, marrying, and burying his parishioners whenever it
were required.
“He must be an oddity, I think,” said she. “I
cannot make him out. There is something very pompous in his style.
And what can he mean by apologising for being next in the entail?
We cannot suppose he would help it, if he could. Can he be a
sensible man, sir?”
“No, my dear; I think not. I have great hopes of
finding him quite the reverse. There is a mixture of servility and
self-importance in his letter which promises well. I am impatient
to see him.”
“In point of composition,” said Mary, “his letter
does not seem defective. The idea of the olive branch perhaps is
not wholly new, yet I think it is well expressed.”
To Catherine and Lydia neither the letter nor its
writer were in any degree interesting. It was next to impossible
that their cousin should come in a scarlet coat, and it was now
some weeks since they had received pleasure from the society of a
man in any other colour. As for their mother, Mr. Collins’s letter
had done away much of her ill-will, and she was preparing to see
him 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. Mr. Bennet
indeed said little; but the ladies were ready enough to talk, and
Mr. Collins seemed neither in need of encouragement, nor inclined
to be silent himself. He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of
five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately, and his manners
were very formal. He had not been long seated before he
complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters,
said he had heard much of their beauty, but that, in this instance,
fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not
doubt her seeing them all in due time well disposed of in marriage.
This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers;
but Mrs. Bennet, who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most
readily,—
“You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish with
all my heart it may prove so; for else they will be destitute
enough. Things are settled so oddly.”
“You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this
estate.”
“Ah, sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to
my poor girls, you must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with
you, for such things I know are all chance in this world.
There is no knowing how estates will go when once they come to be
entailed.”
“I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my
fair cousins, and could say much on the subject, but that I am
cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the
young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will
not say more, but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted—”
He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the
girls smiled on each other. They were not the only objects of Mr.
Collins’s admiration. The hall, the dining-room, and all its
furniture, were examined and praised; and his commendation of every
thing would have touched Mrs. Bennet’s heart, but for the
mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own future
property. The dinner, too, in its turn, was highly admired; and he
begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellence of its
cookery was owing. But here he was set right by Mrs. Bennet, who
assured him, with some asperity, that they were very well able to
keep a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the
kitchen. He begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened
tone she declared herself not at all offended; but he continued to
apologise for about a quarter of an hour.