Chapter 22
The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases;
and again, during the chief of the day, was Miss Lucas so kind as
to listen to Mr. Collins. Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking
her. “It keeps him in good humour,” said she, “and I am more
obliged to you than I can express.” Charlotte assured her friend of
her satisfaction in being useful, and that it amply repaid her for
the little sacrifice of her time. This was very amiable; but
Charlotte’s kindness extended farther than Elizabeth had any
conception of:—its object was nothing less than to secure her from
any return of Mr. Collins’s addresses, by engaging them towards
herself. Such was Miss Lucas’s scheme; and appearances were so
favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt
almost sure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so
very soon. But here she did injustice to the fire and independence
of his character; for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House
the next morning with admirable sliness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge
to throw himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of
his cousins, from a conviction that, if they saw him depart, they
could not fail to conjecture his design, and he was not willing to
have the attempt known till its success could be known likewise;
for, though feeling almost secure, and with reason, for Charlotte
had been tolerably encouraging, he was comparatively diffident
since the adventure of Wednesday. His reception, however, was of
the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived him from an upper
window as he walked towards the house, and instantly set out to
meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had she dared to hope
that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.
In as short a time as Mr. Collins’s long speeches
would allow, every thing was settled between them to the
satisfaction of both; and as they entered the house, he earnestly
entreated her to name the day that was to make him the happiest of
men; and though such a solicitation must be waved for the present,
the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his happiness. The
stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must guard his
courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its
continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure
and disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon
that establishment were gained.
Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to
for their consent; and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity.
Mr. Collins’s present circumstances made it a most eligible match
for their daughter, to whom they could give little fortune; and his
prospects of future wealth were exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began
directly to calculate, with more interest than the matter had ever
excited before, how many years longer Mr. Bennet was likely to
live; and Sir William gave it as his decided opinion, that whenever
Mr. Collins should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it
would be highly expedient that both he and his wife should make
their appearance at St. James’s. The whole family in short were
properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes
of coming outaj a
year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done; and the
boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte’s dying an
old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained
her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in
general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible
nor agreeable: his society was irksome, and his attachment to her
must be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without
thinking highly either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always
been her object: it was the only honourable provision for
well-educated young women of small fortune, and, however uncertain
of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from
want. This preservative she had now obained; and at the age of
twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all the
good luck of it. The least agreeable circumstance in the business
was the surprise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose
friendship she valued beyond that of any other person. Elizabeth
would wonder, and probably would blame her; and though her
resolution was not to be shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such
a disapprobation. She resolved to give her the information herself;
and therefore charged Mr. Collins, when he returned to Longbourn to
dinner, to drop no hint of what had passed before any of the
family. A promise of secrecy was of course very dutifully given,
but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity
excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct
questions on his return, as required some ingenuity to evade, and
he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was
longing to publish his prosperous love.
As he was to begin his journey too early on the
morrow to see any of the family, the ceremony of leave-taking was
performed when the ladies moved for the night; and Mrs. Bennet,
with great politeness and cordiality, said how happy they should be
to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his other engagements might
allow him to visit them.
“My dear madam,” he replied, “this invitation is
particularly gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to
receive; and you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of
it as soon as possible.”
They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could
by no means wish for so speedy a return, immediately said,—
“But is there not danger of Lady Catherine’s
disapprobation here, my good sir? You had better neglect your
relations than run the risk of offending your patroness.”
“My dear sir,” replied Mr. Collins, “I am
particularly obliged to you for this friendly caution, and you may
depend upon my not taking so material a step without her Ladyship’s
concurrence.”
“You cannot be too much on your guard. Risk any
thing rather than her displeasure; and if you find it likely to be
raised by your coming to us again, which I should think exceedingly
probable, stay quietly at home, and be satisfied that we
shall take no offence.”
“Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly
excited by such affectionate attention; and, depend upon it, you
will speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this as well
as for every other mark of your regard during my stay in
Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though my absence may not be
long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the liberty of
wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my cousin
Elizabeth.”
With proper civilities, the ladies then withdrew;
all of them equally surprised to find that he meditated a quick
return. Mrs. Bennet wished to understand by it that he thought of
paying his addresses to one of her younger girls, and Mary might
have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much
higher than any of the others: there was a solidity in his
reflections which often struck her; and though by no means so
clever as herself, she thought that, if encouraged to read and
improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very
agreeable companion. But on the following morning every hope of
this kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast,
and in a private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the
day before.
The possibility of Mr. Collins’s fancying himself
in love with her friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the
last day or two: but that Charlotte could encourage him seemed
almost as far from possibility as that she could encourage him
herself; and her astonishment was consequently so great as to
overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not help
crying out,—
“Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte,
impossible!”
The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had
commanded in telling her story gave way to a momentary confusion
here on receiving so direct a reproach; though, as it was no more
than she expected, she soon regained her composure, and calmly
replied,—
“Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you
think it incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any
woman’s good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed
with you?”
But Elizabeth had now recollected herself; and,
making a strong effort for it, was able to assure her, with
tolerable firmness, that the prospect of their relationship was
highly grateful to her, and that she wished her all imaginable
happiness.
“I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte:
“you must be surprised, very much surprised, so lately as Mr.
Collins was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to
think it all over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have
done. I am not romantic, you know. I never was. I ask only a
comfortable home; and, considering Mr. Collins’s character,
connections, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance
of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on
entering the marriage state.”
Elizabeth quietly answered “undoubtedly;” and,
after an awkward pause, they returned to the rest of the family.
Charlotte did not stay much longer; and Elizabeth was then left to
reflect on what she had heard. It was a long time before she became
at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The
strangeness of Mr. Collins’s making two offers of marriage within
three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted. She
had always felt that Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony was not
exactly like her own; but she could not have supposed it possible
that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every
better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte, the wife of Mr.
Collins, was a most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a
friend disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem was added the
distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be
tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen.