Page 61 of Without Pride and Prejudice
“Yes, quite the pleasure,” Mr. Bennet replied sardonically.
Mr. Collins was either dense or calculating and only grinned, not batting an eye at the slight.
“May I introduce my wife, Mrs. Bennet, and my daughters, Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia,” Mr. Bennet made introductions. We each curtsied as our names were called.
“My fair cousins.” Mr. Collins bowed. “I bring greetings from the honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, my patroness.”
None of the women said anything. Mrs. Bennet was balling up her fists, wanting to punch him in the face. His pretty face, mind you.
“Let us get out of the cold,” Mr. Bennet said as he ushered us in.
Mr. Collins, adept at elegant compliments, sidled up to Mrs. Bennet and began paying her every kindness, even though I felt his eyes scrutinizing me. He was definitely here to report back on me.
Mary took my hand and whispered in my ear, “He is handsome.”
“Yes,” I agreed, but now after meeting him in person, I was less sure about him than when I’d read about him.
“What a charming house,” Mr. Collins pontificated as we all followed him and our parents to the parlor. “I am glad to find it in such good order.”
Mrs. Bennet tchted. “Did you think it would be in disrepair?”
“No, madam,” Mr. Collins exaggerated. “I hope I did not cause offense. I only meant to compliment you on your excellent home.”
Right. And I was the Princess of Wales.
Mary went straight to the pianoforte when we entered the parlor and began playing “Come, We That Love the Lord.”
Mr. Collins left Mama’s side and drifted Mary’s way, like some magical force had drawn him there. “My dear cousin, how did you know this was my favorite hymn?” To our shock, or at least to mine, he began to sing like he was Frank Churchill in Gwyneth Paltrow’sEmma. “Come, we that love the Lord, and let our joys be known; join in a song with sweet accord.” He sang every note perfectly.
This seemed all too surreal. Was I really this good? Had I changed the course of the story so much that Mr. Collins was not only a babe but an amazing vocalist? More surprising was Mary singing along with him, their voices blending perfectly together. It was as I had always suspected—they were meant to be, even if he was a sneaky spy for Lady Catherine.
There was nothing left for the rest of us to do but sit and listen to them.
Jane and I shared severalwhat in the worldglances, while Lydia and Kitty played with Duke. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet gaped at Mary like they hardly knew her. Weird, since it was me they didn’t really know. I hardly knew myself anymore.
We passed the time away in this manner before our dinner guests arrived, listening not only to Mary and Mr. Collins’s duets, but to their discussions of Fordyce’s sermons as well. Mary really swooned when Mr. Collins read the following passage with such passion:
“It has been the wisdom of all nations to guard the females of their community with peculiar care. Nature and custom have alike prescribed this necessity. Accordingly, in all countrieswhere the fair sex are well regarded, in such countries the inhabitants are most refined. For, as it has been often observed, there is no surer test of the real politeness of any people than the state of their women. Their ignorance or education, their licentiousness or delicacy, their indolence or industry, their low or liberal accomplishments—these, when fairly stated, are sufficient to show us what we are to expect in other respects. And it holds as true in morality as in mechanics, that the same causes in the same circumstances will produce similar effects.”
I would have so giggled if Fitz said something like that to me trying to woo me. Granted, it was better than the “Darcy” speech he’d given me.
With Mr. Collins and Mary so smitten with each other, I kept waiting for Mr. Roarke to show up and tell me I’d completed my fantasy of being the best Elizabeth and being able to fix things. Sure, Mr. Darcy hadn’t proposed yet, but he’d sent me a kitten, and we seemed headed in that direction. He wanted me to meet his sister, after all.
But Mr. Roarke never came. Apparently, the fantasy, or dream, or afterlife had to go on. And go on it did. Let’s just say I could guess why Mr. Roarke hadn’t shown up yet to take me back to reality, because reality came to call in a big, big way.
I’d been bracing myself for Mr. Collins to fawn all over Mr. Darcy ... but no, Mr. Collins focused all his attention on Mary during the first course of mushroom soup. Talk about love at first sight. Had he forgotten his mission to spy on me?
It certainly helped to ease my nerves as we all sat around the table, Mr. Darcy next to me.
“I have not had the chance to thank you for the kitten. I love him.”
Mrs. Bennet had insisted Lydia leave him in a basket in the parlor, despite her pleas to bring him to dinner.
Mr. Darcy set his spoon down and turned to gaze at me. “You have me doing the oddest things,” he admitted.
He sounded like Fitz there, whom I had forced to watch the strangest musicals of our time. “Is that a bad thing, Mr. Darcy?” Could he love me for my oddities?
“Not at all, Miss Bennet. In fact—”
