Chapter Twenty-Nine

I t was perhaps fortunate that Mr. Bennet had forgotten to inform his wife of the expected visit of his cousin and heir to the estate, Mr. Collins. His oversight had spared the family hours and hours of Mrs. Bennet wailing about the unfairness of the entail. Indeed, the family had heard quite enough of that over the years.

But as a result of this oversight, there was quite a furor when Mr. Collins arrived at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet stomped into Mr. Bennet's sanctuary without even knocking. "Mr. Bennet!" she screeched.

"Yes, my dear?" her spouse enquired, not looking up from his book.

"Mr. Collins is here and he seems to think he is expected!"

This caused her husband to look up. The chagrin on his face told Mrs. Bennet everything she needed to know. She left the room, slamming the door hard behind her.

"Hill! Hill!"

The housekeeper appeared behind Mrs. Bennet, drying her hands on her apron.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"We have an unexpected guest who must be treated with every courtesy. I will delay him while you make certain that the guest room is ready for him."

"Yes, ma'am." Mrs. Hill scurried off.

Mrs. Bennet returned to the parlour, where her three older daughters were doing their best to not alert Mr. Collins to the fact that his arrival had been unexpected. They had enquired as to the comfort of his journey, his current residence, and his occupation. Thus, they now knew that his journey had been tolerable, that he lived in a town called Hunsford in the county of Kent, and that he was a rector.

Mrs. Bennet joined the group, offering her guest tea, which was accepted. After about twenty minutes, Mrs. Hill popped her head around the corner and gave Mrs. Bennet a quick nod.

With a sigh of relief, Mrs. Bennet now offered to escort her unexpected guest to his room. He gratefully rose, picked up his valise, and followed his hostess up the stairs. If he wondered why it had taken so long for him to be given a room, he kept it to himself.

No sooner had he vanished upstairs, then the three older Bennet girls began a whispered conversation.

Jane said, "Mama is going to have strong words with Papa for not telling her about this visit."

Elizabeth added, "And no one could possibly blame her. Mama has had to have Hill run up to get the guest room ready, and now will have to speak with Cook to make certain that there is an adequate dinner prepared for him."

Then Mary said, reprovingly, "He is a man of the cloth, remember. He will forgive any difficulties that arise."

No one bothered with a response to this.

Mr. Collins soon returned to the parlour. He was, he said, delighted by the room he had been given. He was delighted by the reception he had received by his relatives here at Longbourn. He was delighted by Longbourn itself, and he looked forward to inheriting it, but not anytime soon, of course. He was delighted by the beauty of his female cousins, and hoped to see a good deal more of them in the future.

The two older girls traded glances as he continued. Elizabeth thought of the Friar in the Canterbury Tales: A friar there was, a wanton and a merry, a limiter, a full solémpnè man. In all the orders four is none that can so much of dalliance and fair language. She and Papa had argued at length as to the meaning of the word solémpnè , but this man certainly was doing his best to accomplish the fair language part of the quote. She could hope that Mr. Collins was more like the Parson. He was a shepherd and not a mercenary. And though he holy were and virtuous, he was to sinful men not despitous, Nor of his speechè daungerous nor digne, but in his teaching díscreet and benign. But she rather doubted it.