Page 2 of Mr Collins in Love
“Yes, Mr.Collins, but I do not make this observation in general terms.Indeed, I have given the matter some thought and I see no reason for you to delay.You are five-and-twenty, are you not?That isquiteold enough for marriage.”She lifted a hand as if I had tried to interject.“Gentlemen of leisure may marry when they please—though what they hope to gain by delaying overlongIfail to comprehend—but you are not a gentleman of leisure.You are the rector of Hunsford and as such you must consider your position and the duties incumbent upon you.”
I opened my mouth to say that Ididconsider my position, that I considered it almost every waking hour and often at night too, and that I took my duties very seriously indeed, but she was speaking again.
“A wife will greatly assist you in those duties.I am an observant person, as you know, and I have often remarked that a parson’s wife may facilitate any number of small matters about the parish.”She picked up her cake and added, “Beef tea.Baskets.And so on.”She took a bite of cake.
I wanted to say that if it were truly a matter of facilitating my duties, what I really needed was a new cob, because Pilot was lame again, and in the matter of saving shoe leather, a new horse would be a great deal more use than a wife.But I realised, just in time, that a new cob could not make beef tea, and that in any case Lady Catherine likely was not truly interested in facilitating my duties.She wished me to marry for reasons of her own—because she thought it fitting, or to prove to herself the degree of control she had over me, or perhaps simply because a clergyman’s wife may be counted upon to make up the numbers at quadrille when there is no better company to be had.
“Quite so, Ma’am,” I murmured.“Beef tea.Quite so.”
Lady Catherine nodded.“Moreover, the parsonage is well appointed—” She cocked her head, as if considering justhowwell appointed.I winced internally, for I was conscious of the great comfort in which I lived, my father having taught me well to both crave luxury and to feel guilty about enjoying it.
“—verywell appointed,” Lady Catherine was saying.“Somemight consider it now almosttoowell appointed for a clergyman, though I’m sure I should not concern myself with such quibbling.”
It was a threat, of course.I can be stupid when it comes to conversation, but I am good at recognising threats, having become accustomed over the years.
Lady Catherine glanced around the drawing-room, as if daring us to leap up and contradict her.
Miss de Bourgh murmured, “No, Ma’am,” and Mrs Jenkinson did likewise.I joined them; an echo of an echo.Polite demurrals seemed to linger always in that drawing-room, caught in the very upholstery like the grubs of moths.
Lady Catherine inclined her head, mollified by our chorus, but the steely glint in her eye remained.“Very well, then.It is settled.Mr.Collins, you are to marry.I am sure you will not disappoint me.”
“No, Ma’am.”
I hoped that was an end to the matter, for my hands were shaking and my stomach cramping around the mouthful of tea and the bite of cake I had consumed.But when I dared to glance up, she was still watching me in that new and unnerving manner, sparse eyebrows raised in mild expectation.
I added, “I’m sure I hope I should never do that.Indeed, when your ladyship has bestowed such unlooked-for generosity upon her humble servant, I should be mortified to cause even an ounce of disappointment.”
I spoke fluently enough and allowed myself a moment of pride at being able to speak at all.My Trafford trick was clever, indeed it was.But my heart was sunk to my lights, for I could see there would be no escaping this most unpleasant of circumstances.
Lady Catherine moved on to other topics.I nodded, tutted, murmured a word of praise or censure, added a suitable allusion, now Biblical, now classical, and generally did all I could to comport myself as the rector of Hunsford.I felt, however, as a boy awaiting a beating.It was only the company that stopped a tear from escaping my eye.I did not want to marry.I had no interest whatsoever in such an adventure, for reasons both personal and private.
But now I must find a suitable woman.Respectable, but not too fine.I must woo her.That meant dancing, alas.Making conversation, more was the pity.Praise of her more amiable qualities.Well, the latter I could do.I was accustomed to thinking up little compliments to try to please the ladies.
Then I must tell her I wished to make her my wife.
Wait.
First, I must assure her of my high esteem and most tender feelings.Yes, that was expected.ThenI must tell her I wished her to be my wife.
I must marry her.Then I must lie with her, more than once, though I was uncertain how often was considered proper.Elegant females did not speak of such things and so perhaps did not have great expectations in that area.Indeed, perhaps they preferred husbands who did not make many demands of that type?Ah, but women expected children, did they not?So, it would likely be necessary to lie with her until she’d had at least one child, or probably three or four.
And then—upon my word, but the horror was coming ever clearer!—she would have opinions.She would have preferences.She would invite company beyond what was necessary.She might want alteration in my little household.She might want me to turn off Mrs Fowke, my housekeeper.She might dislike Milly, the maid.She might say that old George, Mrs Fowke’s brother, was too infirm to dig the garden and tend the animals.
I wanted no change to anything.Mrs Fowke was a kindly, bustling sort who made excellent suet puddings and boiled her potatoes to a nicety; never too much, never too little.Milly was quiet, middle-aged, untroublesome.Perhaps there was sometimes dust upon the window ledges but that mattered not since she neither sang nor clattered as she went about her business.No, I must not lose Milly.
And George—it was true he suffered from his rheumatics very severely sometimes and that he was prone to agues besides, but if that meant I had to do a little extra, well, Ilikedworking in the garden.I enjoyed it above all things.And he was not terrifying in the manner of so many gardeners of my acquaintance.I did not have to gird my loins to give him a simple direction about the leeks.He had never once glowered or sulked.
A wife could ruin it all.She might want me to get a new man.A carriage.Fancy things from London.She would fuss and make alterations and say things wouldn’t do.And I should have to listen to her and do as she said, for a man is a tyrant if he does not listen to his wife and the rector of Hunsford must set a good example.
Yet I could not refuse Lady Catherine.A few short months ago I had expected to remain a curate all my life, or at least for decades, until Mr Bennet died and I could inherit Longbourn.Being given the living at Hunsford was the type of good fortune that came but once a lifetime.I owed my patroness everything.
I took my leave at six o’clock and walked home through Rosings Park.It was Sunday evening, usually the best part of the week with my duty done for the day.The park was glorious, the sunlight slanting green and gold through the summer trees, but I could not enjoy it.Instead, I must consider the young females of my acquaintance with a view to matrimonial suitability.
There was Miss Cowper.She had a kind smile and was pleasant to behold.But she was surely too fine, and anyway, was there not talk of an understanding with Captain Harvey?
There was Miss Cook, but she was too giddy for a rector’s wife.She was loud besides, with a clear, carrying voice and a laugh that set my teeth on edge.
There was Miss Norris.She spoke soft and never raised her eyes.She would make no demands upon me, I was bound, nor insist upon my hiring a new housekeeper or a new man.But she must be five-and-thirty, at least.Lady Catherine would never approve my marrying such an old maid.
