Chapter 13

"My dear," Mr. Bennet said to his wife at breakfast the next morning, "I hope you have told the cook to make a fine dinner today. I think our family will grow by one person."

"Who do you mean, my dear? I do not know of anybody coming, unless Charlotte Lucas happens to call. I think my dinners are good enough for her. She does not often see such food at her own home."

"The person I mean is a gentleman, and a stranger."

Mrs. Bennet's eyes lit up. "A gentleman and a stranger! It must be Mr. Bingley. Why, Jane, you never said a word about this. You sly little thing! I shall be very glad to see Mr. Bingley. But dear me, what bad luck! There is not a bit of fish to be had today. 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 I have never seen in my life."

This news surprised everyone. His wife and five daughters all began asking eager questions at once. Mr. Bennet enjoyed their curiosity very much.

After enjoying their curiosity for a while, he explained. "About a month ago, I received this letter. And about two weeks ago, I answered it. It was a delicate matter, and I thought it best to attend to it early. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins — the man who can turn you all out of this house the moment I am dead, if he wishes."

"Oh, my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that. Please do not speak of that hateful man. That your own estate should be entailed away from your own daughters — I cannot think of anything more cruel. If I were you, I would have tried to do something about it long ago."

Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to their mother how the entail worked. They had tried many times before, but Mrs. Bennet could never understand it. She always spoke bitterly of the cruel law that took an estate away from a family of five daughters and gave it to a man nobody cared about.

"It is certainly a very unfair thing," said Mr. Bennet. "Nothing can save Mr. Collins from inheriting Longbourn. But if you listen to his letter, the way he writes it may soften your feelings a little."

"No, it certainly will not. I think it was very rude and false of him to write to you at all. I hate such false friends. Why could he not go on being on bad terms with you, the way his father was?"

"Well, it seems his conscience troubled him a little on that point, as a son. You will hear what he says."

"Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, October 15.

"Dear Sir,

"The long quarrel between you and my dear father, who has now passed away, always troubled me deeply. After I lost him, I often wished to end the bad feeling between our two families. But for a time, I held back. I feared that being friendly with a man my father always chose to quarrel with might seem disrespectful to his memory." Here Mr. Bennet stopped and said, "Now listen to this, Mrs. Bennet." Then he read on. "But now my mind is made up. I was ordained as a clergyman at Easter, and I have had the great luck and honor to be chosen by the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, as her clergyman. Her generosity and kindness have given me the valuable position of rector in this parish. I shall try, in every way, to show my thanks and respect to her, and to carry out all the ceremonies of the Church of England with care. As a clergyman, I also believe it is my duty to bring peace to every family within my reach. For this reason, I believe the hand of friendship I now offer deserves great praise. I hope, sir, that you will kindly forgive me for being the next heir to Longbourn, and that you will not refuse the olive branch I offer. I cannot help feeling sorry that I must one day cause harm to your kind daughters, and I ask your pardon for it. I am ready to make it up to them in every way I can — but more of that later. If you do not object to receiving me, I hope to have the pleasure of visiting you and your family on Monday, November the eighteenth, at four o'clock. I expect to stay until the Saturday of the following week. Lady Catherine has no objection at all to my being away from my duties on a Sunday now and then, so long as another clergyman is found to take my place that day. I send my respectful greetings to your wife and daughters, and remain, sir, your well-wishing friend,

"William Collins."

"So at four o'clock we shall receive this gentleman of peace," said Mr. Bennet, folding the letter. "He seems like a very proper and polite young man, I must say. He will certainly be a valuable friend to know — especially if Lady Catherine is kind enough to let him visit us again."

"Still, what he says about the girls makes some sense. If he means to make amends to them, I am not the one to stop him."

"It is hard to guess how he means to make up for what he thinks we deserve," said Jane. "But the wish itself is surely something to praise."

Elizabeth was struck most by two things: his unusual way of praising Lady Catherine, and his kind readiness to baptize, marry, or bury the people of his parish whenever they needed him.

"He must be an odd sort of man," said Elizabeth. "I cannot quite make him out. There is something very pompous in his writing. What can he mean by apologizing for being next in line to inherit? He surely would not give it up even if he could. Father, do you think he is a sensible man?"

"No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the opposite. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him."

"As far as the writing goes," said Mary, "the letter does not seem faulty. The idea of the olive branch is not very new, but I think it is well expressed."

To Kitty and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer was at all interesting. It was very unlikely that their cousin would come wearing a red coat. And it had been weeks since they had enjoyed the company of a man in any other color. As for Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Collins's letter had softened her dislike of him quite a lot. She now prepared to receive him so calmly that it surprised both her husband and her daughters.

Mr. Collins arrived right on time. The whole family received him very politely. Mr. Bennet, in truth, said hardly a word. But the ladies were quite willing to talk, and Mr. Collins himself did not seem to need any encouragement, nor did he seem inclined to stay quiet. He was a tall, heavy-looking young man of twenty-five. His manner was solemn and stately, and his behavior was very formal. He had hardly sat down when he began to compliment Mrs. Bennet on having such fine daughters. He said he had heard much of their beauty, but this time, he declared, rumor had fallen short of the truth. He added that he had no doubt they would all, in due time, marry very well. Some of his listeners did not care much for such flattery. But Mrs. Bennet, who never argued with a compliment, answered him readily.

"You are very kind, I am sure. I truly hope it will be so, for otherwise these girls will be very poor. Things are settled in such a strange way."

"You are speaking, I think, of the entail on this estate."

"Ah, yes. You must admit it is a hard thing for my poor girls. I do not mean to blame you for it, of course. Such things all depend on the chances of this world. Once an estate is entailed, there is no telling who it will finally go to."

"I am well aware of the hardship this brings to my fair cousins. I have much to say on the subject, but I am careful not to seem too forward or too hasty. I can assure you, though, that I came prepared to admire your daughters greatly. I will say no more for now, but perhaps, when we know each other better —"

A message calling them to dinner cut his words short. The daughters smiled at one another. They were not the only ones Mr. Collins admired. He looked over the hall, the dining room, and all the furniture in it, praising every piece. Mrs. Bennet might have been touched by such steady praise, if it had not been for the uncomfortable thought that he looked at it all as his own future property. The dinner, too, received a great deal of praise. He said he wished to know which of his fair cousins had cooked such excellent food. At this, Mrs. Bennet corrected him rather sharply. She said her family could well afford a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do with the kitchen. He apologized for having offended her. In a softer voice, Mrs. Bennet said she was not offended at all. But he went on apologizing for nearly fifteen minutes.