Chapter 20

Mr. Collins had no quiet moment to think back on his successful proposal, for Mrs. Bennet was waiting in the hall, watching for the moment their conversation would end. As soon as she saw Elizabeth open the door and hurry past her toward the stairs, Mrs. Bennet went into the breakfast room. There she warmly congratulated both Mr. Collins and herself on the happy future of a closer family tie. Mr. Collins received her congratulations with equal joy and returned them. Then he told her the conversation in full detail. He said his cousin's constant refusals only showed her shy modesty and her natural sense of virtue. So he believed he could feel quite satisfied with the outcome.

But Mrs. Bennet was startled to hear this. She would have been glad to believe just the same, that her daughter's opposition and refusal were only meant to encourage him. But she dared not believe such a thing. And she could not keep herself from saying so.

"But believe me, Mr. Collins," Mrs. Bennet added, "I will make Lizzy listen to reason. I will speak to her about this myself, this very moment. She is a very stubborn, silly girl, and she does not know what is good for her. But I will make her understand."

"Forgive me for interrupting, ma'am," cried Mr. Collins. "But if she is truly stubborn and silly, I do not know whether she could be a good wife for a man in my situation, who naturally hopes for happiness in marriage. So if she continues to refuse my proposal, it may be better not to force her to accept me. A person ruled by such faults of character could not add much to my happiness."

"You have completely misunderstood me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is stubborn only in matters like this. In everything else, she is as good-natured a girl as any in the world. I will go to Mr. Bennet at once. I am sure we will settle this with her very quickly."

Mrs. Bennet did not give him time to answer. She hurried straight to her husband. She cried out as she entered the library.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet, I need you this instant. The whole house is in an uproar. Lizzy swears she will not marry Mr. Collins, so you must come and make her marry him. If you do not hurry, Mr. Collins will change his mind and refuse her instead."

Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book and looked at his wife's face as she came in. His calm, unconcerned expression did not change in the least as he listened to her.

"I have not had the pleasure of understanding you," he said when she had finished. "What are you talking about?"

"About Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy says she will not marry Mr. Collins, and now Mr. Collins is starting to say he will not marry Lizzy."

"And what am I to do about that? It seems a hopeless business."

"Speak to Lizzy yourself. Order her to marry him."

"Let her be sent for. She shall hear my opinion."

Mrs. Bennet rang the bell. Miss Elizabeth was sent for and called into the library.

"Come here, child," said her father when she appeared. "I have sent for you on a matter of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made you an offer of marriage. Is that true?"

Elizabeth said that it was true.

"Very well. And have you refused this offer?"

"I have, Father."

"Very well. Now we come to the important part. Your mother insists that you accept him. Is that not so, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Yes. Or I will never see her again."

"An unhappy choice lies before you, Elizabeth. From this day, you must become a stranger to one of your parents. If you do not marry Mr. Collins, your mother will never see you again. If you do marry him, I will never see you again."

Elizabeth could not help smiling at such a conclusion to such a beginning. But Mrs. Bennet, who had believed her husband saw the matter as she wished, was bitterly disappointed.

"What do you mean by talking this way, Mr. Bennet? You promised me you would order her to marry him."

"My dear," her husband answered, "I have two small favors to ask. First, allow me to use my own judgment in this matter. Second, allow me to use this room. I would be glad to have the library to myself as soon as possible."

Disappointed as she was in her husband, Mrs. Bennet did not yet give up. She spoke to Elizabeth again and again, alternately coaxing and threatening her. She tried to win Jane over to her side, but Jane, as gently as she could, refused to take part. Elizabeth answered her mother's attacks sometimes with serious firmness, and sometimes with playful good humor. Her manner changed, but her resolve never did.

Meanwhile, Mr. Collins was alone, thinking over what had just happened. He held too high an opinion of himself to understand why his cousin could possibly refuse him. His pride was hurt, but he suffered in no other way. His affection for her had existed only in his imagination. And he felt no regret at all, since he thought Elizabeth might well deserve her mother's scolding.

While the family was in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend the day with them. Lydia met her in the hall. Lydia ran up to her and cried out, half whispering, "I am so glad you have come. There is such fun going on here! Do you know what happened this morning? Mr. Collins proposed to Lizzy, and Lizzy said no."

Before Charlotte could answer, Kitty broke in with the same news. The moment the three of them entered the breakfast room, where Mrs. Bennet sat alone, she too began the very same story. She begged Miss Lucas to pity her. And she pleaded with her to persuade her friend Lizzy to follow the family's wishes. "Please do, dear Miss Lucas," she added in a mournful voice. "No one is on my side, no one helps me. I am treated so cruelly, and no one thinks of my poor nerves."

Charlotte was spared from answering by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.

"Yes, there she comes," Mrs. Bennet went on, "looking as calm and careless as if we were in York, with no concern for anyone. But listen well, Miss Lizzy. If you mean to go on refusing every offer of marriage this way, you will never get a husband at all. And I am sure I do not know who will support you when your father is dead. I cannot support you myself, so I warn you now. From this very day, I am finished with you. As I said in the library, I will never speak to you again, and you will see that I keep my word. I take no pleasure in talking with an undutiful child. Indeed, I take little pleasure in talking with anyone. People who suffer from nerves as I do can hardly wish to talk. No one knows what I suffer! But it is always this way. Those who do not complain are never pitied."

The daughters knew that trying to reason with their mother, or to soothe her, would only make her more irritated. So they listened in silence to the flood of words. Mrs. Bennet went on talking, undisturbed by anyone. Then Mr. Collins joined the group, entering with a more dignified air than usual. Seeing him, Mrs. Bennet spoke to her daughters.

"Now, all of you be quiet, and let Mr. Collins and me talk together for a moment. It must be done."

Elizabeth quietly left the room. Jane and Kitty followed her. But Lydia stayed, determined not to miss a word she could hear. Charlotte was held back at first by Mr. Collins's politeness, for he asked very fully after her health and that of all her family. Then she stayed a little longer out of curiosity. Charlotte satisfied herself by going to the window and pretending not to listen. Mrs. Bennet began the speech she had prepared, in a mournful voice.

"Oh, Mr. Collins!"

"Dear madam," he replied, "let us be forever silent on this subject. I will never resent your daughter's conduct." After a moment, he went on in a voice that betrayed some displeasure. "It is the duty of us all to resign ourselves with patience to a misfortune that cannot be avoided. This duty falls especially upon a young man who, like myself, has had the good fortune to obtain a good situation early in life. I believe I have resigned myself. I doubt whether I could truly have been happy, even if my fair cousin had done me the honor of marrying me. And perhaps that is why I resign myself more easily. For I have often observed that a blessing we are refused begins to lose its value in our eyes, and that is when we can resign ourselves to it best. Dear madam, I hope you will not think I show the least disrespect to your family, in withdrawing my claim to your daughter's favor this way, without paying you and Mr. Bennet the courtesy of asking you to use your authority on my behalf. My conduct may perhaps be blamed, in that I accepted my refusal from your daughter's own lips, rather than from yours. But we are all liable to error. I have meant well through this whole affair. My object was to secure an amiable companion for myself, with a proper regard for the advantage of all your family. And if my manner has been at all to blame, I beg your pardon here and now."