Page 24 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
MR. COLLINS
Jane stepped downfrom the coach. Mamma embraced her, then scolded her for not searching the Netherfield gardens for another bee to sting her.
Papa was outside the front door. I squeezed his outstretched hands. “Papa.” Never had Longbourn felt like such a haven.
“This cannot be adaughteraddressing me,” he said with profound puzzlement, “for I heard no request for a new dress, nor any story of whose hat blew into the street to be fetched by an officer.”
“Surely it has not been so bad!”
“Lizzy, you must not speak sense to me, for I have quite lost my capacity. If you continue, I shall reel about like a spinster after a glass of wine.”
There was an obsequious cough. I turned to an unfamiliar man in a clergyman’s black suit and white collar.
“This will steady me,” my father addedsotto voce, before raising his voice. “Mr. Collins, may I introduce my second daughter, Elizabeth. Mr. Collins is my cousin, whom I did not have the joy of meeting until today. He will visit with us this week.”
“Mr. Collins,” I said, curtsying. Then I recalled why the name was familiar. Due to the entailment, Mr. Collins would inherit Longbourn when our draca left and we lost our status as bound gentry.
It was strange to meet the person my mother had vilified so many times over dinner. Mr. Collins was a rounded man, with a rounded, perspiring pate eventhough the day was not warm. I thought his age mid-twenties, although his brown hair was already wispy. In his favor, he was at least a fair height.
Abruptly, he lurched forward, and I found my hand grasped in sweaty fingers. His height reduced precipitously, as he had been standing on the front step.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said with such pompous ceremony that I prepared a laugh before realizing he was quite serious.
Mamma escorted Jane past us without even introducing her, which was very improper, not to mention unfair. I stood, my fingers trapped, listening with growing bewilderment while Mr. Collins began chronicling the Bennet family’s history of binding.
At last, Mr. Collins’s eyes lifted rhapsodically to praise one Lady Catherine de Bourgh. When it was clear his gaze was locked skyward—perhaps her ladyship resided on a local cloud?—I mouthed “Papa!” to my father, requesting an escape.
My father had observed silently, stroking his chin. Now, he asked if Jane and I had broken our fast. We had not, so, with effusive apologies and much bowing, Mr. Collins ushered me into my own home.
Mary caughtmy eye while we sat down to breakfast, and she bent her head to whisper.
“Lizzy, be warned. Mr. Collins is—”
She was interrupted by Mamma calling from the end of the table. “Jane! Lizzy! Have you heard of the draca death?”
“I was there, Mamma,” I said, recalling yesterday’s frightening episode with the roseworm.
“No! Another, last night. And there were spies!”
Jane and I looked at each other in shock. After no draca deaths in my lifetime, there had been three in two days. Charlotte’s mention of a plague seemed prescient and worrying.
“What do you mean, spies?” I asked.
Kitty answered with great excitement. “Napoleon has sent spies to steal draca! Two were killed last night, trying to take the Linfield family’s draca.” Her face fell. “Oh, but the creature was killed also. It is very sad, and I feel so sorry for allof them.”
I had met the Linfields once. They lived on the other side of Hertfordshire, ten miles from Longbourn.
There was no further news of draca, but Jane revealed that Mr. Bingley planned a ball at Netherfield, which delighted the ladies.
Then Mr. Collins spoke.
I learned that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was the patroness for his living and rectory, and that she lived not in the sky but in an astonishing manor that was extravagantly burnished with gold while being perfectly tasteful, and that she was the paragon of behavior for a person of exalted rank, showing gracious affability while demanding the utmost in decorum from her inferiors, of which there were many.
After breakfast,I suggested a walk to Meryton for news of the draca deaths. Kitty and Lydia agreed, but Jane was not yet fit for a long walk, and Mary had vanished to practice her music. I suspected she avoided Mr. Collins.
I had no such luck, and our departure required an elaborate leave-taking. Mr. Collins explained in intense detail that, although he walked extensively for his constitution, he did not walk so soon after breakfast.
In Meryton, the talk was all of the draca deaths. I learned that the apothecary, Mr. Jones, had attended the Linfield family after their tragedy. I left Kitty and Lydia, and hurried to his shop.
