Page 22 of Cousin Conundrum

Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, her expression eager. “A gentleman and a stranger? It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure. Why, Jane, you never dropped a word of this, you sly thing.”

Elizabeth’s stomach knotted. Jane? Her sister had met Mr. Bingley? If he was the man she’d seen, and he’d met Jane first, Elizabeth had no hope. None at all.

A strange, grasping, ugly feeling welled up in her. One she did not like at all and refused to name. Balling her fists in her lap, she struggled to press it down.

Jane, drawn from her thoughts, turned a questioning look on their mother. Even in her confusion, she was lovely.

Somehow, breathing seemed more difficult than usual.

“Well,” Mrs. Bennet continued happily, “I am certain I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley. But how unlucky. There is not a bit of fish to be got today. Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill, this moment.”

Lydia popped up from her chair, Kitty following, although it certainly did not take two of them to yank the bell pull.

Mr. Bennet’s paper dipped. “It is not Mr. Bingley. It is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life.”

Kitty and Lydia stilled, unlike Elizabeth’s hammering heart, bell un-pulled.

“Mr. Bennet, you attempt to vex me,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “Is this one of your riddles?”

With slow care, Mr. Bennet folded his paper and set it aside. “It is no riddle, but rather a conundrum. I recently received a letter, and speedily replied, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention.”

“A letter from who, Papa?” Elizabeth asked when he fell silent, desperate to know if her carriage-gentleman was coming to dine. Really, her father need not take quite such pleasure in their torment, even if he did not know how he tormented her in particular.

“A letter from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”

“Oh! My dear,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “I cannot bear to hear that name mentioned. Pray do not speak of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be entailed away from your own children. To a stranger no less, and you tell me he is to arrive here today?”

“He is, much to my surprise. His previous letter mentioned November, but I have recently received a hastily scrawled note that he already undertakes the journey.”

Mrs. Bennet stabbed a sausage with such force that Elizabeth feared for the integrity of her plate, and declared, “He is obviously eager to set eyes on what will someday be his. To think, that man here, in my home.”

“At least his visit will render him a stranger no more,” Mr. Bennet observed and reached once more for his paper.

“Do not stand there gawking, Kitty. Summon Hill,” Mrs. Bennet snapped.

Lydia, one hand still on the bell pull, yanked, calling in a maid.

“What time is Mr. Collins to arrive, Father?” Mary said as Lydia asked the maid to send in Mrs. Hill.

“Sometime between four and five, I imagine.” Mr. Bennet opened the paper with care and once more raised the pages before him.

“Four?” Mrs. Bennet looked about in panic. “Why did we rise so late? Where is Hill? There is hardly time to make ready.” She aimed a glare at the newspaper at the other end of the table. “You should have given me more warning, Mr. Bennet.”

He gave no reaction to that, but Elizabeth suspected the lack of warning to be purposeful. Time remained to ready the room guests used and to add to dinner, barely. Were Mrs. Bennet given more time, preparations would be more elaborate, and she would have that much more opportunity to ferment her anger for Mr. Collins.

Mrs. Hill entered then, and Mrs. Bennet set to discussing dinner with her while arbitrarily adding asides to Elizabeth and her sisters about what they must see done before Mr. Collins’ arrival. From the calm way Mrs. Hill reacted, even to the demand of fish, Elizabeth suspected that, though her father hadn’t seen fit to warn Mrs. Bennet of their impending guest sooner, he had warned the housekeeper.

After breakfast, Elizabeth and her sisters were sent scurrying about, helping the staff air out bedding and sweep the cobwebs from the corners of the room Mr. Collins would occupy. Elizabeth opened the window and took down the curtains to be shaken out. Kitty and Lydia together brought the small rug outside to beat. Jane helped the maids dust the dressing table and wardrobe, and Mary gathered up the coverlet for a treatment similar to the rug’s.

In little time at all, they had the room nearly ready for their unwanted guest. Kitty even brought in a small vase and some late blooming flowers. She set them on the dressing table, then pushed them into better order, saying, “Do you imagine Mr. Collins will be a kind gentleman?”

“Can he be, when our side of the family dislikes his side so excessively?” Mary asked from where she smoothed the coverlet.

“We know only that his father and ours did not get on.” Jane stood beside the window, holding up the final curtain for Elizabeth, who stood atop a stool.

Lydia dropped to sit on the side of the bed, disarraying Mary’s efforts. “I only care if he is a handsome gentleman. He is to have Longbourn someday, after all. One of us could marry him.”

Silence settled as they all considered that.