Pride and Prejudice — Chapter Twenty-Nine (Abridged)

Mr. Collins's triumph over the invitation to dine at Rosings was complete. Here at last was his chance to display Lady Catherine's condescension to his visitors. "Who could have foreseen such an attention," he exclaimed, "so immediately after your arrival!" Sir William, drawing on his own experience of the great, was less astonished.

All day the visit was the only topic. Mr. Collins carefully prepared them for the splendour ahead, and warned Elizabeth not to trouble herself over her dress — Lady Catherine, he said, liked the distinction of rank preserved, not fine clothes in her inferiors. He hurried them all as they got ready, terrified of keeping her ladyship waiting, until poor Maria was in a state of pure apprehension.

They walked across the park in fine weather, Mr. Collins pointing out the windows and their cost with rapturous pride, though Elizabeth felt only mild interest. At the door, Maria's alarm and even Sir William's composure faltered, but Elizabeth felt no such dread — she saw nothing in Lady Catherine's rank alone that ought to be formidable.

Lady Catherine received them with great condescension, tall and strongly featured, her manner far from conciliating — exactly as Wickham had once described her. Beside her sat Miss de Bourgh, pale, thin, and insignificant, saying almost nothing, and the ever-watchful Mrs. Jenkinson.

Dinner was handsome, and Mr. Collins carved and praised everything with delighted alacrity, seconded by Sir William, in a manner Elizabeth marvelled that Lady Catherine could bear. Conversation was thin; Miss de Bourgh spoke not a word to her the entire meal.

Afterward, in the drawing-room, Lady Catherine talked without intermission, her opinions delivered so decisively that it was plain she was unused to having them controverted. She turned a barrage of questions on Elizabeth — sisters, marriage prospects, education, her mother's maiden name — with an impertinence Elizabeth bore composedly.

"Do you play and sing?" "A little." "Do you draw?" "Not at all." "Has your governess left you?" "We never had one." Lady Catherine was astonished — five daughters raised without a governess! Elizabeth explained that those who wished to learn were never prevented, though the idle certainly might remain so.

"Are your younger sisters out?" "Yes, all five." Lady Catherine found this very odd, but Elizabeth defended it warmly: keeping the youngest from society merely because the eldest had not yet married would hardly encourage sisterly affection.

"You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. What is your age?" "With three younger sisters grown up," Elizabeth answered, smiling, "your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it." Lady Catherine, astonished at being refused a direct answer, guessed she could not be past twenty. "I am not one-and-twenty," was all Elizabeth allowed.

When the men joined them, card-tables were set out. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and the Collinses played quadrille, while Elizabeth and Maria were given the honour of a superlatively stupid game of cassino with Mrs. Jenkinson, who spoke only to fret over whether Miss de Bourgh was too warm or too cold. At the other table, Lady Catherine talked on, correcting everyone's play, while Mr. Collins agreed with everything and thanked her for every point he won.

When the party finally broke up, the carriage was sent for, and after many bows and thanks they drove away. Elizabeth was at once asked for her opinion of the evening, and gave a report kinder than she truly felt, for Charlotte's sake — though even this commendation could not satisfy Mr. Collins, who soon took over the praising himself.