Pride and Prejudice — Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mr. Collins's triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady Catherine's condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough.

"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by her ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there — including the whole party — so immediately after your arrival!"

"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William, "from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, such instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon."

Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them.

When the ladies were separating to dress, he said to Elizabeth — "Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which becomes herself and daughter. I would advise you merely to put on whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest; there is no occasion for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved."

While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their doors, urging them to be quick, as Lady Catherine much objected to being kept waiting for dinner. Such formidable accounts of her ladyship quite frightened Maria Lucas, who looked forward to the introduction with as much apprehension as her father had felt at his presentation at St. James's.

As the weather was fine, they walked the half mile across the park, Elizabeth pleased with the scene though far less affected than Mr. Collins expected by his enumeration of the windows and their original cost. When they ascended the steps, Maria's alarm increased every moment, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm; but Elizabeth's courage did not fail her, for she had heard nothing of Lady Catherine to make her tremble before mere stateliness of money or rank.

From the entrance hall, whose fine proportions Mr. Collins pointed out with a rapturous air, they were shown to the room where Lady Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson sat. Her ladyship rose to receive them with great condescension, and Charlotte performed the introductions properly, without her husband's unnecessary apologies.

Sir William, despite his court experience, was so awed that he managed only a low bow and sat silent; Maria, half frightened out of her senses, perched on the edge of her chair. Elizabeth alone felt equal to the scene, and observed the three ladies composedly. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman with strongly marked features; her manner, far from conciliating, was so authoritative as to recall Mr. Wickham's description of her exactly. Miss de Bourgh, by contrast, was pale, thin, and insignificant in feature, speaking only now and then in a low voice to Mrs. Jenkinson, who attended to her constantly.

The dinner was handsome, with all the servants and plate Mr. Collins had promised. He carved and praised with delighted alacrity, echoed by Sir William, in a manner Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could tolerate — though she seemed only gratified by their admiration. Conversation was scarce; Elizabeth sat between Charlotte, absorbed in listening to Lady Catherine, and Miss de Bourgh, who said nothing at all.

In the drawing-room afterward, there was little to do but hear Lady Catherine talk without intermission until coffee came, delivering her opinion on every subject in a manner that showed she was unused to having her judgement controverted. She questioned Charlotte minutely on her domestic management, and then turned her attention — and a string of blunt questions — upon Elizabeth: how many sisters she had, whether they were likely to marry, whether they were handsome, where they had been educated, and what her mother's maiden name had been. Elizabeth answered composedly despite feeling the impertinence of it all.

"Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?"

"A little."

"Oh, then some time we shall be happy to hear you. Do your sisters play and sing?"

"One of them does."

"Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. Do you draw?"

"No, not at all."

"What, none of you?"

"Not one."

"That is very strange. Has your governess left you?"

"We never had any governess."

"No governess! Five daughters brought up at home without one! I never heard of such a thing."

Elizabeth assured her, half smiling, that they had not suffered so badly as her ladyship supposed — that those who wished to learn were always given the means, though those who chose to be idle certainly might be.

"Are any of your younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, ma'am, all five."

"All! What, all five out at once? Very odd, and you only the second." Elizabeth defended the practice, arguing that it would hardly promote sisterly affection to keep the youngest back merely because the eldest had not yet married.

"Upon my word," said Lady Catherine, "you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?"

"With three younger sisters grown up," Elizabeth replied, smiling, "your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it."

Lady Catherine, astonished at not receiving a direct answer, pressed that Elizabeth could not be more than twenty and need not conceal it.

"I am not one-and-twenty," said Elizabeth.

When the gentlemen rejoined them and tea was over, card-tables were set out. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and the Collinses sat down to quadrille, while Elizabeth and Maria joined Mrs. Jenkinson at a table of cassino with Miss de Bourgh — a table Elizabeth found superlatively stupid, with scarcely a syllable exchanged beyond the game and Mrs. Jenkinson's fretting over whether Miss de Bourgh was too warm or too cold. Meanwhile Lady Catherine talked on at the other table, correcting everyone's mistakes and telling anecdotes of herself, while Mr. Collins agreed with everything and thanked her for every point he won.

When the party finally broke up, the carriage was offered and gratefully accepted, and Lady Catherine spent a few final minutes forecasting the next day's weather before they were called away. Amid many bows from Sir William and speeches of thanks from Mr. Collins, they departed. As soon as the carriage moved off, Elizabeth was pressed by her cousin for an opinion of everything she had seen — praise which, for Charlotte's sake, she made rather more generous than she felt, though even this commendation could not satisfy Mr. Collins, who was soon obliged to take up Lady Catherine's praises himself.