The Eldest | F. Darcy

Chapter 11: Mr. Wickham

"I do not like that cousin of yours, Father," Adele remarked one afternoon as she and Mr. Bennet sat alone in the library. "He is the most absurd man I have ever met—and I have met a fair few, I can assure you."

"You are quite right, my dear," Mr. Bennet mused. "I am beginning to see how mistaken I was in inviting him into the house."

"Perhaps you should have asked for my counsel beforehand," she teased. "I know enough of Lady Catherine de Bourgh to recognize that she is a woman of insufferable self-importance, who surrounds herself only with those too weak-minded to form their own opinions—hence, our current guest, who cannot go three sentences without extolling her fictional generosity."

"You know enough, indeed."

"I am a student of character," Adele said lightly. "Though, in this case, one need not be particularly observant. Even a blind man could perceive what sort of man Mr. Collins is."

"True, true," Mr. Bennet chuckled, thoroughly enjoying his daughter's assessment.

"But, sir, I am doubtful about his true purpose in coming here."

"As am I, my dear. As am I."

"Keep Lizzie close to the library," Adele advised. "Mother will not recommend Jane—she has already planned her wedding to Mr. Bingley. And as for the younger three, they are far too... lively for his tastes. That leaves only me."

"And what of you, my dear? How do you propose to manage this?"

"I shall be the bait," she smirked, "while I steer him towards a certain damsel I have in mind."

"You are quite determined, I see."

"Anything for my sisters."

From that moment on, Adele took it upon herself to subtly torment Mr. Collins in her own way. While he read aloud his sermons, she would pointedly read her own book, offering just enough sarcastic remarks to unsettle him.

Mrs. Bennet was less than pleased with her daughter's behavior, but the rest of the family found great amusement in it. Even Jane, though too kind to join in, could not entirely pity Mr. Collins.

For his part, Mr. Collins was more intrigued than offended by Adele's sharp wit and beauty. He did not appreciate her irreverence, but he was convinced that marriage would mold her into a more docile, obedient wife—one who would learn to revere his judgment and, more importantly, Lady Catherine's. He also found her interest in estate matters highly inappropriate and was certain that a woman of her intelligence should turn her attentions to more feminine pursuits.

But the morning after a particularly scathing remark from Adele, Mr. Collins's intentions took a firmer shape. A quarter-hour spent in private conversation with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast—beginning with an ode to his parsonage and naturally leading to the subject of securing a wife—resulted in warm smiles and every encouragement from his hostess.

Mrs. Bennet, who had all but resigned herself to the idea that Adele might never marry, was now positively elated. Here was a match that would secure her daughter's future and, more importantly, keep Longbourn in the family! Yet she was not blind to Adele's stubbornness and feared she might refuse such a fortunate offer outright. Nevertheless, she convinced herself that a little pressure—applied with the right amount of maternal persuasion—might turn the tide.

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to Mrs. Bennet's newfound ambitions, Mr. Bennet was growing increasingly desperate for solitude. Mr. Collins had taken to following him into the library after breakfast, where he would sit with an enormous folio open before him—not to read, but to extol the virtues of Lady Catherine and the exquisite improvements she had suggested for his humble parsonage.